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Meg would have thanked him for making sure she wasn’t left with Spence if she hadn’t recognized his true motive. He didn’t want to be alone with Sunny.
They all wandered out to the pool. Meg met their host, Kenny’s father, Warren Traveler, who looked like an older, rougher version of his son. His wife, Shelby, came across as a bubblehead, an impression Meg knew could be deceptive in Wynette, and sure enough, she soon learned that Shelby Traveler headed the board of the British boarding school where Emma Traveler had formerly been headmistress.
“Before you start yelling at me,” Shelby said to Ted, “you should know that Margo Ledbetter made an audition tape for you and sent it in to The Bachelor. You might want to start practicing your rose ceremony.”
Ted winced, a string of firecrackers went off, and Meg leaned in close enough to whisper, “You really need to get out of this town.”
The small muscle she was becoming increasingly familiar with began to tick at the corner of his jaw, but he smiled and pretended not to hear.
Chapter Eleven
At the pool, Meg watched Torie wrap two future beauty queens in beach towels. The happy kisses she planted on both noses testified that she was all bluster when it came to complaining about her kids. Kenny, in the meantime, was refereeing an argument between two young boys with hair as dark as his own, while a little girl with her mother’s butterscotch curls stole the disputed rubber raft from behind their backs and ran into the pool with it.
Eventually Meg managed to excuse herself to use the bathroom only to find Spence waiting in the hallway with a fresh glass of wine as she came out. “I seem to remember you were drinking the sauvignon blanc.” He hit the consonants hard, like a man with no patience for any language other than English, then poked his head into the bathroom. “Kohler toilet,” he said. “But those are my faucets. Brushed nickel. Part of our Chesterfield line.”
“They’re . . . lovely.”
“Sunny designed them. That girl is a whiz.”
“She seems really accomplished.” Meg tried to ease away, but he was a big man, and he blocked the hallway. His hand settled into its too-familiar spot in the middle of her back. “I have to fly back to Indy for a couple of days. After that, I need to make a quick run to London to check out a cabinet company. I know you’ve got a job, but”—he winked—“why don’t I see if I can arrange for you to get a couple of days off and come with me?”
She was starting to feel a little queasy. “Spence, you’re a great guy . . .” A great guy with a chunk of barbecued chicken wedged in his front teeth. “I’m really flattered, but . . .” She tried to look besotted. “You know I’m in love with Ted.”
He gave her an indulgent smile. “Meg, honey, chasing after a guy who’s not interested in you will rip the hell out of your self-respect. Better to face facts now because the longer you put it off, the harder it’ll be.”
She wasn’t giving up that easily. “I don’t actually know that Ted’s not interested in me.”
He moved his hand to her shoulder and squeezed. “You’ve seen Ted with Sunny. The way the sparks are flying between them. Even somebody half blind could tell those two are made for each other.”
He was wrong. The only genuine sparks had come from Sunny. The rest had come from the Beaudine voodoo machine. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what kind of woman Ted needed, but it wasn’t Spence’s daughter any more than it had been Lucy. Still, what did she know? Maybe Sunny, with her advanced degree and engineering mind, was right for him.
“Now, I know he’s just coming off an engagement,” Spence said, “but Sunny’s smart. She’ll take her time. He already treats her like she’s the only woman in the world.”
Obviously, Spence hadn’t noticed that he treated every female that way. “Ted and Sunny together.” He chuckled. “Now that would really clinch the deal here.”
Right then, she figured out the answer to the question everyone in town had been asking: Why had Spence changed his mind about Wynette?
Last spring, Spence had rejected the town in favor of San Antonio, but a little over a month ago, he’d reappeared and announced that Wynette was once again in the running. And now Meg knew it was because of Sunny. His daughter had first met Ted when he was still engaged to Lucy. But he wasn’t engaged now, and what Sunny wanted, Spence would do his best to make sure Sunny got.
“Tell me about your new Cleaner You toilet,” Meg said. “I’m dying to hear the details.”
He eagerly launched into a description of a toilet that automatically washed the user’s butt. That quickly led to his next favorite topic, her life in Hollywood. “All those famous people’s houses . . . I’ll bet you’ve seen some great bathrooms.”
“I mainly grew up in Connecticut, and I spend a lot of time traveling.”
That didn’t stop him from asking if she knew his favorite stars, a list that included Cameron Diaz, Brad Pitt, George Clooney, and inexplicably, Tori Spelling.
The fireworks began as soon as it was dark. While the guests gathered on the back lawn, eleven-year-old Peter Traveler, Shelby and Warren’s son, raced around the yard with his friends, and the sleepy younger children curled up on oversize beach towels next to their parents. One of Torie’s daughters entwined her fingers in her mother’s hair. Kenny and Emma’s three children sprawled across their parents, the smallest tucking herself under her father’s arm.
Meg, Spence, Ted, and Sunny sat on a blanket Shelby provided. Spence squeezed in too close, and Meg eased onto the grass. Ted braced his weight on his elbows and listened as Sunny enumerated the chemical compounds used to make specific colors of fireworks. He seemed fascinated, but Meg suspected his mind was someplace else. The guests cheered as the first pinwheels exploded in the sky. Spence dropped one hot, hairy paw over Meg’s hand. The moist evening air made the stench of his cologne more pungent, and as a rocket shot into the air, the black stone in his pinkie ring winked at her like an evil eye.
The cologne . . . the heat . . . too much wine . . . “Excuse me,” she whispered. She extricated herself and made her way through the blankets and beach towels to French doors that opened into a spacious family room. The cozy, English country decor featured soft-cushioned couches and easy chairs; end tables holding magazines and silver-framed family photographs; and bookcases displaying model airplanes, board games, and a complete set of Harry Potter.
The door opened behind her. Spence had followed her inside, and her stomach clenched. She was tired, out of sorts, and she couldn’t take it any longer. “I’m in love with Ted Beaudine. Passionately in love with him.”
“You’ve got a weird way of showing it.”
Shit. Not Spence at all. She spun around to see Ted standing just inside the French doors, his tall, absolutely perfect body silhouetted against the night. A rocket exploded in the sky forming a golden starburst behind his head. It was so infuriatingly predictable she could have screamed. “Leave me alone.”
