Call Me Irresistible (Wynette, Texas #5)(120)

Fleur sat at her desk replaying her conversation with Francesca Beaudine, but it was hard to think clearly when her only daughter was in so much pain. Not that Meg would admit anything was wrong. The time she'd spent in Texas had both toughened and matured her, leaving her with an unfamiliar reserve Fleur still hadn't adjusted to. But even though Meg had made it clear that the subject of Ted Beaudine was off-limits, Fleur knew Meg had fallen in love with him and that she'd been deeply hurt. Every maternal instinct she possessed urged her to protect Meg from more pain.



       
         
       
        

She considered the gaping holes in the story she'd just heard. Francesca's glamorous exterior concealed a razor-sharp mind, and she'd revealed only as much as she wanted to. Fleur had no reason to trust her, especially when it was clear that her son was her priority. The same son who'd put the new sadness in Meg's eyes. But Meg wasn't a child, and Fleur had no right to make a decision like this for her.

She reached for the phone and called her daughter.

The chair Ted had commandeered in the lobby of San Francisco's Four Seasons Hotel gave him a clear view of the entrance without making him immediately visible to whoever walked in. Each time the doors swung open, something twisted in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't believe he'd been thrown off stride so badly. He liked taking life easy, with everybody having a good time and appreciating one another's company. But nothing had been easy since the night of his wedding rehearsal when he'd met Meg Koranda.

She'd been wrapped in a few twists of silky fabric that left one shoulder bare and hugged the curve of her hip. Her hair was a belligerent tangle around her head, and silver coins swung like nunchucks from her ears. The way she'd challenged him had been annoying, but he hadn't taken her nearly as seriously as he should have. From that very first meeting, as he'd watched her eyes change from clear blue to the green of a tornado sky, he should have taken everything about her seriously.

When Lady E. had told him Meg was the winning bidder in the stupid-ass contest, he'd experienced a surge of elation followed almost immediately by a crashing return to reality. Neither Meg's pride nor her bank account would have allowed her to place that bid, and it didn't take him long to figure out who'd done it. Parents had always liked him, and the Korandas were no different. Even though he and Meg's father hadn't done more than exchange a few glances, they'd communicated perfectly.

The doorman helped an elderly guest into the lobby. Ted made himself ease back into the chair. Meg's plane had landed well over an hour ago, so she should be walking in any minute. He still didn't know exactly what he'd say to her, but he'd be damned if he let her see even a hint of the anger that still simmered inside him. Anger was a counterproductive emotion, and he needed a cool head to deal with Meg. His cool to her hot. His orderly to her messy.

But he didn't feel either cool or orderly, and the longer he waited, the more anxious he got. He could barely sort out all the crap she'd thrown in his face. First she'd dumped on him about what had happened at the luncheon. So what if he'd known the women wouldn't say anything? He'd still made a public declaration, hadn't he? Then she'd announced she'd fallen in love with him, but when he'd tried to tell her how much he cared, she'd discounted it, right along with refusing to attach any importance to the fact that he'd stood at the altar three months earlier, ready to marry another woman. Instead, she wanted some kind of everlasting promise, and wasn't that just like her-jumping into something without putting the situation in any kind of context? 

His head shot up as the lobby doors once again swung open, this time admitting an older man and a much younger woman. Even though the lobby was cool, Ted's shirt was damp. So much for her accusation that he stood on the sidelines where he didn't have to sweat too much.

He checked his watch again, then pulled out his phone to see if she'd sent him a text, just as he'd done so many times since she'd disappeared, but none of the messages were from her. He shoved the phone back in his pocket as the other memory crowded in. The one he didn't want to deal with. What he'd done to her that day at the landfill . . .

He couldn't believe he'd lost control like that. She'd tried to brush it off, but he'd never forgive himself.

He tried to think about something else, only to end up stewing over the mess in Wynette. The town refused to accept his resignation, so his desk at City Hall sat empty, but he'd be damned if he was jumping back into that disaster. The truth was, he'd let everybody down, and no matter how understanding they all tried to be, there wasn't a person in town who didn't know he'd failed them.