Part 33 (1/2)

Half an hour later she was standing under the shower in the s.p.a.cious marbled bathroom of their hotel suite. The door slid open behind her and two suntanned arms encircled her waist. She leaned her head back against his chest. ”Oh, Kenny, we should never have done this.”

”I don't see what the big d.a.m.n deal is, especially since you already told me you loved me.”

”Marriage b.l.o.o.d.y well is a big d.a.m.n deal!”

”Don't cuss. Profanity just isn't effective with a British accent.” He nuzzled her ear. ”Even if you all of a sudden let loose with the Big One, it'd still sound like something you could say from the pulpit.”

She sighed. What was she going to do with him?

”Wash my back, will you?”

She soaped the washcloth, slipped behind him, and began stroking it over his shoulders. Slowly, she moved lower, to his waist, his b.u.t.tocks, his thighs. ”You have to be faithful,” she said. ”As long as we're married, you have to be faithful.”

He took the soap from her and replied softly, ”I'm not the one who tried to buy herself a gigolo.”

”Still ...”

He dipped his head and kissed her. She kissed him back-loved the feel of his mouth, loved the slide of his tongue, the scratch of his whiskers-but, even so, her kiss turned into a yawn.

He drew back. ”I think this'd better wait until you've had a good night's sleep.”

”Rubbish.” She could see what his consideration was costing him, and she mustered herself. ”The only reason I yawned was that I didn't sleep much last night either, and it's late, and-Go ahead. Really. It's fine.”

He lifted one eyebrow, turned her around, and began was.h.i.+ng her in an impersonal fas.h.i.+on, as if he were taking care not to arouse either one of them. But it definitely wasn't working for him, and as his finger accidentally brushed one of her nipples, she realized it wasn't working for her either. She rubbed her soapy back against his front.

”Emma ...” His voice held a husky, warning note.

She pulled his head under the shower and kissed him.

He took her right there in the shower, holding her against the wall, her thighs locked around his waist. Afterward, as they lay in bed together, their bodies were so closely entwined it was hard to decide where one of them began and the other left off. But as exhausted as she was, she didn't fall asleep immediately.

As she listened to the deep sound of his breathing, she tried to absorb the fact that this man was her husband. She knew she loved him, and she certainly desired him, but that travesty of a marriage ceremony had given her no real connection to him. Where was the feeling of attachment she'd been searching for all her life? Despite Kenny's ardent lovemaking and apparent fondness for her, he didn't truly love her, and pretending anything else was too self-indulgent to even contemplate. Her relations.h.i.+p with him felt as transitory as those temporary bonds she'd had with teachers and friends, as fragile as her relations.h.i.+p with parents who were all too eager to forget they had a daughter.

If only she had some idea what he was truly feeling, it might be easier, but he remained as closed off from her as a locked door.

The next morning she awakened to the sound of him speaking quietly on the telephone in the suite's adjoining living room. ”I'm not going to talk about it, Shelby. And I'm not telling you where we're staying, either. Now come on. Just put him on the phone.”

There was a pause before Kenny spoke again. This time his voice was pitched higher. ”Hey, Petie. It's Kenny. Listen, buddy, I didn't mean to disappear on you. I'll be back soon, and we'll go swimming, okay? Swimming. You and me.”

Emma smiled to herself. This was the side of Kenny she loved the most.

Another pause, then his pitch deepened, so she knew Shelby had come back on. ”If you know which hotel we're in, you'll somehow let it slip, and then the press'll be all over me.” Another pause, then he said dryly, ”Yeah, it was a real romantic ceremony. Uh-huh. I'll tell her.”

He appeared in the doorway, his hair still rumpled and his stubble approaching the pirate stage. ”Shelby says hi.”

Knowing Shelby, Emma imagined the message was much longer than that, but she didn't question him.

They spent the next few hours in bed with Kenny directing the action, as always, but being so sublimely attentive to her needs that she couldn't complain. Finally, they wrapped themselves in hotel bathrobes and ate a room service breakfast. Several times she tried to get him to talk about the enormity of what they'd done, but he shrugged it off as if they'd committed themselves to nothing more complex than a Sat.u.r.day night date. s.e.x seemed to be the only connection he wanted to have with her, and the knot in her stomach grew tighter.

After they'd finished eating, they went out to buy a change of clothes for each of them. Kenny tried to disguise himself in a pair of trendy sungla.s.ses and his Dean Witter cap, but several people in the store still recognized him and wanted to talk about what had happened. He dismissed their questions by acting as if he didn't understand them.

Eventually, they found some anonymity by mingling with the tourists walking along the Strip. Although Emma'd seen photographs of Las Vegas, the reality of this resort built in the desert was far different. She found it fascinating from an anthropological standpoint, but not exactly to her taste, and Kenny seemed to read her mind. ”Come on. I'll show you a place I know you'll like.”

”Where?”

”You'll see.”

Less than an hour later, they were looking out over Hoover Dam. The sheer size of the structure took her breath away.

”I know you have lots of cool castles and awesome cathedrals and things like that back in England,” he said. ”Not to mention some great golf courses. But you've got to admit this really kicks a.s.s.”

His boyish enthusiasm made her laugh. ”It certainly does.”

He gave her a squeeze, then gently brushed a tendril from her cheek. She wondered if the tender expression on his face was a trick of the light.

”Sweetheart, I know you're itching to sit down and a.n.a.lyze this thing to death. Make a big list, fill out a whole bunch of Cosmo Cosmo compatability quizzes, discuss short-term objectives and long-term goals, and who knows what else. But could you just let it go for now? Could we take it easy? Have a good time and see how things work out?” compatability quizzes, discuss short-term objectives and long-term goals, and who knows what else. But could you just let it go for now? Could we take it easy? Have a good time and see how things work out?”

As she gazed up into those marsh violet eyes with their fringe of spiky black lashes, she reminded herself that this was a man who'd made laziness his life's goal. Or at least the appearance of laziness. Kenny didn't want anyone ever to know he worked hard at anything. And apparently he had no intention of working hard at this. Or did he? In so many ways, he was still a mystery to her. She didn't believe life's important issues could simply be ignored, but she also knew she couldn't make him talk about it. What he was asking was wrong, but this might be the only way he knew to cope.

And maybe she didn't want to talk about it, either. The notion startled her. She was a person who'd always confronted problems head-on, but did she really want to hear him spell out the fact that he liked her, but didn't love her? Did she really want to hear him say that he had no intention of taking this marriage seriously, that he'd been upset and sleep-deprived when he'd gone into it, and that he regretted the whole thing?

She was ashamed of her cowardice, and she gazed across Lake Mead toward a pair of sailboats. ”All right, Kenny. Just for now.”

He smiled down at her. ”Have I ever told you that you're one terrific lady?”

”No. Just that I'm bossy.”

”One thing doesn't necessarily cancel out the other.”

”You're mad, do you know that? A complete madman.” As she smiled at him, her own words triggered a fragment of memory from the morning before, and she heard Hugh's voice exactly the way it had sounded when she'd marched into his hotel room.

He's a madman! If I'd known he was insane when I spoke with him that first time ...

A funny p.r.i.c.kling ran along her arms. This was what had been bothering her yesterday. What had Hugh meant when he'd said that? The first time first time implied there had been other times. But as far Emma knew, the men had only met once, in Shelby and Warren Traveler's living room. Still, why would Hugh have said something like that if they'd only met once? Why would he have- implied there had been other times. But as far Emma knew, the men had only met once, in Shelby and Warren Traveler's living room. Still, why would Hugh have said something like that if they'd only met once? Why would he have- She let out an audible gasp as it all became clear to her.

”You b.a.s.t.a.r.d!”

”Wh-”

She slammed her purse into his thigh. Anger swirled around her and she found herself running. But there was nowhere to go, and this time she couldn't commandeer his car since the keys were tucked safely in his pocket.

She raced blindly toward a Gray Line tour bus and pounded on the door to awaken the driver who snoozed at the wheel. ”Let me in!”

”Emma! For Pete's sake, what-”

The driver swung open the door, and she rushed up the steps. ”Shut the door immediately. And whatever you do, don't let that man in-”

Kenny stepped into the bus. ”We've been having trouble getting my wife's medication adjusted ever since her brain transplant. I'll take care of her.”