He stopped in front of her, pulled the iced tea pitcher from her hand, and pa.s.sed it over to Torie. Meg took a step back only to feel his fingers curling around the nape of her neck, anchoring her in place. "Why don't you go help Chef in the kitchen, sweetheart. I'll clear off these dishes."

Sweetheart?

The engine roared, the tires squealed, the brakes smoked, and the speeding car slammed into the baby carriage. Right there in front of the biggest gossips in Wynette, Texas, Ted Beaudine lowered his head, sealed his legendary lips over hers, and announced to the whole world that there'd be no more sneaking around. Meg Koranda was the new woman in his life.

A furious Kayla came out of her chair. Shelby groaned. Birdie knocked over her iced tea gla.s.s. Emma buried her face in her hands, and Zoey, who looked as befuddled as one of her second graders, cried, "I thought she was making it up to get rid of Spence."

"Ted and Meg Meg?" Hunter Gray's mother exclaimed.

Francesca sagged back in her chair. "Teddy ... What have you done?"

With the possible exception of her agent, everyone else in the room understood the import of what had just happened. Kayla watched her boutique slip away. Birdie saw her new tearoom and bookstore go up in smoke. Zoey mourned the school improvements that would never happen. Shelby and Torie envisioned more sleepless, guilt-ridden nights for their husbands. And Francesca saw her only son slipping into the grasp of a scheming, unworthy woman.

Meg wanted to cry from the sheer, exhilarating joy of knowing he'd do something so colossally stupid for her.

He brushed his knuckles down her cheek. "Go on now, sweetheart. Mom appreciates the way you stepped in to help her today, but I'll take over now."

"Yes, Meg," Francesca said quietly. "We can handle it from here."

Meg was more important to him than this town. Her heart surged with a giddy intoxication that made her dizzy, but the woman she'd become didn't let her enjoy the moment for long. She dug her nails into her palms and faced his mother's guests. "I'm ... I'm ... sorry you were forced to see that." She cleared her throat. "He's, uh, had a tough time lately. I'm trying to be kind, but ..." She took a shaky, shallow breath. "He can't accept the fact that I'm ... just not that into him."

Ted picked up what was left of Torie's souffle, took a bite, and listened patiently as Meg tried her best to do the right thing and dig him out of the beautiful mess he'd created. "It's me, not you." She turned to him, urging him with her eyes to go along with her. "Everybody else thinks you're fabulous, so it has to be me, right? n.o.body else seems to find you just a little bit ... creepy."

He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow.

Francesca swelled up in her chair. "Did you just call my son 'creepy'?"

Ted spooned up another bite of chocolate, interested in what else she'd come up with. He wasn't going to help at all. She wanted to kiss him, yell at him. Instead, she returned her attention to the women. "Be honest." Her voice gained strength with the rightness of what she was doing. "You all know what I mean. The way the birds start to sing when he walks outside. That's creepy, right? And those halos that keep popping up around his head?"

No one moved. No one said a word.

Her mouth had gone dry, but she plowed on. "What about the stigmata stigmata?"

"Stigmata?" Torie said. "That's a new one."

"Marking-pen accident." Ted devoured the last spoonful of chocolate and set the dish aside. "Meg, honey-and I'm only saying this because I care so much-you're acting kind of crazy. I sure do hope you're not pregnant."

A dish banged in the kitchen, taking her resolve with it. He was a master of cool. She was merely a wannabe and she'd never be able to beat him at his own game. This was his town, his problem to solve. She grabbed the iced tea pitcher and made a dash for the kitchen.

"I'll see you tonight," he called after her. "Same time. And wear that dress of Torie's. It looks a h.e.l.l of a lot better on you than it ever did on her. Sorry, Torie, but you know it's true."

As Meg slipped through the door, she heard Shelby's wail. "But what about the contest? This is going to ruin everything!"

"Screw the contest," Torie said. "We've got bigger problems. Our mayor just gave Sunny Skipjack the finger and San Antone a new golf resort."

Ted wisely didn't return to the kitchen. As Meg helped Chef clean up, her mind was spinning in a dozen different directions. She heard the guests leaving, and before long Francesca came into the kitchen. Her face was pale. She was barefoot, her party clothes exchanged for shorts and a T-shirt. She thanked Chef and paid him, then handed Meg her check.

It was twice what Meg had been promised.

"You did the work of two people," Francesca said.

Meg nodded and gave it back. "My contribution to the library fund." She held Francesca's gaze just long enough to display a little dignity, then returned to her work.

It was almost dinnertime before the last dishes were put away and she could leave, toting the generous sack of leftovers Chef had given her. She couldn't stop smiling all the way back to the church. Ted's truck was parked by the steps. As tired as she was, all she could think about was tearing his clothes off. She grabbed the leftovers and dashed inside only to come to a screeching halt.

The church had been ransacked. Overturned furniture, slashed pillows, strewn clothing ... Orange juice and ketchup were smeared on the futon, and her jewelry supplies were scattered everywhere-her precious beads, the tools she'd just purchased, tangled lengths of wire.

Ted stood in the middle of the mess. "The sheriff's on his way."

The sheriff found no sign of forcible entry. When the subject of keys came up, Ted said he'd already put in a call to have the locks changed. As the sheriff advanced the theory that a vagrant had done the job, Meg knew she had to come clean about the message smeared on her bathroom mirror.

Ted exploded. "You're just getting around to telling me? What the h.e.l.l were you thinking? I wouldn't have let you stay here another day."

She just looked at him. He glared right back-no halo in sight.

The sheriff asked with a straight face if anybody held a grudge against her. She thought he was putting her on until she remembered he worked for the county and might not be tuned in to local gossip.

"Meg's had some run-ins with a few people," Ted said, "but I can't imagine any of them doing this."

The sheriff pulled out his notebook. "What people?"

She tried to pull herself together. "Basically anybody who likes Ted isn't too fond of me."

The sheriff shook his head. "That's an awful lot of people. Could you narrow it down?"

"There's not really much point in throwing out random names," she said.

"You're not accusing anybody. You're giving me a list of people who have a grudge against you. I need your cooperation, Miz Koranda."

She saw his point, but it didn't feel right.

"Miz Koranda?"

She tried to muster the energy to begin. "Well, there's ..." She barely knew where to start. "Sunny Skipjack wants Ted for herself." She gazed at the destruction around her and took a deep breath. "Then there's Birdie Kittle, Zoey Daniels, Shelby Traveler, Kayla Garvin. Kayla's father, Bruce. Maybe Emma Traveler, although I thought she'd come around."

"Not a single one of them would tear the place up like this," Ted said.

"Somebody did," the sheriff replied, flipping to a fresh page in his notebook. "Go on, Miz Koranda."

"All of Ted's old girlfriends, especially after what happened at the luncheon today." That involved a brief explanation, which Ted thoughtfully provided, along with his commentary on the cowardice of people who wanted to sneak around instead of being up front about their relationships.

"Anybody else?" The sheriff turned another page in his notebook.

"Skeet Cooper saw me mash one of Ted's golf b.a.l.l.s into the ground to keep Ted from winning his match against Spencer Skipjack. You should have seen the way he looked at me."

"You should have seen the way I looked at you," Ted said with disgust.

Meg picked at a hangnail.

"And?" The sheriff clicked his pen.

She pretended to look out the window. "Francesca Beaudine."

"Now wait a minute!" Ted exclaimed.

"The sheriff wanted a list," she retorted. "I'm giving him a list, not making accusations." She turned back to the sheriff. "I saw Mrs. Beaudine a little more than an hour ago at her house, so it would have been very hard for her to have done this."

"Hard, but not impossible," the sheriff said.

"My mother did not trash this place," Ted declared.

"I don't know about Ted's father," Meg said. "He's hard to read."

Now it was the sheriff who puffed up with outrage. "The great Dallas Beaudine isn't a vandal."

"Probably not. And I think we can safely eliminate Cornelia Jorik. It would be tough for a former president of the United States to sneak into Wynette without getting noticed."

"She could have sent her henchmen," Ted drawled.

"If you don't like my list, you come up with one," she shot back. "You know all the suspects a lot better than I do. Bottom line-somebody is sending me a clear message that they want me out of Wynette."

The sheriff looked at Ted. "How about it, Ted?"

Ted shoved his hand through his hair. "I can't believe any of these people would do anything so ugly. What about somebody you work with at the club?"

"Those are my only positive relationships."

The sheriff flipped his notebook closed. "Miz Koranda, you shouldn't stay here by yourself. Not until this thing is settled."

"Believe me, she's not going to stay," Ted said.

The sheriff promised to talk to the police chief. Ted walked him out to his squad car, and Meg's cell rang in her purse. When she glanced at the display, she saw it was her mother, the last person she should talk to right now and the person whose voice she most wanted to hear.

She moved through her trashed kitchen and out the back door. "Hi, Mom."

"Hi, honey. How's the job?"

"Great. Really great." She sank down on the step. The cement still carried the day's heat, and she felt its warmth through Torie O'Connor's castoff skirt.

"Your dad and I are so proud of you."

Her mother was still under the illusion that Meg was the activities coordinator at the club, something she'd have to correct very soon. "Honestly, it's not much of a job."

"Hey, I know better than anyone what it's like to work with giant egos, and you have to see a lot of that at a country club. Which brings me to the reason I called. I have some great news."

"Belinda died and left me all her money."

"You wish. No, your grandmother will live forever. She's one of the undead. The great news is ... Your father and I are coming to visit you."

Oh, G.o.d ... Meg jumped up from the step. A dozen ugly images flashed through her head. The ripped sofa cushions ... The broken gla.s.s ... The drink cart ... The faces of everyone who held a grudge against her. Meg jumped up from the step. A dozen ugly images flashed through her head. The ripped sofa cushions ... The broken gla.s.s ... The drink cart ... The faces of everyone who held a grudge against her.

"We miss you, and we want to see you," her mother said. "We want to meet your new friends. We're so proud of the way you've turned things around for yourself."

"That's ... that's great."

"We have some scheduling we need to work out, but we'll settle that soon. A low-key visit. Just a day or so. I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Mom." She'd have time to clean up the mess inside, but that was only the tip of the iceberg. What about her job? She a.s.sessed the probability of being promoted to activities coordinator before their visit and concluded she had a better chance of being invited to Birdie's house for a slumber party. She shuddered at the thought of introducing her parents to Ted. It didn't take much imagination to picture her mother falling to her knees and begging Ted not to wise up.

She picked the most straightforward of her troubles. "Mom, there's just one thing ... My job. It's not that impressive."

"Meg, stop putting yourself down. I can't change the fact that you've grown up in a family of wacko overachievers. We're the strange ones. You're a normal, intelligent, beautiful woman who let herself get sidetracked by all the craziness around her. But that's behind you now. You've made a fresh start, and we couldn't be prouder. I have to run. I love you."

"Love you, too," Meg said weakly. And then, after her mother had hung up: "Mom, I'm a cart girl, not the activities coordinator. But my jewelry's selling great."

The back door opened, and Ted appeared. "I'll send somebody tomorrow to clean up."

"No," she said wearily. "I don't want anyone to see this."

He understood. "Then stay out here and relax. I'll deal with it."

All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and think about everything that had happened, but she'd spent too many years letting other people clean up after her. "I'm fine. Let me change my clothes first."

"You shouldn't have to do this."

"Neither should you." That kind, beautiful face made her ache. A few weeks ago, she'd have asked herself what a man like Ted was doing with a woman like her, but something had started to happen inside her, a sense of accomplishment that had begun to make her feel just a little bit worthy.

He dragged the ruined futon outside, followed by the damaged couch and chairs she'd gotten from the club. He cracked a few jokes as he worked to lift her spirits. She swept up broken gla.s.s, examining it so she didn't accidentally throw away any of her precious beads. When she was satisfied, she went into the kitchen to clean up the mess there, but he'd already done it.

By the time they were finished, it was nearly dark, and they were both hungry. They carried the luncheon leftovers and two bottles of beer into the graveyard and spread everything out on one of the bath towels. They ate directly from the containers, their forks occasionally touching. She needed to talk about what had happened at his mother's house, but she waited until they were finished before she broached the subject. "You should never have done what you did at the luncheon."

He leaned against Horace Ernst's tombstone. "And what was that?"

"Don't play games. Kissing me." She worked to suppress the exhilaration that still wanted to bubble over inside her. "By now, it's all over town that we're a couple. Spence and Sunny won't be back for more than five minutes before they'll hear about it."

"You let me worry about Spence and Sunny."

"How could you do something so stupid?" So wonderful. So wonderful.

Ted extended his legs toward the Mueller plot. "I want you to move in with me for a while."

"Are you paying attention to anything I'm saying?"

"Everybody knows about us now. There's no reason not to movein."

After all he'd done for her, she couldn't fight with him any longer. She picked up a stick and peeled the bark with her thumbnail. "I appreciate the offer, but moving in with you would be like thumbing my nose at your mother."

"I'll take care of my mother," he said grimly. "I love her, but she doesn't run my life."