“Excusez-moi!” came a familiar voice. “I wondered if Tex was free to, how do you say, walk with me? If he is still up, I know it is late.”
“Is that her?” hissed Travis.
Graham gave a lopsided grin and raised an eyebrow at him.
Tex grimaced and shook his head, but rose to his feet and came to the door to see Marie, elbowing Breck out of the way.
“Ma’am,” he said politely, touching the rim of his hat. When she stepped back away from the door, he felt obligated to come out into the tropical darkness with her — there was no way he was inviting a lady into the bachelor house to the attention of his housemates. He closed the door behind him, knowing it wouldn’t do much good because the house had no air conditioning and all the windows were open. “Let’s step up to the staff garden.”
She took his arm gladly, and Tex tried not to sigh too loudly.
“You have been so kind to me,” Marie said, laying her head against his arm. “I just wanted to find some way to thank you.”
“Marie,” he started, once he thought they were out of easy earshot. There was a bench under a flowering magnolia tree, and he sat with her there while he tried to find a way to let her down easy. A single garden lamp barely lit the little garden.
Without warning, Marie launched herself at him, her mouth landing on his demandingly.
Tex didn’t want to hurt her, and awkwardly tried to pry her off without manhandling her, finally standing up to escape her ardent kisses and insistent hands.
“Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?” she asked breathlessly. “What’s wrong? Have I offended you? Am I… not attractive?”
She was wearing something frilly and very low cut, somehow it had slipped off one shoulder as Tex struggled to get away. As she spoke, her breasts heaved in a way that would have been very distracting indeed if Tex couldn’t help but compare them to the shape that Jenny’s must be.
Tex had to laugh a little. “Marie, ma’am, you are lovely, and any man would be lucky to win you.”
Her eyes were dark and glittered with tears in the faint light. “But you do not find me worthy.”
“It’s not about worthy,” Tex promised sincerely. “If things were different… but there’s…”
“Someone else,” Marie’s voice had an iron edge. “There is another amour.”
Tex thought about Jenny’s haughty dismissal of him and sighed. “It’s complicated,” he said.
Marie drew her shirt up over her shoulder and sat back, offended dignity in every line of her posture. “If it were not for her?” she pouted.
Tex was already thinking about Jenny again, the flash of spirit in her brown eyes, the curve of her perfect mouth. “If it weren’t for her,” he agreed plaintively. If it weren’t for her, he could sleep at night, could close his eyes without picturing her. He shifted on the bench, embarrassed to find that he was having a physical reaction to just imagining her.
He didn’t want Marie to think he was reacting to her, so he focused on where he was again. “Marie, let me walk you back to your room. You’re at the next staff house up, right?”
Marie graciously let him escort her, keeping her hand on his arm, but not leaning on him this time.
“Thank you,” she said thickly, when they arrived at her door. Tex could hear the sound of the Mr. Shifter contest blaring from the screen in their house, female voices laughing and appraising the contenders. “You are a true gentleman.”
Tex tipped his hat at her. “Just trying not to shame the mother who taught me manners,” he promised with a little laugh to lighten the mood. “Have a good night, ma’am.”
“Oh, I will,” Marie answered. Tex couldn’t identify the tone of her voice, but was happy that she went inside then without further protest.
He walked back
down the manicured path to his staff house, decided he was done watching the contest for now, and slipped into the back door to his own room.
He shucked off his staff shirt and lay down, to slide at once into dreams about Jenny.
Chapter 7
“I am very well-known in most of Europe,” the photographer told Laura. “Practically a household name. Everyone knows who Juan Lopez is.”
Laura made an uninterested noise that was taken as an interested noise by the gold Speedo-clad man wearing so much suntan lotion he looked as greasy as he sounded.