Keely felt sick. “I don’t wear those sorts of things,” she said primly.
“I’m not asking you to wear your underwear,” he said gently. “Just something a little more feminine than what you usually go around in.”
He couldn’t know how he was hurting her pride. But it did show, and he noticed. He frowned.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She clasped her hands together in her lap. “Clark, I can’t wear clothes that don’t button up to the neck, much less something off the shoulder,” she said with grim pride. She raised her face. “I had an…an accident, just before Dad brought me back to Jacobsville. There are, well, scars…”
“God, I’m sorry!” he said at once. “I didn’t know!”
“Nobody knows, not even my mother,” she said, tight-lipped. “And you can’t tell anyone, either.” She lowered her eyes to her jeans. “It’s something I’ve learned to live with, in my own way. But I have to dress within the limitations of my injury.”
“That weakness in your arm,” he recalled out loud. “That’s part of it, isn’t it?”
She nodded. Her face was flushed. “I’m sorry.”
“No. I’m sorry,” he replied quietly. He reached over and clasped her hand in his. “I won’t tell anyone,” he promised. “And we’ll buy very conservative clothes. But pretty ones.”
“I won’t let you do that,” she said proudly.
He pursed his lips. “Suppose I made you a loan?”
“I could never pay it back. You’ll just have to make do with what I can afford to wear. My mother can loan me some of her more conservative things, and her fox fur. I’ll look presentable. I promise.”
He smiled gently. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
“This bodyguard, you should probably ask Sheriff Carson about it,” she said.
“I will. Go on in. I’ll be in touch.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked as she opened her door. “Nellie might come back to you.”
“I don’t know that I want her to,” he replied. “We’ll take it one day at a time. If you need anything, though, you let me know, okay?”
She wouldn’t, and he knew it, but she smiled.
His dark eyes narrowed. “And I’m sorry that I told you what Boone said,” he added solemnly. “It hurt you.”
“Life hurts, Clark,” she said quietly. “There’s no getting around that.”
“So they say.” He leaned over to close the door, and powered the window open. “Next Friday night. The ballet.”
She smiled. “I’ll ask Dr. Rydel if I can leave work early.”
“I’ll ask him, too,” he volunteered.
“You brave soul!”
“Yes, I’ve heard that he’s making meals of the staff lately, but we get along,” he chuckled. “I’ll call you. So long.”
“So long.”
CHAPTER TEN
THE BODYGUARD WAS actually a Jacobsville police officer who worked odd jobs when he was off duty. He was powerfully built and never seemed to smile.
Instead of riding in the car with them, he drove his own private vehicle and followed behind them to San Antonio. Clark had paid for his gas and would have bought him a ballet ticket, as well, until he’d mentioned that he’d prefer being burned at the stake. So Clark had made other arrangements for when they were inside.
Keely was wearing the same green velvet dress she’d worn to the dance, and her mother’s fox stole and high heels. She was nervous about mingling with the upper classes of San Antonio, but Clark held her hand and reassured her that they were just regular people like himself.
He recognized a friend of his and introduced Keely to him. The man was Jason Pendleton, who owned a truck farm in Jacobsville. He was usually with his stepsister, Gracie, but tonight he was with a redhead whom he introduced as his fiancée. The woman was brassy and not very polite. She dragged Jason away scant minutes later and led him to a local newspaper owner instead.
“I guess we aren’t quite good enough company,” Clark mused. “Old Peppernell over there does own a newspaper, but our family could buy most everything he owns out of petty cash. Jason will tell her that, at some point, and then she’ll drag him back over here and gush and pretend that Peppernell is a cousin or something whom she had a duty to talk to. His sister, Gracie, isn’t impressed by dollar signs. She has friends who don’t have a penny. But Jason’s fiancée apparently only associates with the ultrarich.”
He was amused. Keely was mortified. “Is that the sort of people you know?” she asked uneasily. “They judge you by dollar signs?”
“Jason doesn’t. His fiancée apparently does.” He frowned. “I wonder where Gracie is? It’s unusual not to see them together.”
“Is it?” she countered, curious. “Brothers and sisters don’t usually partner each other at social events, do they?”
“They’re not related,” he said carelessly. “Gracie’s mother married Jason’s father, and promptly died, leaving Jason to look after her. Gracie’s mother is dead, but Gracie still lives with Jason. Until now, he hasn’t been much for commitment. His fiancée is nice-looking, I guess, but she’s grasping, too.”
Keely had noticed that. She was watching the woman as Jason Pendleton bent his tall form to speak to her. The woman gaped at Clark and Keely and winced.
“She just got the bad news.” Clark chuckled under his breath.
Keely laughed, too, but as she turned her head, her eyes collided with Boone Sinclair’s. She shivered at the unexpected encounter. She averted her eyes at once and turned back to Clark, clinging to his hand. Her heart was racing again. Boone had accused her of chasing him shamelessly. She didn’t want to have to speak to him at all.
Boone was with Misty. He tugged her over to where Keely and Clark were standing.
“Before you start,” Clark told his brother belligerently, “I’ve got Jarrett from the Jacobsville Police Department acting as our bodyguard on the road, and Detective Rick Marquez has the seat on the other side of
