Unlawfully Wedded. Kelsey Roberts
what we’re hoping,” Shelby answered as she rested her head against her husband’s shoulder. “And I know your mother is equally thrilled that you agreed to do the work.”
“For a hefty price,” Tory grumbled in a stage whisper.
Three sets of eyes turned on her. But it was the simmering hostility in J.D.’s expression that made her instantly regret the barb.
“Miss Conway thinks I’m overpriced and incapable of doing the job,” J.D. explained, though his eyes never left hers.
“I’m sure that’s not the case,” Shelby insisted. “Tory?” she questioned. “Surely you know—”
“She knows that I prefer dramatic buildings,” J.D. interrupted. “And she’s right.”
“Well,” Tory said as she captured Chad’s hand in hers to prevent his sudden fascination with the buttons of her white blouse. “I don’t get a vote, now, do I, Mr. Porter? I’m nothing but a lowly waitress.”
Shifting the child on her hip, Tory returned her attention to the baby. It was much easier than having to suffer the intense scrutiny of his eyes. “How about we raid the fridge?” she asked. When she got no response, she added, “Ice cream?”
“Get it,” Chad answered, his fat legs bouncing with excitement.
“Not a lot,” Shelby warned.
J.D. watched her disappear into the kitchen, a knot of tension forming between his shoulders.
“What was that all about?” Dylan asked.
J.D. offered a noncommittal shrug. “Miss Conway believes I’m incapable of rehabbing the building because historical sites aren’t exactly part of my résumé.”
“Tory believes in preserving the city,” Shelby agreed. “Lord knows, she’s been studying it long enough.”
“She won’t be studying much longer,” J.D. said as he frowned. Why did he care if she’d lost her grant? He should be looking upon that bit of information as a gift from above. It could be the answer to his prayers. It was certainly a way to get Tory Conway out of his life.
“Why?” Shelby asked him.
J.D. had just finished recounting the visit by Dr. Greyson when Rose joined them. He felt the tension in his body grow worse. “So it looks like her academic career is history.”
“Not if I can help it,” Rose countered, patting the paperback directory.
J.D. noted a glint in his mother’s eyes that instantly had him on red alert.
“That girl’s entitled to her education. She’s worked damned hard and I’m going to see she finishes,” Rose huffed, tracing the edge of one line on her zebra-print pants.
Stifling a groan, J.D. sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “That might not be such a good idea,” he suggested. He wondered if any of what he had told his mother in confidence that morning had penetrated the layers of her lacquered curls.
“Leave that to me,” she told him. Her hand came out and hovered just above his arm. “I’ve got a plan.”
“Would someone like to clue me in?” Shelby piped up, her hand moving in a circular motion over her large belly.
“Upstairs,” Rose instructed.
J.D. was left alone in the dining room with Susan. He wasn’t much in the mood for company, he was feeling too restless. He was starting to wonder about this trip. Perhaps it would have been easier just to have ignored Rose’s request to come to South Carolina. He could have happily stayed in Florida, doing his kind of work. Rose would have remained nothing more than a name and a vague memory.
“Want me to do your palm?” Susan chirped.
“Excuse me?”
“Your palm,” she repeated, glancing at his balled fist. “I sense some really intense discord in your aura.”
“My aura?”
“Very telling,” Susan said, her brown eyes solemn. “I can usually tell everything about a person from their aura. Yours is red.”
“Red, huh?” he asked, faintly amused.
“That’s bad,” she insisted, genuineness dripping from each syllable. “If you let me have a look at your palm, I might be able to determine the cause of the red in your aura.”
“This ought to be a kick,” he mumbled as he took a seat across from her and offered his hand, palm up.
Susan bent forward and traced the lines on his hand. Her face was totally serious, as if she was completely absorbed in her examination. Her fingers were long and bony, and not nearly as soft as Tory’s.
He frowned, wondering why his mind would recognize such a traitorous thought. But his subconscious wasn’t finished, not by a long shot. As he sat there, he noted the many differences between the two waitresses. Susan was lanky and shapeless. Tory could only be described as voluptuous. Though he noted how hard she tried to conceal her attributes, her curvaceous body had not gone unnoticed. His frown deepened.
“I think you’re about to make a life-altering decision,” Susan predicted.
“Such as?”
“I’m not a fortune-teller,” Susan informed him haughtily. “I can only tell you what I see, based on the physical aspects of your palm.”
“Sorry.” J.D. managed to sound moderately sincere.
“And see here?” She followed one of the long lines on his hand. “This is your love line. It’s very long, but there’s a definite interruption.”
“Meaning?”
“Your love life won’t be a smooth one.”
Safe answer, he thought.
“But this is what concerns me,” she continued, tapping her blunt nail against the edge of his hand. “These lines dissecting your life line indicate that you’re in for a great deal of discord in your life. And they’re all clustered together, which probably explains your bad aura.”
“Come again?”
“Basically, lots of bad things will happen to you at one time. You’ll experience one disaster after another.”
“I can’t wait,” he groaned, wondering if this trip to South Carolina would prove to be the catalyst for this “disturbance of his aura.”
“But there’s hope,” Susan said brightly. “Once you get past that stuff, you should be very content with your life.”
“Great,” he mused aloud. “I’ll keep that in mind whenever my life starts going to hell.”
Susan’s dark eyes met his. “As for your aura, I think you might want to try some deep-breathing exercises. Relaxation techniques are quite effective in achieving a color change. You might even make it all the way to yellow.”
“There’s a goal,” he whispered as he gently pulled his hand away. “Thanks for the insights.”
“Anytime,” Susan answered. Grabbing her oversize nylon knapsack, the woman slung it over her thin shoulder as she got to her feet. “Practice that breathing,” she called out as she left.
He took a long pull on his beer and savored the bitterness as it went down. This was certainly one of the more interesting days in his life. He’d discovered a skeleton and had had his palm and aura analyzed. He began to chuckle.
“Something funny?”
Tory approached him with something akin to trepidation in her eyes.
“Susan just checked out my aura and my palm.”
His explanation erased