She’d just finished a predictable conversation with a former television newscaster about how she didn’t look anything like her incredibly beautiful mother when Ted and Lucy appeared at her side. “What did I tell you?” Lucy grabbed her third glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “Isn’t he great?”

Without acknowledging the compliment, Ted studied Meg through those eyes that had seen it all, even though he couldn’t have traveled to half the places Meg had visited.

You call yourself a citizen of the world, his eyes whispered, but that only means you don’t belong anywhere.

She needed to focus on Lucy’s plight, not her own, and she had to do something quickly. So what if she came across as rude? Lucy was used to Meg’s bluntness, and Ted Beaudine’s good opinion meant nothing to her. She touched the fabric knot at her shoulder. “Lucy neglected to mention that you’re also the mayor of Wynette . . . in addition to being its patron saint.”

He didn’t seem either offended, flattered, or taken aback by Meg’s crack. “Lucy exaggerates.”

“I do not,” Lucy said. “I swear that woman standing by the trophy case genuflected when you walked by.”

Ted grinned, and Meg caught her breath. That slow grin gave him a dangerous boyish look that Meg didn’t buy for a moment. She plunged in. “Lucy is my dearest friend—the sister I always wanted—but do you have any idea how many annoying habits she has?”

Lucy frowned, but she didn’t try to derail the conversation, which spoke volumes.

“Her flaws are small compared to mine.” His eyebrows were darker than his hair, but his lashes were pale, tipped with gold, as if they’d been dipped in stars.

Meg edged closer. “Exactly what would those flaws be?”

Lucy seemed as interested in his answer as Meg herself.

“I can be a little naive,” he said. “For example, I let myself be roped into the mayor’s job even though I didn’t want it.”

“So you’re a people pleaser.” Meg didn’t try to make it sound like anything other than an accusation. Maybe she could rattle him.

“I’m not exactly a people pleaser,” he said mildly. “I was just taken by surprise when my name showed up on the ballot. I should have anticipated.”

“You’re sort of a people pleaser,” Lucy said hesitantly. “I can’t think of a single person you don’t please.”

He kissed her on the nose. Like she was his pet. “As long as I please you.”

Meg left the border of polite conversation behind. “So you’re a naive people pleaser. What else?”

Ted didn’t blink. “I try not to be boring, but sometimes I get carried away with topics that aren’t always of general interest.”

“Nerd,” Meg concluded.

“Exactly,” he said.

Lucy remained loyal. “I don’t mind. You’re a very interesting person.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

He took a sip of his beer, still giving Meg’s rudeness serious consideration. “I’m a terrible cook.”

“That’s true!” Lucy looked as though she’d stumbled on a gold mine.

Her delight amused him, and once again that slow grin claimed his face. “I’m not taking cooking lessons, either, so you’ll have to live with it.”

Lucy got a little starry-eyed, and Meg realized Ted’s self-inventory of flaws was only making him more winning, so she redirected her attack. “Lucy needs a man who’ll let her be herself.”

“I don’t think Lucy needs a man to let her be anything,” he countered quietly. “She’s her own person.”

Which showed how little he understood this woman he was planning to marry. “Lucy hasn’t been her own person since she was fourteen years old and met up with her future parents,” Meg retorted. “She’s a rebel. She was born to cause trouble, but she won’t stir the pot because she doesn’t want to embarrass the people she cares about. Are you prepared to deal with that?”

He cut right to the chase. “You seem to have some doubts about Lucy and me.”

Lucy confirmed every one of Meg’s misgivings by toying with her lame-ass pearls instead of jumping in to defend her decision to marry. Meg dug in. “You’re obviously a terrific guy.” She couldn’t make it sound like a compliment. “What if you’re too terrific?”

“I’m afraid I’m not following you.”

Which must be a new experience for someone so crazy smart. “What if . . .” Meg said, “ . . . you’re a little too good for her?”

Instead of protesting, Lucy set her mouth in her White House smile and fingered her pearls like they were prayer beads.

Ted laughed. “If you knew me better, you’d understand just how ludicrous that is. Now if you’ll excuse us, I want Lucy to meet my old Boy Scout leader.” He slipped his arm around Lucy’s shoulders and drew her away.

Meg needed to regroup, and she made a dash for the ladies’ room only to get ambushed by a short, fireplug of a woman with razor-cut vermilion hair and lots of carefully applied makeup. “I’m Birdie Kittle,” she said, taking Meg in with a sweep of her heavily mascaraed eyelashes. “You must be Lucy’s friend. You don’t look anything like your mother.”

Birdie was probably in her mid to late thirties, which would have made her a child during the heyday of Fleur Savagar Koranda’s modeling career, but her observation didn’t surprise Meg. Everyone who knew anything about celebrities had heard of her mother. Fleur Koranda had put modeling behind her years ago to establish one of the most powerful talent agencies in the country, but to the general public, she’d always be the Glitter Baby.

Meg plastered on Lucy’s White House smile. “That’s because my mother is one of the most beautiful women in the world, and I’m not.” Which was true, even though Meg and her mother shared more than a few physical characteristics, mainly the bad ones. Meg had inherited the Glitter Baby’s marking-pen eyebrows, as well as her big hands, paddleboat feet, and all but two inches of her mother’s nearly six feet of height. But the olive skin, brown hair, and more irregular features she’d inherited from her father kept her from staking any claim to her mother’s extravagant beauty, although her eyes were an interesting combination of green and blue that changed color depending on the light. Unfortunately, she hadn’t inherited either the talent or ambition both of her parents possessed in abundance.

“You’re attractive in your own way, I guess.” Birdie ran a manicured thumbnail over the jeweled clasp on her black evening bag. “Kind of exotic. These days they throw that supermodel word at anybody who stands in front of a camera. But the Glitter Baby was the real thing. And look at the way she turned herself into such a successful businesswoman. As a businesswoman myself, I admire that.”

“Yes, she’s remarkable.” Meg loved her mother, but that didn’t keep her from wishing Fleur Savagar Koranda would sometimes stumble—lose a top client, blow an important negotiation, get a zit. But all her mother’s bad luck had come early in her life, before Meg was born, leaving her daughter with the title of family screwup.

“I guess you look more like your daddy,” Birdie went on. “I swear I’ve seen every one of his pictures. Except the depressing ones.”

“Like the film that earned him his Oscar?”

“Oh, I saw that one.”

Meg’s father was a triple threat. World-famous actor, Pulitzer Prize–winning playwright, and best-selling book author. With such mega-successful parents, who could blame her for being seriously messed up? No child could live up to that kind of legacy.

Except her two younger brothers . . .

Birdie adjusted the straps on her heart-necked black sheath, which fit a bit too snugly around her waist. “Your friend Lucy is a pretty little thang.” It didn’t sound like an accolade. “I hope she appreciates what she has in Teddy.”

Meg worked at keeping her composure. “I’m sure she appreciates him just as much as he does her. Lucy is a very special person.”

Birdie jumped at the opportunity to take offense. “Not as special as Ted, but then you’d have to live around here to understand.”

Meg wasn’t getting into a spitting contest with this woman, no matter how much she wanted to, so she kept her smile firmly in place. “I live in L.A. I understand a lot.”

“All I’m saying is that just because she’s the president’s daughter doesn’t mean she’s got anything on Ted or that everybody’s going to give her special treatment. He’s the finest young man in this state. She’ll have to earn our respect.”

Meg struggled to hold on to her temper. “Lucy doesn’t have to earn anyone’s respect. She’s a kind, intelligent, sophisticated woman. Ted’s the lucky one.”

“Are you saying he’s not sophisticated?”

“No. I’m merely pointing out—”

“Wynette, Texas, may not look like much to you, but it happens to be a very sophisticated town, and we don’t appreciate having outsiders come in and pass judgment on us just because we’re not big Washington hotshots.” She snapped her purse shut. “Or Hollywood celebrities.”

“Lucy is not—”

“People have to make their own mark here. Nobody’s going to kiss anybody’s bee-hind just because of who her parents are.”

Meg didn’t know whether Birdie was talking about Meg herself or about Lucy, and she no longer cared. “I’ve visited small towns all over the world, and the ones with nothing to prove always seem to welcome strangers. It’s the down-and-out places—the burgs that have lost their luster—that see every new face as a threat.”

Birdie’s penciled-in russet eyebrows shot to her hairline. “There is not one thing down-and-out about Wynette. Is that what she thinks?”

“No, it’s what I think.”

Birdie’s face pinched. “Well, that tells me a lot, now doesn’t it.”