Ryan opened the oven and checked the contents. He nodded. “We’re ready. The salad is already on the table and the cornbread is baking. By the time we’re finished, the rest of the meal will be ready.”
As if they’d always done it that way, Ryan put his hand on Sunny’s back and directed her into the dining area. Byron Clary didn’t look at all bothered that he was escorting Lottie.
“This is some place you have here, Ryan,” Byron said. “I’d get lost up here.”
“It’s pretty big for one man,” he admitted. “But when I put up the building I thought I had to have it. It’s a man’s apartment, I guess, but lately, I’ve decided it’s missing something.”
“Nothing a woman’s touch couldn’t fix,” Lottie said, sliding into her seat and beaming at her escort. “Tell me where you live, Byron.”
“When Sunny was in college I sold the old house. I…I didn’t need it anymore and she had stars in her eyes about her future. I knew she’d never come home again.”
Ryan pulled out the chair across from Lottie and waited until Sunny was seated. “Pop thought I’d come to Atlanta or go to New Orleans right away. But I couldn’t, not…then. Still, he’s right, my career isn’t in South Georgia. I know that now.”
“So,” Byron smiled and sat down, “now I live on the church grounds in a small house on the banks of the St. Mary’s River. The house and the church are built of shale and river rock, over a hundred years old.”
Lottie let out a pleased smile of satisfaction. “My house is over a hundred years old, too, Byron, at least the part of it that survived the War Between the States. Would you like to see it?”
“I’d love to.”
“I’ll take you—tomorrow.”
“But, Pop, I promised my boss I’d bring you by the station tomorrow.”
“So he can come to my house afterward. I’ll pick you up,” Lottie said. “You’re gonna love my car.”
Sunny was afraid to ask. But her father wasn’t. “What kind of car do you have?”
“Don’t laugh. It’s a 1960 Cadillac convertible, pale blue with a white interior. Bought it new and paid for it myself. Stops traffic every time I drive it.”
“She’s right,” Ryan murmured. “People get out of her way.”
“Always wanted one,” Byron admitted. “But it didn’t seem right for a widower with a child. Stuck to sensible cars. But I’d love to see it. What time will I be through, Sunny?”
“I don’t know what the schedule will be. Why don’t we call Lottie from the station? Do you know where it is, Lottie?”
“Sure. Went down there once protesting some dogooder’s editorial about Lord Sin. Any idiot would know that the women were just enjoying fine art. That’s not to say they wouldn’t have run away with Sin if he’d been willing, but he was always careful about that. Their husbands ought to have appreciated what he did—not condemn it.”
Sunny swallowed a cough. She’d intended to tell her father about Lord Sin, but she hadn’t had a chance. She didn’t know what he’d think of Lord Sin and Lottie. Though, after spending time in jail, he had to have seen a side of life he’d never come in contact with before.
“Who’s Lord Sin?” he asked, his eyes flicking from Lottie to Sunny and back again. “Are you covering royalty now?”
This time Sunny couldn’t hold back her laughter. She opened her mouth but no words came out. She glanced helplessly at Ryan.
“Lord Sin,” Ryan explained, “is, or rather was, one of our more colorful local entertainers. He owned a series of clubs—”
“That’s strip clubs,” Lottie explained. “High-class adult entertainment clubs where you had to have a membership card to visit, except on Tuesday and Thursdays. That,” she said quietly, as if waiting for his reaction, “was Ladies’ Night.”
“Lottie worked for him,” Ryan said solemnly.
Sunny held her breath. She looked down at her salad bowl to find it was almost empty and she hadn’t even known she was eating. What would her father say?
For a long dry-mouthed moment, he didn’t say anything at all, then he began to chuckle. “Lottie, you were a stripper?”
Lottie looked hurt.
“I was. Are you going to hold that against me?”
Byron looked her straight in the eye and said, “Lottie, my girl, I have no intention of holding that against you. What happened to Lord Sin?”
“He retired and moved to the French Riviera,” Lottie said, with a hard look at Ryan.
“I’ll bet he is greatly missed,” Byron said with a straight face. “And I look forward to seeing your house, Lottie.”
With that, any concerns about bringing her father to dinner with Ryan and Lottie disappeared. When the pork and beans became medallions of pork and green beans, she allowed herself to smile. Ryan said nothing, but she felt his gaze on her, felt it burning a slice of her to a crisp. Here she’d brought her father to size up Ryan Malone, made out with Ryan in the hall and introduced her father to an ex-stripper, when all she’d wanted was her father’s opinion of this man who’d steadily taken over her life. Instead of being the suspicious father, he seemed to like Ryan. He discussed baseball with Ryan and poetry with Lottie.
After they finished the fruit and ice cream, Sunny came to her feet. “Let me take the dishes to the kitchen for you, Ryan.”
Ryan stood also. “Thank you. I’ll get the coffee.”
“No,” Sunny said quickly. “Dad had a long drive up. I think we ought to go.”
“Nonsense,” her father countermanded. “I’d love coffee.”
Sunny glared at her father. The lively expression in his usually solemn face said he was enjoying himself. She tried unsuccessfully to catch his eye, then gave up, stacked the plates and carried them to the kitchen. Ryan was filling two cups. “Give it up, Sunny, your dad’s sunk. Haven’t seen Lottie interested in a man since Ho left—if she really is. Let them have fun.”
“Ho?”
“He owned the clubs where Lottie worked. She thought the sun rose and set on the old crook because he let her have her way. She looked after all the girls like a mother hen. Then Ho went back to San Francisco and married himself a bride straight from China. Lottie always swore he’d broken her heart.”
“But Pop is…I mean, I don’t think he’s had much experience with women.”
Ryan walked around the island and caught her hand. “And Lottie hasn’t had much experience with men, not good men. Don’t worry, Sunny. They’ll be fine.” He put one finger under her chin and lifted it, a sweet sober expression on his mouth. “And you’ll be fine, once you get over being just a little jealous.”
“I’m not jealous!” she said, twisting her face to the side.
“Of course not, and I don’t want to kiss you either. Guess who’s not telling the truth?”
Sunny let out the breath she felt as if she’d been holding for the better part of an hour and laid her cheek against his chest. “Ryan, I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of what I feel for you. I thought my dad would tell me to stop seeing you. But he seems to approve.”
“Good,” he said, lowering his lips to touch her hair. “I’m glad you have feelings for me. I wouldn’t want to be feeling all this alone.”
“What are we going to do?” she whispered.
“Forget about everything but us. Go where the feeling takes us. See where we end up.”
“I can tell you where we’re going to end up,” Sunny said, looking at him again. “I’m going to be unemployed, Lottie’s going to find herself barefoot and pregnant and Pop’s going to be defrocked.”
“Yeah!” Ryan said with a grin. “But ain’t sinning going to be fun?”
10
THE RETURN TRAFFIC was light. On the way back to her apartment, her father was as jovial as she’d seen him in years.
“Nice people,” Mr. Clary was saying. “I like your fella. He’s been brought up well. He must have a nice family.”
She hated to
spoil his good mood but she didn’t want her father to accept Ryan Malone so quickly. “Pop, he doesn’t know who his father was and his mother died when he was very young.”
“Who raised him?”
That stopped Sunny. “I don’t know.”
“Well, whoever it was, they did a mighty fine job. He has manners, a good business head on his shoulders—or he wouldn’t live in a penthouse on top of his own office building—and from what Lottie tells me, he’s generous with what he has. All in all, I approve.”
“But, Pop, he’s rich. He’s one of Atlanta’s most eligible bachelors. I can’t believe he wants a country girl like me.”
“Why not? Any man in his right mind would want you, Sunny. And I saw the way you looked at him.”
Sunny grimaced. “Yeah, and I saw the way you looked at Lottie.”
“Sara Frances!” Mr. Clary said, and tugged at a strand of her hair. “I know that people and the times have changed but if there’s one thing I learned in prison, it’s to appreciate the gifts that come to you while you have them. They may be gone and never come back. Keep trying to be the best person you can be but don’t crush the feelings inside of you like I did. I’d love to see you find a good man and get married.”
Sunny thought about what he was saying. She was being given a gift and she shouldn’t turn it down. But was it love? And what would happen when Edward Hinton got through with them? “There’s another thing I need your advice on, Pop.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“I told you I covered a charity golf tournament yesterday. Ryan was playing. He invited me to have lunch with him and something happened. We were in the woods adjacent to the course when a bee flew down my shirt. I couldn’t get it out.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you hurt?”
“I was stung, nothing serious. But Ryan had to get the bee. And someone took a picture of us with Ryan’s hand inside my bra.”
“Uh-oh! Someone, as in a fan, or someone who wants to cause you grief?”
“The latter, I’m afraid. The photograph was taken by a freelance newsman whose reputation has already gotten him fired from a television station and a newspaper in Atlanta. If those pictures reach the public, my credibility as an investigative reporter could be ruined. If nothing worse, I’ll be a joke from now on.”
“I see. What does Ryan think?”
Sunny took a deep breath. “He wanted to buy them back, the pictures and the negatives, to protect me.”
“Good for him. That’s what I’d expect. I feel better knowing you have someone looking after you up here. It’s a different world from what you grew up in.”
Not so very, she wanted to say. Instead, she asked, “Do you really like him?”
“I do. I like Lottie, too.”
“We’re a real pair. A country girl and a millionaire. A Baptist minister and an ex-burlesque star who is an assistant to a male stripper.”
“Retired male stripper,” her father corrected. “Living on the Riviera, according to Lottie.”
“I’m not sure I believe that. A week ago he performed at the dedication of the building he donated to the Arts Council.”
“And he’s the story you’re going after? The one Lottie and Ryan are helping you to get? Why do you need their help?”
“Because,” Sunny said, “nobody else knows who he is.”
Byron Clary laughed. “Son of a gun. He kept his identity secret. How’d he do that?”
“He wore a mask.”
“If he didn’t let anybody know who he was, he must have had a reason. I can see why that would interest you, but are you sure you want to reveal his secret?”
He was taking up for the man. Sunny was amazed. “You think I shouldn’t?”
“I don’t know. But when you track him down, I’d make certain I knew what I was doing before I told the world.”
TED FIELDS AND THE REST of the staff welcomed her father. They shared coffee and doughnuts in the break room. Then Walt took him off to show him how videotape was edited. Sunny picked up her assignments for the day and was glad to see that none of them took her away from the station until an art show in the evening. “More fluff,” she complained under her breath. When was Ted going to give her something with meat in it?
When Lottie showed up at noon, the entire male population of WTRU found an excuse to visit the parking lot to coo over Lottie’s car.
Once they’d left, Sunny grabbed a sandwich and went to work. If she stayed busy she wouldn’t worry. Her father was over sixty; he could look after himself. She was the one who needed a keeper. When she looked down at her notepad all she’d written was run away.
Two rewritten stories from the news service and three voice-overs later and she found herself in the archives once more. If she could just get a line on Lord Sin she’d feel like she was accomplishing something.
The phone rang.
“Newsroom, Sunny Clary speaking.”
“Phone booth. Edward Hinton speaking. We need to talk.”
She didn’t know why she hadn’t expected it. It was logical. She was the one who’d refused to let Ryan pay; she was the one the blackmailer would work on. “Talk,” she said.
“The pictures turned out great. Good clear shot of your…T-shirt, or where it would be normally.”
“What do you want, Hinton?”
“I’m a reporter, Sunny. I always check my facts. I even checked on you. I don’t want to hurt you, I know what that’s like. I just want a job.”
Her mind was racing. What should she do? “I don’t do the hiring here. You know that.”
“No, but you and your boyfriend have influence.”
“Maybe I could get you an interview with Ted Fields. But the rest is up to you.”
“Not good enough, babe. I was ambitious. I made mistakes, but I am a good reporter. WTRU is in the business of reporting the truth. If you need to know something, I can find it out.”
She didn’t like it, but at least it would buy her some time. If he failed, she hadn’t lost anything. “Well,” she said, planning her words carefully. “I have a project that might be right up your alley. Your reputation as a serious reporter is zilch. At the moment, so is mine. I’m willing to work with you on something that could get us both what we want. But if you let me down, my boss will ruin you.”
“What do you need?”
“You’ve heard of Lord Sin?”
“The stripper? Sure. Everybody’s heard of him.”
“You help me find out who he really is. I’ll give you half credit on the story and you give me the pictures you took of Malone and me in the woods.”
“What’s going to keep me from selling the story on Lord Sin and you, too?”
“Ryan Malone and your conscience and any hope you have for a future in television.”
“And if I do what you want, you’ll give me credit?”
“I will,” she promised.
“You have a deal. What do you want me to do?”
“The labor department keeps a list of the strippers who worked for a man named Ho. This would have been fifteen years ago. I’ve been told that Lord Sin started out at one of the clubs as a janitor. Somebody had to have seen Lord Sin before he became Lord Sin. I would interview them myself but people are funny about talking to reporters. I want you to go.”
“So, what am I, chopped liver?”
“It’s not that, Hinton. They don’t know you. You can use a different approach. I figure you probably stand a better chance of finding out what we want to know.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to work on Ryan Malone.”
Her new partner laughed. “Yeah, I already saw how you managed that.”
“Hinton, do you want to help me with this story or not?”
“I’ll be in touch, partner,” he said, and hung up.
The next phone call was from her father, telling her that Lottie had made a seven o’clock dinner reservation at a restaurant owned b
y one of her old friends. He’d like to go—if Sunny didn’t mind. “What time will you be home?” she asked, suddenly feeling like the parent.
She could hear him talking to Lottie before he answered, “Well, the restaurant is one of those places that serves courses, and she says it’s pretty far out so we might be late. You sure you won’t mind?”
She did, but since she had to cover the opening of the art show this evening, she could use the afternoon to contact Isabella. She had to know how to get to Lord Sin. Assuring her father she didn’t mind, she hung up the phone. Her plan to have him size up Ryan Malone wasn’t working out as she’d hoped anyway. He’d given Ryan his approval and now he seemed more interested in sizing up Lottie.
RYAN MALONE’S APPEARANCE at the show came as no surprise to Sunny. But the loss of electric power in the gallery moments later was a surprise. After thirty minutes of tinkering with fuses and wiring, the proprietor lit candles, held a solemn wake and invited the patrons to view the paintings by candlelight or come back the following night. “Well,” Walt said, “that lets us out for tonight. I’m due at the Hawks’ basketball game in exactly twenty minutes. You think Malone would give you a lift back to the station? Unless you’d rather come to the game.”
“I’ll be happy to take Sunny home,” Malone said from the darkness behind them.
And that’s how Sunny found herself in the big black sedan instead of the station van. “Do you know anything about wiring?” she asked suspiciously.
“Not enough to arrange that, but I would have, if I could. When is your dad due home?”
“I’m not sure. Lottie took him to some fancy restaurant owned by a friend.”
Malone let out a chuckle and folded his hands beneath his chin in prayer. “Thank you, Lottie.”
“What’s so funny?” Sunny asked.
“I don’t suppose he told you that the restaurant is in Chattanooga?”
“Chattanooga. You mean Tennessee? No, he didn’t. He just said he’d be late.”
“Well, Chattanooga is only an hour and a half north of Atlanta but, knowing Lottie, she probably didn’t tell him. I’d say he’ll be very late. How do you feel about leftovers?”
Baring It All (Mills & Boon Temptation) Page 16