Baring It All (Mills & Boon Temptation)

by Sandra Chastain

  “I know, Lottie Lamour.”

  “That’s her. When do you want to go talk to her?”

  “Give me your number. Let me do a little research on Jack Ivy and talk to Ted. I’ll call you. In the meantime, stay away from Lottie.”

  It was Edward’s turn to frown. “You wouldn’t be planning to cut me out, would you? Remember, I still have the pictures from the golf tournament.”

  “I’m aware of that. If you sell the pictures, you sell them. That doesn’t change our agreement. I keep my word.”

  Sunny wrote down Edward’s number, picked up the year-book and the ticket for his lunch. He was tearing into a hamburger with all the trimmings when she left. With most of her lunch hour left, she swung by her apartment to find her father asleep on the couch. At her entrance, he sat up, smiling.

  “Morning, Sara Frances. You’re looking ravishing this morning.”

  “Pop, I’m glad you’re home. I was…a little worried about you last night.”

  He looked surprised. “You were worried about me, a sixty-three-year-old man who is a minister?”

  “I was. Pop, you don’t understand. You haven’t had much experience with women like Lottie. She’s—different.”

  “You got that right. I like her—a lot. I haven’t felt so alive in years.”

  Sunny frowned. How did a daughter talk to her father about his having a midlife crisis? Did she even have the right? “Look,” she finally said, “I have to get back to work, but we’ll talk about this tonight. I love you and I just don’t want you to be hurt.”

  “I wish we could, sweetheart, but I have to get back. My assistant called a little while ago. We lost Jed Lake yesterday. Have to get home to preach the funeral. I was just catching a quick nap before I started the drive back.” He laughed. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “But Pop—”

  “Oh, about your young man. I had a long talk with Lottie about him. He’s okay. I’d say you ought to get to know him better.” He stopped and gave her a long, troubled look. “Sunny, I love you. I never told you that very often, but I do. I wasn’t much of a father to you, either. I’m sorry. When your mother died, I was lost. I know what being alone can do to a person. I’m thinking that’s not good.”

  “But Pop—” she began again, ready to argue. She’d had a father and that was more than a lot of girls. And if he had been distant, so had she. But she’d always known that he loved her, in his own way.

  “Don’t be such a worrywart, Sara Frances. Remember what I said. We only get so many gifts. I wasted a lot of years. Don’t waste yours. Life’s a bowl of cherries,” he added as he disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower, whistling merrily. “And the Lord sent us cherries to be eaten.”

  His poetry might be lousy, but all the way back to the station Sunny heard the sound of her father whistling. A long time had passed since she’d heard it. She wanted him to be happy, didn’t she? Was it him she was worried about, or her?

  The afternoon schedule was slow. Ted had a day off. Sunny was disappointed. She’d have to wait until tomorrow to discuss what she’d learned about Lord Sin. In the meantime, the archives revealed no information about Jackson Lewis Ivy but she did learn about the man who was supposed to be his father, Jackson Lewis. Lewis was a classic underachiever. He was a stereotypical rich kid with a spotty school record which indicated that his failure to graduate was due to a poor attitude and sheer laziness. He’d started out in the family business but after a few years received an appointment to fulfill the term of a county commissioner who died in office. An apparent charge of misuse of the county expense account was hushed up and Jackson went back to the family business. Finally, with a war chest that dwarfed all the other candidates, he ran for state representative from his district and was elected.

  His career seemed less than illustrious, ending in the automobile wreck that claimed his life. There was no record of a marriage, a wife or a child, legitimate or otherwise. If the boy in the annual was Jackson’s son, he’d apparently never enjoyed any of the benefits. From what she’d read of Jackson senior, it was just as well.

  Finally, she typed up her notes. There was a story here, at least the beginning of one. She’d have to talk to Lottie again. After what had happened with Ryan, then her father, she wasn’t certain she wanted to face the woman who had so much influence over both. Still, it had to be done. She was a reporter and she couldn’t let her personal life interfere with her job. A vow was a vow and she’d made one never to give up again, even if it meant putting herself at risk.

  She picked up the phone and dialed Lottie’s number.

  RYAN HAD OCCUPIED HIMSELF for most of the day with making the final arrangements for the dedication for the hospital wing, but his mind had often dwelled on Sunny. He’d finally found a woman he really cared for. One who was stubborn, compassionate and totally unimpressed with his wealth. Everything he’d worked for was in place. Why then was he nagged by such doubts? Something was wrong. He just couldn’t figure out what it was.

  Then the phone rang. Lottie’s worried voice put a face on his doubt. “Ryan, she’s found the yearbook.”

  “Well, that’s what we wanted, isn’t it?”

  “That’s what you wanted. I’m not sure it was the right thing to do. We should have just told her Lord Sin had retired to the Riviera like we’d planned and let it go at that.”

  “Wouldn’t have worked, Lottie. She’s a reporter. She wouldn’t have given up.”

  “And you think she will now?”

  “Yes. We’ve given her something to investigate, a trail to follow. When she comes to you, you identify Jackson Ivy as Lord Sin. Answer her questions. She’ll be able to trace his real estate holdings to the Riviera and once the AP news photo of Jack opening his restaurant comes to the station, she’ll have her story.”

  “I don’t like it, Ryan. In the beginning you said something about telling her the truth. I think you should. If what her daddy told me about Sunny is true, I think she’d understand. She isn’t the bright-eyed, tell-the-truth-at-any-cost person she once was either.”

  “Sunny never had anything to hide. She was never a stripper,” Ryan said.

  “No, more’s the pity,” Lottie said. “Can you imagine Lord Sin and Sunny Clary performing together? We’d have had to keep the cops from arresting you. Sure you don’t want to go back to work?”

  “The only stripping I’ll ever do again will be private,” Ryan said, remembering last night, “very private.”

  SUNNY HAD MADE ONE wrong turn on the way to Lottie’s house. Asking Ryan to accompany her had crossed her mind but she’d rejected that idea as being distracting at a time when she needed all her wits about her.

  Lottie let her in and offered her tea. Sunny shook her head and went right to the point. “I’d like you to look at this high school yearbook, Lottie, and tell me if you know this man?”

  She flipped open the pages and pushed it over to Lottie who took a deep breath and looked down.

  After a long minute she nodded. “Yes, that’s my beautiful Sin.”

  “And his name is Jackson Lewis Ivy?”

  “That was the name his mother gave him. Sin never used it. If the man who was his father wouldn’t give him his name, Sin didn’t want it.”

  “How’d he get the name Sin?”

  “Well,” she smiled and rolled her eyes, “when he first came to the house, he thought it was a restaurant. We’d run an ad for a part-time janitor. When I saw him, I said it would be a sin to give a handsome boy like him a job emptying the trash. He laughed and blinked those big eyes at the girls and they all agreed that it would be a sin to hide him. So, we called him Sin. Then Ho sold the club and, later, when the new owner came in, Sin lied about his age and put together an act. I helped him change his appearance and gave him a royal title. Jackson Lewis Ivy disappeared forever when Lord Sin began to dance.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before? Why was it so important to keep it a secret?�
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  “Because when Sin was in high school, his father’s family finally contacted the foster parents he lived with. They wanted to make amends for treating Sin’s mother so badly. What they really wanted was their son back. But it was too late. Jackson Ivy had run away from the foster home where he was living and vanished. If his mother wasn’t good enough for the Lewises, he wanted no part of them. He made me promise to keep his secret. I have ever since. Until now.”

  “How sad. And where is Jack?”

  “Lord Sin did very well, as you know. He saved his money, invested it and made a fortune. Finally, he retired and moved to the Riviera where people don’t care who you were, only what you’ve got. Jack Ivy owns a mansion on the beach and a restaurant called Ivy’s which is the hottest thing going. So, now you have your story. Write it up and let the mystery of Lord Sin die a natural death.”

  “I suppose,” Sunny said. Now that she knew the truth, it seemed so sad. At least she had information that could be verified. And once she’d told Ted, she would have earned her right to pick her assignments. Gathering up the annual, she started toward the door.

  “By the way, Sunny,” Lottie said softly, “I really like your dad. He’s the kind of man any woman would want. Why hasn’t he married since your mom died?”

  Lottie’s question startled Sunny. “My mother was such a big part of my daddy’s life. When she died, he just filled that space with work. Then he had a little bad luck.”

  “Yeah, he told me about being framed. If it had been me, when I got out I’d have done bodily harm to the real bad guy. But Byron said a higher power already had.”

  Sunny nodded. “He was killed in a boating accident while Pop was in jail.”

  “I know. It’s kinda nice having a friend upstairs who has pull. He’s made me think about things I haven’t thought about in years.”

  Sunny cut her gaze back to Lottie. “Like what?”

  “Like sharing. Like discovering new things. Like opening myself to possibilities. I hope you don’t mind, Sunny, but I intend to see your father again.”

  “You know he’s a preacher in a church too poor to support a full-time man. I doubt they have more than twenty-five members.”

  “You’re out of date, Sunny,” she said with a laugh. “Your father is gathering souls with a vengeance. The church is up to fifty members now and growing. Besides, I don’t need a man with money, I have a pot full. I just need something or somebody to spend it on. This morning I’m going shopping for a church organ. Byron’s going to be surprised when he finds out I can play a mean piano. An organ ought not to be too hard to learn.”

  SUNNY WAS ON HER WAY HOME when she turned back to the station and the archives. Something wasn’t right. The story was there, the explanation and enough proof to make her think that she was on the right track. But there was some little sixth sense that was nagging at her.

  As she turned into the parking lot, she was followed by a car that parked beside her. Ted got out. “You’re working late,” he said.

  “Just doing a little research,” she said. “Thought you were off today.”

  “Today, not tonight. What about you?” Ted asked. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’d like to talk to you about that. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Sure. Come on in.”

  Sunny followed him into his office and took the seat across from Ted’s desk. “I’ve found Lord Sin,” she said.

  His look of surprise was even bigger than she’d expected. “You don’t look too excited about it,” he commented as he slid out of his jacket and hung it on a rack by the door. “Something wrong?”

  “I’m not sure. Look at this picture and tell me what you think.” She opened the annual and pointed at the picture of Jack Ivy.

  “Good-looking kid” was Ted’s comment. “Don’t understand why he’d want to hide all that blond hair and those blue eyes under a mask.”

  “I guess that’s what’s bothering me. Does he look familiar to you?”

  “Vaguely, maybe. But you saw him dance, you ought to know.”

  “Lord Sin’s hair was the same blond and his eyes were the same blue.”

  “Well, then…” Ted said.

  Sunny gave him the story that Lottie had told. “I just wish there was some way we could verify that Jack Ivy actually owns a restaurant and a beachfront mansion on the Riviera.”

  “Well—” he thought a minute “—there ought to be somebody who could tell us. I have a couple of friends who work with the foreign press. Let me make a few inquiries.”

  Those were the kind of contacts Sunny needed to develop but that would come later. For now, she felt better. She stood up and smiled. “Thanks, Ted. I’ll let you get back to work now. See you tomorrow.”

  “Sunny.” His voice stopped her at the door. “Good work. We’ll talk tomorrow about your next assignment. You’ve earned something with some teeth.”

  “Good. By the way,” she called out, “I promised Edward Hinton he’d get some credit on the story. I couldn’t have done it without him.”

  “What?” Ted’s roar followed her across the newsroom. “Who gave you the authority to promise anything? Sunny?”

  But Sunny kept going. She’d done it. Ted was going to let her do something meaningful. This would mean that Edward wouldn’t sell the photographs of Ryan touching her breasts and she’d be perceived as a serious journalist. Everything was going to work out. Suddenly she was in a hurry to get home. Suppose Ryan had tried to call?

  He had. He’d left a message on her answering machine that some business in South Georgia had come up. He’d call her tomorrow. “The dedication of the children’s hospital wing at Doctor’s Hospital takes place Wednesday afternoon. I hope you’ll be the one they send.”

  Sunny thought about Ted’s promise and groaned. “Probably,” she said, answering the machine rather than the man. “I’m the Good-News Girl, aren’t I? But that is about to change.”

  Her carriage house apartment seemed very quiet. When the doorbell rang later, she dashed to answer, hoping that Ryan’s trip had been canceled. Instead, a messenger handed her a special delivery package. “Sign here, please,” he said, then disappeared into the darkness. Locking the door behind him, she carried the package inside and ripped open the other paper. Inside were two large picture puzzles—and a note. “Until we see these in person, this will have to do.”

  She was holding The Bridge of Sighs in Vienna and a street scene of Paris in the rain. “Oh, Ryan,” she whispered. “What am I going to do with you?” Then, after a moment, she added, “And what am I going to do without you, when you get tired of me?”

  Later, in bed, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep, missing Ryan’s arms around her, feeling his lips on hers. She’d never minded being alone before. The problem with loving someone was dealing with the loss when it was over. Losing Ryan Malone was going to be rough. She didn’t know if she could do it. Finally, she got up and switched on Lord Sin’s tape. She might as well finish it. She couldn’t be still anyway.

  This time she stopped the tape on a close-up and studied his face. Though it was masked and the lighting was strange, she could clearly see his eyes and his mass of golden hair, straight and flowing this time. It was the hair that bothered her. Why would a man who kept his identity a secret wear a hairstyle that could never be disguised? It made no sense. Yet, that’s what he’d done. The picture in the yearbook confirmed he’d worn it from the start.

  As the tape played, she soon got caught up in his dancing, watching the sensual way he was able to make love to a woman who wasn’t there. His voice, always an intimate whisper and filled with emotion, seemed directed at her. “You’re the woman I’ve waited for, longed for. You’ve made me feel your hot breath, and your heart race. You are a part of me. Together, we have worlds to travel and wonders to see.”

  The tape ended. The phone rang.

  “Hello, darling,” Ryan’s husky voice said. “Are you missing me?”

&n
bsp; The racing heart Lord Sin just talked about was nothing compared to Sunny’s. The sound of Ryan’s voice turned up her temperature to blistering. “I thought for a moment you were Lord Sin.”

  There was a silence. “Do I sound like him?”

  “Only because I was watching his video. I don’t understand the man. His blue eyes and blond hair were so spectacular. But it was his voice. He always whispered. He couldn’t have done that without the microphone. And it disguised his real speaking voice.”

  “You sound a little breathless. I wish I were there.”

  “I am and I wish you were, too.” She leaned back against her pillow and moved her legs and remembered Ryan’s satin sheets. “What would you do?”

  Once he’d told her, Sunny groaned aloud, threw off the covers and walked to the window, picturing them naked and tangled in the sheets. How long will it take you to get here? she wanted to ask. But that was a fantasy; that’s all it could be.

  “Did you get my present?”

  “I did. Thank you. I’ve always wanted to travel. Have you been to Venice?”

  “Not with you,” he said. “But we’ll go. Together, we have worlds to travel and wonders to see,” he said. “For now, look at the canal and see us there. In the moonlight, in a gondola. See you in my arms. See me kissing you. Good night, Sunny.”

  After she hung up she realized that she hadn’t told him she knew the truth about the mystery man.

  12

  WEDNESDAY MORNING Ted’s friend with the Associated Press faxed a copy of a shot of the opening of Ivy’s Restaurant on the Riviera. The view of the new owner was slightly blurred but even to Sunny, it was clear that the man welcoming the Princess of Monaco was Lord Sin, now known as Jack Ivy. There was also a smaller photo, an overhead view of an estate, identified as the new digs of the Riviera’s newest multimillionaire.

  “Looks like you did it,” Ted said. “Here’s your proof. But you’ve put me in an awkward position with Edward Hinton. I talked to him. I told him that once he hands over the photos of you and Malone, he’ll get half credit on the story. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to join our staff.”