Naked Attraction. Jule McBride
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the sexy librarian thing down pat.
“Robby?”
He blinked, then damned himself for drifting once more into what he called “the Ellie zone.” Often, he’d start thinking about her, only to glance up, look at a clock and realize a full hour had passed. “Huh?”
“I said they’re not making men like they used to,” Daddy Eddie continued. “I don’t have to tell you that. Do I, Robby?” Before Robby could respond, the man started in once more. “I mean, these fellows I’m talking about, that my little girl used to date in college…why, they’d never even fished or hiked. I ask you, what kind of a fellow can’t make his own fish flies?”
“I make mine, so I couldn’t say.”
“Exactly.”
Frequently, Daddy Eddie implied Robby would have made a perfect match for Ellie. However, if he suspected the truth, the man would change his tune in a heartbeat. In fact, Robby’s backside would be chock-full of buckshot.
As if reading his mind, Daddy Eddie continued, “And you can sure as hell bet those boys couldn’t shoot a gun. What kind of woman would want a man who can’t shoot straight?”
That was probably a dangling double entendre, but Robby didn’t take the bait. Instead, he abruptly changed the subject. While conversing with Daddy Eddie, one often had to revert to non sequiturs. “I don’t really know how to bring this up,” Robby said, “but I need to take a few days off.”
“Don’t we all,” crooned Daddy Eddie.
“Sorry you’ve felt compelled to come back to work, sir,” Robby managed. “I do feel bad about it.” Suddenly, temper rose inside him. “And dammit,” he added, “I’m sorry about the way business is going, Daddy Eddie. I really am. I know you hoped I’d be able to step up to the plate.”
“Well, Ellie’s got us by the kahunas, son. Mostly because she’s female.”
There was some truth in it. Some clients had left because she was playing the underdog. Otherwise, her leaving had thrown Robby completely off his game, which didn’t help. He felt as deflated as an old birthday balloon. Lee Polls just wasn’t the same without her.
Daddy Eddie heaved a sigh. “That’s the hell of it, isn’t it? Women always have the upper hand. No matter what. And that’s the first thing any red-blooded male has to understand about the fairer sex. They rule the world.”
“But we have to pretend we do,” Robby agreed ruefully, not fully agreeing with Daddy Eddie’s point, but having heard this lecture many times.
“Well, maybe you should go on vacation.”
That was a surprise. “I should?”
Daddy Eddie nodded decisively. “Yes, indeed. You haven’t taken a day off since my witchlike daughter so rudely left town.” He shook his head in consternation. “She didn’t even give two-weeks’ notice. Or clean her desk.” He eyed Robby. “You and I had to do that, and I know, firsthand, she was raised with better manners than that.”
“I just need a couple days.”
“Take all the time you want.”
“Pardon me for saying so, but why are you trying to get rid of me now?”
Daddy Eddie eyed the newspaper article with a malicious glint in the gaze. “I’d like to be left to my own devices for a few days.”
“Great.” Long ago, Robby had learned not to trust Daddy Eddie. “What do you have up your sleeve?”
“My plan is still formulating.”
“I can’t wait to hear.” Daddy Eddie could fight just as hard as Ellie. She’d gotten all the man’s worst genes. Now God only knew what was brewing in the old coot’s devious mind. “Maybe I’d better stick around.”
“Oh, you know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Ellie.”
“Not lethally,” Robby agreed. “That being the case, why don’t you share your diabolical plot?”
“Oh, no,” Daddy Eddie said with a sudden, soft chuckle that didn’t bode well in Robby’s humble opinion. “You need to clear your head, so you’d better go on vacation. In fact, why don’t you take the rest of the day off to organize your things?”
Hearing a ruckus behind him, and feeling half glad for the interruption, Robby glanced over his shoulder toward the door, just in time to see Max Sweeney cross the threshold. In a heartbeat, blind fury claimed Robby and pure killer instinct took over.
Daddy Eddie’s attention sharpened, too. “Bastard,” he muttered simply.
“That guy always makes me see red.”
Sweeney was definitely a weasel. Short and slight of build, he was pale-skinned, with a face constructed entirely of points—a sharp chin, beak nose, jutting cheekbones. Everybody knew he collected bets on races, but Sheriff Kemp had never caught him red-handed. Sweeney was no stranger to Robby, either. And now he tried not to think of how, years ago, Max would corner Robby’s old man, Charlie, in the Night Rider and ply him with booze, wearing down his resistance. Once Charlie couldn’t think straight, Max would get him to bet on various sports games. Horses, cars, football, you name it.
Then, when Charlie lost, there was no way to pay Max, since Max had already encouraged Charlie to spend his paycheck on booze. So then Max would turn around and demand exorbitant interest on whatever Charlie owed.
To add insult to injury, Max, himself, had a son only a few years older than Robby on whom Max had doted. Johnny Sweeney had the good grace not to look like his father, too, and some of the stupider girls around the surrounding bayous had fallen for him. The fact that he was always flush with cash helped.
Max had given his only son everything. He’d driven late model, high-end cars since he’d gotten a license, and he’d gone to top-of-the-line schools, both prep and college. He’d experienced a life of travel and privilege, and now he was a lawyer, practicing part-time in a nearby town called Sunset Bayou.
“Damn loan shark,” Daddy Eddie spat out with displeasure, speaking of Max.
Robby merely shrugged. What he wouldn’t do to bring the guy down, though. He wasn’t defending his old man, of course. The instinct was purely selfish. Sweeney belonged behind bars, if only for the nights Robby had gone hungry after he’d gotten Charlie Robriquet to squander the rent and grocery money.
If it hadn’t been for Patricia Lee, Ellie’s mother and Daddy Eddie’s wife, Robby figured he would have starved to death. To this day, he was fairly certain Daddy Eddie had no idea how many times his wife had come calling at the shack Charlie and Robby had called home. Always, she’d drop off leftovers or an “extra” pie she’d made.
Not that Robby had minded taking her charity. He’d once heard Daddy Eddie say that Patricia Lee’s smile could take the sting out of a bumblebee and that was the truth. She was, by far, the nicest, most maternal woman Robby had ever met. Sighing, he acknowledged once again that his ex-lover had gotten Daddy Eddie’s genes, not Patricia’s.
And that’s what drove Robby so crazy. Ellie was unpredictable, fiery and determined in everything she attempted, and Robby could never quite let go of the challenge…
Suddenly, his ears pricked up. At the bar, Clancy was showing Max the article about Ellie. Just the thought of the weasel’s eyes on a picture of Ellie made Robby’s blood boil. When he heard Max’s insinuating voice, his fingers curled into a fist.
“She sure knows how to call ‘em,” Max said, his high-pitched, nasal voice traveling. “Knowledge like hers would sure come in handy at a racetrack.” He chortled. “Not that I’m a gambling man.”
“It’s a good thing my daughter uses her talents for nobler causes,” Daddy Eddie called, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the jukebox, which was now playing one of