“I mean,” he continued, his tone defensive, "I know I could concentrate on givin’ Robbie more occasion to act like a girl than a boy. I could stop calling her Robbie, for one,” he admitted with a wry twist of his mouth. “And not encourage her so much to join in runnin’ the business, even if she has taken to it like a fish to water….”
This time he didn’t find his pun amusing.
As if reminded by his remark, Mariah said, “Oh, about Robin’s request. What if I mailed her a book I have that shows how to do all sorts of braids and hairstyles with long hair?”
He was again surprised—and pleased. She hadn’t forgotten his niece. “Robbie—Robin, I mean—would like that.”
“You might help her at first, since it’s easier if there’s someone back there to hold the different sections of hair. That is, if you felt comfortable with that sort of thing.”
Jeb shrugged. “How much more difficult could it be than snelling a hook?”
That brought out her smile, fleetingly, and the constricting band around his chest eased ever so slightly.
“I’m sure I wouldn’t begin to know,” she answered.
He knew Mariah hadn’t been serious about him teaching her to fish, but Jeb suddenly wished for that opportunity to do so, because if there was one thing he did know backward, forward and sideways, it was fishing.
In that way, he and Mariah were alike, both involved in service businesses. But that was where the similarity ended. His responsibility was to produce tangible results; hers…not so apparent or defined. He felt he had the easier job of it.
“You know, I almost feel obligated to change the name of my business if I’m to adhere to truth in advertising,” Mariah said.
It was as if she’d read his mind. “Well, it is just a name,” he reminded her. “I bet you wouldn’t find everything for fishing or camping at Bubba J.’s.”
For some reason, she brightened at that, even gave a low, feminine, silvery laugh that oddly seemed to fit right in with the increasingly distinct night sounds around the lake.
But she wasn’t here to fit in, which was as it ought to be.
“I’ll wish you good luck, then, Saved by the Belle.” He had yet to call her by her given name, and the omission served as a reminder as he found himself, against his very will, looking down at her and trying to memorize her features.
“Good luck to you, Jeb Albright,” she said. And she held her hand out to him again.
Even though his own was no fresher than it had been when she’d extended hers before, something in his man’s pride wouldn’t let him balk this time. He took her hand in his.
It was soft against his palm, small and delicate. A woman’s touch…The thought flitted through his head, bringing back that craving for…something—he didn’t know what, only that it had gone unmet for years now.
His other hand covered hers, more complete contact with that softness—and in a test of sorts. He heard her short intake of breath as her other hand went to her throat again, fingers grazing across the pearls there as if touching a talisman. Yes, he saw the reaction he’d thought he would, that attraction that tugged at them both. Then her gaze flew up to meet his, doe eyes flaring slightly, as he felt in her grip the apprehension he’d first encountered upon seeing her. Or more accurately, her seeing him.
Immediately Jeb let go of Mariah’s hand and stepped back. She said nothing but got into her car.
He stood there long after her red taillights had disappeared into the night.
So. She felt she wasn’t being truthful in hiring herself out as Saved by the Belle. Well, he’d bet there were more than a few people out there looking for her kind of redemption.
He hated that the thought sent another torrent of longing ripping through him.
* * *
For the tenth time in an hour, Jeb flipped from his front to his back on the bed. It was going to be one of those nights, he guessed, of which he was having more and more lately.
This one was quite a bit different, though, for he wasn’t just restless. He was edgy as a caged bobcat without its mate.
“Jeb?” Wiley whispered from the other side of the darkened bedroom. The mobile home had only two bedrooms, situated at opposite ends of the trailer. As a result, Wiley had given up his room to Robin and bunked on the extra twin bed in Jeb’s room, vacated years ago by Cody. Jeb was only too happy to share, but sometimes Wiley snored like a hibernating grizzly. Or if awake, he talked, knowing he had a captive audience. Well, tonight Jeb was in no mood for confidences, not after today’s fiasco.
“Jeb?” Wiley repeated. “You asleep?”
“Yep.”
His uncle sighed. “You bein’ surly with me ain’t going to do anything more than earn you a second’s worth of satisfaction.”
Jeb hauled himself onto one elbow and peered across the room. “You don’t think I have the right to be put out with you for pullin’ that stunt today?”
“I didn’t say that—”
“Well, then, what would you say?”
“I was just tryin’ to help, son.”
“Right. I know what you were thinking, Wiley, and it wasn’t that Saved by the Belle could help any of us. At least not the way Mariah Duncan advertises she could. No, you saw her on that show and thought if you could just get her out here to meet me, lightning would strike us both, and there’d be the answer to all our troubles.” That’s what really chapped his hide about this whole deal. Wiley knew what had happened with Anita, and still he’d called Mariah out here.
The absurdity of it hit him afresh, as did every bit of his chagrin. “Good God, Wiley, what possessed you?”
“Well, there weren’t no listing in the Yellow Pages for Saved by the Ign’rant Hick Uncle!” his uncle shot back. “Or believe you me, I’d’ve called the number on both our accounts!”
There was a moment of silence in the room before the two men burst out laughing. Jeb let his head fall forward, shaking it slowly. He never could stay mad at Wiley for long.
“Come on, now. Admit it.. Didn’t you think she might make as likely a candidate for a real fine wife and mother as anyone else?” his uncle asked.
“Miss Junior League? Yeah, right.” All humor left him as Jeb scowled. “Besides, how could it possibly matter if I did?”
“I dunno. Seems to me I heard someone say a while back he’d try just about anything to keep Robbie.” Wiley grunted as he rolled over, for the first time in Jeb’s memory being the one to end the conversation, though not before delivering a parting morsel of food for thought, “You know, I always taught you and Cody that what you catch all depends on the bait you use.”
And just who were you thinking was which in this case? Jeb thought but didn’t ask. What would be the point? It didn’t matter what his opinion was of Mariah Duncan, just as it didn’t matter what she thought of him.
With a snort of self-disgust, Jeb flopped back on the bed, lacing his fingers behind his head and staring at the ceiling.
He had to admit, if only to himself, that the reason he’d been embarrassed at every turn today was because he had been attracted to Mariah Duncan, incredibly so, even with that touch-me-not haughtiness that put a man more in mind of a prim schoolteacher than a desirable woman.
Except he could tell, in that all-too-brief moment when she’d been pressed against him, that she didn’t lack for curves in all the right places. No, ma’am.