What She Doesn't Know Read Online Free PDF Page A

said.
    She glanced over her shoulder, then groaned when she saw Parry Clifton, shirt halfway unbuttoned and dark hair rumpled, leading a woman half his age through the doorway. “Well, that didn’t take long.” She’d checked Max’s uncle and his latest “lady friend” into the hotel less than an hour ago.
    “That guy’s been here a couple of times a week since you hired me,” R. J. said. “Why do you put up with him? You’ve got to know that the women he brings here are hookers.”
    “Sumarville doesn’t have hookers. Our little town has two-bit whores. Well, actually, probably twenty-dollar whores might be more accurate.” As Parry approached, Eartha took a couple of sips from her glass, then turned to face him. “The bar’s closing in a few minutes. Maybe you should take your friend over to the Firewater since they stay open until one o’clock.”
    “Trying to get rid of me?” Parry plopped down on a bar stool, then yanked his companion down onto the stool next to him. “Candy here will think we aren’t welcome.”
    With an aggravated expression forming on her face, Eartha glanced at R. J. “Get Mr. Clifton and his guest a drink, then close the bar for tonight.” With her glass in her hand, she rose from the stool, made her way around to inspect each table, then headed for the kitchen.
    Sipping leisurely on her drink, she surveyed the entire room, checking to make sure everything was clean and sanitary. Here she was going through her nightly routine, bogged down in mundane chores, when what she wanted—what she’d always wanted—was to run away to Nashville. Silly woman! She was too old to start a singing career. All the new country singers were young, just kids. She’d lost her chance, thrown it away in the backseat of Trent Kilpatrick’s daddy’s old Mercury more than twenty years ago.
    On Friday and Saturday nights when the restaurant provided live entertainment, she always sang a couple of songs to an appreciative audience. And every time she heard the applause, she pretended she was at the Grand Ole Opry.
    “Miss Eartha?” R. J. cracked open the kitchen door and peeped inside. “Phone call for you.”
    “Who is it?”
    “Mr. Devereaux.”
    “I’ll be right there.” Why would Max be calling her on a Thursday night at nearly eleven o’clock? Her heart caught in her throat. Lord, maybe old man Royale had died. Poor Max would take it hard when his stepfather passed away. He thought the world of his mama’s husband.
    Eartha entered the restaurant, slipped behind the bar, set down her glass, and lifted the receiver from the counter. “Hello.”
    “Is my uncle there?” Max asked.
    “Yes, he’s here.”
    “Do me a favor, will you? Get one of your guys to drive Uncle Parry out here to Belle Rose. Do whatever you have to do to get him here. He’s needed at home. Mama needs him.”
    “Has Mr. Royale—?”
    “Louis died a couple of hours ago.”
    “I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do…”
    “Just get Uncle Parry home as soon as possible.” Max paused, sighed loudly, and said in a long quick rush, “Make sure that whoever he’s got with him tonight doesn’t come home with him.”
    “Don’t worry. I’ll see to it.”
    “Thanks, Eartha.”
    “Sure, Max. Anything for you.” As she listened to the dial tone she realized just how true that last statement had been. Anything for you . She had warned herself not to fall in love with Max, warned herself that there was no love in the man. He was a passionate lover, but an unemotional one. He gave her physical pleasure and took his own but kept his heart—if he had one—hidden and well protected.
    “We’re closing up a little early tonight,” Eartha said, glancing at the two male customers, who quickly finished off their drinks and left.
    “You’ll lose your loyal clientele doing stuff like this,” Parry told her.
    “Mr. Clifton, my bartender, R. J., is going to drive you home tonight.” Eartha glanced at