“Try me, old man,” George sneered, walking back toward us.
“Didn’t know we had company?” I heard my dad say sweetly from behind me. Turning, I stared wide-eyed at the man I called dad and groaned, quickly covering my eyes.
If there was a hole, I would jump in it.
Of course, my father wouldn’t be dressed. Why would he be? It’s only three in the damn afternoon on a freaking Wednesday.
But did that fact enter into his head?
Hell no!
Because the man was standing buck naked wearing only his black silk bathrobe!
Peeking through my fingers, I watched as he tightened the belt on his robe, and my dad gave Laurel his best signature panty-melting smile. Extending his hand, she took it and damn near swooned right there in a puddle of goo when he kissed the back of her hand.
“Jack Orlean, and you are?”
Yeah. I forgot to mention my dad was a ladies’ man.
A Casanova.
A true Southern gentleman in every possible way.
The ladies loved him, and he adored them.
All of them.
Laurel stuttered, “Laurel. Laurel Shay McDonald.”
“It’s Dubrovsky now,” George groaned. “Or have you already forgotten you married Banks?”
“Oh yeah, him.”
My dad winked, releasing her hand before looking over at George and growled, “Go away. I’m entertaining.”
“You are being a pain in the ass, Jack, and you know it. Where is Donna?”
“She left.” My dad frowned, walking over to a small bar, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “Woman couldn’t do her job, so I fired her.”
I groaned. “Dad.”
George marched over and snagged the glass from him.
“No alcohol.”
My dad huffed. “Party pooper.”
I vaguely heard the elevator doors open before I heard someone say. “Laurel Shay, how dare you leave me with your sisters!” LeeAnn McDonald snipped. “You know I can’t handle them by myself.”
“Mom, now is not a good time,” Laurel whispered.
My dad blinked, then smiled broadly before he shoved George aside as he walked back over to us. And just like he did with every other woman he met, he reached for LeeAnn’s hand, kissed the top, and laid his charm on thick. “Well, aren’t you a breath of sunshine on a cloudy day. Like sparkling dew on a spring morning. I’m Jack Orlean and I’m at your service, my lady.”
Yeah. That was the other thing.
My dad was a smooth talker too.
All he had to do was lay on his thick Southern Louisiana charm and he could easily talk any woman out of her panties before the mimosas were served.
