Til There Was U

by Dianne Castell

  “Not a problem. Everything I have is old. Hey, don’t leave. I’m desperate here.”

  Effie went to her room and snagged her Gucci bag and headed back to Thelma. She dumped her purse upside down on the bed. Utility knife, markers, chalk, tape, scissors, measuring tape, camera, orange material for the top of survey stakes, a note pad, PDA, hair stuff, makeup stuff, sneakers.

  Thelma stared, mouth open. “What is all that?”

  “You’ve heard of bed-in-a-bag, this is career-in-a-bag. I don’t leave home without it.” She held up the pair of Thelma’s black slacks. “We can cut these and make capris. We can fold the ends into cuffs, put a vee in your white T-shirt and tuck in the ends to show off your cleavage—if that doesn’t make Conrad drool, he’s stone dead—and pull your hair back with the orange surveyor ribbons for color. We’ll snip the backs off the white shoes to make slides and marker in black polka dots to pull the outfit together. If you have an old white handbag, we’ll add the dots to that, too.”

  Thelma gave her a deer-in-the-headlights look.

  “Or not.” Effie held her hands. “Look, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to take over your life, and I’m usually not this forward. Well, actually I am this forward, basically pushy, especially in my job because I want to get ahead, but—”

  “How’d yon do that? How’d you make a neat wardrobe out of nothing?”

  “You like it?”

  Thelma hugged her, and Effie felt as if she’d just designed a gown for the Oscars. “After living with men all these years I didn’t know having a woman around this house could be so much fun.”

  “And after living with only men all these years you deserve fun and a whole lot more. Like sainthood, a footnote in the history books for still being sane.”

  ———

  Ryan sat on one side of the porch, Conrad on the other, dead silence between them. Ryan eyed the doorway, wishing Thelma to appear. What in the world could she be doing? How long did it take to put on a dress and— “Holy cow! Thelma?” Ryan said as she came into the doorway making him sit up straight.

  Thelma blushed as she stepped onto the porch, looking ... hot? And not from the heat! Conrad seemed as dumbstruck as Ryan felt. Probably the first thing they’d ever had in common.

  Conrad stood, his gaze not leaving Thelma. “You look wonderful.”

  She smiled, her whole face lighting up. “Why, thank you, Conrad. So nice of you to notice.”

  Conrad took Thelma’s hand, reluctantly at first, then as if he meant it. They started down the front steps. Effie snatched the picnic basket and ran after them. She handed it to Conrad, who was still not looking himself at all.

  “What do you think of Thelma?” Effie asked as she drew up next to Ryan and they watched the couple drive off in the low rumble of an expensive motor followed by a sudden streak of red.

  “Were those surveyor flags I saw in her hair and tied around her middle as a belt?”

  “Added color to the black-and-white scheme, a shabby chic look. I have to get my things out of Thelma’s room. I left it a mess. I’ll be back in a minute. She said I could borrow her copy of Huck Finn to read while I’m here, get me in a Mississippi River kind of mood. And don’t go away. We need to talk.”

  Talk? When a woman said let’s talk it was never to the man’s advantage. “You’re going back to San Diego; that’s all there is to it.”

  She peered at him, a defiant tilt to her chin. That was never good for a guy either. “They need the preliminary ideas for the mall in ten days, and I don’t want you to have all the credit. And you have the same feeling about me, especially when we’re so close to finalizing our ideas. So we’re stuck here together.”

  She turned away, and he caught a glimpse of that little gold ring at her navel. His muscles went as rigid as the posts holding up the front porch. Damn!

  Rory came out of the door as Effie went in, and he said, “Give him hell, girl.”

  She laughed and flashed him a big smile. Ryan sighed. He wasn’t sure if it came from the hopeless arguing, or Effie again not giving him that smile. “Thanks for the support, Dad.”

  Rory slapped his son on the back. “If you had an ounce of sense, you’d know when to let a pretty girl have her way and just sit back and enjoy the ride.” He glanced around. “Where the hell’s Thelma? Thought I heard her voice out here. I need her to watch Bonnie while I go pick up an engine part at a dock in Fulton. Hastings Dry-dock used to carry anything I needed, but Conrad’s let the place go to ruin. What a dumbass.”

  Ryan put his hand on his dad’s shoulder. “You’re going to love this. Thelma’s on a date with Mr. Dumbass. Just left.”

  Rory stared at Ryan as if he’d sprouted another head. “Why the hell would she go and do a damn-fool thing like that? She doesn’t even like that man. Nobody around here likes that man. What’s to like?”

  “He caught her at a weak moment. She had an attack of severe cabin fever and needed a change of scenery.”

  “And you just up and let her go?”

  Ryan hitched his hip onto the porch railing. “Have you ever tried telling Thelma or any other woman what to do? But don’t worry about Bonnie. Effie and I can watch her. I’m sure Effie knows about babies.” He gazed at the doorway. “Hell, she knows everything else, just ask her.”

  Rory thrust the baby monitor at Ryan and trotted down the steps. “Bonnie’s asleep right now. That gizmo in your hand will let you know if she wakes.” He turned back. “But whatever you do, don’t get it too close to your ear. Bonnie’s crying can wake the dead. Emergency numbers are by the phone if you need anything. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  He rounded the house, and in less than a minute his Suburban pulled out of the driveway. Effie came back on the porch and pointed to the retreating car. “Is that Rory?”

  “Needs to pick up a part for one of the tows. I told him we’d watch Bonnie.”

  Effie stood in front of him, eyes big. “We? Who’s this we you’re talking about?”

  “You’re a woman; you know babies, right?”

  “All I know about babies is I was one. I’m an only child. My father’s an accountant, my mother an attorney. We do professions at our house, not “Sesame Street.” I don’t actually remember even being a kid so much as a smaller adult who really liked Gummi Worms. Anyone under eighteen is a mystery to me. That was a long, nervous answer to your question. I do not know babies at all.”

  Ryan stood. “Somewhere in your life you didn’t babysit? Don’t all girls do that? Isn’t it a rite of passage or something?”

  “Like before we’re awarded boobs?” Effie slapped her palm to her forehead. “What are we going to do? We’re architects; we don’t know about babies.”

  “First of all we need to stop yelling. The sound carries right up the stairway, and we sure as hell don’t want to—” The monitor in his hand suddenly let out an ear-piercing sound, and Ryan dropped it as if it had bitten him. He exchanged looks with Effie. “Fuck.”

  Another yell split the late afternoon quiet, and they both took a quick step back. Ryan swallowed. “Look, we can do this. We build shopping malls that cover acres and acres, worth millions and millions. We can take care of one baby the size of a computer keyboard. Right?”

  “No!”

  Another cry emitted from the monitor, and Ryan grabbed her hand. “We’ll have to try.”

  “I’m going to get you for this, Ryan O’Fallon,” Effie said as she ran behind him up the stairs. “This was not in my job description.”

  “Neither is wearing short-shorts and belly rings.” It just kind of slipped out. Maybe she didn’t hear. Maybe it was lost in the baby howling that was getting louder as they got closer to Bonnie’s room.

  He opened the door and peered into the crib. Bonnie belted out another cry, Ryan’s jaw clenched and Effie said, “Pick her up, she’s your sister. Do something.”

  “You’re the woman. You’re the one who gives birth to these things. What if I break her?”

&nb
sp; Effie reached in and lifted Bonnie, one hand on each side, holding her out at arm’s length as the baby flung back her head and yowled again. “I don’t think she likes me,” Effie managed over the uproar.

  Effie looked frazzled, more frazzled than he’d ever seen her before. Usually Effie Wilson was ... perfect. Perfect hair, suit, makeup. Even when they canvassed a sight with trucks and mud and earthmovers, Effie was perfect. But now . . . “Hold her close to you like you see in pictures.”

  “You want me to take advice from Hallmark cards?” But she did it anyway as Bonnie let out another cry. Effie walked around the room, bouncing Bonnie and making shh sounds. It wasn’t working.

  He came up beside Effie. Damn, she smelled good. And then things suddenly didn’t smell good at all, “Check her diaper.”

  Effie looked as if she’d swallowed a lemon whole. “You check her diaper.”

  “We’ll flip for it.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a quarter. “Heads,” he called as he sent it into the air, catching it, holding it out in his palm.

  Effie stuck her tongue out at him. “Bet it’s a trick quarter.” She laid Bonnie back in the crib, squinted her eyes and undid the diaper as if dismantling a bomb. “Ohmygod!”

  “How can such a cute baby make such a mess?” Ryan asked as he pulled ten wipe things from a plastic container and handed them to Effie. He hunted up a clean diaper, and Effie dropped the dirty stuff into a plastic bag he held open. “I’ll take this outside. Bet the raccoons won’t get into the garbage tonight. Holy shit.”

  “I don’t know about the holy part, but the other’s true enough. On your way back get a bottle from the fridge. Warm it in the microwave. Don’t make it too hot.”

  “See, told you that you knew about this baby stuff.”

  She glared. “Don’t push your luck, O’Fallon!”

  “Right.” He ditched the diaper and got the bottle and hurried back to the room where Bonnie cried louder than ever. Effie tried feeding her, but she scrunched up her face and bellowed all the more.

  “What should we do? Nothing’s working. Do you think she’s sick?”

  “Dad warned me this could happen. I just didn’t know what this was. I should have asked more questions. We can take her for a ride in the car. That makes babies sleep .. . at least in the movies.”

  Effie looked around. “No car seat. Probably in Rory’s Suburban.” She started toward the door. “The stroller. It’s sort of like a car, a mini convertible. We’ll make motor sounds and throw in swear words and creative hand gestures. It’s the best we can do.”

  Ryan ran ahead of Effie and opened the front door. She gently laid Bonnie in the stroller, secured the strap, and together they lifted the stroller off the porch to the driveway. Ryan pushed, and Effie made unconvincing engine noises, but the yelling decreased. Effie grabbed his arm. “It’s working. It’s working.”

  “Make sounds. Don’t talk.” He pushed the stroller to the end of the drive and headed for the dock, toward the low rumble of a passing barge. Not a car engine exactly, but close, and a hell of a lot better than Effie’s feeble attempt. She gave him a thumbs-up sign and smiled.

  Holy moly, it was that same smile she’d flashed Rory on the porch, the one Ryan wanted for himself. And now it was his turn. He was the recipient of it. His heartbeat kicked up a notch, and he smiled back. She paused for a second, her green eyes darkening, not enough that anyone would notice, but he sure did.

  She put up the hood to protect Bonnie from the evening sun, and they walked down the deserted road. Their footfalls mixed with the hum of insects as they turned the bend facing the sun perched on the Arkansas levee. The river glittered as if someone had scattered a million diamonds across the surface.

  His insides stirred. He felt closer to the earth than he had in a long time. The Mississippi like this—big, bold, beautiful—always had that effect on him. Bonnie quieted, and he stopped under a tupelo as the tow lumbered on, kicking up rollers of muddy river water and gradually leaving the Landing in peace. The earth paused, hanging in the balance between day and dusk. Peace.

  Ryan set the brake on the stroller, and Effie whispered in his ear and pointed to Bonnie. “She’s Rory’s daughter all right. The river sounds put her right to sleep.”

  “G-good,” he managed. Not because that surprised him, but the sensation of Effie’s warm breath against his ear and neck and cheek instantly jolted his blood pressure into high gear. Did the earth just move? How could she have such an immediate effect on him?

  Then he looked at the woman—vibrant, smart, sassy, totally sexy and delicious—and had his answer. Damn, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to touch her face and feel her soft full lips against his fingertips. He wanted to have her body close to his. His gaze held hers as she seemed to lean toward him. Her eyes were now jade, their mutual attraction more intense than he ever imagined possible.

  Slowly he slid his arm around her slender waist, his hand gliding over her smooth, damp skin where the blouse ended and the shorts began. Her eyes widened, then glazed, and the intimate contact made him hotter than the setting sun. Her mouth parted slightly on a silent gasp, her cheeks flushed to the color of the sunset. She smiled, looking at him in a way she never had before. Their nearness overwhelmed him, her reaction to him intoxicating.

  “You’re not the same man on the Landing as you are in San Diego.”

  “Neither are you.”

  The smile deepened, and her eyes shimmered like the river. She turned toward him, front to front, and she wrapped her bare arms around his neck, the heat from her skin seeping into him. “I’m not a man.”

  Hunger spiraled through him, settling in his gut. Desire settled lower, making him hard as stone. Some protective instinct kept his one hand on the stroller, but his other tightened around Effie, bringing their bodies tight. Her breasts swelled against his chest; her belly softened and nestled against his erection. She felt good, really good, better than any woman ever had before.

  “Ah, sugar,” he breathed on a sigh, the tone more Tennessee than California. Then he lowered his head and kissed her sweet mouth as her body slowly melted into his. It was if he’d waited his whole life to do this, to find Effie, to be here now with her, kissing him in this very place at this very moment.

  Okay, Effie thought, kissing Ryan was not one of her better ideas. In fact, it was just plain stupid . . . great, but still stupid. Sure she’d wanted to kiss him since she laid eyes on the man, but where did they go from here?

  His kiss deepened, her insides flipped and she suddenly didn’t care what happened next. So handsome, so male, so energized. A sensual growl crawled up her throat. No woman in her right mind could say no to kissing Ryan O’Fallon in this dazzling sunset on the banks of a gorgeous river.

  His lips felt seductive as silk sheets, chilled champagne and golden moonlight. His arm around her back felt protective, possessive but not demanding or overpowering as other men’s with their cavemen approach.

  She drew closer still, surprised by his big, hard erection pressing intimately against her middle. That she had this effect on him set her on fire. Of course the big, hard aspect of his anatomy against her had a lot to do with her reaction as well.

  For a year and a half she’d thought about kissing Ryan, and here he was better than she’d ever imagined, and she’d imagined plenty.

  His tongue touched hers for the briefest second, sending shivers across her shoulders in spite of the summer heat, leaving her weak and dizzy from the connection. She splayed her fingers across his strong neck, his hot, slick flesh drawing her in as his kisses deepened. His male scent, a mix of earth, sun and water, filled her head and drove away every thought other than Ryan.

  She broke the kiss and looked into his wonderful ocean blue eyes, feeling completely lost in them . . . Then she suddenly didn’t feel lost at all. This was where she wanted to be. “You are some kisser.”

  His hand slid below the waist band of her shorts, cupping her right cheek. He gave her a
devilish smile and slight squeeze that said he wasn’t about to let her go. “I think I need practice.”

  “Practice is good.”

  He brushed his lips seductively over hers. Her insides fired, and passion flowed hot and wild through her veins as never before.

  His mouth formed the words against hers. “And you’re the perfect partner.”

  His fingers massaged her buttocks, and he took another kiss, his tongue tangling with hers, then mating with gentle thrusts. A warm ache lodged deep in her middle as she pressed into his erection, the juncture of her legs parting, moistening with anticipation.

  “Ah, Effie, you taste of pecan pie and summer magic.”

  “You taste of hot, sweaty sex, and I want you so bad I could spit.” Her eyes widened, and she stared straight into his. The whole world seemed to stand still.

  “Ohmygod.” She took a step away. Breathing hard, she slipped out of his embrace, and his hand reluctantly let her go. He looked as startled as she felt. “I... I can’t believe I said that.”

  She exhaled a deep breath and held up her hands as if stopping something that needed stopping right now. “You caught me off guard. I wasn’t ready for ... this. Not that I didn’t want to kiss you, I have for a long time and—”

  Chapter 5

  “You have?” Ryan’s eyes widened.

  She was not making things better. They were getting in deeper ... and oh, how she wanted him deeper.

  Good Lord, what was she thinking! Effie Wilson, architect bimbo. “I didn’t know kissing you would be... so terrific. If we go beyond kissing, then what?”

  He ran his hand over his hair, mussing it even more, as if they’d done exactly what she suggested. She wanted so much more than a suggestion.

  He said, “That is the question, isn’t it? I suck at relationships, Effie. You know that.”

  “Mine aren’t any better. If we get involved, then get un-involved, how will we ever work together? Look what happened between the mail boy and the VP on the sixth floor.”