Til There Was U
Page 6
“Heard she didn’t get her mail for six months.”
“And we’re on the same floor, the same projects. It would be a mess.” She took another step away and pushed strands of hair from her face.
Ryan’s breathing was as unsteady as hers as he said, “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have started something we couldn’t finish.”
“We were caught up in the moment; that’s all there is to it. A sleeping baby, the setting sun, me in shorts, you with messy hair and San Diego a million miles away. None of this is who we are, least not usually. It’s all work between us and trying to outdo each other, and we reacted because of...” Oh, dear God, why did they suddenly react this way after being together for all those months?
“Jet lag?”
“Yes!” She grabbed on to the word like a lifeline. “That’s it, jet lag. You’re absolutely right. It does strange things to people. Screws with their thinking patterns.” Right now she didn’t have thinking patterns because her brain was Swiss cheese. “We’re different here. I don’t know why, but we are. But soon we’ll be back to work, back to real work.”
“And we won’t even remember this ...”
“Jet lag,” Effie supplied, knowing she was rambling but not knowing how to stop.
Ryan put both hands on the stroller. Much safer than putting them on her, but not nearly as much fun, Effie thought. And kissing Ryan was fun, electrifying, erotic. Could a kiss be all that? She considered his hand on her ass and his tongue seducing her mouth. Oh, yeah!
He engaged the wheels. “We should get Bonnie into her bed, and we need to ...”
Their eyes locked for a moment, and Effie blushed. The result of we and bed mentioned together in the same sentence. “Work,” she supplied.
“Work is good.” He pushed the stroller up the hill.
“Maybe I should go back to San Diego just like you suggested.” She touched his arm to stop him so they could talk, except touching him was a really stupid thing to do in the middle of a sexual meltdown. She yanked her hand back as he gave her several quick nods. “Good idea. San Diego.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Yes, tomorrow. Tonight we’ll work on the plans and get as much done as we can.” And they’d have something else on their minds besides each other.
She followed him up the path, her eyes zeroing in on his fine butt, perspiration slithering between her boobs. As long as Ryan O’Fallon was around he’d always be on her mind. The trouble was she wanted him between her legs and working on a shopping mall was a damn poor substitute.
———
The aroma of fresh morning coffee led Effie down the steps, and she sniffed her way to the kitchen done in sunny yellow and crisp white with accents of cornflower blue. Thelma hummed as she fed Bonnie a bottle. “Mornin’,” she greeted Effie.
Effie waved, poured a cup of coffee, drank long and deep, letting the caffeine work its magic. She commanded herself to be coherent and smiled at Thelma.
The housekeeper grinned in return. “Not a morning person?”
“Ryan and I worked last night ‘til Rory got home, but I couldn’t sleep. New surroundings and all.” Not to mention thinking about a certain kiss on the dock that never should have happened, but did, and not likely to be forgotten any time soon.
She sat at the table across from Thelma. “I love this kitchen. It’s so bright and cheery.”
“Painted it myself. Even mixed the colors and did the stenciling. You’re all spruced up. Nice black pants. I need a pair like that. You heading off somewhere?”
“San Diego. There’s too much”—temptation here, she thought, but instead said “—work to do at the office.”
Thelma frowned. “Well, heck. I’ll miss you, Effie Wilson. Thanks for the makeover for Conrad. I really appreciate it. Don’t remember ever feeling so good in clothes and it didn’t cost me an arm and a leg.”
“How was the old boy? Did you have to deck him?”
Thelma looked at Bonnie, but there was a faraway expression on Thelma’s face and a soft smile on her lips. Decking did not take place last night, but something did. Effie paused her coffee cup midair. She knew that look. It wasn’t a you’re-a-jerk look. It was an oh-my-goodness look.
“The date was okay.”
“Okay’s a lot better than I thought it would be.” She waited for Thelma’s reaction.
“Me, too. You know, I just went with him because I needed a night out and I’m a pushover for good cheese, wine and a nice car. But we actually sang old rock-and-roll tunes and drove along the river with the top down, and the stars were out and the moon and ...”
She laughed. “We crooned with the Beach Boys. Do you believe it. Haven’t done anything like that. . . ever. We both love the Beach Boys. Conrad says that outfit I wore last night made me his California girl.” She blushed. “Thanks to you. I know he’s so full of; hot air and it’s all so corny, but it was fun.” She looked at Effie. “I really did have fun, incredible as that sounds. Conrad and me . . . together.”
The phone rang, and Thelma put the bottle on the table and snagged the receiver from the counter. Her whole face suddenly lit up like a sunset over the Pacific.
Conrad! Effie knew it like she knew her own name. A man could do that to a woman. But this man? This was the wrong man for Thelma. Guilt ate at Effie. She’d been the one to encourage Thelma to go on this date and now look what happened. Thelma was. . . smitten!
Thelma laughed again at whatever was said on the phone, and she handed Bonnie off to Effie as if her mind were somewhere else besides in the kitchen. Thelma headed for the hallway; actually she kind of floated into the hallway, her feet not touching the ground.
“That man is no good,” Effie said to Bonnie. Her little pink face scrunched up into bellow mode, not interested one bit in Thelma’s love life and far more concerned about the missing bottle. Yikes! Effie snagged the bottle and offered it to Bonnie. “I’ve got a killer headache, little girl. Don’t cry! I’m operating on no sleep. Here. Eat. Yummy, yummy in the tummy. Good stuff.”
Effie considered the white goo in the bottle. “Actually, this stuff looks gross. Can you say Godiva?”
“You’re talking to a baby about chocolate?” Ryan asked from behind her in the doorway.
“It’s never too early to talk chocolate.”
He came in, poured coffee and leaned against the stove. He wore a navy T-shirt, jeans and gym shoes. “You look like hell. Didn’t you sleep? You need breakfast.”
He looked terrific, and she wanted him for breakfast. “You don’t look any better,” she lied. What was she supposed to say? Take off your clothes?
“I think it’s the heat.”
“Definitely the heat.” Because she was damn near on fire. The T-shirt showed off more muscles than she ever expected he had. And the jeans. Holy mother-of-pearl! They were soft and worn and molded perfectly to a very nice parcel in front. She’d felt that parcel and wanted to feel it again, this time up close and very personal.
He took a long drink of coffee. “We aren’t used to it.”
“I’m sure not.” Except they suddenly weren’t talking about the same thing. She looked into his eyes—dark, mysterious, captivating, hungry and it had nothing to do with breakfast.
Yikes! Maybe they were. Now what? Now she’d take the chicken way out and change the subject. She held up the bottle. “Aren’t you impressed, I can feed a baby?”
“You’re a fast learner.”
“Fear of going deaf can do that to a person.” How was she supposed to carry on a conversation with Ryan when all she wanted to do was jump his bones right here in his own kitchen? “I have plane reservations. I leave at noon.”
“Take the car. I’ll borrow one of the company trucks from Dad. Where’s Thelma?”
Effie nodded at the hallway. “Conrad called.” Finally a safe topic.
“Isn’t it kind of early?”
“They drove with the top down and sang Beach Boy songs. She’s his little surfer gi
rl.”
Ryan nearly dropped his cup, coffee sloshing onto the floor. “Conrad! What the hell?”
“Something’s going on.” See, she could do this. She could think intelligently and carry on a conversation without getting all hot and bothered over Ryan. She just had to concentrate real hard on the conversation.
Ryan snagged a paper towel and wiped the coffee drops from the floor. “Maybe he really does like Thelma. There’s no other reason for him to date her. Not like there’s some ulterior motive. Thelma’s just Thelma.”
He shrugged as he threw the towel in the trash. “I guess he really has changed.”
“When towboats fly.” Bonnie finished the bottle, and Effie set her up. Now she had to burp the baby. That’s what Thelma did.
“I know his kind,” Effie continued as she gently patted Bonnie on the back. “Smooth operator, sophisticated, someone who’s ignored you all your natural life. And suddenly, out of the blue, he starts hitting on you big time, giving you the big rush. You’re mesmerized and happy and life is great, ‘til you realize he’s after information you have, like the bid your company made on a project so his company could underbid the company you work for.”
When Ryan didn’t reply, she looked at him.
His eyes studied her. “This happened?”
“Sorry. I got carried away, but yeah, it did happen. Parker Dearborn of Dearborn Designs. But that’s ancient history.”
“How ancient?”
“Last year. I don’t want it to happen to Thelma. Getting used is no fun.”
Ryan’s voice lowered to a growl. “That no good son-of-a-bitch.”
“Well, we don’t know for absolutely sure if that’s Conrad’s agenda or not but—”
“I mean Dearborn.”
“When most of our conversations dealt with construction costs instead of romance I finally realized what he was up to and fed him false information.” She grinned. “We got the bid.”
Bonnie suddenly burped, sending a spray of formula over Effie’s black slacks. She stared wide-eyed at the white-on-black mess. “And I was doing so great. What went wrong?”
Ryan picked up a cloth from the table and held it up. He looked forlorn. “I think this is a burp towel?”
Effie kissed Bonnie on the head. “You should come with an instruction book, little peach.”
“Or a warning label.” Ryan took Bonnie and put her in her pumpkin seat that was on the table and strapped her in. Effie went to the sink and wet a towel. He took it from her. “Here, let me help, I can see it straight on.” He hunkered down and brushed at one thigh, then the other. “I think I’m making it worse.”
And he had no idea how much worse. His hand on her legs, stroking, pressing—even with a towel and no intention other than cleaning up baby barf—was a complete turn-on. She wanted wild feral sex with Ryan O’Fallon right here and now. No more excuses. Just sex! “I better change,” she blurted. “There’s no fixing this.” Other than a roll in the sheets, or anyplace else that was handy.
She headed for the hallway, saying as she went, “It takes a while to get to the airport and check in. They always pull me aside for one of those scans and I want to make sure I don’t have a hole in my hose because I always have to take off my shoes and I’ll see you in San Diego and I had a great time and watch Bonnie.”
She glanced back, and for a moment the air between them seemed to sizzle in spite of her babbling. Ryan was so hot, and she was so horny. She was so out of here.
The next time she saw Ryan O’Fallon she wouldn’t be a sex-crazed lunatic. They’d be in California, she’d be in a suit, he wouldn’t be in jeans and they’d be back where they belonged, working, running around to get things done, taking great pleasure in one-upping each other with no time to think of each other in the sack.
He’d be his usual shallow, overabsorbed, bimbo-chasing self, and she’d be the urban professional searching for Mr. Right, with the right family and on the right corporate track, who would appeal to her parents, and all would be back to normal... right?
———
Ryan stood under the tall oaks and watched the white rental drive off down the road. Max pawed Ryan’s leg for a pat, and he obliged, scratching behind the ears. Effie was gone. Amen to that. No more long blond hair and honey-smooth skin, big green eyes and sexy little ass to drive him nuts. He was here, she was there and that gave him time to forget the Effie he knew at the Landing. All he’d remember was uptight San Diego Effie.
Rory came up from the docks and asked, “Why are you standing here like a cement statue staring off down the road? Expecting someone? Going to head off Conrad and tell him to keep his mitts off our Thelma?”
“Effie’s gone.”
Rory raked his hand through his hair. “Why? How the hell did that happen? You two have a fight or something? And you just stood here and let her leave?”
“We have work to do, and she’ll be more useful back in San Diego. She can field problems for a new project we’re working on, and we can fax information back and forth.”
“Christ in a sidecar, boy! I’m not talking about work. That woman’s the best damn thing to come into your life. I can tell that by just looking at you, and you two finally realized it when you got here. Least that’s my take on it.”
He raked his graying hair and kicked a rock across the drive. “Hells bells. Love is damn well wasted on the young if you ask me. You got your girl right smack in front of you and you don’t appreciate her diddiy, and mine’s off God knows where and in trouble and I’d give my eyeteeth to find her.”
“Effie and I are not in love.”
“Well, you should be.”
“If there was anything of substance between us, why wouldn’t it have happened in San Diego? Why would we have to wait ‘til we got here to figure it out?”
“Because when you’re in California all you do is work. The damn sun’s done baked your brain to a brick.” Rory walked toward the house. “Christ in a sidecar, I have a dipshit for a son.”
“Dad!”
Rory turned and growled, “What?”
Ryan had to get his mind off Effie, and with his dad in this state all he’d hear would be Effie, Effie, Effie. Though that was better than dipshit son. “If you need a tow taken somewhere, I can do a run. It’ll keep my captain’s license up to speed.”
Rory jammed his hands in his jean pockets. “Didn’t know you cared a rat’s patootie about that.”
He didn’t really, but it was a good excuse to get off the Landing and get his mind on something else besides Effie and that kiss and everything else about her that drove him nuts. .. which happened to be everything! Damn!
Rory stroked his chin. “Annabelle Lee’s run aground down by Rosedale on one of the damn sandbars. I was going to send the Mississippi Miss to help get them off. Just a short run and the Annabelle’s got a crew to help out so you can run alone. It’ll give you some hours in the wheelhouse, and the Annabelle could use the help.”
Ryan nodded and walked beside Rory. “I’ll grab some food since there’s no galley on that old lunch bucket and be on my way.”
“Better mind the charts. There are some new markers, and Rosedale’s getting mighty bony with the water dropping faster this year and sandbars popping up like warts on a frog.”
Ryan headed for the kitchen. Running a tow was just what he needed to help clear his head. Being on the water didn’t leave time to think about much besides the job. A five hundred horsepower diesel moving sixty feet of steel through the water demanded concentration. When he got back he’d be ready for work on the mall and to help his dad find Mimi, or whatever her name was.
He sweet-talked Thelma out of cold fried chicken, corn bread, cookies and lemonade, then scrounged around in the closet and located his boat shoes, work gloves and parka in case the weather went south. He headed for the docks, passing the spot where he’d kissed Effie and she’d kissed him back. He slowed for a second, his insides heaving a deep sigh of appreciation.
He helped fuel Mississippi Miss and climbed the two flights of steep grated metal stairs to the wheelhouse on top. He gazed around at the rolling river below, sandy shoreline, levee and blue sky that stretched over the earth. He fired the engine, triggering a deep rumble from the big diesel humming through the tow, vibrating into his feet clear into his bones, making him one with the boat.
The whole world looked different in a wheelhouse. Up here the captain was in charge; what he or she said happened. Hell of a lot different from the real world. Since yesterday and that kiss he’d had zip control over his life. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. All he could think about was Effie in his arms and wanting her in his bed.
But she was gone, his problems over . . . ‘til he looked up and saw Effie Wilson running down the road in a soft white blouse, khaki shorts, gym shoes, golden hair flying. Waving a red parka she yelled, “Wait up!” Least that’s what he thought she yelled because the diesel drowned out the words.
Holy crap! What now? She was supposed to be out of here, out of his life, least for a few weeks. She missed the plane? Forgot her luggage? That couldn’t be it because he’d put her suitcase in the trunk himself. Maybe something happened to the mall project.
He leaned out the window as one of the dockhands helped Effie on board. Her eyes widened as she looked at the two sets of stairs. Maybe she’d reconsider, go back wherever she came from, giving them the space they needed. Except Effie Wilson was used to climbing around on girders and examining building infrastructures just like he did.
She grabbed the railings and started up. The deckhand gave Ryan a you-dog-you look and a two-thumbs-up sign. This wasn’t a two-thumbs-up event. This was a disastrous event. He and Effie alone in the middle of the river! How could he keep his hands off her?
Whatever her reason for being here, they’d fix it; then he’d send her packing off to California tomorrow if he had to put her on that damn plane and strap her into the damn seat himself.