Designs On Daphne: (McGreers #4)

by Christine, Lilly

  When had Rodric become such a mystery?

  He stepped back, away from the furniture. The little thrill she’d felt at what had passed between them fled quickly.

  She felt alone, a little lost, rejected, even.

  Recovering, she made her way behind him, back onto the meandering path that linked the fake bedrooms. More than just slightly embarrassed by her eagerness, she wanted to move on to the next…Well, what was next?

  What else were they looking for?

  I’ve had too much champagne, darn it!

  She tried to clear her thoughts. Did Rodric want to find a masculine set for the guest room to use until his wife chose their wedding set, as he had mentioned in the restaurant, or was he going to leave the big guest room for Esther to furnish, so she’d be comfortable there when the baby came?

  And what about his wife’s sister, darn it? Surely, she’d be visiting the apartment, once a baby came! Why was he putting the sister in the small room?

  To her relief, Rodric guided her away from the master bedroom furniture, a section she was certain she was becoming much too interested in, much too attached to.

  Especially since he is so damnably neutral about the whole thing! Now they were in the section full of… Confronted with cribs and changing tables and dressers and rocking chairs in cherry and pine and walnut and white and pastels, Daphne froze.

  “The nursery,” she said faintly, suddenly very cold. Some sets were suited for Texas ranch houses, for a baby cowboy stuck under a bandanna and blue ticking quilt. Others had come directly from Sherwood Forest and the Land of Nod.

  Her head ached terribly.

  Because the air conditioners are blasting, darn it!

  All the energy their protein-packed appetizers should have provided suddenly deserted her. The champagne had given her a headache. She felt very sad, tired and alone. She’d been alone since long before her daddy died, since before her momma left, even; she’d been alone since the fighting started between them. Alone with her little sister Daisy to worry over and care for, especially after Momma and Daddy started drinking so hard. Since Hank had taken over for her with Daisy now, she was really alone.

  Daphne rejected the idea of being alone in Hobble Creek, where everything was tight and so confined and familiar she just wanted to scream.

  Now she was alone in Austin, everything so big and citified and sunny and unfamiliar, feeling so empty she was scared in her bones.

  Staring at the nursery furniture, her alone, empty life stretched out in front of her for miles and miles and miles. Fear washed over her, clutching her stomach and dropping to her boots. She was certain that Esther would have very beautiful grandchildren.

  Rodric was right next to her, regarding her carefully with his steady pale blue-green eyes, clear miles of open ocean eyes, and so very thoughtful and intelligent. She’d decided two hours ago that Rodric’s eyes were appealing, but now they were a positive comfort, offering a kind of reassurance she might have never seen before.

  Rodric was so very kind.

  But isn’t this craziness just the champagne? What am I doing in the nursery furniture department with Rodric McGreer?

  But damn, his eyes were wonderful… Not dreamy, not in the least. Solid. Careful. Reliable. Enduring. Rodric’s eyes were forever eyes.

  For some reason, her cold hand slipped into Rodric’s big, warm one. He tangled his fingers between hers, nodding and giving her a little squeeze of encouragement. Looking over the mobiles and stuffed animals, blue-ticked and pink and yellow checked crib bumpers, he said,“For a little one, someday.”

  She was feeling much warmer, now, because her hand was safely encased in Rodric’s and he was looking at her not with lust or desire, the way other men always had, but with appreciation. Respect and admiration and affection and real appreciation, even wonder, maybe.

  Reminding herself that the woman Rodric would be choosing nursery furniture with would be his wife, Daphne backtracked quickly, tugging him along, trying to picture the wife. But why would Rodric want to hold hands with anyone but me?

  Now they were amongst the master bedroom furniture again, all of it heavy, solid and permanent-looking, designed for two people who were planning a life together.

  Rodric led her back to the display of European-looking furniture they’d both liked, her more than him, maybe. Suddenly very shy, Daphne dropped her hand from his. He didn’t seem to notice as he slid drawers out, concentrating, playing with the hardware, his full attention on the furniture, thankfully, and not at all on her.

  Of course, she was glad he was thinking of the furniture. His focus was on the apartment, that was all, because his brow began to furrow and he said, “I don’t know if I’d feel quite comfortable sleeping in the large guest room all the way in the back. I’d miss the views, of course. That room should really be furnished for my mother and other guests, not in a masculine style for me. And as you pointed out, I’d have to split my things between two closets, my work clothes in one, casual in another. It would be sort of silly, feeling so disorganized and all over the place, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she said faintly, searching his eyes, so gentle and kind. But his registered nothing for her, except his need for her opinion.

  Absolutely nothing.

  He was thinking about his clothing arrangement, nothing more. Which is just as well. Rodric has a lot of very expensive suits to consider. He’s spending a boatload of money on his place, he needs to think practically. This is all about getting him settled comfortably, of course!

  Rodric’s thick lips were moving, so she pulled herself out of her champagne reverie to listen. “I mean, why should I confine myself to the smaller room with the guest closet and bath when I have that huge master and the windows overlooking Lake Travis? That’s where I want to wake up every morning! Certainly, I’d like to have my wife beside me, but maybe I wouldn’t be alone for very long.”

  He wasn’t asking a question, really, so she didn’t have to answer. Still in a daze, Daphne nodded as he continued. “There’s the bidet and the giant tub and huge glass shower stall with the double shower heads in the master bath to think about enjoying with someone, all that travertine marble, all of those mirrors in the closet area where we could… ”

  Watching his broad lips mouth the words, the look on his face was so very appealing, sexy, even, Daphne’s heart lunged skyward. The blood it stimulated thickened and pooled between her breasts, her insides pulsed as energy moved down between her thighs.

  She couldn’t help thinking of the mirrors either.

  With Rodric behind her. Or the glass stall shower. And there was that giant tub, too. She had a flash of his bare chest slipping out of the dressing robe. He wasn’t in silk boxers any more, either. Those had been cast on the floor in the closet, next to her new nightie and lace robe and slippers, and she and Rodric were … .

  Get a hold of yourself, Daphne. You call yourself a professional? For shame! A voice that sounded too awfully like Granny Antelerone’s chastised.

  Rodric’s eyes were kind, but there was nothing in them for her. Not anymore. There hadn’t been, not since Daisy’s Austin rodeo.

  No attraction. Nothing.

  Soon after he’d left her hotel room, she’d begun to realize how alone she felt. He’d carried her in, and she’d been completely at his mercy… It had been so nice to have him right there, she was sure after he climbed into that bed next to her he’d help her out of her dress, paw at her at least a little bit, maybe even stay and cuddle.

  But he hadn’t even tried to steal a kiss.

  Rodric had been such a perfect gentleman, so very, very polite.

  Now he was regarding her patiently. Waiting for her response, his face was expressionless, poker straight. Or was it? Was that a flicker in his eye? No, that’s my champagne-charged, sexually deprived imagination again!

  Rodric needed her professional attention, not her fantasies of being undressed beneath him, in front of glass windows
high above Lake Travis. Granny Antelerone was right, she should be ashamed!

  Miz Esther had reviewed the terms of her working relationship with Rodric before Daphne accepted the job. Since then, Rodric’s words and behavior had been one hundred percent above board. He’d clearly been signaling that he didn’t think of her as someone to flirt with, or date, or god forbid, proposition.

  His crush was over, long gone.

  And I’m very relieved about that.

  She needed to stay focused.

  Her design class teacher had reviewed the ethical code in class yesterday, and she’d already thoroughly violated every one of the tenets she’d be quizzed on tomorrow, in spirit, if not in fact. Rodric needed her professional opinion, that was all.

  Well, not just a professional opinion, nothing so dry and sterile of course. She was a professional friend, and he was paying an ample sum for her help. Certainly, Rodric did not think of her as a woman to share his giant tub or be naked with in that big, roomy shower, her full breasts in his hands as they pressed against the clear glass, the shower heads jetting water while he … .

  Daphne squirmed. That’s it. I have to get out of here.

  Fanning her face, she said, “My, my, it was freezing cold in the other room, but isn’t it warm in here?”

  “Why Miz Daphne, here it is after nine o’clock and you haven’t had dinner yet! What have I been thinking? We’ve been at this far too long. It’s time to get you fed and home, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about me, Rodric,” she said faintly, fanning her fingers. He took her arm, moving her towards the exit. They passed a humongous room with what had to be a hundred dining sets, all so perfectly… “Look!” She craned her neck. “Ooo, there are some very long tables that seat at least a dozen, and look at those vases down the middle . .”

  “Yes, but it’s late, now, Miz Daphne,” he said firmly. “And we don’t need to think about the formal dining room until after I’ve moved in, remember? I want to get a feel of living in the place, first.”

  “Oh,” she said faintly, wondering exactly how long she’d have to maintain her professional ethical code after Rodric moved in. It was a lot of work, being a professional. And more than a little lonely.

  “You’ve given me so much sound advice tonight, Miz Daphne,” Rodric was saying. “Of course I’ll want my Momma to pick out the furniture for the guest room, and … ”

  “The nursery and maid or sister’s room will just have to wait,” Daphne finished decisively, as if she were his wife. Lord, what am I saying?

  “You’re absolutely right,” Rodric agreed, with an approving nod. “That’s exactly it.”

  Suddenly, Daphne was tired. So tired that she leaned a little into Rodric, let him prop her elbow as they stepped onto the elevator, imagining that he did so tenderly, a little possessively.

  As if he truly cared for her.

  As if he understood how alone and confused she felt. While the big, echoey elevator car descended to the parking area, she stayed close to his warm, comforting bulk. He inclined forward just the least bit, so it felt very natural to let him take her other elbow in his big hands, to graze her silk-clad back against the charcoal wool warmth of his chest and torso, and then rest there. And when her peacock blue bottom brushed the bulk of his groin, which she was pleased to sense was engorged, well, who could blame her for that?

  Rodric suggested she wait in the cool underground foyer while he retrieved his car, which pleased her further. He was back in a moment, stepping quickly out of his slick, fancy silver Jaguar, striding towards her in that commanding way he had.

  He held the door and took her hand, and she stepped through the hot garage, floating onto the cream leather seat, slipping her legs in so languidly, he had a chance to admire them before he smoothly closed the heavy door to his Jaguar.

  Settled in, wrapped in its pale leather seats, Daphne sighed.

  “I think we should skip dinner, Rodric,” she suggested as he accelerated out of the garage and turned onto a well-lit main avenue. She touched his big fingers, now wrapped on the burled walnut of the automatic shift. “It’s late, and you have a full day tomorrow, don’t you?”

  “Why, Miz Daphne, it’s very kind of you to think of me, but what we had at Jeffreys wasn’t any kind of dinner, and I surely can’t leave you fend for yourself tonight, not after all the help you’ve given me.”

  She let her fingers graze his, not being suggestive in any way, just to maintain the positive rapport of their professional contact, while deferring to his manhood. She’d read about that, online.

  “I don’t mind. You must be tired. Your day will start early tomorrow morning. I’ll just heat a can of soup.”

  “Soup?” Rodric scoffed. “What kind of dinner is that? What’s your favorite take out, Miz Daphne? I’ll just call ahead and order you something. We can pick it up on our way back to Hyde Park.”

  Her heart leapt at his consideration. “Oh, thank you! I just love the little Thai place! Here’s their number, I have their menu almost memorized!”

  Daphne couldn’t possibly admit to Rodric that she was still too much of country girl to feel right about eating all alone in a city restaurant, that she’d taken to ordering meals and eating them by herself in his mother’s apartment. She was so was tired of eating alone! And they’d had such fun tonight, she wanted more of his company.

  As he dialed, she heard herself say, “They have the best Pahd Thai! And delicious spring rolls too! Shall we order something for you? No sense me eating at your mother’s place all alone, is there? I’d just love it if you joined me, Rodric!”

  7

  Rodric told Daphne all about the history of Austin as they stepped off the elevator outside his mother’s apartment. He knew a lot about the city, things he wanted to share with her, and she enjoyed listening.

  Ever the gentleman, he took the key from her hand to open the door. Inside, she slipped her boots off and moved barefoot over the plush, creamy carpet to the counter, where he set the bags of Thai food.

  She pulled out some elegant plates and big cloth napkins, dishing up dinner and grabbing chopsticks as Rodric sprawled on the deep cream leather sofa. His suit jacket was folded neatly over a chair, his shoes and tie off. One leg up on the tufted cushion seat, one arm languishing along the backrest, he listened intently as she told him all about what she’d discovered in Austin. Silly things, really, but he seemed so interested in her descriptions of the different cuisine offered out on Congress Avenue, the work of the artists she’d introduced herself to, the funky accessories she was finding in galleries and auction houses and secondhand shops.

  Engrossed in wonderful conversation, it felt perfectly lovely to join him on the sofa for a cosy dinner. Handing him their plates, she spread a napkin on his lap, carefully protecting his charcoal wool slacks and what was underneath, spreading another napkin under the extra food which she set on the side table. Then she sat down, placing her napkin in her own lap. She was hungry, even after all the carpaccio.

  Rodric passed her a plate with an admiring smile, and they dug into Pahd Thai with chopsticks, sampling Beef Pahd Sarn Sian, crunching on spring rolls, swapping stories about their childhoods. She laughed out loud over his teasing account of the day they’d met at Red Rock Ranch, before Ty’s parents had divorced, before Ty’s mother June changed her name back to Laslow and moved up to Montana with her horses.

  When they finished eating, Daphne stacked the takeout containers on their plates. She was about to get up, but Rodric put an arm out across her tummy. Taking the plates, he insisted she relax while he cleaned up. They continued chatting as he stashed leftovers in the fridge, tossed empty containers and rinsed plates and slipped them into the dishwasher. Pleased, Daphne thought it felt very cosy and nice being with him, almost perfect, really.

  Rodric came back to the sofa with a single container of sweet coconut rice and two spoons. Feeling drowsy and deliciously happy, Daphne slipped down to the carpeted floor, a
nd the narrow silk skirt of her peacock blue dress crawled up her thighs. Standing with the dessert in his hands, Rodric was unable to keep his eyes from tracking all over her body. That was nice too; there was a hungry look on his face. Pleased, Daphne smiled up at him, and he plopped down next to her.

  She didn’t mind that he didn’t acknowledge her bare thighs, that he didn’t drop a hand to them or run it up under her dress. She was a professional, and they were working together, so she certainly wasn’t noticing what promised to be a sizable package emerge beneath his napkin. The second time tonight!

  The tops of their arms touched as he leaned to give her a spoon. His eyes dropped to her lips, then the pale green of them gazed into hers, affectionate and amused and full of desire. Finally!

  The pause between them seemed significant … pregnant, even.

  But he was just wagging the spoon, waiting for her to dig into the container for the first bite of dessert, she realized. Blushing, she did, and then he took his bite. As his broad, full lips closed over the spoon, she tried not to be conscious of their movement, of the desire she had to have them on her. She couldn’t help herself; she wanted him to claim her, to feel his lips on her face, all over her skin.

  She wiggled closer, so her bare arms and thighs touched the fine cotton of his dress shirt and the summer wool of his gorgeous trousers. Sprawled together on the floor eating coconut sweet rice felt so right, she could definitely feel herself enjoying that shower with him, feel the pulsing water and…

  She shivered, and he looked at her again, like he might kiss her. Or eat her. “M-mm, yummy,” she said, scooping her spoon in for another bite. “I’m glad you suggested this. I haven’t ever had a chance to try a Thai dessert.”