But for now she had a very cute baby to tend to and clothes to unpack and e-mails to get off to let her editor know what was going on and tell LuLu where she was. This had turned into some interview and a whole lot more. But how much more was the big question.
———
The next afternoon Keefe followed Callie out to the front porch. How the hell had she conned him into all of this? One minute she’d been cuddling Bonnie in a rocking chair like some sappy greeting card, looking all sweet and innocent. The next minute she’d moved into his house for three weeks, and he was coughing up an interview for the privilege.
Not only was Ms. Cahill pretty, smart, capable as hell and a rag reporter, but she’d outsmarted him. He wasn’t sure which irked him more, the outsmarting or the fact that she was one sensational babe who was strictly off limits.
Damn! Why her? Why did he have to find this one attractive? Even in basic khaki slacks and white T-shirt she made his heart beat double-time. He’d avoided her all morning, trying to figure out why he found her special, but got nowhere. He had women falling all over him, so why was he hot for Callie Cahill, the one person who could eighty-six his career with one swipe of a poisoned pen?
She held Bonnie out to him. “Want to put her in the stroller?”
“M-me?”
“That’s why we’re doing this walk together, right?”
“I needed to talk to you, and this was the best excuse I could come up with on the spot.” He looked at the baby and swallowed. Dammit. He’d played King Lear and the Grinch and everything in between. He could darn-well play confident brother. He took the baby between his hands, holding her tight out in front of him.
“Bring her next to you so she’ll feel secure.”
“Right. Secure.” He curled her into his arms and tried to relax. “Howdy, half-pint.”
She looked up at him. “I think she winked at me. That’s a good sign, right?”
“Or she has gas.”
He rocked her for a minute, and she winked again. It wasn’t gas; she liked him, and he was overwhelmed by how happy that made him. He remembered to breathe and kissed her head. “I think we’re bonding.”
“And this time without duct tape.”
He carefully placed Bonnie in the stroller, fastened the straps and lifted the contraption down the steps and onto the driveway.
“See,” Callie said as she stood beside him, dapples of sunlight in her hair making it more golden than ever. “Not so much as a whimper from the youngest O’Fallon sibling. Babies know if they’re safe and cared for. Part of their survival instinct.”
Survival. The word struck home. “Is that the kind of instinct I’m going to need around you so every detail of my life doesn’t get blown out of proportion and my career shot to hell and back?” He noticed her soft shirt clung to very nice curves and her brown eyes sparkled like aged brandy in a cut-glass tumbler. “You think because you’re sexy as hell you can strut in here and I’ll give you what you want.”
Did he just say what he thought he said? This baby thing had scrambled his brain.
“You . . . You think I’m sexy?”
“Mostly I think you’re an opportunist.” And that was the part he had to concentrate on.
“Hey. That’s not fair. I tried the straightforward approach and asked for the interview, remember? It didn’t work, and you threw me out, so you left me no choice but to get creative. I need this interview. I won’t print anything that’s not the truth.”
He pushed the stroller down the driveway. Oaks that had been here all his life and beyond stretched overhead. A tow pushed a string of barges upriver, leaving a trail of white rollers in its wake. Contentment washed over him, except when he looked at Callie. Between liking her a lot because she was really good-looking and not liking her at all because she was a reporter, the woman was the last word in discontent. “What are my chances of getting editorial rights over this damn interview?”
‘”Bout the same as you doing handsprings down this driveway and a swan dive into the Mississippi. Where are we going? Why did I have to wait for you to take a walk?”
“We’re going to Slim’s and to tell Sally her taste in babysitters sucks. If we bellyache enough, maybe we can wheedle a plate of ribs.”
“You eating ribs, now that’s a great shot.” She felt in her pocket. “I even have my camera.”
They turned onto the road and headed for town. “No pictures until we get rid of Ms. Spandex, that was the deal. As for the town no pictures of that either. I live here, and no one needs to know that.” He stared at her. “Right?”
“You’re not making this easy, O’Fallon.”
“I don’t need Lex Zandor fans running around here. It’s fine just the way it is. My great-great-granddad started O’Fallon’s Transport. He built the docks below the bluff.” Keefe nodded toward the river. “The town sprang up because of the river captains and dockworkers. My brother, Ryan, and his fiancee, Effie, are designing a residential area connected to the town and overlooking the Mississippi. Sally’s finagling a grant to renovate the place.”
They cut across the street to the hardware store and where the sidewalk began. Callie looked around. “Hope they don’t renovate too much: River towns are a dying breed. So, we really are going to eat, except you don’t have a let’s just eat look about you.”
“What the hell’s that mean?”
“You got that same look as when Zandor broke into the warehouse to save that woman and her daughter from that bad cop.”
He studied her hard. “Do you watch all the episodes of Sins and Secrets?”
“It’s my job.”
“Are you blushing, Cahill?”
“It’s like a hundred in the shade, O’Fallon. What you’re looking at is basic heatstroke.” She took Keefe’s arm. “You didn’t come to the Landing just to baby-sit, and I can maneuver a stroller by myself, and I sure can’t get lost in a town that has one road and a handful of old buildings. Why are you here with me now? Don’t you trust me with Bonnie? And why are you here on the Landing in the first place. Rory could have found local help.”
Keefe stopped under the faded blue awning of the bank, the town mostly empty in the late afternoon heat. Her hand still held his arm, making him almost as fevered as she looked. He slipped his arm from her fingers, hoping that would help alleviate his condition. It didn’t. “Two weeks ago someone tried to take Bonnie, probably to get her mama to come out of hiding because she’s got something they want. They shot Max; that’s why he has the bandage on his side. The whole town’s got their eyes peeled for strangers and knows what’s going on, so if you yell, everyone will come running. Dad thinks the bad guys won’t go after Bonnie again because we’re on to them, but I’m not so sure. If you stroll Bonnie out in the open during the day, avoid alleys and out-of-the-way places, you’ll be fine.”
“What’s Bonnie’s mother running from?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “She was an office manager for River Environs, a company that did work on the Mississippi with levees and docks. They’re under investigation for fraud, for overcharging for work done. She went to the attorney general a year and a half ago saying there were two sets of books and she had them both. Then she disappeared. She probably realized they were on to her and ran.”
“To O’Fallon’s Landing.”
“And worked for Dad using the name Mimi. She knows how to run an office, and she knows the river. She and Dad fell in love, planned to marry; then she just disappeared. Two months ago we guess that Mimi recognized someone from the company or heard something that made her think they were close by; that’s why she left. Then she had left Bonnie here on Dad’s porch so he could protect her. I’m telling you all this because I’m going to use you. You’re a reporter and notice things. If anyone looks or acts suspicious, you’ll pick up on it. As a baby-sitter you can ask questions, be a pest, all the things you do best, and no one will think much of it. You have good instincts, use them.”
“I take it your dad doesn’t know what you’re up to?”
“He’s got enough on his mind. He thinks I’m here for moral support and to help with the baby. If he knows I’m out here poking around, he’ll want details, and I’d rather not get his hopes up. Dad hired a PI, but it seems Mimi’s dropped off the face of the earth. The way I figure it Bonnie’s the key. As long as the baby’s with Dad, Mimi will stay put. I want to find her so Dad knows she’s safe, and I want to put away the men who are after her.”
“If the bad guys get Bonnie, they’ll use her to draw out Mimi.”
“Bingo. If you want that interview, you’ll have to work for it. And one word about this better not hit the papers. My family has enough problems.”
She parked her hand on her hip and glared. “In spite of what you think, I am trustworthy, and the one and only thing we happen to agree on is taking care of little sisters. Besides, I’m here for a story about you, not Bonnie.”
“And what’s this burst of cooperation going to cost me? A kidney?”
Suddenly she looked dreamy, her eyes kind of rolling around in her head. He knew that look on a woman’s face, had seen it hundreds of times from female fans. Holy crap, she wanted him. That was good because he wanted her, too, all warm and soft in his arms, then in his bed. But it was bad in that getting mixed up with a reporter was like jumping into a volcano . . . death by stupidity.
“To get me to cooperate you can buy me anything cooking in there.” She pointed to Slim’s.
“C-cooking?”
She licked her lush lips. “Whatever’s in that building is way beyond cooking. Cooking is meat loaf in the oven. This aroma means food to die for. I’m starving. Standing here inhaling is torture. I want food, O’Fallon, that food.” She elbowed him out of the way, commandeered the pusher position on the stroller and took off in a near run. “Come on, time’s a wasting.”
What the hell! He was thinking sex, and she was thinking food! He needed to get out more. The tabloids might have him pegged as the human sex machine, but like most of their stuff that wasn’t true either. Getting it on with a woman who would probably blab everything to the first reporter to shove a microphone in her face was not his idea of a relationship.
“What do they serve?” she asked as they headed down the broken sidewalk.
“Chicken, ribs, sausage, catfish grilling on Slim’s back porch. Slim uses a fifty-gallon drum cut in half, and everything simmers long and low and tender, and for God’s sake can you slow down a little.”
“Can we take Bonnie inside?”
He stumbled to catch up. “Some kids go to their grandparents’ and have cookies and milk, Dad takes Bonnie here, and she babbles to BB King and gnaws on a chicken bone. Turned Slim’s into a no-smoking bar overnight and got Slim to put a changing table in the men’s restroom.” He grinned. “A proud papa and his baby girl.”
They pulled up to the porch, and this time Callie hauled the stroller up, not waiting for him. Some women wanted money or power. For Cahill it was obviously food. She said, “Rory’s the perfect dad. Wish LuLu had more of that. One older sister isn’t much of a substitute for no parents. Think I’ll get one of everything on Slim’s menu. How much money do you have on you? I left my purse at your place.”
“How convenient.” He stopped and bit back a laugh as he tucked a strand of hair behind her left ear. Callie Cahill was life on steroids. He’d never seen so much enthusiasm for . . . everything. The way she cared for her sister and Bonnie and her love of Memphis cooking . . . She got to him, and that was bad . . . very, very bad. He remembered another time, another reporter. Sasha. She’d wowed him, wooed him and screwed him in more ways than one.
“Come on, what are you waiting for? We have to eat.” Callie nudged him toward the door, the contact like a flash of light out of the blue that jarred him to his toes. No contact with Sasha had ever done that. He’d have to keep his distance, use Callie as a baby-sitter and to help find Mimi, and that was all.
Callie opened the door, and he navigated the stroller inside. The familiar recording of Blind Boy Fuller and Cat Man Blues flowed over him like a warm spring rain when fishing the river for striped bass. He had the CD at his apartment in New York, of course, but here it was different. Everything was different, slower, down-home, close to the earth, the water, the people.
“We’re between the lunch and dinner crowd,” he said as they took a table. He sat across from Callie, not trusting himself to sit next to her. He’d want to touch her, look into her eyes, think of ways the two of them could get to know each other better. Stupid, stupid, stupid idea. No reporters! “The towns folk won’t arrive till dinner, then later on into the night. More times than not someone will pick up the sax or get to the piano or bring in a guitar.” This was good. Keep the conversation light, keep it simple and non-personal. With Callie he sure as hell didn’t need personal.
She hauled Bonnie onto her lap. “Do you play?”
“Took piano lessons for three years, then Dad paid me to quit. Ryan got the music genes. He does a mean sax, and when Sally sings it brings down the house.”
Sally ambled over and held out her hand to Callie. “I must say you are certainly an improvement over what I sent to Keefe as a baby-sitter.”
Callie shook Sally’s hand; then she focused on Keefe, her dark brown eyes in perfect harmony with her dark skin. “I swear I didn’t know that woman was Cruella Deville till Dad clued me in, and by that time you had already sent her packing, thank God. You sounded so desperate on the phone with Bonnie crying in the background, Eleanor was the only name I could think of on short notice.”
She stroked Bonnie’s cheek. “Sorry about that, sugar. But now I got the name of a nanny service in Memphis that’s supposed to be the best.” Sally fished in her pocket and pulled out a paper. “Tot Tenders. They come very highly recommended, and you can call them anytime day or night.” She passed the paper to Keefe. “Put it in your wallet in case of an emergency so we never have to go through this again. Can’t believe I sent the Stick to you.”
Callie said to Sally, “How’d you find out about this so fast?”
“Fast?” Sally’s dazzling smile split her face. “It’s been twenty-four hours. I knew five minutes after it all happened. That’s the way things are around here. Besides, Eleanor stopped and demanded I pay her fifty bucks for sending her on a wild-goose chase.”
Keefe grumbled, “Damn, I gave her a hundred just to get rid of her. She’d make a killing on Wall Street. Sort of like you.” He said to Callie, “Not only is Sally Slim’s daughter, she’s the town egghead. MBA from Harvard, investment guru, Wall Street wonder girl.”
“And ulcer victim extraordinaire,” Sally added, then pulled Keefe’s hair, tilting his head back so she could look him in the face. “We do not mention Wall Street and things New York in this fine restaurant. Gives the place bad karma. I left all that crap behind and came home, thank God and Delta Airlines.”
She gave Keefe a quick friendly kiss and let him go. “So you brought home the pretty lady of your very own because the locals aren’t good enough for a big TV star?” She winked at Callie.
She smiled. “I’m just here to watch Bonnie for a few weeks, but right now I’m supposed to whine for barbecue ribs or anything else you have grilling out back.”
Sally laughed and cut her gaze to the door. “You got it, but first you have to tell me who that is coming in. Anybody in poison green and stilettos has got to be related to a soap opera star; it sure isn’t typical dress around this neck of the woods.”
Keefe let out a long, deep sigh. “Oh, hell, it’s Ms. Spandex.”
Sally parked her hand on her waist. “Now, there’s a descriptive name. Not exactly Paris Hilton but real close. A fan?”
“A pain in the ass.”
Spandex gave a little finger wave and sauntered over to Keefe. “Hi there, big boy.” She patted his cheek. “Got any ideas about getting us together?”
“I’m working on it.” He
glanced at Callie. “I hope.”
Spandex gave him a sultry smile. “Well, I’ll be waiting.” She strolled over to the bar, her hips swaying with every step. She hiked herself onto a stool, showing more leg than most women possessed. She said something to the older man next to her, making him laugh and suddenly look ten years younger.
Sally knocked Keefe’s head. “Gotten your little titty in a wringer this time, Lex Zandor?”
“This is my week for trouble. The sun, moon and stars have all lined up and decided to dump on me.”
“Don’t know if heavenly bodies can do that, but they sure seem to be stirring things up around here one way or the other, isn’t that right?” She gave Keefe a sly look that took in Callie. “You two fit together real well. I can tell that right off.” Sally strolled off humming a BB King tune.
Coming home had its good points and some tricky ones. Callie said, “Childhood sweetheart?”
“Not exactly sweetheart. More like partner in trouble. Sally, Ryan, and I grew up together. Learned the facts of life when Sally snuck copies of Playboy from her daddy’s stash and the three of us read aloud in total wonder.”
Sally picking up on the fact that he had a thing for Callie was inevitable. But did she have to do it so fast? She’d needle him till he looked like a dog who’d lost a fight with a porcupine. “Got any brilliant ideas what to do with Georgette?”
“Every guy in the place is watching her, and she sure is enjoying the attention. Holy cow,” she stage whispered and grabbed Keefe’s hand, the sudden contact blowing his mind like confetti out of a popper. “What if we get her interested in someone else, someone like you but better than you. We divert her attention to some hunky guy, and you’re off the hook. What do you think of that?”
“Think?” With her hand on his arm he couldn’t put two sentences together.
“Georgette? Getting her interested in someone else? Are you with me here, O’Fallon?”
And he so wished he wasn’t. He took his hand back. “Uh, right. Georgette.” He did a mental headshake. “Except I don’t see an abundance of male soap stars hanging around that she’d be interested in. And another thing, who do we dislike that much to hook them up with her?”
The Way U Look Tonight Page 3
