She sat up. “Uh, nothing’s with us. What do you mean?”
“You guys got something going on, but you’re fighting it all the way. It’s like Rory said, we don’t know the whole story.”
“There is no story.” Least not one she was going to tell.
Keefe returned and handed Digger some slacks and shirts. “These are Armani, guaranteed to impress the socks off any gal, especially someone like Georgette.”
Digger raked back his hair. “This shirt is . . . orange. I’m supposed to wear an orange shirt?”
“It’s rust and all the rage in New York.”
“Probably get me shot at in Tennessee. I’ll ask Georgette tomorrow morning before I lose my nerve and let you know what happens that afternoon when you come to work.” He winked. “I’m not letting you forget.” Digger gave a little salute, then clambered down the stairs and headed toward the docks.
“Well,” Keefe said to Callie. “That just leaves the two of us. Want to . . . dance?”
She stood and paced the porch. “Look, I lied, okay? You have nothing to prove. I knew it was you all along when we were in the gym and not Zandor. If I hurt your feelings, I’m sorry, but I thought it was the best thing to do. We can’t get involved, Keefe. You don’t trust me. I don’t want to be a . . . piece of ass to fill the time while you’re here. The gym was a one-time thing, sex on overdrive. Now we steer clear of each other and live happily ever after.”
She stopped pacing and peered back at Keefe. He sat on the porch railing, arms crossed over his broad chest. “I know.”
An uneasy feeling crept up her spine, and she walked over to him. “You know what? About the hormones?”
“That you lied when you said you thought of me as Lex. If it was true, you wouldn’t have been so jumpy tonight.”
“You knew that? And you didn’t say anything. You let me sweat and go on and on about being a piece of ass?”
“When would I have told you? Digger was here the whole time.”
“Oh, that is such a lame excuse. You could have dragged me into the kitchen and said, ‘Callie, old girl, the jig’s up, I know what’s going on. We—as in Keefe and Callie and no Lex—had sex in the gym.’ But did you do that? No! Why didn’t you level with me? You could have stopped me in the middle of my little speech if nothing else.”
“Like you leveled with me?”
Ouch. “I did . . . eventually.” She sighed. “And you eventually did, too, so I guess we’re even. Least this confrontation makes being together less appealing than ever. The sex might be good but—”
“The sex is great,” he said in a quiet voice that made her insides quiver.
She fought the heat creeping into her cheeks. “Right, great. But that’s all, and it’s over and we both know it.” She snagged up the tray and headed for the kitchen.
“Are you still going to help me with finding Mimi?”
She stopped at the doorway. “Of course. But that and Bonnie are the only connections between us for the next three weeks, so we can stay out of each other’s way.”
“What about the two of us helping Digger with the stern-wheeler and helping him win over Georgette? And we live in the same house; you’re staying in my brother’s room. And there’s the interview and the photos and eating at Slim’s. The Landing isn’t all that big, Callie. We’ll be tripping over each other at every turn.”
“Well, then we can mentally keep our distance, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. You have a lot on your mind with the play and the seniors and trying to get a lead on Mimi. I have Bonnie to care for and watching for anything or anyone suspicious. I think we both have enough to keep us busy.”
Keefe watched the door close behind Callie, and he ran his hand over his face. Well, hell. That didn’t go the way he wanted at all. He’d planned on leveling with Callie and telling her that he knew she didn’t think he was Lex. Then they’d laugh over it and get to know each other a whole lot better while they were here at the Landing and maybe sleep together tonight. His dick swelled at the thought. Damn, he wanted her again.
But then what? After three weeks they’d go their separate ways, him at the soap and her beating the bushes for interviews? That didn’t feel right either, and she’d never just be a piece of ass. He knew how her eyes danced when she made love, how a whimper crept up her throat when he kissed her neck, how her legs held him just right and how good she felt in his arms. And she cared about his family. That counted for a hell of a lot in his book.
So now what? His plan hadn’t worked, no sex with Callie tonight. But what was he going to do about this attraction for Callie Cahill?
Nothing, that’s what. Let it go. Hell of a lot easier said than done. He gazed across the driveway to the front lawn and the oaks big and strong like sentries protecting the O’Fallon family. A line of rhododendrons blocked the road; the mighty Mississippi rolled beyond just as it had since the dawn of time. Peace and permanence surrounded him, but tonight it didn’t include him.
There was another hour or so before Slim’s closed, and conversation and a beer sounded good, get his mind off himself, who was piss-poor company at the moment, and off Callie. Why did his thoughts always circle back to her?
He started down the steps with Max at his side, gravel from the driveway crunching under his shoes, night things scurrying in the bushes, an owl hooting and fireflies playing catch in the trees.
He knew this town and the people like he knew his own name. Most of the people were great. Most of the memories the same, least the ones involving his family were. He crossed the street to Slim’s, and Max lay down on the saloon porch to wait as Keefe opened the door. “I’ll bring back sausage.”
Max wagged his tail, and Keefe went inside. The aroma of great food, good beer and mellow blues surrounded him like a blanket on a cold night. He needed that, something familiar to latch on to.
Sally signaled from the nearly deserted bar, and he ambled over and took a seat. She said, “Howdy, Keefe O’Fal-lon. What are you doing here at this hour when you got a pretty little thing at home waiting for you?”
She put a beer in front of him and smiled big. “Woman troubles?”
“Isn’t it always?”
“Unless you are a woman, then it’s man troubles.” She nodded to a big guy in his early thirties at the end of the bar nursing a beer. “That’s Demar, my latest and greatest breakup.”
“Doesn’t look like Demar’s ready to take no for an answer. What happened?”
“He’s working with the Attorney General’s Office and used me to get information on your family. He was with your dad when they saved Bonnie from the kidnappers.” She gave Demar a steely look. “Least he did something right,” Sally said as Keefe grinned, held his beer in salute and took a sip. “Surly bastard.”
“And you’ve still got your knickers in a twist?”
Demar ambled on down. He held out his hand to Keefe. “I’m the boyfriend in the doghouse and figured I’d come on down and defend my good name.”
Sally gave him an evil look. “The doghouse part is true enough, but the boyfriend part is a figment of your imagination.”
“But I’m working on changing that.”
Sally tipped her chin. “You can work all you want, big boy. It’s not going to happen.” Then she gave Keefe a sly smile. “I forgot to tell you the best gossip tonight, and it involves you.”
“Ah, hell. Somebody saw me and Callie—”
“Try you and Digger, sweet thing.” She winked and pinched his cheek. “I must say the rest of us around here had no idea. Last time I saw Digger he was salivating over that sexy piece from the city in here, and now I hear you and him? Very interesting.” Sally laughed.
“Digger?”
She laughed harder. “Rumor has it you and the captain were dancing on your porch real close like to Elton John music.”
Keefe choked, and Sally added, “Where would someone get a story like that?”
Keefe took another drink of beer. “It�
��s true.”
Sally’s jaw dropped, and her eyes bugged.
“Not true that way, true like I was teaching Digger how to dance, part of his plan to hook up with Georgette. He needed a few pointers.”
Sally leaned against the bar, and Demar handed her his beer. She took a long drink. “Holy mother of pearl, you had me real worried there for a minute. Thought that New York scene had gotten to you.”
“You understand what this means,” Demar said.
Sally took another drink of his beer. “Don’t remember anyone asking the likes of you.”
Demar grinned, swiped a drop from her lips and said to Keefe, “She’s really crazy about me.” He took Sally’s hand and kissed the back. Then he looked at Keefe and added, “Someone’s watching you, close. And it’s no accident or drive-by encounter. Your house is the last one on the road before it drops down to the docks, and it’s blocked from the road by those bushes. You got yourself a spy. Not a bright one since they’re spreading rumors.”
Keefe felt his blood run cold. “Think they’re after Bonnie?”
“I’d say they’re out to hurt you. I’d be careful. I hear you got a baby-sitter, and if I were you, I’d keep her and Bonnie with me as much as possible.”
“Dad had a security system put on the house, so that should help. ‘Course, it would be nice if we used the blasted thing. It’s hard to adjust to setting alarms when the Landing’s been so peaceful for so long.”
Sally said, “Since Demar’s hanging around here occupying space at my bar he can help you out if you need him.”
Demar gave her a little smile. “Told you she’s crazy about me.”
Sally smoothed back her curls. “I got to make sacrifices for that little baby, and putting up with you is part of my contribution.”
Keefe finished off his beer. He said to Demar, “I’ll let you know if I find out anything. I better get back to the house.” He stood. “Thanks for hanging out here. You’ve been a big help.”
Demar hitched his chin at Sally and winked. “It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to watch out for this one.”
Sally sucker punched his arm, but she couldn’t hold back the smile pulling at her lips. “He’s nothing but a smartass cop.”
Keefe headed for the door till Sally called, “Hey, wait up. There’s something else.”
He turned, and she tossed him a baggie and said, “Sausage for Max. He’ll be gnawing on your foot if you forget his treat, and I know he’s waiting right outside that door. You need to come home more often; you’re starting to forget what living here’s all about. Aren’t you the one who talked me into getting out of Wall Street and getting myself home?”
Keefe held up the bag. “Thanks for this.”
He went outside and fed Max the sausage and took in the dilapidated shops closed for the night as if resting before the next day’s business. He remembered the shops painted and kept up with flower boxes and shiny clean windows. With luck and hard work the town would be that way again. Keefe turned for his house, feeling more like a tourist than a resident. And he didn’t like that at all.
The front porch was lit. He crept up the steps so as not to wake anyone, opened the door and let himself and Max inside. Tomorrow he’d show Callie how to use the security system Rory had installed. He headed upstairs, reached the top landing and barely missed getting knocked in the head by a baseball bat. “Callie! What are you doing?”
“Keefe?”
Rory’s bedroom door flew open. He scrambled into the hall, great-granddad’s Confederate sword drawn. He looked from Callie to Keefe. “What the hell’s going on,” he thundered as Bonnie started to fuss. “Who the hell needed an alarm system with all this homeland security in place?”
“I was just coming upstairs to go to bed.”
Callie looked from him to the bat. “Thought you were already in bed.”
“Christ in a sidecar,” Rory grumbled as he headed for Bonnie’s room, the crying threatening to strip the paper off the walls. “You went and woke my sweet pea. If you two don’t settle what’s eating you, you’ll drive us all nuts, and we’re not going to get a stick of sleep. Just when you think your kids are off on their own they come back to torment the daylights out of you all over again.”
Keefe studied Callie in her pink pj’s, baseball bat in hand, nipples nudging through the soft cotton. Fatigue vanished; horniness rode him hard. Callie Cahill was going to be the death of him, and she didn’t need a bat to make it happen. She just needed to show up looking like this.
She turned back for her room. “I’ll grab a robe and see if I can help Rory.”
Keefe headed toward the crying. “I’ll see what I can do to help.”
She snagged his arm, and he spun around, the contact nearly making him lose his balance, and the deep set of her eyes suggested she felt the same. She said, “Don’t. I can do this . . . alone.”
“You think alone is better?”
“Definitely.” Her voice was hoarse, just a whisper.
“I agree.” He could see her nipples bead under her top now, making his dick hard. Since she’d got here he’d spent a lot of waking hours in this condition. He had to get out of here. Painfully he headed for his room. Next time he’d just give the damn interview and pictures and whatever else and take his chances.
Chapter 7
Digger drove the Harley into the circular driveway of Hastings House, killed the engine and checked his watch. Holy shit, it was noon. That meant it had taken him three hours to scrounge up the courage to get here, get off the bike, ring the bell and ask for Georgette. Actually, it had taken longer because the only thing he’d accomplished so far was dragging his sorry ass to their spot. The rest was still in the planning stage.
What would a gal like Georgette ever see in him? She was here for Keefe. Except for the O in their last names, Digger O’Dell and Keefe O’Fallon were as far apart as two men could be. The ladies’ man and the reject man. Dang! He turned the ignition, put the Hog in gear, and Thelma McAllister, one-time nanny for the O’Fallons, great cook and now the future Mrs. Conrad Hastings, darted from the front door and stood in front of him, blocking his path.
“Digger O’Dell, you’ve driven up this blasted driveway of mine three times, making racket enough to raise the dead on that machine of yours. You going to come in and ask Georgette out on a date and go dancing or just buzz around in circles all day driving me nuts? Least this time you shut off the engine for a minute, guess that means you’re getting closer to doing something.”
As he turned off the motorcycle, Digger groused, “Why don’t you just mind your own beeswax.”
She craned her neck toward him, her eyes determined. “And whose drive do you think this is? Mickey Mouse’s?” She stepped back and pointed a stiff finger at the front door with a shiny brass knocker. “Get going. All this procrastinating’s wasting gas and polluting the peace and quiet of my house. Get on with it, boy.”
He didn’t budge. “How do you know about my plans anyway? It’s no business of yours.”
She laughed and parked her hands on her hips. “It’s the Landing. That makes it my business. You’ve been living here all your life, so you know that.” She nodded toward the front door. “Well?”
“Bossy woman.”
“Somebody’s got to take charge or you’ll be old and gray and still be parked here cluttering up my drive.” She stood aside. “I don’t have all day. Got a pineapple upside-down cake and scones in the oven. Right now it’s me and Georgette Cooper, but I’ve got another reservation coming in at three. There’s work to do, and you better get to it.”
“Lordy, woman, you’ve been telling me what to do like a second mother all my life.” Digger hiked his leg over the Harley. He had to ask Georgette out for the sake of the Liberty Lee or she’d stay in the sad state she was in now. He straightened his spine and followed Thelma up the brick steps and through the heavy oak door with beveled glass sidelights.
Inside she asked, “Ever been he
re before?”
“The Hastings and the O’Dells don’t exactly travel in the same social circles.”
“Same with me but things changed. Conrad’s better now.”
Digger grinned. “So I hear.” He looked around at the polished wood staircase, the gold-leafed portraits, the antique furniture in the front room. “You really keep this place nice, Thelma, but why is there a broken vase on the entrance table here.”
“I shot the hell out of it. Was aiming for Conrad at the time and missed. Not like me to do that. . . miss, I mean. It’s a reminder to uppity guests to mind their manners.”
“And for Conrad to mind his manners as well?”
“There is that. Great conversation piece.”
“Pieces.” Digger bit back a laugh, suddenly feeling a little less stressed. Least Georgette wouldn’t be gunning for him and hitting vases instead. He nodded at the stairs. “Can you get Georgette for me, or do I just go up and knock on her door myself?”
“She’s out back on the patio, talking to her sister on her cell phone. I think my back patio is the only place on the Landing with reception. And this time it’s not a good thing. The arguing I hear going on makes me glad I was an only child.” She slapped Digger on the back. “If you’re going to ask Georgette dancing in Memphis, go to BB King’s. Get there early, they pack them in like sardines.”
He held out his hands. “Thelma, I live here. I know the drill.”
“Well, then act like it, boy.” She strode off into the living room, and Digger followed the hall straight back to the screen door and the outside beyond. He could hear Georgette talking, and she sounded none too happy. Digger opened the door and stepped onto the brick patio bedecked with baskets of flowers, comfortable wicker furniture, a hammock and an old Memphis-style grill almost as fine as his own. Georgette continued to talk, not paying him any mind. What to do to get her attention? Clear his throat? Say “excuse me, ma’am?” Step on her toe?
“Are you waiting for me?” Georgette finally asked, looking perturbed.
The Way U Look Tonight Page 8
