Digger faced her, swallowed, then stabbed himself in his chest with his index finger. “You . . . You talking to me?” This was not going well. He sounded like a country bumpkin, and that was a generous assessment. Mostly he just sounded plain stupid. He was doomed.
Then he thought of the Lee and rounded up his courage. “Uh, yeah ... I know you’re talking to me ‘cause there’s no one else out here. I mean ...” He closed his eyes to calm down before his heart jumped out of his chest. “I mean, yes, I’m here to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”
High school boys had more finesse than this.
“Well, what do you want?” She shook her head and held up her hand, warning him not to speak, then said into the phone, “Rachel, someone’s here. I have to go. I’m sure Rex is indeed as wonderful as you say.” She continued on a sigh, “And I’ll be home in time for the wedding just for you.” She disconnected and looked at Digger.
Okay, this had to be the worst experience of his life. There had to be another way to save the Lee. “I should never have come. Never mind. Sorry I bothered—”
“You’re that friend of Keefe O’Fallon’s. I saw you in the saloon.” Her face softened; the hard glint in her eyes vanished. She smiled at him, though it looked more forced than real, but right now he’d take what he could get. She patted the place beside her on the wicker settee. “Why don’t you sit down here and make yourself comfy and talk to me?”
He stared, speechless.
“That is why you’re here, right? To see me? Or to admire the flowers?”
He glanced at his shirt and pants. It was the clothes.
Keefe said they would make a difference. He sat and tried not to fidget. She had on white slacks with some red flowers and a red shimmery top to match. The only women he ever saw who looked like this were on the cover of magazines. Heaven help him . . . literally.
“You had something to say?” she purred.
“How would you like to go dancing . . . with me ... in Memphis . . . tonight?”
“Why, sure.”
He nearly slipped off his seat.
“What time?” she asked in a perfect Southern lilt. “Is Keefe coming with us? I mean, he has that baby-sitter glued to him half the time, and I thought they might be joining us for some fun.”
“Probably not.”
Her face got serious again, and she drummed her fingers against her arm as if considering something. “Well, maybe we could meet up with him for drinks or dinner?”
Digger felt his stomach tighten. “If you’re hung up on Keefe, maybe we should forget this.” He stood, and she yanked him back down with a force he never suspected.
“Don’t be silly,” she blurted along with more of her fake smile. “I want to go dancing, with you. Keefe is a curiosity. He is a TV star, after all. You don’t run into them every day. I followed him here just to meet him. At first I thought I wanted a date with him, but now I know that’s not going to happen.” The last part sounded more like a growl than a purr. She continued, “I just want to get to know him better, maybe have lunch, talk. You know, so when I go home I get to say I met Keefe O’Fallon, Lex Zandor of Sins and Secrets.”
Digger checked his watch. “Well, he should be working on my boat right now.” Her eyes widened in surprise, and Digger chuckled as much from pent-up nerves as the thought of a real TV star hammering and sawing and ruining a hundred-dollar manicure. Hard to think of Keefe with a manicure. “We can go see him now if you want.”
Georgette sprang from the settee as if she had coils mounted on her butt. . . her very nice butt. “Great idea. We can all be friends. Let’s go, but I have to get my purse. Never go anywhere without that. I’ll meet you out front.”
She took off for the house, and he followed, trying to make some sense of what just went on.
Thelma joined him in the hallway and said, “Well, that had to be the worst example of asking someone on a date I ever heard.”
Digger glared. “Women scare the hell out of me. I’m supposed to be protective, but you all seem to know what’s going on more than I do. And do you listen to every single thing that goes on around here?”
Thelma gave him a cocky grin, and he added, “That was a dumb question, wasn’t it?”
“The dumbest. Seems like she’s a bit hung up on Keefe, but if you have a real good time tonight, I bet she changes her tune.”
“I still can’t get over the fact that she wants to have anything at all to do with me. Doesn’t that seem a little strange?”
“Well, maybe a little. I’ll have to think about it. But with Conrad and me winding up together I suppose nothing’s stranger than that.” Thelma patted him on the back. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Digger O’Dell, just go along for the ride.”
The door closed upstairs, then another. Digger said, “Thought it was only you and Georgette here.”
“And a cleaning lady.” Thelma hurried off as Georgette skipped down the stairs. She smiled at him, driving the air right out of his lungs. He gripped the newel post for support. “You look lovely.”
“Same clothes I had on before.”
“Well, you looked lovely then, too.”
“Right. Whatever. Come on, let’s go.” She hurried out the front door and stopped dead. “A motorcycle?”
“Actually it’s a—”
“Nineteen eighty Harley Davidson FLH Shovelhead with police seat. What a beauty.”
“My dad won it in a poker game down in Nashville. He ran it into a tree, and I bought it from him. And how do you even know what it is?”
“I’m an accountant, and one of my clients owns a Harley dealership. He takes me for rides because I get him refunds, and he always sends me a Harley calendar. I got hooked. More fun than looking at numbers all day.” She looped her purse on her arm, then hitched her leg over the seat. She patted the vacant area in front of her and said on a laugh, “Let’s go.”
Until now the only thing he and Georgette had in common was Keefe, and an admiration for Georgette’s fine looks. But at this moment she was truly happy being with him. Harleys were incredible machines for more reasons than one. Not just awesome transportation, but they impressed the hell out of Georgette Cooper. He climbed on, and she said, “We need helmets.”
“I have some back at my place. I usually wear one, but I didn’t want helmet hair.”
“You should always wear one. Helmet hair beats the heck out of being roadkill.”
Smart, funny and beautiful. What a combination! He laughed, feeling as happy as Georgette looked. He turned the ignition, and the Harley came to life, the unmistakable low rumble replacing the quiet. He slid on sunglasses, put the Hog into gear, and Georgette’s arms circled his waist, sending chills right through him. With a great bike and a hot babe on the back, life was damn sweet right now.
He took off down the drive, catching a glimpse of Thelma smiling from the front window. He offered a little salute and turned right onto the main road, giving the bike more power over the country road. Oaks formed a canopy of green overhead; sunlight slipped through here and there as the ribbon of asphalt curved and dipped, offering glimpses of the Mississippi and tows pushing barges. As much as he loved the excitement of being in the wheelhouse of a tow, being here with Georgette was even better.
He took the turn to O’Fallon’s docks and glided into the parking area next to his pickup that had definitely seen better days. He killed the Hog and turned to Georgette, her hair a froth of curls, her cheeks rosy and not from the excellent makeup job, but the kind of exhilaration that radiated clear through to her eyes. She was genuinely happy, not forced or phony. She made him giddy inside, which was better than outside. That could be downright embarrassing. “We can walk from here.”
“My hair must be a mess.”
“You look incredible,” he said, meaning every word.
“And you’re sweet.” She kissed him on the cheek and dismounted. He nearly did handsprings over the front fender. She said, “That was a great rid
e. You have a great bike.” She patted the black seat and pulled out her cell phone. “Just checking if I have reception here.”
She pushed the buttons on the side and held it to her ear. “Nope, not a thing.” She hooked her arm through Digger’s. “But let’s talk about your boat. It’s here? And Keefe really is working on it today?”
“Rory’s letting me tie up and use his equipment to make repairs.”
“Repairs?”
“Oh, yeah. A lot of repairs. That’s where Keefe comes in. He’s helping.”
“Then he’ll be here for a while?”
“Every afternoon.”
Her smile morphed into a full grin. “Well, isn’t that nice of him to help you out like that. If you and I are going to spend time together, I’ll have to make it a point to get to know him just to see what a really great guy he is.”
She wanted to spend time with him? Could life get any better? The love gods had waved some magic wand to make up for all the times they’d pissed on him. He led the way down the path, and they rounded the bend, the Mississippi coming into view. Muddy water lapped the shore, swaying the cattails and scattering dragonflies here and there. Blazing sunlight turned the river’s surface into a giant mirror, making it hard to see and upping the temperature into the high nineties. Summer on the river.
He gazed down to the Lee floating peaceful like the tired old lady she was, but in his mind he always saw her all fresh and new. If someone could have a love affair with a boat, he did with the Liberty Lee.
A few deckhands worked the trip boat Delta Dee, getting her ready for a haul upriver. They gave Georgette a male once-over and Digger the you dog look.
Georgette dug into her purse, and two phones tumbled out onto the concrete dock. One of the hands picked them up and handed them back, a big dopey smile on his face. “Here you go, little lady. You sure must talk a lot. One of these is usually enough.”
Georgette snagged them away. “I... I was just trying to get my sunglasses.” She dropped the phones back in her purse and pulled out her glasses and slipped them on. “Thanks,” she said to the deckhand. Then she pointed and said to Digger, “Is that your boat? Let’s go see it.” Before he could answer she grabbed a handful of his shirt and yanked him in that direction.
And here he thought Georgette would be all put-off by the Lee. Fact was she loved it, just like the Harley. What had he done to suddenly make things go so perfectly?
Perfect was not his usual lifestyle. Keefe came out onto the open lower deck, and Digger called, “Hey.”
He looked up and gave a halfhearted wave as Digger held out his hand to Georgette, but she ignored it and hopped on board as if she’d done it all her life. What a gal. He said to Keefe, “You know Georgette.”
Keefe’s expression was one of What the hell is she doing here more than howdy as Georgette offered him her hand. She said, “I’m afraid we got off to a poor start.” They shook; then she hooked her arm through Digger’s and cuddled close, taking his heart into the danger zone.
Georgette continued, “Now I’m here as a friend and to tell you I’m sorry I caused a commotion at your place the other day.” She held her purse in her free hand and waved the other hand at the boat. “This is . . . great. Yep, just terrific. How have you been, Keefe? What are you doing here? Got any plans while you’re visiting on the Landing?”
“Well, right now I’m helping Digger. Digger’s a fine dancer; you should get him to take you into Memphis and show you around.”
Georgette smiled sweetly. “Well, isn’t that a coincidence that you would say such a thing. Digger and I are going dancing tonight. Why don’t you and that gal you have baby-sitting for you come with us? Sort of a double date. I’d love to hear all about your family and where you live and how you got to be a big TV star.”
“I’m sort of busy with this boat and—”
Georgette chimed in. “Then I’ll help, too. The boat needs it, and I’ll have an excuse to be with you . . . and Digger.”
Georgette work on the boat? Digger couldn’t have been more surprised if she stole the Harley and roared off into the sunset. “I appreciate it. What kind of work would you want to do?” he asked her.
“I can get everyone water or change the channel on the radio station when you get tired of it and maybe run for sandwiches or something like that.”
“Guess that will work,” Digger said, thinking that having Georgette around was more ornamental than substance, and taking another look at her, he decided the ornamental part was just fine and dandy by him. Keefe handed Digger a sheet of paper. “While you were gone the guy from the shipyard in Memphis dropped off this estimate of the materials you need for repairs.”
Digger took the sheet. “Wow, this is more than I expected. Delivery is a fortune.”
Georgette studied her fingernails, turning her head one way, then the other. “So go into Memphis and get whatever it is you need yourself. I saw a pickup when we parked the Harley, use that to fetch your order. If you need something bigger, I bet you can have one of the tugs here stop in at the marina in Memphis and pick it up for you. I’m sure they have a dock and can off-load there.”
Keefe and Digger looked at each other. Keefe said, “That’s a really good idea. If it’s on the way to a job, Dad wouldn’t mind.”
Georgette continued, “And the store helps load for free; that’s half of the work done for nothing. Like them paying you instead of the other way around.”
She let out a sigh and shagged the paper from his hands. “Oh, for heaven sake, let me see that.” As she read her eyes drew together, and she made huffing sounds, the kind the tellers did when he didn’t add his bank deposit right. She snapped the paper with her index finger. “And they’re screwing you ten ways to Tuesday on a lot of other items. First of all there’s no mention of a discount for paying cash up front. Always pay cash up front and get a discount unless you have your money tied up in something that’s making you a ten-percent return.”
“They cut me a deal?”
“Of course. They have use of your money right away instead of waiting on a credit card payout. And why are they charging you more for special orders? Look at this, right there.” She pointed to the paper. “They should be quoting less, give you a deduction because there’s no stock inventoried for them. When they special order they use your money to purchase and have none of their own money tied up or labor in shelving it. What a bogus charge.”
Keefe raked back his hair. “How the heck do you know all this?”
She sighed, “I am an accountant; numbers is my game like being an actor is yours. I try to get away from it, but it always comes back and gets me because someone’s messing over someone else and it just hacks me off. I’ll call these people and get you a better price.”
Digger said, “I don’t know how to thank you.”
She smiled. “My pleasure. It’s lunchtime; I’ll walk up to that Slim’s place and get us something to eat and make that call. My cell doesn’t work down here. When I come back we’ll talk and have a picnic. Sure would like to get to know this town better.” She looked at Digger. “And about you and all about your friends.”
She kissed his cheek and patted his hand, then skipped onto the dock and strolled toward the road they’d come down earlier. Digger watched the gentle swing of her hips, the way she glided instead of walked, the way her whole body moved in harmony, turning him on, making his dick hard and his throat dry.
Keefe said, “Down, boy. She’ll be back, and you can ogle more then.”
Digger blushed; he could feel the heat rush to his face. “I. . . I—”
“Got it bad,” Keefe filled in on a chuckle as he slapped him on the back.
“I was going to say I think she’s really smart and ...”
“Right. You’re attracted to her brains. I’m sure that’s what’s got you hot as a Fourth of July rocket.”
“What the hell am I doing? This was supposed to be a business arrangement, a favor to you and now ...�
�
“Now you’re behaving like any man would when he sees a woman he’s really attracted to. Georgette seems friendly. Complete turnaround from when she stormed my house with threats and accusations. I think she really likes you or she wouldn’t have changed like that.”
Digger watched Georgette take the road up the hill. Never in a million years had he thought a babe like Georgette would be attracted to him. But she truly seemed to be. He was one hell of a lucky guy.
———
Georgette mumbled curses as she concentrated on stepping around the loose gravel that led down to the docks. She gripped the bag of food from Slim’s in one hand and her purse in the other and stopped under the big tree where the road turned for the river. She put down the bag and clicked the side button on the cell phone Bob had given her and laid it on top of her other stuff in her purse. She put the button up so the darn thing wouldn’t click off by accident.
Ten days didn’t give her much time to get the information for the article, but it was doable. She swatted at some insect that found her makeup tasty. Then pulled her damp blouse from her heated skin. Lugging lunch and getting eaten alive by flying things was not the thrilling weekend she had envisioned with Keefe O’Fallon, but publishing the story about the elusive soap star would make her famous. There’d be plenty of notoriety just like Bob promised. TV interviews, maybe a new job, and her family would certainly sit up and take notice.
She picked up the bag and her purse and headed for the dock. Lord love-a-duck! It had to be a hundred in the shade. Perspiration slithered down her back and between her C-cup boobs. What an improvement from her barely B’s where there wasn’t enough cleavage to have a between.
She headed to the Lee, knowing every guy around had his gaze glued to her. Showtime! She rotated her hips a little more, arched her shoulders back to give them a nice view of enhanced endowments and gave a mental thanks to the modeling course she took that taught her how to move, stand, talk, dress and make herself up.
Waving to Digger, he smiled back, a gleam in his eyes. She’d seen it before when men appreciated what they saw, and they usually appreciated a lot these days. Digger had on work clothes now. They were stained with sweat and dirt, a smear of something across his cheek. Nice enough guy but a basic loser, like she used to be. Then she’d changed, and life was oh, so much better.
The Way U Look Tonight Page 9
