Designs On Daphne

Designs On Daphne

(McGreer’s #4)

McGreers Series by Lilly Christine

“Crashing Into Tess
” (McGreers #1)

“Crazy On Daisy”
( McGreers #2)

“Right Kinda Bull”
(McGreers #3)

Coming Soon

“Luvvin’ Lulu” (McGreers #5) ~ June 2014

“Whole Lotta Bull” (McGreers #6) ~ July 2014

“Eva Smashing & Dashing” (Egypt Island #1) ~ Sept 2014

Works by Christine Griffin

Aria of Sylvania

www.AriaofSylvania.com

Designs On Daphne

LILLY CHRISTINE

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Jane Austen for her comedies of errors and manners. Elizabeth Bennet, Jane Bennet, and Emma Woodhouse have inspired my characterization of Daphne. Rodric is the sweetest, most affable non-Darcy. . . except for his HUGE *estate*!

Thanks to Marty and Jim for exploring Austin, Tx with me. From the river walk to Congress Avenue to fresh margaritas at dawn, it’s a super special town.

And thanks to Ali and Robin and Evie, for caring about Rodric and Daphne’s story, and helping me get it right.

I wrote this book

for big sisters like Daphne. From earliest memory, big sisters look out for others, so much so that sometimes denying ourselves becomes second nature. My wish is that every big sister finds a someone with a heart like Rodric’s.

Little sisters too.

~

1

   Daphne Antelerone kicked around Austin’s rodeo grounds Saturday morning in the vintage handmade boots she’d picked up in Wimberly, waiting for the barrel racers to begin.

  Her sister Daisy was at the trailers with the other competitors, prepping her ringer barrel horse Lucky Bucky with Hank Gallagher, the boyfriend any girl would consider herself lucky to score. After taking Daisy and Hank egg sandwiches, orange juice and coffee, Daphne hot -footed out of the dusty trailer area to wait in the sunny grandstand.

  
Still too darn dirty,
she thought, brushing sand from the button at the rise of her substantial bosom. She’d scored the cute little black linen number at Nordstrom, taking pains to coordinate the look a wanna-be-anything-but-a-bartender needed to find her very own cowboy. Rocking her fabulous tan in a collared, slim-cut backless sundress, she’d chosen her new high-shafted red leather boots embossed with white flames.

  And this morning at the hotel room, she’d gotten her hair just right. Frosted and curly, she’d back-combed it for big Texas volume under her brand new black Stetson, set dead even. Feelin’ good and lookin’ better, Daphne unfastened one more button, then freshened her lipstick before leaning over the edge of the rail to check out the chutes. 

  It took no time to sight her quarry; the pecs and butt of a bronc rider two inches shorter than she was called her name. The bronc rider’s eyes twinkled up at a sight he was clearly happy to behold. His lips curved up into a slow, easy smile as he touched a gloved finger to the brim of his hat.

  Daphne flashed her prettiest come-hither smile, musing on how much fun it would be to save the bronc and ride the cowboy . . .

  Until she heard a hollow clop-clop-clopping coming up the aluminum stairs, followed by a low wolf-whistle and a familiar laugh. Distracted, she turned to see Ty McGreer stroll up. At his side was his jackass cousin Rodric, legal doofus supreme.

  
Geezus! If this isn’t my luck
!

  Rodric McGreer visited Hobble Creek regularly, pestering her with his dippy, eternal veal calf-to-slaughter crush. Since his divorce, he’d taken to dropping by Hymie’s for more of the same, clearly expecting that she would finally give in out of desperation and reciprocate.

  “Well, isn’t this a surprise?” she asked, going for pleasant-with-just-the-right-edge-of-sarcasm.

  “Daphne,” Ty nodded, touching his hat brim.

  “Miz Daphne,” Rodric babbled, nodding and grinning like a jack-o-lantern. Painfully out of place in his dress shirt, khaki slacks and handmade Italian loafers, he looked like a Humpty Dumpty who didn’t realize he’d already fallen down!

   Ty and Rodric took spots at the rail, dooming her blossoming romance with the bronc rider. After a long, hot minute facing the sun, Ty close on one side and Rodric crowding her elbow at the other, Daphne’d about had enough.

  “Well, why don’t you boys join me? I was just sayin’ to myself, ‘Darn, it’s not warm and sticky enough up here above the chutes. I sure hope two big lugs come along and stand on either side of me, crowding my airspace like fat ticks on a drowning-dog, boilin’ hot summer day.’”

  Ty grinned and shook his head, but Rodric’s smile broadened. His piggy eyes roamed her new dress. “Boiling hot, I’ll say, Miz Daphne!”

  “You’re hot, Rodric?” Daphne fired back.“First time in years, huh? Bet you could use an ice water. Ty must be thirsty, too. How ‘bout you go fetch us a drink?”

  Rodric met her sardonic, eyebrow-lifted challenge with his typical beefy grin. “Why, Miz Daphne, I’d be tickled pink to procure you a refreshing libation. If you’ll just stay put for a moment, I’ll bring you some ice cold water in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  Once he was gone, Daphne buttoned her girls up inside the dress and rolled her eyes.“Why ever in the Lone Star state did you bring him here?”

  Ty shook his head. “Hell, Daph, Rodric’s all right. In fact, he’s better than all right. You oughta see the penthouse he just put under contract over in West Austin. It’s enormous, with million dollar views. Well, million and a half or better, probably, he’s got his own pool on the rooftop.”

  “Huh,” Daisy scoffed. “Who’s he havin’ decorate it, his mother?”

  “Actually, he made sure Caroline got most of the furniture, so he could start clean over. Aunt Esther offered to help, but he’s a little concerned about her stuffy, old-Texas tastes. You’ve been by his parent’s place, right?”  

  She had, on the one and only interminably boring date Rodric had connived her into going on her junior year in high school. They’d left Hobble Creek in the morning in  his father’s convertible, bound for Dallas, and had arrived at his parent’s house just in time to dress for a dance at their country club.

  Miz Esther and Mr. Rodric, Sr.’s house had been the highlight of her evening. Ty’s great-grandfather had gone in for cattle and good Texas grazing land, but the grandfather that spawned the Rodric McGreer’s had gone in for oil, and the house looked like it. It was a big white-columned affair, set back from the main road on a long lane. The entry way was green Italian marble.

  She’d blissfully wandered through high-ceilinged, airy downstairs rooms, lush with potted palms and busy wallpaper. Fancy patterned drapes with thick-fringed tassels and looping valances hung over French doors opening to actual gardens. And thick exotic rugs covered the polished pecan floors, which were varnished thick to prevent damage from Miz Esther’s bratty pugs. 

    Miz Esther was Rodric’s mother, a sassy, big-busted Texas matron with bigger, sassier tastes and the pocketbook to indulge them, was the best thing Rodric had going, as far as Daphne was concerned. Rodric’s father must have had a taste for wild women, because wherever Miz Esther went, she surely did liven things up.   She’d greeted them barefoot, sipping a mint julep in white skinny jeans and a big loud patterned silk top.

After fussing over Rodric and asking Daphne for all the Hobble Creek news, she’d shown her up to a guest room.   “Here y’are, sweetheart. Ooo, willya look at that dress! Golly, but you’re a pretty thing! I sure woulda loved a daughter. I’ve been blessed with a nice crop of healthy sons, but every pregnancy, I suffered through the heat of the Texas summer jus’ prayin’ for a sweet lil’ thing like you! And looka that hair of yours1 My, my, my but it’s prettier’n silk!”

  So Daphne had done her hair up big, curling, fluffing and back-combing it, and she’d tricked her bright fuschia strapless prom dress with chunky, sparkly fake jewels, too. With sky high, strappy sandals on her manicured feet, she’d look like a country western star.

  When she came down, Miz Esther oohed and ahhed over the dress’s full skirt, and Rodric presented her with a deep magenta orchid wrist corsage. They’d had their picture taken in the marble entry foyer, in front of the fireplace, and of course, out in the rose garden.

  But the dance had been a disaster.

   Rodric’s friends had eyed her appreciatively, making polite small talk, so she couldn’t blame him; their dates were all rich Dallas girls, in demure, sleeveless debutante dresses with long narrow sheath skirts in muted pastels.   With their pearl chokers and elegant low-heeled pumps, they looked more like president’s wives than country western stars, a fact they didn’t hesistate to remind Daphne of again and again.

  She’d been stuck sashaying around like Belle Watling in a room full of Melanie Hamiltons. Those girls weren’t anywhere near as nice to Daphne as Melanie would have been; she suffer eye-rolls and pursed lips all evening. Their stony silences were broken in the ladies room, where she’d endured catty comments, and Rodric had taken her home to his parent’s place early, in tears.

  Miz Esther’s guest room was the fanciest bedroom Daphne had ever imagined, at the time. She did it like fancy, Miz Esther did, and it was a real comfort, after that terrible dance. 

  “Esther’s liable to trick it out like a bordello,” Ty was complaining. “I told Rodric about that decorating class you’ve been bragging on, up in Austin. Rodric thought you might want to help her do it up in a better style, something more modern, he said.”

  “Oh, geezus,” Daphne scoffed.“Is that Humpty Dumpty’s latest line? Well, it’s a new one, anyway. Considerin’ the source, I’ve gotta give him points for originality.”

 
Rodric had been pleasant at breakfast with his parents, the morning after the dance, and sweet and solicitous on the way home, she had to admit now, ten years later.

 
Sweet and solicitous since, too. Too sweet!

 
At Ty’s knowing smile, Daphne raised her chin, trying so hard not to think about Rodric’s offer, her lips twisted to one side.
Decorating a giant apartment in West Austin with penthouse views on Rodric’s budget, with Miz Esther as a drinking partner??

  She did not want to be interested, not in the least, but her little wanna-be-decorator heart was pounding faster than it had in weeks. Her fancy new boots might not be able to walk her away from this one, she realized.

  Grinning big, Ty said, “I know you like pretending you can’t stand Rodric, but don’t put him off too much longer, huh, Daph? He just keeps getting richer, and you’re not getting any younger.”

  Just as Daphne was elbowing Ty’s ribs and crunching his instep under her boot, Rodric re-appeared. Big, solid grin on his face, he proudly carried three bottles of dripping ice-cold spring water.

  Uncapping one, he said, “Here y’are, Miz Daphne. Our box seats are air-conditioned, right up on the mezzanine level where the view’s always mighty fine. There’ll be a waiter up there to get whatever else you’d like. I ordered us a nice lunch.”

  Daphne almost choked on her water. “An air-conditioned box seat, in this hell hole?”

  Rodric took her arm, steering her towards the steps. “Sure enough. McGreer & Donovan have had a complementary season subscription since we won a sixty-five million dollar settlement against the contractor who installed the faulty sprinkler system, right after this place burnt down. But don’t you worry about that, Miz Daphne, it’s time to get you out of this sun.”

2

  Two hours later, whooping like a crazy woman, Daphne watched her sister leave the arena with the time to beat, 16.20. “Man, Daisy and that Lucky are something else!” Ty crowed.

  Grabbing the magnum of Cristal, Rodric topped her off, big grin on his face. Lifting her champagne flute, Daphne asked, “Is-s her time good enuff to keep her in firsssh-t play-shh?”

  “It damn well might be,” Ty answered, taking a swig of Convict Hill Stout. “We’ll just see what times Hasty and Jillian clock. Nina Dillon from Oklahoma and Elmira LaBarre from Kansas are here too.” 

  “Heck, they won’t beat Dais-shee thish time. I better start makin’ my w-way down there, gif’ her my congra-choo-lashuns!” Daphne said, taking another few celebratory sips before setting her champagne glass down.

“Whoops!”

  Feeling a little bubble-headed, she tried to connect her glass with the silver tray. “Let me help you there, Miz Daphne.” Rodric put his hand over hers, making sure the flute made it to the tray without spilling or breaking.

  “Hmm, I gues-sh we are celebrating, aren’t we?” Daphne asked, oblivious to Ty’s amusement.

  The air-conditioned box seats were chilly. Beneath the thin linen of her backless dress, her nipples had peaked, she realized. From the look on Rodric’s face as he whisked the door open appreciatively, this fashion detail had not escaped him.

  Daphne teetered into the much warmer hallway in her new boots. She felt his beefy hand drop to her arm, steadying her. A little burp escaped her lips as she whispered,“Rodric, did choo get me drunk-k on purr-pus?”

   His wide lips parted in a smile, and his warm hand moved to the bare skin at the small of her back. It felt oddly warm and comforting there.“Well, Miz Daphne, today is shaping up to be a big celebration for you and Miz Daisy both! No reason you shouldn’t enjoy your champagne now, is there?”

   Daphne’s eyes popped wide open. It felt as if her face were sliding off. Shaking her head, she put a finger to her lips and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone, bud I doo haf a weakness-sh for good ch-champagne.”

   Then she hiccuped.

  Looking up at him, eyes pleading, she asked,“Rodric, do you think you can find-d me another bottle of water?”

  “Why, sure I can, Miz Daphne. Let’s just take you for a little walk here. We’ll get you some nice cold water and then go meet your sister.”

*******

When Daisy stepped out of the trailer, her brow furrowed.   It was impossible to miss her sister’s big blonde hair, the flashes of silver jewelry, her boobs poured into a new backless black dress and her red and white bonanza-flaming boots; she was used to all that. What was remarkable was that Daphne was bobbing and weaving furiously, moving like a nun on a bender!

   Daisy had never seen her sister even tipsy, let alone drunk. Even more surprising, the guy holding her steady was none other than goofy dweebus Rodric McGreer, Ty’s legal beagle cousin. “Shoot me twice, Hank, Daphne’s wasted,” she giggled.

  Hank stepped out of the trailer where he’d been fussing with Lucky.

   Lips twitching, Daisy nodded towards the approaching couple. “Daphne’s on her way over with Ty’s doofus cousin Rodric, and she’s drunk as a skunk!”

  Hank broke into a wide grin. “Look at that smile, though. She looks mighty happy. I’d say Rodric’s just about perfect for her.”

  Daisy smacked his arm.“What? You think I want my sister paired off with the biggest goon on the planet?”

  Hank’s gaze was steady. “Rodric’s not much for ranchin’, Daize, but if I was in any kinda legal trouble, I’d sure want him on my side. He’s a shark in the courtroom, and a real sophisticated gentleman otherwise. Rod’s super smart, and he brings down bank. Daph belongs with someone like him.”

  “Sophisticated?” Daisy snarked. But as her sister approached, she switched to a smile, innocent as can be. “Hey, Daphne, who’s this you’re with?”

*******

  Sunday afternoon, Daphne launched herself out of her cushy velvet box seat as Daisy took her victory lap around the arena on Lucky. “Whoo-hooo!” she yelped, doing a little shuffle in her new boots. “Ma little sister whooped ‘em all!”

  Grinning wide, Ty slapped a hand on his armrest. “Let’s go celebrate!”

 
Taking a deep breath, Daphne summoned all the courage and intestinal fortitude she could muster.
Celebrate? What have we been doing since yesterday?
The room was tilting, and the deep-cushioned chair behind her beckoned.   Rodric was right there, grabbing her elbow.

  Flashing him her best ‘Don’t-you-dare-touch-me smile,’ she shook him off. “I sure don’t know what came over me yesterday, Rodric, but I am a girl who likes her independence. Please, remember that.”

  “Of course, Miz Daphne. I do believe Hank made us all a reservation for a victory dinner at the Four Seasons tonight. Since he brought you over in the truck this morning, he asked if I wouldn’t mind getting you back there. I hope that doesn’t impose on your sense of independence. The valet is pulling my car up right now.”

  
What? Six more hours with Rodric, over a five course dinner at Austin’s most elegant digs??

  
Daphne flashed her best utterly charming smile.
“In that case, I might as well have a hair of the dog. Whiskey, neat, please, Rodric.”

*******

  Hours later, Daphne made her way along the third floor hallway of the Four Seasons, grabbing at walls and corners for balance.

  Running her fingers over the brass 308 placard, she stared at the door, then leaned down to swipe her key card once, twice,
oops!
Three times.

 
What the hell-sh wrong with this darn thing? 

 
Peering at the door number, she wrenched the handle back and forth, then tried the card again, to no avail.   She turned to think, pressing her back against the door. The painting across the hall swayed dizzily, tilting left and right. Figuring out how to make her way down to the front desk might be more than she could manage, right now.

Shutting her eyes, she tried to steady herself, but the floor buckled, then slipped away.

   She was sliding down, down, down, until her butt thudded to the carpet.
Oof!

  She heard Granny Antelerone yell as she kicked her boots out in front.
A lady found sitting on the floor of the most expensive hotel in Austin does NOT show her panties, Daphne-Dawn-Dilly!

  The pattern on the carpet was swirling, making her head hurt. To make it stop, she put her hands to her face, Then she shut her eyes, enjoying peaceful darkness for just a moment.She was confused, all the more so because she couldn’t get the image of the sure-looks- familiar woman she’d seen hurry away as she’d left the stadium with Ty and Rodric.

  Had the woman been hiding her face? It hadn’t meant much at the time, but now Daphne kept thinking she’d looked a lot like an older version of her very own mother, Dawn Antelerone.

 
But that’s impossible! She left us twelve years ago, didn’t even send a card for Daddy’s funeral. Why would Momma be hanging around Austin’s rodeo grounds?

******

When Daphne excused herself from the dinner table, Rodric rose politely. Hank grabbed the pen Ty gave him and nudged Daisy, scribbling the room number she whispered on a cocktail napkin. He passed it to Ty, who passed it to Rodric, who excused himself from the dinner table.

  On his way out of the restaurant, Rodric assured himself that he was only being a gentleman in making certain Miz Daphne arrived safely to her room, but no one was fooled.

  Hurrying through the lobby, just missing her elevator car, he saw the metal doors close, obscuring the dynamic vision of Miz Daphne’s red and white boots, shapely tan calves, and the world’s most perfect bottom clad in a fancy halter dress with a drop-waist gathered skirt of red and white polka dots.

  Room 308 was just where he found her a few minutes later. Blond curly-haired head to the side, boots kicked out in front, bottom plunked on the floor, Daphne snoozed against the door. Rodric plucked the keycard from her manicured fingers, then swiped it, stopping the door open with a custom-made loafer. Then he reached under Miz Daphne’s armpits, careful not to disturb her.

  The rumpled cotton skirt of her exquisite sundress swatted his face as he hoisted her over his shoulder. She was inert, a featherweight, offering no resistance whatsoever. He couldn’t help wincing as the pointed toes of her ornate boots stabbed his now bulging groin, though.

  Rodric carried Daphne into the elegant taupe and cream suite, and lowered her gently to the bed. He couldn’t help but take a moment to contemplate his dream woman, sprawled in front of him completely blotto. He gently tugged on the red and white boots that had mesmerized him for two days. The smooth curves of her calves emerged, followed by such delicate feet.

   Stifling a groan, he became further aroused.

  Miz Daphne’s red painted toes were delicious to behold, ten little perfect jewels at the end of the most amazing feet he’d ever seen! Setting the boots on the floor, he held her feet for just a moment. Touching their silky arches, he imagined pressing them to the throbbing bulge at his groin.

  Bound by decorum, he avoided the temptation.   Shoving all lascivious thoughts from his mind, he lowered her feet to the satin bedspread and crossed the room. At the mini-bar, he cracked a Perrier, fetched a crystal tumbler and poured, then set the filled glass and the portion of sparkling water that remained in the green bottle on the bed stand next to her. Thinking ahead, he set the plastic lined wastebasket on the floor nearby, too.

  Lifting Daphne to the soft pillows at the headboard, he carefully turned her to her side. Pulling the comforter up, he covered her delicious form. Then he stood mesmerized, admiring Miz Daphne’s stunning profile: pink lips, so full and lush, pert nose, high forehead, long, long lashes, and so much luscious blonde hair. Swathed in Frette linens and the softest satin and down, she was something to behold, Miz Daphne was.

   He’d had visions of Miz Daphne in bed before. Marrying Miz Daphne had been a fantasy he’d nurtured since she was twelve and he was fourteen, but Rodric was a practical man. He couldn’t wrap his head around the doggedly unreasonable attraction he felt to Miz Daphne; since the very first, she’d gone to great pains to actively discourage him.

  He and Caroline had been separated over two years now. He often met beautiful women, highly responsive to his charms. Elegant and educated, with slick hair and fashionably understated clothing, they were happy to be escorted by him. In fact, he’d enjoyed some very pleasant, agreeable times with them.

  Which made his attraction to ornery, flamboyant, and oh-so-sexed-up Miz Daphne all the more confounding; she’d unrelentingly tormented him all these years. And it pained him that she was a much softer, sweeter soul now, after downing a half magnum of fine champagne.

  As he moved to the window to draw the shades, her arm waved in the air. Immediately, he was at her side.

Her big, blue, innocent eyes gazed at him for a split-second. Then they closed, and she sighed. That sweet little noise had him lowering his ear as close as he could possibly get, whispering,“What is it, Miz Daphne?”

  Her eyes flashed open again, just for the briefest moment, then she wriggled sideways to make room, patting the empty spot on the bed next to her. Thrilled by her invitation, he took the proffered seat, amazed when her cool fingers wound into his big warm palm and her small hand found his.

  Eyelashes fluttering, her eyes opened and closed. Then the woman he’d had an unrequited crush on for sixteen years offered him the prettiest smile he had ever seen, a smile of supreme happiness and contentment.

  “Thank you, Rodric,” she purred.

  Unable to answer lest he jinx it, he just sat there, stunned, enthralled, and most definitely aroused.

  Daphne sighed again, a sweet, contented little sigh. “The painting kept moving. . back and forth. . ” she breathed.

  “Sh-h, Miz Daphne, you’ll feel better in the morning,” he whispered, knowing it wasn’t quite true, but squeezing her hand in encouragement anyway. “I left a nice glass of water right here, and there’s more in the bottle. Did you enjoy yourself this weekend?”

  “I did, Rodric, th-thank you for asking. Iss really been quite wonderful. Daisy did well, didn’t s-she?”

  “She sure did, Miz Daphne, she sure did. I’ll bet you are very proud.”

  Daphne’s eyes remained closed, but her plush lips curved into another smile, and the contented little sound she made took him from aroused to painfully, indecently erect. “I am. My little sister’s somethin’ else, isn’t she?”

  He squeezed her hand. “She is, and so are you, Miz Daphne. Both of you girls are just something special, that’s all there is to it.”

  Daphne’s soft fingers stroked his palm. Eyes still closed, she whispered, “Means a lot that you see us that way. Thank you, Rodric.” Then, before he could answer, she snuggled into her pillow like a contented kitten, her mewing sounds soft and pleased.

   Rodric took a mental picture of her nestled there, pretty as could be. And then, so he didn’t overstay his welcome, he stood up.

  Tempting as it was, he couldn’t justify remaining there. It wouldn’t be proper. The blood that had rushed to his midsection made setting the keycard on the dresser and tiptoeing out of the room incredibly uncomfortable.

  Over the past two days, he’d begun to realize that his attraction to Miz Daphne was no mere flaming crush. It had occurred to him, in fact, that Miz Daphne was the only woman who had ever truly captured his heart.

   Which made no sense at all, until he looked at her.

  He took one last long glance before closing the door behind him.