Designs On Daphne (4 page)

  He creased his brow further, like he did in closed-door negotiations when he wanted special concessions made. This was a very specific concession, so he had to play his hand carefully. “Should we put the master bedroom furnishings off?” he continued. “Perhaps we can furnish a guest room in a style that would suit me, and leave the master for later?”

  Daphne’s brow twitched. She swallowed, and he rejoiced inwardly at how disappointed she looked. “We could do that,” she admitted. “Certainly the guest rooms have lovely closets and baths. Nothing like the closets or bath in the . .” She paused, straightening so that he was again conscious of the luscious curves of her blue bosom.   Her sumptuous long legs shifted under the table, and he could only hope this conversation was as arousing to her as he was finding it. Sipping her champagne, she swallowed, finishing, “. . master bedroom, of course.”

  “No, of course not.” Ten years in the courtroom had perfected Rodric’s poker face. “Miz Daphne, it is true that none of the amenities in those rooms compare to the closets and bath in the master bedroom. Those big, sectioned rails are just perfect for hanging clothes, and the sliding drawers and shelves are ideal for my wardrobe. There is plenty of room in that closet for my future wife’s things, too, don’t you think?”

  Daphne nodded, reaching quickly for her champagne glass. As she gulped, he shifted his leg slightly, so his suit trousers brushed her bare leg.

   The contact sent a fresh rush of sex to his groin, and he steadied his voice carefully.“Of course, the bath has the jet tub and double shower heads and glass walls, too. I do like all those mirrors in the closets and baths . . I like mirrors, a man can really enjoy a nice, wide, floor to ceiling mirror. I could imagine some. . .”

  Daphne leaned forward, flush-faced, to hear his next words, shifting so he felt the pressure of her calf on his lower leg. Mission accomplished, he cleared his throat and pulled back, keeping it proper.

  So she did too, biting her upper lip in consternation.   Clearing his throat again, he said, “I’ll keep just my suits in the guest room closet. That’ll be fine, my suits and shirts and ties are sure to fit in one of the smaller closets. And I’m a single man, a bath doesn’t matter, I just need a shower before work in the morning and after the gym at night.”

  She nodded and blushed. Smiling demurely, eyes downcast, she said, “Yes, I suppose so.”

  A waiter arrived with their appetizers. They unfolded their napkins to spread on their laps, letting conversation cease for a few minutes. Until he felt Daphne’s eyes on him, curious again.

  “Rodric, with three guest rooms. . . Can I ask. . Are you planning many visitors?”

  He polished off an oyster on the half shell, buttering a roll before answering. “To be perfectly honest, Miz Daphne, I am not. I work in Austin, so I don’t often spend my leisure time here. My mother likes to entertain. She has a pool, tennis courts, stables and a small staff to do so, so I can hardly rain on her parade. I can’t imagine trying to keep guests busy at my place, other than a weekend here or there to listen to some music. I like to get away, which is why I visit Ty at Red Rock so often. I’ll take my company to LA or New York or Paris, even the Grand Canyon, for heck’s sake.”

  Daphne’s brow furrowed. “But your place has such large dining and living rooms. When I sat with your mother, she mentioned you’d need a table that sat at least a dozen. She said you’d prefer more, and we agreed that dining room could easily hold eighteen or twenty for a nice sit down dinner.”

 
Her tone was so polite, so far from that of the brash blonde filly he’d come upon at the rodeo, he was touched, poignantly so. As attractive as Daphne had always been to him, she’d become positively precious this past week, showing him just how sweet and kind and thoughtful and utterly adorable she really was.

  Has she changed this much for me?

  The thought excited him, charged him with a need to protect her, encourage her, support her. Truly amazed as he was at her transformation, he wanted to reveal just how much she meant to him.

  Then, he thought of Ty’s words.

   If he spoke too soon, he’d crush the promise of the plan he’d worked so hard for. This was the most important business deal of his life, he reminded himself. He absolutely had to hold the line, proceed slowly.

  “That’s so, Miz Daphne. I’ll need plenty of seating in those rooms and in the kitchen, too. I’m often called on to host cocktail and dinner parties for twenty to forty, for the firm’s business or for local charities. I like organizing impromptu get-togethers for my local friends, too.”

  He bit into the buttered roll, and chewed. Swallowing, he said, “Caroline and I had a large home, and I hoped to host our friends there. She seemed happy to plan a party for her friends but mine. . . Mine didn’t usually make the list. It was a problem. In our marriage.”

  “I see,” Daphne said delicately, holding her heavy silver fork to her mouth, teasing her lips around a bit of carpaccio. Watching Miz Daphne’s lush pink lips close around a piece of fresh beef just about blew Rodric’s resolve.

   He was inflamed by everything about her. This new, polite consideration she showed him, her fabulous dresses, so appropriate for the occasion, her elegant, understated hairstyle. . .He found himself lusting for her more than ever before.

  He was past wanting to lunge across the table and take that mouth. He wanted her naked, pressed against him.

If he thought he could have her that moment, he’d call the limousine back, tear their clothes off inside and take her under him on the seat, before they’d even made it the best suite the Four Seasons Austin had to offer.    Alternating fantasies of sheltering her and grinding himself into her had plagued him the past week and a half, but now he was positively consumed.

  It was a passionate fury he’d never felt before. Or was it a furious passion? He was a logical man, but when it came to Miz Daphne, he’d lost all sense of proportion. In order to distract himself, he started counting backwards from one hundred.

   “So you needed a big apartment for entertaining, and that big master and the three guest rooms just came along with it?” she asked.

  Rodric cleared his throat, uncertain how to proceed. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him. He felt his face flush, and his erection wilted slightly. But he had to stay true to his mission, so he might as well lay his cards on the table and see how she took it.

  There was no sense holding off. If she wasn’t on board with his master plan, better to know now, while he could mop up the damage and move on without losing too much face. Sitting up taller, he made sure his face was very grave.

  “Miz Daphne, they aren’t guest rooms, exactly. . . ” He made a conscious effort to seem very involved with buttering what remained of his roll. “One is for overnight staff, a night nurse, should my wife request it, or for a sister, if she chooses. One room is for my mother, who I couldn’t possibly keep away. And the smaller one. . .”

His voice fell. He felt his throat tighten. Although he’d overseen the tensest of negotiations professionally, it was a strain to continue, because this was the subject over which his last marriage had collapsed.

   “The one adjacent to the master?” she asked, looking confused.

  “Yes,” he said, making sure his voice sounded very grave, and not the least bit hopeful.

   A little breathless, but still very confused, she said, “You had a door cut, so you could pass into it from the master closet. The carpenter just finished the doorway, I noticed this afternoon. Were you thinking of a private study or sitting area, perhaps?”

  Rodric cleared his throat again. Lowering his voice further, he made sure to speak decisively. “That room is a nursery, Miz Daphne. For the baby. Should such a blessed event occur.”

  Grabbing for her champagne flute, Daphne gulped a long draft then set her glass down. Blinking, her voice rose three octaves. “The baby?”

   “Caroline decided she didn’t want children after we married. That is why we divorced. I want children, Miz Daphne. At least two, hopefully three or four.”

  Daphne’s face flushed. She proceeded to suck down the remainder of her Cristal, but when she set the empty glass down, she said nothing. She’d listened carefully to everything he’d said, offering nothing but cautionary acceptance, he realized.

  He was pleased. Very, very pleased. 

  Daphne was more irresistible than ever, now that she’d let her guard down with him. With flushed cheeks and modulated tones, her touches soft and tender, Miz Daphne had become his dream come true.

   And if he wasn’t mistaken, she was coming over to his way of thinking about them as a couple. She’d finally begun to recognize the man he was. Highly receptive, she’d offered no resistance whatsoever to his plans for them. Certain that a wife and children would fulfill him, he’d known all along he could love Daphne, accept her shortcomings and make a marriage work.

  It was one thing to select a wife, entirely another to realize he’d found a superior match. Almost certain that Daphne was his perfect wife, Rodric was well on his way to falling supremely, irreversibly, magnificently in love. Not only would she satisfy him sexually and emotionally sufficient to weather the bumps in the road, but if she fell in love with him, if she truly loved him, she could make every day of his life the most gloriously sumptuous imaginable.

  Of course, Daphne didn’t exactly know she was the woman he had in mind to take for a wife. And if he were to continue to follow Ty’s advice, it might not be a bad idea to keep her guessing. He’d played his hand well, very well, and it felt like the master plan was working. All in all, this quick drink before the showrooms had most satisfying.

  In fact, he considered it a quantum leap forward.

6

  It was strange to Daphne after their conversation at Jeffrey’s over oysters on the half shell and carpaccio, “Just to tide us over,” Rodric had said, after she’d stopped at her third glass of champagne, leaving a good portion of the delicious Cristal in the pretty green split, that they found themselves in a showroom packed with master bedroom furniture, surrounded by king-sized beds.

 
What ever are we doing here?

  Despite her polite reminders that it was the guest room that needed furnishing, Rodric persisted in leading her on a wander amongst wardrobes and chests and dressers of every style, and they kept discovering the broadest, sexiest beds Daphne had ever seen, big bedsteads with headboards and footboards that she found incredibly appealing.

  In fact, these beds, all set up in fake bedrooms that looked just like the magazines pictures, were more arousing than any she’d ever seen. It was a bit of an aphrodisiac, she had to admit, even with Rodric, well, especially with Rodric, since he was still in his suit.

   The beds were just like the champagne had been, back at the restaurant. Walking together amongst the beds, their hands seemed to brush often, touches that sent tingles down her spine, followed by a warm rush to her middle.

She couldn’t, in fact, keep from picturing herself in some of the beds with Rodric, not in the act, exactly, but certainly waking up together; she in a lovely nightie and matching robe, he in a dressing gown over silk boxers.

 
His bare chest must be very broad. Maybe it’s even hairy!
She so liked safe, broad chests, with enough hair to suggest the masculinity of the man underneath, but not so much she’d have the urge to wax his back. . . The flush of heat in her face was because suddenly, she could imagine herself fingering the tangle of Rodric’s chest hair, and almost had to pinch her knees together to keep from flopping back onto one and pulling him on top of her.

  “That set over there, with the European-looking tester bed. What do you think? Elegant but comfy-looking? Rather ornate, but sexy and interesting perhaps?”

  The words just popped from her mouth! Her thoughts had been a faint ones, not fully comprehended even. . .   
Why?
Hadn’t she been thinking of dressing gowns and . . .
Oh, brother!

  “Why, yes, it is,” Rodric answered, sounding very agreeable. More than agreeable, in fact, responsive. Kind and gentle, but very masculine, a helper and provider, yes, definitely a good provider, just the way the broad tall man with the hairy chest who woke up next to her in that bed would have to be, she thought.

  He walked towards it, deliberating, not rushing in any way. “I like the bed,” he said slowly. “And I like the heavy nightstands and dressers that match. It’s pecan, isn’t it Miz Daphne?”

  “The low antique table of your mother’s I picked out is pecan, too!” Daphne exclaimed, unable to hide her excitement.

  His thick-muscled hand, fingernails so clean and well-kept, wrapped the heavy, etched rope-patterned baluster of the four-columned tester bed. He pressed on its luxurious bedding, testing the mattress below, and her knees went weak, as if she might fall onto it in a puddle.

  “You thought that low pecan table might work in the alcove in the master bedroom, flanked by two upholstered chairs, didn’t you?” he asked slowly, not meeting her eye.

  Daphne’s cheeks flushed with excitement that he had actually remembered her suggestion, that he cared so much about her ideas for the master bedroom of all places! The exact room he’d determined he’d let his wife furnish!

  “I have a mock up of it laid out on my master bedroom board!”

  Daphne was glad Rodric liked her ideas more than those of the pesky, boring wife, whoever she’d be. Surely, she and Rodric would stay friends once he found her?

  “My mother’s table will look very nice with all of this,” he said approvingly, glancing over the lovely, massive, ornate-but-not-precious pieces in front of them.

  Rodric was suddenly very studied, giving away nothing.

  She wished he’d look at her, meet her eye in that way he had, to let her know what he was thinking. Not just about the bed, but about everything; who he might share it with, if maybe he had a woman in mind? Some lawyer at his office, perhaps, or a silly, flirty assistant, a girl who already knew the different between pro se and Prosecco and prosciutto, words that he had used but that Daphne was just learning.

  
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.