Truly Yours Read online

  “Excuse me?”

  “Our history. What do you know about it?”

  Darryl shrugged his broad shoulders. “I know that you and your family come from a long line of architects.”

  She nodded ever so slightly. Closing her eyes, Camryn took a deep breath before continuing, drawing on the family stories that she’d been told since she was a little girl. “My mother was a Toutant before she married into the Charles family.”

  At the mention of the Toutant family name Darryl’s eyebrows lifted curiously. The Toutant family was legendary, their lineage going back to the early 1700s when immigrants first took refuge in the newly established New Orleans. The infamous Lucian Toutant, son of a wealthy Parisian architect, had been an instrumental player in the development of the Vieux Carré, or French Quarter, as it was now known. Darryl leaned forward as she continued, not wanting to miss a word over the loud hum of the helicopter’s engine.

  “I’m sure you know that the French Quarter was composed of eight streets in a perfect square. And most of the architecture in the area was built during the time of Spanish rule. Some of the old French colonial influences were lost after the big fires of 1788 and 1794. Lucian Toutant’s business ventures financed a significant portion of that rebuilding.”

  Turning to stare where Camryn pointed, Darryl could just imagine the views back then. Having scoured thousands of old maps and street plans, he knew that within the boundaries of the old square, construction had been happening wherever they turned, high-ceilinged homes rising grandly from the rich earth beneath them. The massive white columns and the black ironwork that adorned balconies during that bygone era still existed. Young trees that had lined the length of walkways with newly sprouted branches now loomed large and full, limbs stretched sky-high. In the distance, along the Mississippi waterway, a cruise ship was now docked where cargo ships had once landed and unloaded their goods.

  “And it was rumored that his wife, Alexandra Fortier, influenced a number of those designs?” Darryl queried.

  Camryn nodded. “My great-great-great-great-grandparents left quite a mark on this city.” Her gaze moved back to the sights below.

  As the pilot gestured in his direction, indicating that it was time to end their adventure, Darryl reflected on the moment. He understood that the landscape of New Orleans had changed under the dynamics of Hurricane Katrina, the Category 5 storm that had flooded the whole of the city in 2005. The French Quarter was one of the few areas to remain substantially dry, experiencing minor flooding and wind damage. Areas outside the Quarter had not been so lucky. And with everything their beloved city had endured, Darryl was desperate to ensure that nothing the Boudreaux family ever did would negatively impact the home they loved so dearly.

  He turned to stare at Camryn and was taken aback by the tears that misted her eyes. Leaning even closer to her, he dropped a heavy palm against her knee, squeezing her flesh with a firm touch. Camryn lifted her eyes to his, a generous smile stretching easily across her face.

  “The only thing my grandparents loved more than each other and their family was this city,” she said softly, “so we can’t get this wrong, Darryl. We can’t get this wrong.”

  As Camryn dropped her hand atop his hand, entwining her fingers between his fingers, Darryl smiled back, understanding sweeping between them.

  Chapter 5

  It had been just over two weeks since Darryl had last seen Camryn. But before he’d departed, Darryl had dropped her back to her car after the helicopter ride. The two had spent another three hours just sitting in the front seat of his car talking before they parted ways. Conversation between them had been as easy as breathing.

  Camryn had regaled him with stories of the Toutant clan and the historic plantation that now housed the Charles family. The sons and daughters of Toutant Plantation epitomized their auspicious beginnings. They were a family of “Creoles”—people of Spanish and French descent—and transient “Americans” who migrated from the North, as well as black slaves from Africa and the Caribbean, and members of the native Indian population. They were relationships that had crossed the ethnic divide, where family names and lineages might not have been preserved but true love always prevailed. Darryl had found himself enamored with the tales, which meshed historical fact with good old-fashioned homespun fiction.

  Although he’d spoken to her every day, sometimes two and three times each day, he had not set eyes on her. Camryn had insisted on the distance, wanting to focus on her work without him or anyone else being a distraction, and so he’d given her a wide berth of space. But not one day had gone by that he did not talk with her, if for no other reason than to simply hear her voice.

  Their conversations had sometimes crossed the boundaries of business, taking them to places that neither had expected to go. Darryl thoroughly enjoyed each encounter, whether they were laughing over something superficial or being rancorous over something substantial.

  And when time had allowed, Darryl had found himself researching everything he could about Camryn Charles, reading articles from Architectural Digest and the society page of the Times-Picayune. Because despite his best efforts to resist, thoughts of Camryn Charles had invaded not only his waking moments but also his late-night dreams. Truth be told, he missed her terribly and the veracity of that burdened him even more.

  With a picnic basket and thermos in hand, he rode the elevator to the third floor of the Tchoupitoulas Street address. The security guard waved him through. As Darryl entered the brick-and-glass office space, he instantly spotted Camryn pacing back and forth between two rooms. The minute he spied her Darryl broke out into a full and magnificent grin. He’d missed her even more than he’d realized. Glancing down to the Citizen watch on his wrist, he couldn’t believe that Camryn was still in her office. When he’d called her shortly after seven that morning, she’d just gotten to her office. Now it was well past the dinner hour and she hadn’t left. Darryl had no doubts that Camryn was past ready for a break. Taking a quick breath, he knocked before entering, announcing his arrival so as not to startle her.

  But that knock caught her completely off guard. When she turned and saw him, Camryn’s hands flew to her head first, her fingers patting down a few stray strands of loose hair, and then to her chest, clutching at the neckline of her ratty T-shirt. Her eyes rolled skyward, the expression across her face illustrating her displeasure. She’d been anxiously awaiting his evening telephone call, a conversation that she had come to look forward to each day, but seeing him was a horse of a whole other color. Darryl Boudreaux was the last man she had expected to see at such a late hour. She’d spoken to him early that afternoon and he had not mentioned anything about paying her a visit. If he had, she would have surely changed her clothes and done her makeup.

  “Hey!” Darryl chimed, fighting not to laugh out loud at the expression that blessed her face.

  Camryn’s eyes were wide with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  He lifted the basket and thermos in greeting. “You need some nourishment,” he said. “I told your assistant that I would surprise you with a home-cooked meal.”

  She eyed him with reservation. “You brought me dinner?”

  “Lunch and breakfast, too, from what I’m told.”

  Camryn tossed a quick glance over her right shoulder, her hands gliding down the front of her denim jeans. “I really wasn’t expecting company,” she said, hesitancy still ringing in her tone.

  Darryl shrugged. “Don’t think of me as company. Think of me as family,” he said as he moved past her, easing his way to the large conference table in the room.

  After carefully assessing the surroundings, Darryl moved into a far corner. Camryn watched as he pulled a red-checked tablecloth from the basket and laid it neatly against the carpeted floor. As if setting a picnic meal was something he did every day, he laid out a spread of dinner plates, w
ineglasses, a collection of plastic containers and, lastly, one of the prettiest flameless LED candles that she had ever seen.

  He looked over his shoulder, meeting her curious stare. “Are you going to come eat or are you going to just stand there twitching?” he said.

  Camryn’s eyes widened, one hand flying to pat her hair down again and the fingers of the other hand pressing against her face. “I wasn’t twitching,” she snarled.

  Darryl laughed. “Yes, you were.” He dropped down onto the floor, settling himself comfortably.

  “I really need to get back to work,” Camryn said impatiently.

  “You need a break,” Darryl persisted, gesturing for her to come take the seat beside him.

  Feeling slightly defeated, Camryn inhaled swiftly and then crossed over to the other side of the room. She dropped down onto her knees at his side as she watched him pour white wine into a crystal flute and pass it to her.

  “Thank you,” Camryn said as Darryl poured a second drink for himself. That easy smile he wore so well crossed his face.

  “You’re very welcome,” he responded, “and I hope you’re hungry. I cooked and packed a lot of food.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “You cooked?”

  “You’re about to find out that I’m quite talented in the kitchen, Ms. Charles. I’ve made you a down-home Cajun meal.”

  A wry grin pulled at Camryn’s mouth as she popped the lid on one of the plastic containers. The decadent scent of shrimp gumbo filled her nostrils. Her grin widened when she opened the other container to find red beans and smoked sausage inside.

  “Really? Red beans and no rice?”

  Darryl laughed. “I done the rice, girl!” he said with a deep chuckle as he passed a third container toward her.

  Suddenly famished, Camryn packed her plate full, eating heartily. Amused, Darryl watched her, slowly eating his own meal. After a few minutes of silence he laughed out loud. “I’m glad you weren’t hungry!” he said teasingly.

  Camryn’s head waved from side to side. “It’s good, okay? Give a girl a break!” She wiped her fingers and then her lips against a white paper napkin.

  Darryl nodded, satisfaction painting his expression. He reached to refill her wineglass. “So how’s it going? I hear you’ve been burning more than a little bit of midnight oil.”

  Excitement shimmered deep in Camryn’s eyes. “It’s been amazing,” she answered. “Once I started drawing, I couldn’t stop. After our helicopter ride, when I began to do some preliminary sketches, it just hit me. I think you and your brother will be very happy.”

  “So do you have something I can see?” Darryl asked.

  Camryn paused as if the question startled her. “Well...I... It’s...” she stammered.

  Darryl shook his head. “No interference. I promise. I’m just excited to see in what direction you decided to take your design.”

  He smiled that disarming smile and Camryn could feel herself starting to melt. After pondering his request for a quick second she figured one little peek at her blueprints couldn’t hurt.

  “Well, I guess you could,” she said softly, hardly sounding convinced.

  Darryl grinned. “Would a bribe help you decide?” he questioned, his eyebrows raised.

  “What kind of bribe?”

  Darryl reached into the picnic basket and pulled out one more plastic container. He cracked open the lid and peered inside. The way he peeked with one eye closed and then peered up at her, one would have thought it held a great secret.

  Camryn reached for the container and Darryl snatched it back from her grasp. With his eyebrows lifted and his smile widening, his mischievous expression made her laugh.

  “You want this?” he teased.

  “I want to know what’s in it,” she said. “I may not like what’s inside.”

  “Oh, you’ll like it!”

  Camryn reached for the container a second time. There was a playful tug-of-war before Darryl let go and Camryn fell back from the momentum. When Darryl laughed, Camryn shot him a look that clearly showed she was not amused by his antics.

  He reached out to help her sit back up. “Sorry about that.”

  “You pushed me!”

  “I did not!”

  “Yes, you did!”

  Darryl laughed. “Okay.”

  “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it,” Camryn said as she cut her eyes at him. She settled the container against her lap and lifted the lid. Her own smile widened. “Pecan pralines!”

  “Homemade pecan pralines.”

  “You did not make these,” Camryn said as she bit into what would be the first of many.

  “I beg your pardon!”

  “Your mother cooked all this food and you’re taking credit for it, right?”

  “Wrong!” His expression was incredulous. “Very wrong!”

  Camryn smiled brightly and Darryl smiled with her. The two sat staring at each other for a brief moment before Camryn lifted herself onto her feet and gestured for him to follow. She was still holding tight to the candy container, savoring the sweetness of the sugared delights.

  Leading the way back to her office, Camryn motioned for Darryl to flip through the sketches and blueprints laid out across the table. As he stepped forward, his expression turning serious, she was suddenly excited for him to see what she’d accomplished.

  “I wanted it to be reflective of the city’s history. And I didn’t want it to be just another modernist skyscraper like those in the Central Business District. But with the proposed height, I had to figure out how to marry a contemporary style and a traditional style and make them work together. It was a challenge but I’m really pleased with the results.”

  Darryl tossed her a quick glance before leaning over the table to take a closer look at one of the blueprints. His silence was unnerving and Camryn bit down against her bottom lip as she anticipated his critique.

  “It reminds me of the grand mansions on St. Charles Avenue. It’s very Queen Anne–like but then because of its size, it’s not.”

  “I’m impressed. You got it.”

  “Not as much as I am. Are you drawing the structural blueprints, as well? Did you really detail the steel framing by hand, not CAD software?”

  “I’m very good at what I do, Mr. Boudreaux,” she said, passing him one of the pralines. “Of course, I expect you to make sure they’re correct. The load bearings need to be detailed precisely and I hear that’s your specialty.”

  Darryl took a bite of the sweet confection as he nodded his head. He lifted the blueprint, staring at the details more closely. “This is good work, Camryn. Really good,” he said, turning to meet her gaze.

  Camryn felt herself break out into a sudden sweat. Darryl’s close proximity was definitely more than she could bear. She thought about her hair being all over her head and her face lacking even a hint of foundation or lipstick. She had to be one hot mess standing there in torn jeans and a ragged T-shirt.

  Before she could catch it, the container in her hand fell to the floor, the last piece of candy rolling under the office desk. Her eyes widened as she dropped down onto her hands and knees, grappling to retrieve the treat.

  “Damn,” Camryn cursed, muttering cuss words under her breath.

  Dropping down beside her, Darryl laughed. “Need some help?”

  “No...I can...” she stammered, words catching in her throat. She shook her head and dropped down onto her backside, her legs extended out in front of her. She crossed her ankles. “That piece of candy was yours,” she said finally, lifting her gaze to his.

  Darryl laughed. “No, my candy is safely in a plastic container in the basket,” he said, sitting down beside her. He dropped a casual arm over her shoulder as he continued to laugh heartily.

  Before Camryn knew it,
she was laughing with him, the booming chuckle rising from deep in her midsection. Tears pressed at the backs of her eyelids, the contagious moment spreading from one to the other. Like a refreshing thunderstorm, the laughter washed away the last bit of anxiety she’d been feeling.

  Eventually their breathing slowed and the two settled comfortably in the moment. Camryn couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so hard or been so relaxed. Despite her initial reservations she was glad that Darryl had come by bearing food. The break had been a nice reprieve and seeing him was like icing on top of the tastiest cake. Everything suddenly felt in sync just because he was there in the flesh, by her side. She rested her head against his shoulder.

  “Thank you,” Camryn said. “I guess I needed this.”

  “You’re very welcome. I needed it, as well,” Darryl replied. His large hand gently massaged her shoulder.

  Camryn hated to admit that she actually felt quite comfortable in his arms. Too comfortable. She turned her head to stare up at him, her gaze following the lines of his profile. The precision cut of his beard and mustache was sexy as hell. Much too sexy. Camryn fought to stall the heat that billowed between them. Just as Darryl stared down at her, she shifted her body from his, lifting herself out of his arms. “I really need to get back to work,” she said, that anxiety returning swiftly.

  “Really?” Darryl asked. He watched as she scurried to her feet.

  “Yes. And you need to leave.”

  “Why?”

  Camryn shifted nervously but before she could respond, the harsh jingle of Darryl’s cell phone rang from his pocket.

  “Hold that thought,” he said, holding up an index finger in pause. His gaze shifted from her face down to the appliance as he pulled it into his hands. The expression across his face suddenly swung from relaxed to tense as his gaze shot back to her and then to his phone. He silenced the ringer, attempting to ignore the call. An uncomfortable silence seemed to suddenly consume the room.