Читать книгу Beauty and the Wolf / Their Miracle Twins: Beauty and the Wolf - Nikki Logan - Страница 9

Frankie glanced up just in time to see Eli’s lashes lower, his eyes going dark as he stared at her mouth.

She’d certainly seen desire on a man’s face before. But Eli’s intent, focused stare sent heat shivering through her belly. She felt her cheeks warming and knew her face must be flushing with pink color.

She was speechless, unable to respond as she watched Eli’s dark gaze flick upward to hers, awareness arcing between them in a palpable hum.

Fortunately, he apparently took pity on her frozen vocal chords. His mouth curved in a warm smile.

“When do you want to start our scam?” he asked mildly, with no trace of the heat that had flared between them. “Soon?”

“The sooner the better,” she told him, happy to set aside contemplation of that moment between them until she was alone. “Especially if you’re right about Harry not being convinced quickly or easily.”

“This is one time when I hope I’m wrong, but knowing Harry, I doubt it,” Eli said wryly. “That only makes the challenge more interesting, though.” He winked at her, a gleam of anticipation in his blue eyes. “Do you have a plan?”

“I thought we’d start with a simple, first-date kind of thing. Mom has tickets to a fundraiser for the Children’s Hospital on Saturday night—she said a group of her friends are going together, including Harry.”

“Sounds good. What time shall I pick you up?”

“Around eight—and it’s black tie,” she added.

“I think Connor mentioned he’s taking someone,” Eli commented. “It’s a dinner dance, right?”

Frankie nodded.

“Do you think Cornelia can wangle seats for us at her table? I’m assuming Harry will be sitting with her.”

“He almost always does if they’re at the same function. I’ll ask her to pull strings so we can join them.” Frankie glanced at her wristwatch and gasped. “Oh, no. Look at the time. I’m going to be late for my next class.” She caught up her purse and slid out of the booth, only to find Eli already standing.

He pulled a handful of bills out of his pocket and peeled off several, dropping them on the table before cupping her elbow in his warm palm. “Let’s go.”

They moved quickly down the sidewalk and back to the Wolf Construction parking lot; Eli tucked a card with his home and cell-phone numbers into her jacket pocket as they walked. Frankie recited her home address and phone numbers, impressed when he didn’t need to write them down.

At five-eight, Frankie had never considered herself dainty but walking next to Eli made her feel delicate and very feminine. He was not only much taller, he was broader, bulkier and outweighed her by what must surely be at least a hundred pounds. Additionally, he exuded a protectiveness that made her feel safe. Cherished.

He handed her into her car, bending to say he’d see her on Saturday night. As she drove away from the lot, she glanced in her rearview mirror. He stood motionless, hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, the faint breeze ruffling his dark hair as he watched her leave.

She wondered briefly if she’d made a mistake. She wanted to put a stop to Harry’s matchmaking so she could go on with her life, unimpeded by marriage-minded suitors. She’d purposely picked Eli because she was convinced he had as little interest in matrimony as she did.

But after spending more than an hour in his company, she was having second thoughts.

Not about Eli—about herself. She was definitely attracted to him. Could she keep that attraction from complicating their plan to distract Harry?

She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully as she left Ballard and headed back to the university campus.

Of course I can, she concluded after several moments. Granted, Eli Wolf has the power to send my hormones crazy, but that doesn’t mean I have to act on the feeling.

She’d remain levelheaded and keep the end goal in mind, she decided firmly. Eli would only become a problem for her if she allowed him to distract her. She just had to remember that he wasn’t a man interested in a long-term relationship—that irrefutable fact should be enough to keep her from falling foolishly in love with him.

Braking for a stoplight, she used her cell phone’s speaker feature. “Mom? I’m so glad I caught you—can you get me two tickets for the fundraiser on Saturday night? And can we join your table?” She paused. “Yes, Mom, I’m bringing a date. Oops, have to go—I’m driving back to campus and the light just changed. See you Saturday!”

Later that evening after showering and donning pajama bottoms and a pink tank top, Frankie brewed a cup of green tea and climbed into bed. She loved her bedroom—it was her favorite room in her Queen Anne condo. Aided by her sisters, she’d painted three of the walls in a buttery cream color, but the fourth was a warm shade of red-gold pumpkin. Her bedstead was antique mahogany and had a matching nightstand. After months of searching, she’d found a tall chest of drawers that nearly matched the bed at an antique shop in Greenwood.

The lamp on her nightstand was a rare antique Tiffany, a Christmas gift from Uncle Harry, while the fluffy white comforter that covered the bed’s wide mattress had been a birthday gift from her mother.

In a corner near the window, a huge Boston fern sat atop a tall wicker floor stand, just to the left of a low base holding a medium-sized TV, its plasma screen now dark.

Frankie plumped the pillows and tucked them against the headboard behind her, then picked up the remote control and switched on the television. The eleven o’clock news was airing video of local trash collectors’ union members marching outside city hall with picket signs. The mayor’s comments on the status of union negotiations accompanied the video.

Frankie leaned back and sipped her tea as her thoughts drifted to her meeting with Eli that morning.

After spending time alone with him, she certainly understood how he’d earned a reputation as a man adored by women. No wonder he was reputed to date a lot. He was undeniably handsome, but there was something else, some indefinable element that made a woman feel as if she were the only female in the room. When he’d stared at her mouth, his eyes going dark, she’d felt the intensity of his gaze as if he’d reached out and touched her.

She shivered. This morning’s encounter with Eli had erased any doubts—she was still attracted to him. And that scared her.

Frowning, she sipped her tea and pondered why that should be. She’d dated off and on since she was sixteen; she’d known Eli longer than that. She wasn’t afraid of him in any rational way.

And yet, she was wary on some deep, primal level.

But wouldn’t any reasonable woman be cautious of a man who could break her heart?

No. She instantly rejected the possibility he could break her heart. I had a schoolgirl crush on him. That’s the only reason I’m feeling this way. I can’t possibly be in love with him, therefore, he can’t break my heart.

She was twenty-nine years old, not sixteen, she told herself. And she was eminently practical and well educated, having earned a doctorate in English lit, a master’s degree in mathematics and a second master’s degree in science. She was light-years away from that foolish sixteen-year-old who had dreamed about Eli Wolf.

But maybe the timing was wrong back then, a small voice said. And maybe now, with Eli unattached and you available, too, the stars are aligned and the time is right.

Frankie ignored the voice, burying it under a determined analysis of the details of the plan to fool Harry.

Yes, she thought firmly, this will work. I just have to remember we’re both playing a part, pretending to be attracted to each other.

Unbidden, the memory of his eyes staring at her mouth swept over her.

Pretending to be attracted to Eli wasn’t going to be the problem, Frankie realized. The real problem might very well be convincing herself not to truly fall for him.

Saturday dawned wet and chilly. The sky over Seattle was gray and lowering, the clouds seeming to hover around the top of the Space Needle. Rain fell intermittently, but the weather cleared late in the afternoon, giving Frankie hope that the evening might be nicer.

Before heading for the shower prior to her date with Eli, Frankie selected a small emerald green envelope purse from a chest drawer. She tucked the two tickets to tonight’s fundraiser, a condo key, lipstick, a twenty-dollar bill for emergencies and several tissues into the bag. Then she slid her favorite evening coat from its padded hanger in her bedroom closet and carried both items into the living room, dropping the purse onto the seat of an upholstered wing chair and draping the coat over the back. The long black coat reached almost to her ankles and, with its round collar and loose sleeves, was perfect for protecting an evening gown from the winter wind and rain.

Back in her bedroom, she laid out underwear and chose a pair of black stiletto heels to pair with her gown. A half hour later, fresh from her shower, she smoothed scented lotion over her skin and slipped into a lacy strapless bra with matching celery-green bikini panties and garter belt.

Justin’s wife, Lily, was a lingerie designer and kept Frankie in fabulous underwear. Everything feminine within her delighted in the silk and lace creations—in fact, walking into Lily’s shop, Princess Lily’s Boutique, in Ballard, never failed to make her smile with delight.

She sat on the edge of the bed to carefully don sheer, delicate stockings before stepping into her dress. The emerald-green satin gown was strapless, with a zipper up the back. The bodice was snug, fitted to closely follow the outward curve of her breasts and inward curve of the narrow waist. A wide band of crystal beading in glittering jet black covered the upper edge of the bodice.

Frankie slipped into her shoes, fastening the narrow black straps around her ankles, and rose to cross to the antique mirror standing next to the closet doors. She twisted to look at the zipper closure, checking to ensure it was fastened, then took jet black drop earrings with their matching necklace and bracelet from the jewelry case atop the high chest. It was the work of a few moments to fasten the earrings and bracelet, but the necklace clasp was difficult. After several tries, Frankie left the room with the gold-set jet beads cradled in one hand, switching on the bedside lamp as she went.

The doorbell rang just as she entered the living room, and a quick glance out the peephole revealed Eli in the hallway outside. He wore a classic black tuxedo, the white collar of his shirt a sharp contrast against the tanned skin of his throat. He stood with casual ease, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks.

The quick little zing of anticipation that sent her heart racing wasn’t quite as startling this time. Maybe she was simply growing accustomed to the increase in heartbeat and the adrenaline rush she felt each time she saw him, she thought. She slipped the dead bolt free and pulled the door open.

“Hi, Eli. Come in—I’ll just be a moment.”

“Hey,” he said lazily, his gaze slowly moving over her face, hair, and lower to her toes before returning to meet hers once again. Male appreciation heated his blue eyes. “You look great. I like the dress.”

Frankie’s toes curled in her black stilettos, and the heat that arced between them had her lowering her eyes from his and turning away to a small oval mirror. The glass hung on the wall next to the coat closet, only feet from the door.

“Thank you. I won’t be long—I just have to fasten my necklace.” She frowned at the clasp. It wasn’t the usual hook and eye, nor did it have a sliding lock. The mechanism was one Frankie hadn’t seen before.

“Problems?” Eli asked, walking closer.

“I’m not sure how to close this clasp.” She held up the necklace, narrowing her eyes over it. “It belonged to my great-aunt Francine. This is the first time I’ve worn it, and I’ve never seen a fastening quite like this.”

“May I?” He held out his hand, and Frankie dropped the web of gold-set jet beads into his palm.

He lifted the necklace, the delicate feminine settings dangling from his calloused fingers as he inspected the lock.

“I think I’ve got it. Turn around and hold up your hair.”

Frankie obeyed, waiting until he draped the necklace around her throat before she bent her head and lifted her hair up and away from her nape. The mirror on the wall allowed her to see his frown of concentration as he bent his head. The backs of his fingers brushed against her skin as he fastened the intricate clasp. Each warm touch heightened her senses, making her vividly aware of his taller, broader body only inches from hers. Her heart beat faster, her breathing shallower and more swift.

“Done,” he said with satisfaction. He looked up, his gaze unerringly finding hers in the mirror’s reflection.

Frankie caught her breath. For one long moment, time slowed.

Heat flared in his eyes, the curve of his mouth suddenly sensual, fuller. Frankie’s heart fluttered wildly. She was suddenly unsure how she would react if he turned her into his arms and kissed her as he had in her dreams.

Then his thick lashes lowered, effectively screening his eyes. He stepped back, and the spell was broken as he turned to lift her coat from the nearby chair.

He held the black evening wrap, and, wordlessly, she slipped her arms into the sleeves. His hands rested lightly on her shoulders for a brief, electric moment before he handed her the tiny green purse from the chair’s cushion.

“Got everything?” he asked as she turned toward the door.

“Yes.” She smiled up at him, determined to match his cool calm.

They left the condo, chatting about the weather as they rode downstairs in the elevator to the quiet lobby.

A long, black limousine stood at the curb, and Frankie had barely cleared the lobby’s doorway when the driver appeared to pull open the back door.

Eli cupped her elbow and hurried her across the sidewalk to tuck her into the backseat, sliding in behind her. The door closed smoothly, sealing them into the warm, dry, leather-scented interior.

“How lovely to have curb service,” Frankie said with appreciation. “Especially since it’s started raining again.”

“Not to mention the driver is the one who’ll have to negotiate the traffic downtown,” Eli added dryly.

“Yes, that, too.” Frankie nodded. “Very wise of you not to drive tonight.”

Eli stretched out his long legs. “I would have driven, but my Porsche is in the shop and I didn’t want to pick you up in my work truck.” He grinned, amusement in his eyes. “I’d hate to get grease on that pretty dress you’re wearing.”

“Good call.” Her voice was dry. “You should have told me about your car. I would have been happy to pick you up.”

He lifted an eyebrow in pretend shock. “And risk having my grandfather find out I’d made a date and had the lady drive me?” He shuddered. “I’d rather be caught running naked on Denny Way. He’d never let me forget it.”

Frankie laughed. “Your grandfather sounds like fun.”

“He is,” Eli answered promptly. “Don’t get me wrong—I love the old guy. If he hadn’t taken me and my brothers in after our folks were killed, we might have been split up and sent into foster homes. But he still thinks he should meddle in our lives, just like he did when we were kids.”

“And you can’t tell him to butt out, because you love him and don’t want to hurt his feelings,” Frankie guessed aloud.

“Exactly.” Eli looked at her, his gaze searching her face. “How did you know?”

“Because that’s how I feel about Uncle Harry,” she replied. “I adore him, but he’s got to stop interfering in my life.” She shrugged. “Oh, I know we’re both adults and I could just tell him to stop. I could be blunt and tell him I hate knowing he’s actively trying to dragoon men into dating me, as if no guy would ever think of asking me out unless Harry strong-armed them.” She lifted her hands in frustration, then let them drop to her lap. “But I know he’d be hurt, so I don’t say the words. Which is why I came up with this scheme.” She gestured between Eli and herself. “You and me.”

“If Harry finds out you’re trying to trick him, he’ll be hurt anyway,” Eli cautioned her.

“I know.” Her mouth drooped. She glanced sideways and found him watching her with an oddly tender expression. “Which is why we have to be very convincing,” she said firmly.

“Agreed.” The car slowed, and he glanced out the window. “Here’s the hotel—put on your best I’m-so-in-love acting face, honey, because the curtain is about to go up.”