Beauty and the Wolf (11 page)

“I'll drive you to work early,” he murmured, lifting his head to look down at her. His eyes were heavy-lidded, the blue irises darkened to navy.

“If you come in and stay, neither one of us will get any sleep tonight,” she told him, smiling at the reluctant acceptance she read on his features.

He drew a deep breath, expelling it in a rough sigh.

“You're right. Kiss me, and I'll go home,” he growled, pulling her close.

Lips curved in a smile, Frankie wound her arms around his neck and went up on her toes, meeting his mouth with hers, quickly swept away by the passion that flared between them.

When he set her back on her heels, she was dazed, her knees like jelly.

He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Connor and I have an early flight in the morning, but I'll call you from Vegas. The conference lasts through Friday, but we're staying to play a little blackjack and flying home late Sunday.”

“I'll miss you,” she told him. “Be safe.”

“I'll miss you, too. Don't run off with any other guy while I'm gone,” he teased. Then he took her mouth in one more swift, hard kiss before he pushed open the door behind her and gently shoved her inside. “Lock the door,” he ordered softly as he pulled the door shut.

Frankie twisted the deadbolt closed and slid the chain into its slot. Listening, she didn't hear Eli walk away until after the locks snicked closed. Smiling at his protective patience, she turned and strolled toward her bedroom, dreamily reliving those heartstopping kisses while she got ready for bed.

And when she fell asleep, she dreamed of Eli.

 

Eli and Connor flew out of Sea-Tac the following morning to attend the contractor's conference in Las Vegas. Although he called Frankie each night, he missed seeing her. Months earlier, when they'd booked the conference, he and Connor had planned to spend the week end in Vegas after the conference ended on Friday. He wasn't slated to fly back to Seattle until Sunday evening, but on Friday he changed his flight and flew home on
the red-eye, reaching home in Seattle just after two in the morning.

The following morning, he was awake by nine, but Frankie didn't answer her cell phone when he called. Fortunately, he reached her sister Tommi at her restaurant and learned Frankie had driven to Arlington, north of Seattle, to spend the day volunteering at a rescue horse stable.

Eli scribbled the directions Tommi gave him on a napkin and headed north up I-5, toward the farm.

He remembered Frankie had briefly mentioned her volunteer work at the barn while telling him anecdotes about her childhood with Cornelia and her sisters. Cornelia had sat Frankie down on her eighth birthday, discussed the responsibility of individuals to contribute to the larger community and asked her to pick a cause to which she would commit her time and energy. Frankie loved horses and had chosen an organization that rescued abused and damaged horses.

That early exposure had become a lifelong devotion to the rescue operation in Arlington. Tommi had told him earlier that Frankie usually left her cell phone in her car when she was at the barns. While disappointed that he couldn't reach her, Eli decided that surprising her in person would be even better.

He left the freeway just past Arlington, turning onto a two-lane road that wound through the countryside, where rolling acres of green pastures held horses and the occasional cow. After twenty minutes of driving past farms and fields, he reached a complex of big barns and
fenced pastures. He turned into the wide lane, jolting over bumps and avoiding holes in the graveled road before parking in a large dirt lot.

A huge wooden barn, a round pen with green metal pole fencing and a long low stable were set in a semi-circle around the dirt parking lot.

Eli left his car and walked to the open barn doors, following the sound of voices as he stepped inside. To his left, a flight of stairs led upward, and, hearing voices, he climbed the steps to the second floor. But the office there was empty, as were the bleacher seats that lined the outer walls. He peered over the waist-high divider and down into a huge arena with a soft dirt floor. An older woman in boots and jeans stood in the center of the arena, directing a young girl wearing a riding helmet and snug pants tucked into high boots. She sat atop a rangy thoroughbred that looked too tall and much too big for the small girl. Nevertheless, she handled him with easy confidence.

Eli retraced his steps down the stairs and turned left, following a hallway until it turned sharply right. Ahead of him stretched a wide alley with stalls opening off each side. He started down the alley, stopping to stroke his palm over muzzles as horses looked out over the top of open half doors to nicker and call.

“Back up, Daisy. Stop being so stubborn. You know you can't go outside.”

Frankie's annoyed voice reached Eli's ears. He searched the barn ahead of him but didn't see her. A side alley opened to the left just two stalls ahead, and
several thuds and bumps sounded as if the noise came from there. Hoping to surprise her, his stride lengthened and he rounded the corner.

Frankie stood at an open stall door only feet away, a halter rope in one hand while the other hand and one shoulder pushed against the side of a massive draft horse.

The huge horse was clearly winning the argument as she took a step forward, her hooves big as dinner plates and planted too close to Frankie's boots.

Cold fear iced Eli's heart. He reached Frankie in three long strides, lifting her out of the way with an arm around her waist.

“W-what on earth…!” Frankie sputtered in surprise.

Busy muscling the big draft horse back into the stall, Eli didn't look at Frankie until he'd slammed the door on the massive horse. Then he turned to face her.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” he roared.

She stiffened, surprise giving way to anger that flushed her delicate features with color, her brown eyes snapping. “My job,” she said succinctly. “What are you doing?”

“Saving your pretty butt,” he snapped. “Did you not notice that horse outweighs you by a thousand pounds?”

“More than that,” she shot back. “And I fail to see what concern that is of yours.”

“Are you crazy? You were about to get stepped on.”

Frankie waved a hand at the big horse, who watched them with interested brown eyes from her stall. “I was
not.
Daisy has never stepped on anyone in all the years she's been here. She tries to get out into the paddock whenever someone opens her stall door, but she's perfectly docile. She's never hurt anyone in her life.”

“She's so big she wouldn't know if she hurt you,” Eli told her, his voice just barely below a roar. “You could have been killed or badly hurt. You're too little—you can't handle a horse that big.”

“You don't have the right to tell me what I can or can't do,” she told him, fingers curled into fists at her sides.

“Well, someone has to. You clearly don't have sense enough to know you're too damned small to muscle around a horse that's twenty times your size and weight,” he growled, anger fueled by the terrifying sight of her pitting her fragile frame against the huge horse.

Her brown eyes shot sparks. “I've been making my own decisions since I was eighteen,” she informed him, her voice dripping ice. “And if I was going to give some one permission to interfere in my choices, it would
not
be you. Especially since you clearly know
nothing
about horses,” she snarled.

“I don't need to know anything about horses to know this horse—” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the stall “—is too damned big for you to push around.”

“It's got nothing to do with her size,” Frankie yelled, planting her fists on her hips, the air fairly sizzling around her. “She's a Clydesdale and so gentle Ava could
handle her. Oh, what's the use? You're impossible.” She threw up her hands and turned on her heel.

“Where are you going?” Eli yelled after her.

“Home,” she shot over her shoulder as she strode away, her boots kicking up puffs of dust. She stopped abruptly and spun around to glare at him. “And don't follow me. I don't want to talk to you. Not until you realize what an ass you've been and are ready to apologize—and maybe not even then.” She spun on her heel once more and stalked off.

Fuming silently, Eli watched her until she disappeared through the door at the end of the alley lined with stalls. He didn't care how mad she was; he was right about this.
And it'll be a cold day in hell before I apologize for trying to keep her safe.

Thoroughly disgusted and out of sorts, he left the barn. Frankie was nowhere to be seen when he reached the parking lot and drove away.

I should have stayed in Vegas,
he told himself as he headed back to Seattle.
I could be sitting at a blackjack table, enjoying myself, instead of wasting my time trying to reason with an irrational woman.

The first drops of rain hit his windshield. Eli looked at the sky and realized that while he'd been in the barn, the sunny morning had turned dark and cloudy.

“Great,” he muttered. “Just great.”

 

Frankie dashed away tears of anger as she drove south toward Seattle. The fact that she was tearing up infuriated her. She'd missed Eli more than she'd thought
possible over the last few days and had looked forward to seeing him when he returned.

Then he'd stalked into the barn and like a typical domineering male, assumed she was acting foolishly and set out to save her from her own stupidity.

“Arrogant jerk,” she muttered, fingers tightening on the steering wheel.

He hadn't even bothered to ask her—no, he'd all but
told
her she was an idiot for handling Daisy.

“As if I didn't know how big Daisy is,” she grumbled to herself. “As if I haven't been shoving Daisy around since she was three months old. But did he ask me anything about her? No, he did not,” she answered her own question. “Men,” she snarled, eyes narrowing at the windshield. “They're impossible.”

A few fat raindrops splatted against the windshield.

Frankie switched on the wipers.
Perfect,
she thought,
just what I needed.

Traffic slowed with the sudden downpour, taillights winking red as drivers braked.

Frankie groaned and wished she were home, impatient with the delay that gave her far too much time to contemplate how much she wished she'd taken more time to tell Eli Wolf how wrong he was about her ability to handle Daisy. And she should have added how annoying she found it when someone prejudged a situation without first asking questions and gathering facts.

And men think women act irrationally,
she thought with a humph of disbelief.

She refused to think about how much she'd been
looking forward to his return from Las Vegas—and how disappointed she felt that anticipation had turned into anger.

With a quick twist, she turned on the radio, filling the car's interior with the sound of upbeat bluegrass music.

The bright music failed to lift the leaden weight that pressed on her chest but she ignored it, determined not to mope because she and Eli had argued.

T
he rain continued all weekend, and Monday brought more gray skies and wet weather.

Tuesday night, Eli drove home from work, parked his truck in the garage and entered his condo through the utility room. He paused to take off his wet, muddy boots and left them on the mat next to the washing machine. Then he shucked off his jeans, soaked and splattered with mud from hem to knees, and dropped them into the empty washer, following them with his wet flannel shirt and socks. Wearing only a white T-shirt and navy boxers, he padded in bare feet into the kitchen, stopping to set the containers of take-out Chinese food he'd bought earlier on the counter before heading upstairs to the bathroom.

Three days had passed since he and Frankie had
argued at the horse barn, and he'd been in a foul mood ever since. His brothers were threatening to ban him from the work trailer.

It's the rain,
he told himself.
Anybody would be in a bad mood with three days of gray skies and downpour.

He turned on the shower, letting the steam warm the tiled area as he stripped out of his boxers and T-shirt.

When he finally stepped into the stall, the enclosure was heated, the pulse of the showerhead hitting him with enough force to make him groan with relief. He shampooed and scrubbed, then let the hot spray of water sluice the suds away. He propped his palms on the tiled wall and let the water beat a rhythm against aching back muscles until it began to cool before he got out.

Drying off, he walked naked into the bedroom to pull on clean boxers, a pair of worn jeans and a soft T-shirt.

His hair was still damp when he went back downstairs, pausing in the living room to switch on the television. In the kitchen, he collected a fork and the thermal containers of takeout, then grabbed a beer from the fridge and returned to the living room.

Outside, the wind howled as the storm continued to dump rain on Seattle. It reminded Eli of the evening he'd spent in Frankie's apartment, curled up next to her on the sofa. He wished he was back there.

Damn.
He stared at the TV without seeing it. He missed the hell out of being with Frankie.

He liked his condo, liked his independent life. Since
he'd started seeing Frankie, however, he'd realized that just spending time with her, even if they were only sharing a pizza and watching a movie, felt right—maybe more right than being alone.

It was almost as if a missing piece of his life had fallen into place.

Before dating Frankie, he hadn't even known there
was
a piece of his life missing.

He'd dated a lot of women and enjoyed their company, but dates had always been a precursor to sex. He couldn't remember a time since puberty when just being in a woman's company was enough.

Not that he didn't want to sleep with Frankie. In fact, he suspected he was damned near obsessed with the thought of taking her to bed. He prided himself on his self-control, but he had to admit it was growing increasingly more difficult to stop at kisses and fooling around. Especially since she seemed to find him just as irresistible as he found her.

But he still sensed a certain hesitancy, a kind of wariness in her. With any other woman, he would have tried to charm and seduce her out of whatever was making her hold back. But with Frankie, it was strangely imperative that she choose to come to him willingly, wholeheartedly.

Why it was so, he didn't know. Maybe simply because this was Frankie, and he'd known her since she was a girl. Maybe it was because she was Justin's favorite cousin. Whatever it was, what was happening between
Frankie and him was different from any relationship he'd had with a woman before.

Not that there was anything happening between him and Frankie at the moment, he thought, frowning. She hadn't called him, and he hadn't called her, either. He'd told himself it was because she'd made herself clear before she stalked away from him and out of the barn. She'd said she didn't want to talk to him. He was only being cooperative, giving her time to calm down.

Yeah, right.
The real reason he wasn't calling Frankie was because she'd scared the hell out of him at the barn. Seeing the big Clydesdale horse looming over her had made his blood run cold.

I overreacted when I yelled at her. But, damn, what was I supposed to think?

And Frankie was too independent to let him get away with ordering her around. In fact, he doubted she'd ever let anyone tell her what to do—not unless there was a logical reason. And then a person would be wise to suggest, not order or demand.

Hell.
He scrubbed his hand down his face and sighed, a deep, gusty sound of frustration. He wasn't very good at taking orders himself. Fate must be howling with laughter. He'd found the one woman he couldn't—didn't—want to live without, and she was just as bloody stubborn and independent as he was.

Stunned, he considered what he'd just thought.

Was he in falling in love with Frankie? Was that what the sleepless nights and foul temper were all about?

He didn't even want to think about it.

Determinedly, he took a bite of chow mein and switched the channel to a basketball game on ESPN.

He couldn't be falling in love.

And even if he was, he thought with a frown, he was damned if he'd keep thinking about it nonstop.

 

After several hours of slamming pots and pans, then cleaning her condo from top to bottom while listening to Sugarland and Jon Bon Jovi CDs on Saturday afternoon, Frankie's temper settled into a slow simmer.

She'd suspected Eli seemed too perfect to be true, she reflected on Sunday afternoon as she jogged around Green Lake. And sure enough, he'd revealed he was human on Saturday at the barn.

No, not that he's human,
she thought with a flash of anger,
that he's a jerk who thinks I'm incapable of making sensible decisions about my safety.

She jogged faster, pumping her arms, the steady downpour of rain soaking the shoulders of her all-weather jacket. She'd stuffed her hair up under a bright blue wool stocking hat that matched her coat. The hat was damp and so were the black leggings that covered her long legs. Her toes squished inside her running shoes.

It was a measure of how restless and unsettled she was that she'd chosen to face the rain and elements rather than run on the treadmill at home.

After circling the lake twice, she left the wide tarmac path and drove to her mom's house.

“Mom? Are you home?” she called as she stepped
into the glassed-in porch. She toed off her shoes, leaving them to drip on the mat, and padded across the painted board floor to the inner door. Her damp socks left footprints on the flooring.

“Frankie? I'm in the kitchen,” Cornelia called.

Frankie hopped on first one foot, then the other, to tug off her wet socks before walking across the beautiful Oriental wool rug and into the kitchen. Cornelia stood at the counter next to the stove, pouring water from a steaming kettle into a china teapot.

“Hi, Mom. Tommi, I didn't see your car outside.” She was glad to see her sister. Tommi was perched on a stool at the island in the center of the big kitchen, a bright red maternity smock stretched over her burgeoning tummy.

“Max dropped me off—he's coming back to pick me up in an hour.” Tommi's eyes twinkled. “You'd think no other woman had ever been pregnant before. He insists on driving me everywhere—at least, everywhere I'll let him.” She grinned, clearly enjoying the coddling.

“For heaven's sake, Frankie,” Cornelia looked up from the Wedgwood teapot and returned the kettle to the stove. “You're drenched. What have you been doing?” She threw the question over her shoulder as she disappeared into the half bath just off the kitchen.

“Jogging at Green Lake,” Frankie responded.

“Couldn't you have stayed in and used the treadmill?” Tommi asked as Cornelia reappeared with a thick towel.

“Yes, why didn't you?” Cornelia asked, handing over
the towel and taking Frankie's drenched coat. “I'm going to toss this in the dryer,” she said, leaving the room again.

Frankie plucked the soggy hat off her head and dropped it on the tile counter next to the sink. “I'm tired of being stuck in the house,” she said. “And I'm not made of sugar—I won't melt in the rain.”

“Yes, but you might catch your death of cold,” Cornelia said, coming back into the room. “Dry off. I've got vitamin C and zinc tablets here.”

Frankie and Tommi exchanged a fond glance.

“Thanks, Mom.” Frankie knew from experience that it was easier to let Cornelia mother her. She rubbed her face dry and blotted her hair before joining Tommi at the counter, taking a stool directly across from her. “How's everything at the restaurant?”

“Wonderful.” Tommi fairly glowed as she brought Frankie up to date on the latest innovations.

Frankie listened, murmuring encouragement to keep Tommi talking. She loved seeing her sister so clearly happy, deeply in love with Max, excited about the baby and the success of her restaurant.

Cornelia joined them at the tiled island and poured herbal tea into mugs, setting one in front of Frankie with several tablets.

“Thanks, Mom.” Frankie spooned honey into her tea.

“Enough about me.” Tommi lifted her mug to sip. “What's new with you, Frankie? I've hardly seen you over the last few weeks.”

“I've been busy at work.” Frankie met Cornelia and Tommi's gazes and decided to be blunt. She needed to vent, and who better than family to understand? “And I've been seeing a lot of Eli.”

Tommi's eyes widened. “Eli Wolf? Justin's friend?”

Frankie nodded, taking a brownie off the plate in the center of the island. The chocolate square had sinfully decadent, rich fudge frosting.

She glanced up to see Cornelia and Tommi exchanging glances.

“You didn't tell her we were at the fundraiser with you and Harry, Mom?”

Cornelia shook her head. “No, I didn't. To be honest, Frankie, I thought you and Eli were just together on a casual date. Much as I like Eli, he doesn't appear to be someone you'd ever get serious about, despite his being handsome, very charming and undeniably interested in you.”

“Why didn't you think I might be seriously drawn to Eli?” Surprised, Frankie stared at her mother.

“I suppose because the men you've dated in the past have been more intellectually oriented, less…physical than Eli.”

Frankie's eyes narrowed as she considered her mother's words. “It's true I've spent more time with men who earn their living in white-collar jobs, and Eli's definitely a blue-collar guy. But one of the things I like about Eli is that he's not intimidated by my job, or my college degrees. In fact, the subject never even comes up. Actually,” she added slowly, thoughtfully, “he challenges
me, makes me laugh, and I never feel as if I'm marking time with him until I can do something more interesting.” She swept Cornelia and Tommi with a glance that surely reflected her surprise. “I hadn't realized that until just now. It's probably irrelevant after what happened Saturday.”

“Why?” Tommi asked.

“What happened?” Cornelia's question melded with Tommi's.

Frankie quickly gave them an abbreviated version, ending with the last words she'd yelled at Eli, telling him she didn't want to talk to him until he was ready to apologize.

When she finished, Cornelia set her mug down with a snap. “Men,” she muttered. “They can be so stubborn.”

“Exactly,” Frankie said with an abrupt nod of agreement.

“I always thought Eli was smooth with women—at least that's his reputation,” Tommi added when Frankie glared at her. “But he certainly screwed up with you.” She pursed her lips, her gaze considering. “I wonder why?”

“Because he's impossible, that's why.” Frankie took a bite of chocolate brownie. Her eyes closed in sheer bliss. “Mom, these are amazing.”

“Thank you. It's a new recipe,” Cornelia said, distracted from what were clearly deep thoughts.

“If Max had done something like that,” Tommi continued, undeterred, “I'd suspect it was because he was
scared silly and terrified I'd be hurt. Nothing seems to shake Max, but since he loves me, he'd freak out if I was in danger.”

“But I wasn't in danger,” Frankie pointed out. “And Eli doesn't love me—we've only been dating for a couple of weeks or so.”

“Time doesn't necessarily matter—not if it's the right person,” Cornelia put in.

“And Eli didn't know you weren't in any real danger,” Tommi pointed out.

“Which is why he should have asked me!” Frankie declared, angry all over again at how unreasonable Eli had been. “If he'd asked, I would have explained Daisy is as docile as a lamb.”

“I don't think men can wait if they believe someone they love is in danger,” Tommi told her. “They automatically shift into protection mode and ask questions later.”

Frankie looked at her mother. Cornelia nodded in confirmation.

“Tommi's right,” Cornelia said. “At least, that's been my observation. Even Harry, although he went about it in his usual bumbling way, tried very hard to protect all of us after your father died. If I'd allowed it, Harry would have wrapped us all in cotton wool, installed us in his mansion and hired nannies to care for you girls and a maid to wait on me.”

“Yes, but that's Uncle Harry,” Frankie pointed out reasonably. “He tends to bulldoze his way through life, unaware he's making people who love him crazy.”

Cornelia rolled her eyes. “I can't deny that's a perfect description of Harry.”

“You must have been a very determined woman to stand up to him all those years when we were growing up,” Frankie told her.

Tommi laughed, amusement gleaming in her eyes. “That's an understatement. Uncle Harry still hasn't stopped trying to arrange our lives—look what he did with Bobbie and me.”