Beauty and the Wolf / Their Miracle Twins (4 page)

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Authors: Nikki Logan Lois Faye Dyer

BOOK: Beauty and the Wolf / Their Miracle Twins
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“I bet you were cute.” She sighed. “If you’d been in my class, I’m sure you would have had girls lined up outside your locker.” She eyed him with curiosity. “And I bet you have girls lined up outside your condo now. It just occurred to me to wonder—do you have a lady friend who’s going to be upset with our pretend love affair?”

He shook his head. “No. If I did, I wouldn’t have agreed.”

She sipped her coffee and eyed him over the rim. “I know it’s none of my business, but after listening to the occasional comment from Justin, I’ve always assumed you’re usually dating someone. I’m glad you’re currently available, because it certainly makes my plan to fool Uncle Harry much easier, but why are you unattached?”

Eli didn’t want to tell her that even if he’d been dating someone, he would have untangled himself immediately. There was no way he’d let Harry maneuver her into dating and maybe marrying Nicholas Dean. He didn’t want to look too closely at the reasons he felt so strongly about Frankie dating Dean, but he accepted that he did.

“I suppose the truth is, I haven’t had time to think about dating lately. I’ve only been back at work full-time for a couple of months.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Her brown eyes warmed with sympathy. “I knew you were hurt at work last year, but I hadn’t realized you’d only recently recovered.”

“It took a while,” he said. “I fell off a scaffold on a construction site and broke my left leg.” He shrugged. “It was a clean break, but there were complications requiring two more surgeries—I was housebound and unable to work most of the year. Plus, I was in physical therapy off and on for months. The end result was that I was rarely in the office—or anywhere else, for that matter,” he added. “Practically the only social function I went to that year was your birthday party at Harry’s house. I was between surgeries that month.”

Her lashes lowered, screening her eyes, and faint color tinted her fair skin. “No wonder you aren’t involved with someone at the moment,” she said, lifting her gaze to his once more. “You haven’t had time.”

“No.” He pretended not to notice she’d avoided commenting about her birthday party but knew from the color in her cheeks that she hadn’t forgotten that kiss any more than he had. “The worst part was the boredom. I have no patience with sitting around. A guy can only watch so many cable-TV sports events without a break. Thank God I’m fully recovered and back at work, because, trust me—my grandfather and brothers were about ready to throw me into Puget Sound and let me drown.”

She laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’m sure you couldn’t have been that difficult.”

“According to them, I was worse,” he assured her. “I’m not a good patient—in fact, I’m lousy at it.” Maybe that was the reason he was so eager to take up Frankie’s plan to foil Harry, Eli thought. Maybe the memory of
those long, boring months had made him susceptible to any pretty woman with an interesting scheme. “Your plan to outmaneuver Harry at his own game is perfect timing for me,” he told her, although he suspected Frankie was the most compelling element. “It’s just intriguing enough to distract me and make me forget those never-ending months of being stuck at home with my leg in a cast.”

“Whatever it is that made you agree, I’m just thankful you’ve said yes.” Frankie smiled at him and slid the tip of her tongue over the plump curve of her lower lip, licking away a drop of creamy coffee. Eli nearly groaned out loud, his body tensing.

He saw women drinking coffee nearly every morning when he stopped at the local Starbucks on his way to work. He didn’t have this reaction to any of them, he realized with a flash of awareness. Only Frankie managed to turn him on with one glimpse of the tip of her tongue sliding slowly over her bottom lip.

No, it’s not just any woman I want. It’s Frankie.

Chapter Three
 

F
rankie 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.

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