Thigh High (5 page)

“You're a thoughtful man too.”

He flushed at the newest compliment. “That phone call earlier?”

“I didn't hear much. I was focused elsewhere.”

“Thanks for that, by the way.” His grin was lascivious. “I've been called to a meeting in an hour. The program director wants me to come in.”

“Sounds important.”

He frowned. “Could be.”

“If they gave you a raise, would you be happy to stay doing late night? You sound so happy on your show. As if you can't think of anything you'd rather be doing.”

“As far as job satisfaction, I have that in spades. But satisfaction doesn't pay bills. And it isn't just the money, it's the odd hours too. I can't see a relationship working with radically different shifts.”

“A relationship is that important to you?” she asked, not certain which answer, yes or no, she'd rather hear.

 

On his way to his meeting, Daniel considered Frankie. She had an odd way of showing relaxed interest in him while keeping her history and personal information to herself. She was pretty good at keeping secrets. All he knew about her was that she loved coffee, liked his dog in spite of Barkley being a pain in the ass and knew how to make the most of her erogenous zones.

She'd been named after her father, but he'd noticed a slip of the tongue when she couldn't decide if he was alive or dead. She also had a honeymooning sister who was as yet unnamed.

He'd asked her to stay a few more days, because he wanted full and immediate access to her. She'd hesitated long enough to make him think she'd refuse, but in the end she'd agreed. She was yacht-sitting only a few docks away, but he still wanted her at his place.

She seemed content to stay once she'd considered it. But those moments when she'd made him wait for her answer had been hard for him. Surprisingly hard.

Lucky for him he'd remembered that trash can. If he hadn't thought of it, she might have gone back to her place right away.

Frankie was fun and got his stupid humor, and he loved making her laugh. In bed and out of it. When Frankie laughed, the room lit up, her smile went wide and her throaty chuckle grabbed him by the heartstrings.

Funny thing was, that fact didn't scare him. Loving Frankie was not scary at all.

He'd never been in a relationship with a woman who was free to accommodate his schedule. Normally, he was a hit-and-run kind of guy, mostly because the women he met were caught up in their own lives and careers. Taking time to see him for a couple hours here and there turned into booty-call sex, and eventually those things fizzled out for lack of anything else substantial going on.

He was great with being a booty call, but with Frankie he wanted more.

He pulled into the parking lot and turned his mind to the upcoming meeting. His numbers were good, his audience growing, and he hadn't pissed anyone off lately, so he had no idea what the meeting was about. Butch, the program director, had been unusually reticent about sharing information when he'd called, and with Frankie doing the wild thing at the time, Daniel hadn't asked for specifics.

Maybe he should have.

He hoped to hell this was about a raise. He wanted a home. A raise would give him the chance to go for it. With Frankie squarely in his sights he felt more than ready to settle onto terra firma.

Reaching for the door, his hand caught the light from overhead. His naked hand. No rings. He had a visual of a gold band there.
Must be my feminine side
, he thought. People talked about men having them. He snorted. Stupid.

He walked through the foyer and headed for Butch's office door, trying like hell to get his mind back on the meeting. The station was a different place in the afternoon. Light and noisy with people running to and fro, gathering and laughing together at the front counter and near the staff room door, coffee mugs in hand.

A few of them waved at him. One, the morning man's producer, gave him a broad smile as he walked by.

That was odd. He was normally persona non grata to that guy.

When he got to Butch's office door, he leaned inside the door frame. “You're way too ugly at this time of day. Tone it down, would'ja?”

“Fuck you.” Butch looked up and grinned. A grin that said they'd spent a lot of years together in a crazy-making business and survived. Together.

“Why the rush to see me? Good news I hope.”

“Sometimes good news is bad news.”

Daniel took a seat in front of the desk. “So, this isn't about a raise, I take it?”

“Not exactly. It's about a move. Good news for you, bad news for me.” He frowned. “And maybe even bad news for you.”

Daniel leaned in. “Now you're dicking me around.”

Butch shook his head. “No. Chicago. A transfer.”

“No way.”

“Way.”

“Shit!” Chicago, the market every bluesman not based in the south wanted. Wait'll he told Frankie. All he could think of was sharing his news with her. He flashed on an image of her face, lighting up as he told her. “Wait a minute, what's the bad news?”

“It's the morning shift.”

Which meant a lot more money. But he'd have to give up the quiet of the night, his solitude in the booth. Butch's face hadn't shifted away from the frown. “What else?”

“They want to team you up.”

“Shit,” he said. Morning chatter shows aimed at morons and tweens. And banter.

He hated banter.

“I don't play well with others.” Not on the air anyway. “Especially not in the morning.”

“I remember. But this is an opportunity you shouldn't pass up. The money's good, Danny.”

He swallowed when he heard how much. “How soon do they need to know?”

“They'll be surprised if you hesitate. Let me know tomorrow.” Butch paused. Looked him in the eye. “I'll repeat that you shouldn't pass this up, but I know you'll hate it.”

“Every minute, but I'll get used to it.” He closed his eyes, while his gut did a roll of disgust. “Any idea who I'd be paired with?”

Butch's gaze shifted left.

That did not look good.

“Shit. I'll let you know in a couple of days.” Tomorrow was too soon.

Butch said, “If I could give you more money here, I would.”

“I know.” He didn't press for more information on the partner. He didn't need any more bad news to color his decision. Either he wanted a morning slot and the livable wage or he didn't. The partner wouldn't matter. “Whatever you could give me wouldn't be enough for what I want anyway.”

Butch leaned back far enough on his chair to lift the front legs off the floor. “Do tell. What is it you're after?”

Daniel stood.

“A woman?” Butch demanded, curiosity lighting his ugly face.

“Maybe.”

“Women aren't maybe's, they either are or are not the right one. Which is she?”

“Put that way, I'd have to say…fuck you. Fuck you very much.” He stepped out of the room and laughed as Butch hollered out his office door.

“I hope to hell she makes you squirm, Danny! Squirm!” But the words were said around a chuckle.

 

Daniel was already looking forward to dinner with Frankie before he had to come back for his shift. He had a lot of thinking to do.

Daniel sipped a beer while Frankie flipped burgers on the grill. It had been ages since she'd cooked for a man. She'd made the patties bigger than she would have made for herself. Without warning, his arms came around her and she felt his warm hug and hard body behind her. “I wanted to take you out for dinner to show you my generous nature.”

She grinned and leaned back into him. “You already have.” A generous man in bed was a lot better than one who tossed gifts a girl's way. “And I wanted to impress you with my burgers.”

“So far, I'm impressed with everything about you,” he said. The affection in his voice was clear and warmed her. She felt the same way.

“I like this routine,” she said. “Sleeping late suits me. I'm not an early bird. When I was working I was always running late. I hated getting up early.”

The burgers were ready. “Pass me your plate,” she said.

He held out both plates to her and she slid the meat onto the buns.

After several compliments on her cooking, which made her glow with feminine pride, he polished off his burger and a huge helping of salad. “So, you haven't asked how my meeting went.” He swiped a napkin across his lips and chin.

“I'm dying to hear but I didn't think it was any of my business.” She wanted what he wanted. Whatever made him happy would make her happy.

He slid his hand across the glass-topped patio table and stroked her knuckles with his fingertip. “I'm glad you want to know. And it's crazy, but already it feels like your business.”

“Oh, Daniel.” Her heart wanted to burst with joy. But hard on that feeling came a nugget of fear. It was too soon. Crazy. Impossible, given the circumstances. “I care for you too—”

He interrupted her, taking her words and running with them. “I've been offered a transfer to Chicago.”

“Chicago?” Frankie tried to put a smile on her face, and her lips cooperated just fine. It was her eyes that must have given her away. Her eyes and the hollowed-out, disappointed tone in her voice. Anything that would make him happy would make her happy.

Anyplace but Chicago.

“It's everything I want. Have always wanted.” He held her with nothing more than the tip of his sexy finger, wreaking havoc on her knuckles. Then he saw beyond her lips. “What's wrong? You look strange.”

“I'm just surprised,” she blustered. “I've never thought of anyone being thrilled at the idea of moving to Chicago.” She had to remember that the familiar and boring to one person was new and exciting to another. Like Bernie and his wilderness fascination. A native Alaskan wouldn't find trees and mountain streams nearly as big a thrill as Bernie.

“You've been there?”

“You could say that.” She had to give him a smidgen of information now that she'd been so transparent. “You'll love the blues clubs. There's a place on North Michigan that's fantastic.” His other hand reached out and he took both hands in his. She stood and picked up the empty plates. “I'll tell you about it sometime.”

He followed her into the kitchen, carrying the rest of the dishes. “So, you'll tell me about blues clubs and where to go in Chicago, but you won't tell me anything about you.”

She put the plates on the kitchen counter. “I can't. Not now.”

“But you will? Sometime?” There was nothing but gentle persuasion in his voice. No demand, no pressure, no avid curiosity.

“Thanks for giving me space, Daniel. I…appreciate it.”

“You've got me wondering if you're in the witness protection program or something equally sexy.”

“Sexy?” She laughed. But it was forced. There was nothing sexy about being on the run. No matter who you were running from, or why. “So, you're taking your show to Chicago. You'll be a smash. The blues fans are in for a treat.”

“This is a morning show. It's more money and a wider audience.”

“No blues in the night?”

He shook his head, and something that passed for happy but wasn't flashed in his gaze. She recognized the look because she'd been wearing it for some time. Even good things could have sharp edges that cut.

“It'll be traffic reports, contests, wake-up music and banter.” The edgy expression disappeared, replaced by a now-familiar and welcome desire. He took her in his arms, slid his hands to either side of her neck. The kiss he gave was light, coaxing, and sent her thoughts spinning. His thumbs rotated on either side of her throat, caressing and smoothing her skin, creating sparks of desire low in her belly.

“You can fill me in on the blues culture in Chicago later. But right now what will you tell me?” His voice was hypnotic, charged with need.

She leaned into him and accepted his kiss. Deep, hungry, delicious. “I'll tell you what I want you to do.”

“That is?”

“Love me, Daniel. You're so good at it.” She cupped him through his slacks, slid her palm up the rigid steel she found there. Her mouth watered, her pussy wept.

She offered her neck; he took it.

She offered her breasts; he suckled them.

She offered her slickest, neediest parts. He dropped to his knees and took her where she needed to go.

W
ithout a morning phone call, they were able to sleep in as long as they needed, but Daniel woke first. He slipped out of bed without disturbing Frankie. She'd listened to his entire show and waited up for him. That was a first with a woman. But then, he was having a lot of firsts with Frankie.

When he'd tiptoed into the kitchen, he'd seen the glow of candles from the bedroom. Frankie had been shopping. Dressed in a soft creamy-colored merry widow complete with garters and stockings, she'd taken his breath away.

He finished in the bathroom and checked on her. Still asleep. The floor of the bedroom was strewn with various bits of satiny lingerie that made his cock rise again.

He could wake her with a quick slide inside, but she needed to sleep. He'd kept her up for hours, and she must be tender from all the attention. He put the coffee on, then peeked in at her once more. Frankie was still asleep, breathing heavily with the sheet in a two-fisted clutch under her chin.

When the coffee was ready, he filled his mug, stepped out on deck and stretched. He rubbed his naked belly and gave Barkley a whistle.

He considered the offer of the Chicago gig. More money versus giving up the best job he'd ever had. The late-night time slot suited him. He'd been cheered by Frankie's comment about how the hours suited her too.

More and more about Frankie engaged him. Without knowing anything about her, he was drawn into her, wanting her time, loving her smile. Needing her laughter to round out his day.

She fascinated him. Mystery swirled around her. She looked close to speaking sometimes, but when he waited expectantly, she'd get a worried look in her eyes and change the subject.

Whatever was wrong, she needed time to come to terms with telling him. Pressing her for information was a bad idea. He'd often gone with his gut on these things, and his gut had never failed him.

All he could do was follow his own heart in this.

Which brought him back to what he really wanted. He wanted to stay in the late-night spot. Wanted to have full control over his show. Wanted to sit back in the dark of the night and do his thing.

But more than that, he wanted Frankie.

She was unemployed, and if not for the kindness of a friend, she'd be without a home. Which took care of conflicting schedules but increased the need for a better-paying time slot.

Daniel's time in late night needed to come to an end. His gut twisted at the thought, but he sucked it up. His father's voice rang through his head, reminding him that most people worked at jobs they hated. Life today demanded sacrifice if a person wanted a family.

Daniel had the sense that if he didn't soon do something toward getting the family he wanted, he'd miss out. Maybe he was coming at the family thing late, but that didn't mean he wanted it less than other men. Maybe because he'd been so slow, he wanted it more. And faster.

He thought of Frankie, asleep in his bed. His heart warmed.

He whistled for Barkley again, then peered into his doghouse. Empty.

And Barkley was nowhere else onboard.

The dog usually stuck close to his food bowl until breakfast had been served. Then he pretty much filled his day scrounging more meals from all the neighbors. That, and stealing underwear. Daniel whistled again. Listened for the bounce of his paws on the dock.

Nothing.

But in the distance he heard a bark, seriously pissed. Barkley. The sound came from the marina side.

He stepped onto the dock and walked along until he could see Barkley's scruffy cropped tail, standing straight up. His back end hopped up and down as if it were on strings. He was farther away than he sounded. He whistled again, but the dog ignored him as his barks got ferocious.

The closer he got the more he heard. Between barks the little guy was growling and snapping. Something was seriously wrong. Daniel set his coffee mug on a pylon and took off at a dead run.

Barkley went into an insane racket, snapping, snarling, and then, Daniel heard a yelp and cry that spurred him to run faster, harder. Now he was the one pissed.

Someone had hurt his dog.

Daniel rounded the dock where he'd last seen Barkley and slid to a stop. The stranger Barkley was harassing was on Frankie's yacht. Slouched cap, black jeans, bland windbreaker. The guy looked like background. Nothing about him would stand out.

Except for the camera dangling around his neck.

“Hey!” Daniel yelled. “Who the hell are you? And what'd you do to my dog?”

Barkley had wisely climbed onto the boat on the far side of the dock and stood barking on the cabin roof, well out of range of this guy's sneakers.

“I didn't do anything to your dog. Tell him to shut up, he's disturbing the neighbors.” The guy put up his hands and gave him a
who me?
smile. Friendly and easygoing-like, and Daniel hated the slimy guy on sight.

“Get off that boat. The owner's not here.”

“Yeah, uh, where is she? We're supposed to meet here today. You seen her?” The guy climbed down to face Daniel on the dock. His eyes scanned the marina, sharp and suspicious.

Barkley finally stopped barking but stayed where he was, growling in as menacingly a way as a fifteen-pound mutt could.

“There's no her,” Daniel said reflexively. “Who are you looking for?”

“Hey, if she's not here, she's not here.” He put his hands up in surrender and sidled around Daniel. “I'll catch her later.” He headed off while Daniel coaxed Barkley off the cabin roof and into his arms.

“You okay, boy?” The dog licked his cheek and ear. If Daniel didn't know better, he'd think his little buddy was actually relieved to see him. Then he wriggled, wanting to jump down. Daniel let him go with a good scratch behind the ears. “You're getting an extra cookie for that, Barkley.” At the word
cookie
the dog danced in a circle. “Whoever that guy was, he wasn't up to anything good.”

They strolled back toward the float home together. Daniel picked up his cold coffee on the way past the pylon and kept a sharp eye out for the intruder, but he was long gone.

 

Frankie peeped one eye open, so sated she could barely roll over. She checked the time on the bedside clock. Daniel had let her sleep. She stretched and took measure of how she felt. Her legs were like overcooked noodles, her spine like butter, and the area between her legs felt slick as olive oil.

A gentle swell rolled under the house. Must be the wake from the
Victoria Clipper,
a catamaran ferry for foot passengers to downtown Seattle. Pleased that she already recognized the ebb, flow and pattern of harbor traffic, she sniffed the air. “Mmm, coffee.”

Listening to the roar of a seaplane, she realized how familiar the sounds of life in the marina had become since arriving two weeks ago. People called out to each other, boat motors started, gulls screeched. The water rolled under her, rocking her gently in the bed.

She could get used to life on the water.

Back in Chicago, she rarely saw the lake. Never bothered to walk there. Daniel would like it, she was certain. Maybe he could take his float home and find a spot for it on the waterfront. She wasn't sure how that would work, but if she could help with the move, she would. Maybe they could put it on a barge or something and tow it.

A house on a barge would look weird going through the Panama Canal and up the eastern seaboard. Might be faster to ship it by train. Mind boggled by the turn of events, she stretched and yawned. Daniel, in Chicago, doing what he loved best. The thought pleased her in spite of the pang of regret she suffered.

Chicago. The bustle, the traffic, the…problems. So far away. But here, with the salt in the air and the quiet busyness of the afternoon, it was different. Slower, softer. So damn livable.

Then again, she was probably just feeling the afterglow of stupendous sex. She tightened her thighs in memory. Mmm.

Daniel.

Hot.

Mmm.

Suddenly realizing she hadn't heard a sound from within the house, she sat upright and peered out the bedroom door into the living area. No sign of him. He was probably already out on deck.

Her one-night stand had certainly changed. She hadn't wanted a relationship, but it seemed she had one anyway.

The idea brought a silly, girlish smile to her face, and she stifled an equally silly giggle with two fingers against her lips. People had no control over affairs of the heart. The best intentions could be waylaid by a smile, a lover's touch, a bit of shared laughter and a warm glance. Her heart thudded happily at the idea of another day with Daniel, and she let the giggle escape into the room.

Lighthearted, she slid out of bed. A denim shirt of Daniel's hung on a hook by the door. She pulled it on, sucked in the scent of him and gathered her lingerie off the floor. His face had been pure seduction when he'd seen her wearing it.

She rinsed her mouth, then used his toothpaste on the brush she'd brought from the yacht and did her best to freshen up as quickly as she could.

Daniel had a healthy appetite for sex, and she hoped the long night would turn into a long afternoon in bed with him.

With Fiona's thong safely washed and stored away, she didn't have anything to do, but Daniel. And doing Daniel was all she needed for now.

The transfer to Chicago had surprised her. He seemed taken with the idea, in spite of the obvious joy he took from working the late-night show. Ambition was a good trait to have. It was. It was just such a bitch that he had to show it now.

Damn.

She would have liked more time to explore all the traits Daniel possessed. As it was, she suspected he would like her to be pleased with the transfer news. She was, for him. But she'd miss him. How he'd gotten under her skin this quickly was a mystery, but there it was. She wanted him. Anywhere. Anytime.

Anyplace but Chicago.

Her belly bloomed heat and need as she listened for any sound onboard. Nothing.

Just as she finished washing up, a thud from the kitchen and Daniel talking to Barkley in a singsong voice made her grin. It was time to see what the day would bring.

She borrowed his comb and brought some order to her sex-mussed hair before heading into the kitchen.

As soon as he saw her, Daniel opened his arms in invitation. She moved into them and received one of the best hugs she'd ever had.

“You're good at this,” she commented. “Just the right pressure and your arms enfold me completely.” Such comfort, warm and inviting. She had to be careful not to want more. Not with Chicago on his mind.

 

He loved the way Frankie flowed into his arms, natural and easy as if she belonged with him. “Did you have an appointment today? On the yacht?”

She disappointed him by sliding away to help herself to a mug of coffee. “No, why?” Her voice was stilted. Odd.

“There was some guy looking for you.” It still burned his ass that the guy probably kicked his dog. “I heard Barkley kicking up a real stink so I ran over. Halfway there, I think your visitor kicked Barkley to shut him up.”

“Is the little guy okay?” She froze in the middle of sliding the coffee carafe back onto the warming plate, but she didn't turn around.

“He seems fine. Never heard him snarl and growl that way before, though. He took a real dislike to the guy. You're sure you weren't expecting someone?”

Her shoulders squared, and he wanted to turn her around to face him, but he waited, sensing she needed time to process the news. She took a deep breath before sliding the carafe home. She turned back to him with a sunny smile and nervous eyes. “Who was he? Did he say?”

“Didn't say anything except he had an appointment with you.”

She moved into his arms again, cradling her mug between his chest and hers. “You, ah, kind of caught me off guard last night with all that excitement about Chicago. If I had an appointment with someone, your exciting news made me forget about it.” She sipped her coffee. “You make me forget a lot of things when you touch me.”

His blood flowed south of his waist as she brushed her soft parts against his hard-on. Her eyes gave him an invitation he couldn't resist.

She set down her coffee and pressed her coffee-warmed hands to the flesh above his waistband. He sucked in his belly, then stole a kiss. He sucked her bottom lip, swept his tongue across her bottom front teeth, then slid inside her mouth. She tasted of coffee and excitement.

She moaned lightly and set him on fire with her response. “You have a way with kisses that makes my mind short-circuit,” she murmured. She opened the shirt of his she wore and offered herself. Her breasts bobbed when he cupped them, full and already pebbled.

He swept in and took. Then he took some more.

 

Daniel's lips were magic. On her mouth, her breasts and
there.

The
there
melted and opened. She shifted her feet apart to let him know where she needed his next touch. Fingers skimmed against her wet entrance, tantalizing her with brief swirls. Suddenly, he was there where she needed him, and he filled his hand with her freshly streaming pussy. A finger speared into her while she rolled her hips in a plea.