Beauty and
the Wolf
Lois Faye Dyer
Their Miracle
Twins
Nikki Logan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Beauty and the Wolf

Dear Reader,

Collaborating with friends Chris Flynn, Pat Kay and Allison Leigh to create our second HUNT FOR Cinderella mini-series ranks in my top-ten, most-fun-ever projects. We four had so much fun brainstorming these books. Billionaire HARRY HUNT has turned his matchmaking focus on the four Fairchild sisters—and in my story, Frankie Fairchild is determined to foil his benevolent scheming. But when she enlists childhood crush Eli Wolf in a plan to stymie Harry, she gets far more than a co-conspirator—because Eli is the one man Frankie has never been able to resist. And unknown to Frankie, Eli’s more than ready to convince her he’s the one man she can trust with her heart.

I hope you enjoy Frankie and Eli’s story—and that you’ll return next month for Meet Mr Prince by Patricia Kay for the final installment in the HUNT FOR CINDERELLA series.

Happy reading!

Lois

About the Author

LOIS FAYE DYER lives in a small town on the shore of beautiful Puget Sound in the Pacific Northwest with her two eccentric and lovable cats, Chloe and Evie. She loves to hear from readers. You can write to her c/o Paperbacks Plus, 1618 Bay Street, Port Orchard, WA 98366. Visit her on the web at www.LoisDyer.com.

For Michael, Stefanie, Randall, Lilia and Ava—

you’re the best family possible.

Chapter One

The living room of Harry Hunt’s lakeside mansion in Seattle glowed with warm light. Two matching Tiffany chandeliers were suspended from the high ceiling at each end of the spacious room, their stained-glass flowers vibrant with color. Outside, the rain and wind of a Pacific Northwest storm picked up speed as it raced across Lake Washington to hammer against the window glass. Inside, the people gathered in the big room were warm and comfortable, thanks to the fire crackling in the hearth beneath the hand-carved cedar mantel.

Frankie Fairchild rose from an overstuffed armchair and crossed the room to the bar, leaving her mother, Cornelia, chatting animatedly with Lily Hunt. Several bottles were clustered on the gleaming mahogany surface, and Frankie chose one with a distinctive label. The tart white wine from the Chateau Ste. Michelle Winery just north of Seattle was a personal favorite. She tilted the bottle to refill her glass.

As she sipped from the stemmed crystal, her gaze drifted idly over the room, pausing at the sight of her cousin Justin’s little daughter, Ava, hopping along the edge of the oriental wool carpet.

Harry’s neighbor, local actress Madge Edgley, bent to speak to Ava as the child reached the quartet of people chatting together on the bright red and blue carpet.

Harry always invites the nicest mix of friends and interesting people to his get-togethers, Frankie thought with appreciation. She moved on, noting familiar faces in the groups of people scattered around the long room, until she reached the group of men standing in front of the fireplace. Her uncle Harry and his son Justin were deep in conversation with two other men. Frankie knew one of them—Nicholas Dean—only slightly. The fourth man she knew very well. Eli Wolf was tall and broad-shouldered, with black hair and a rugged handsomeness that could make a woman’s heart stutter if he smiled directly at her.

Eli looked up, snaring her with an intent look from smoky blue eyes. Frankie froze, unable to look away.

It wasn’t until he turned to answer a question from Harry that Frankie realized she’d been holding her breath, caught by that enigmatic, very male stare.

She spun around to face the bar, topping off her wine with faintly trembling fingers.

What on earth is wrong with me?

Ever since Eli had given her a kiss at her last birthday party, she’d been thinking about him much too often. The kiss had sizzled, smoked, even though it was too short. In fact, the memory of his mouth on hers hadn’t faded in the four months since; if she closed her eyes, she could still feel the heat. She’d actually conducted an experiment over the last couple of months, purposefully kissing three other very attractive men. Though all three were adept, practiced and assured at kissing, none of them had stirred one iota of serious interest, let alone lust. She’d felt nothing remotely resembling what she’d felt with Eli. Zero. Zip. Nada.

It was very annoying.

She couldn’t decide what to do about it, if anything. And inaction was so unlike her that her inability to decisively resolve the issue and put it behind her was worrisome.

“Frankie.” A friendly pat on her shoulder accompanied the greeting. “How are you, honey?”

She turned around, glad of the distraction from her thoughts, smiling with affection at the tall, lanky man who was her host. “I’m good, Uncle Harry.” She glanced over his shoulder. “I thought you were busy talking business with Nicholas.”

“I was.” Harry’s shrewd gaze went from Frankie’s face and down the length of the room to the fireplace, where the owner of Dean Construction stood with Justin and Eli. “I must say I’m impressed with Nicholas. He’s built his daddy’s construction company into a solid corporation, despite strong competition. I’d bet money he’ll triple his net worth in the next five years.”

“You’re rarely wrong about these things, so he must be an excellent businessman.” Frankie sipped her white wine, her gaze following Harry’s. There was no question Nicholas Dean’s appearance backed up Harry’s assessment of his potential for success; he fairly oozed self-confidence. He was tall, well built and had an air of easy, affable friendliness that was belied by his sharply intelligent eyes. His presence here tonight, at a gathering of Harry’s family and personal friends, was significant. Frankie met Harry’s eyes once again. “You’re thinking of giving him the contract for building the new HuntCom campus in south Seattle, aren’t you?” she guessed.

“I’m considering it.” Harry nodded. “I’ve narrowed the list down to two—it’s between him and Eli.”

“Hmm.” Frankie wasn’t surprised. Elijah Wolf was the head of Wolf Construction and fiercely competitive. He and Justin were in their thirties now and remained close, although Justin was married, with a little girl, and Eli was still a bachelor.

“If Nicholas gets the contract, we’ll be seeing a lot more of him,” Harry told her.

“Mmm-hmm,” Frankie murmured.

“Whoever gets the job will be working closely with my boys, of course,” he went on, “but Eli’s practically a member of the family already, while Nicholas isn’t as well known to us.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier, then, if you awarded the contract to Eli and his brothers at Wolf Construction?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe. But if I don’t give Dean Construction fair consideration for the job, it smacks of nepotism.”

Frankie choked on a sip of wine. Harry immediately clapped a big hand against her back, thumping her between her shoulder blades.

“Are you all right?” he asked with concern.

“I’m fine, Uncle Harry,” she got out. She coughed to clear her throat and took another sip of wine. “It was the shock of hearing you mention nepotism as if it were a bad thing,” she said, tongue in cheek.

“I don’t practice nepotism,” he growled defensively.

Frankie laughed, her amusement drawing a reluctant grin from Harry.

“All right,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe I tend to take care of my family first, but is that a crime?”

Frankie gave him an impulsive hug, the familiar scent of his aftershave warming her with affectionate memories. “No, Uncle Harry, it’s not.”

“Well, then …” He wrapped an arm around her and gave her a quick hard hug in return. “Besides, you’ll notice I’m not automatically giving Eli the contract. I’m seriously considering Dean Construction. That’s why Nicholas is here tonight—to see how he fits in with our family and friends.”

“He seems to be doing just fine,” Frankie told him, knowing Harry considered business a family matter.

“Yes, he does.” Harry’s gaze rested on Nicholas for a moment. “He’d make a good husband for some lucky woman,” he commented guilelessly.

“Hmm,” Frankie responded, distracted as Ava, Justin and Lily’s daughter, ran across the room and threw herself at Eli. Eli laughed, swinging the little girl high in the air before settling her on his hip. Ava cupped his face in her little hands and gave him an enthusiastic kiss. Eli’s eyes sparkled with amusement and his mouth curved in a grin, white teeth flashing in his tanned face. Distracted and charmed by the unabashed affection between the big, undeniably handsome man and the dainty, feminine little girl, it was a moment before Frankie registered Harry’s last words. Her gaze snapped to his face. He was eyeing her with an all-too-familiar expression. She nearly groaned aloud. Oh, no. Surely he’s not matchmaking again—and with me and Nicholas Dean?

She lowered her lashes and hoped her expression didn’t give away her suspicions as her mind raced, considering the possibility that Harry had turned his penchant for meddling on her.

“Nicholas has what a woman should be looking for in a husband,” Harry continued. “He’s proven he’s dedicated to business, so he’ll be a good provider. Plus, he’s young enough to have children but old enough to be a settled father.”

Frankie blinked, staring at Harry. “You think that’s all a woman wants in a husband? How did you arrive at this abbreviated list?”

Harry waved a hand dismissively. “I covered the essentials. If a woman wants romance, then I suppose Nicholas qualifies in that department—he’s not a bad-looking guy.”

“Harry, you’re astounding.” Frankie leaned closer, gripping his lapel and staring into his eyes. “You left out something extremely important.”

“What’s that?” Harry’s deep voice rumbled, his voice suspicious, as if he was bracing for a blistering lecture.

“You left out the all important x-factor.”

His eyebrows lifted. “The x-factor? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Some people call it chemistry. Some call it sexual attraction. I call it the x-factor.” And Eli has it in spades. The thought flashed through her mind, startling her.

“And you think Nicholas doesn’t have it?” Harry sounded skeptical.

“I don’t know,” Frankie admitted. “I’ve never been out with him. I was speaking in general terms about women and men.”

“Then you’re conceding you might be attracted to Nicholas Dean,” Harry said shrewdly.

“No.” Frankie let go of Harry’s lapel and shook her head, exasperated. Over the last few months, she’d successfully ducked Harry’s attempts to meddle in her love life, but her sisters Tommi and Bobbie hadn’t been as lucky. Fortunately, they’d managed to meet and fall in love with wonderful men on their own, despite Harry’s interference. There was no guarantee Frankie would be as lucky, however. She did not want Harry focused on finding a husband for her. The very thought was enough to make her shudder and break out in hives. “And we’re not talking about Nicholas and me—there is no Nicholas and me,” she stressed.

“But there could be,” Harry insisted. “As soon as his company was shortlisted for HuntCom’s south Seattle construction, I had the usual background check run. Which is why I know Dean Construction badly wants to win the contract. I’m dead sure Nicholas will cooperate in getting to know you—and you can find out if the two of you are attracted to each other.”

“Harry,” Frankie said with forced calm. “I am not going to date Nicholas Dean. I don’t need my uncle’s help in finding men.”

“It’s not as if I’m out there tracking down men for you, Frankie,” Harry protested. “But—”

“Good,” Frankie interrupted. “Because if I thought you were trolling Seattle looking for men you can coerce into dating me, I’d go hire a hit man and give him your address.”

“Frankie!” Harry looked shocked, but his eyes twinkled. “That’s a terrible thing to say. What would your mother think of her favorite daughter threatening my life?”

“She’s used to you, Uncle Harry,” Frankie said dryly. “She’d probably just ask me what you’d done this time to deserve it.”

Harry threw back his head and roared with laugh ter.

Harry’s booming laugh drew everyone’s attention. Eli Wolf looked up, over the top of Ava’s dark curls and across the room at Frankie Fairchild. She sipped white wine from a stemmed glass, her thick-lashed brown eyes fixed on Harry, an amused smile curving her lips. She was tall at five-eight, with long legs and curves that made a man’s hands itch to stroke her. Caramel-blond hair fell to her shoulders in a sleek curtain, framing her beautiful face. The simple, clean-cut lines of a black cocktail dress clung to her body, the long sleeves ending at her wrists. The dress hem was just above her knees, drawing the eye to sleek calves and the delicate bones of her ankles above black pumps with impossibly high heels.

Eli wondered how women walked in those things.

He’d known Francesca Fairchild since she was a little girl. Also, her cousin Justin was his best friend. Unfortunately, those two facts meant Frankie was strictly off-limits for all the things he’d like to do with her—something he’d regretted more often than he cared to think about. Especially over the past four months—ever since that unforgettable kiss at her birthday party.

“Unca Eli?” Ava’s small hand tugged his face around until she could meet his gaze. “Mommy says I can have a pet bunny, but first we have to get a cage for him. Will you make one for me? And can I come visit and help you hammer the nails and boards when you make it?”

Eli grinned, glad to be distracted from thoughts of Frankie and charmed as always by the little girl’s green eyes and hopeful smile. “Sure, honey. Let’s go ask your mom and dad when we can do that.”

With Ava perched on his hip, Eli strode across the room to join her parents and settle into a leather armchair. The seat gave him an unobstructed view of Frankie and was placed at right angles to the sofa where Justin and Lily chatted with Cornelia Fairchild, Frankie’s mother.

“Mommy.” Ava’s clear voice piped up. “Unca Eli’s going to help me build a bunny house.”

“That’s wonderful, honey.” Lily’s rueful gaze met Eli’s. “And how does Uncle Eli feel about this?”

“We have a plan,” Eli told her with a grin. “And it includes Justin’s barbecuing steaks for my granddad to pay my carpenter fee.”

“What? How did I get caught up in this?” Justin demanded, his eyes amused.

“Hey, you’re the dad,” Eli told him with a shrug. “I’m just the uncle.”

“I love you, Unca Eli.” Ava wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek.

“I love you, too.” Eli barely had time to register the swell of affection that filled him before the little girl jumped off his lap and climbed onto her father’s. Both Justin and Lily received hugs and kisses, the adults exchanging amused looks.

Ava launched into an excited description of plans for the rabbit hutch.

Only half-listening, Eli leaned back in the comfortable chair, his gaze going past the trio and across the room, drawn inexorably to Frankie once again.

The interplay between her and Harry as they conversed held the ease of comfortable familiarity. Frankie’s smile was affectionate as she smiled up at Harry, whose black hair and shrewd eyes, hidden behind dark-framed glasses, belied his age. Eli knew Frankie’s father had died when she was a child and if one could judge by appearances, it seemed Harry had stepped in to fill the role.

We have that in common, except it was my grandfather who took over my father’s role, Eli mused. And Frankie still has her mom while I lost both parents.

Cornelia was a force to be reckoned with, Eli thought, glancing at the older woman’s serene face as she listened to Ava describe her rabbit.

But then, so was Jack Wolf. Eli’s grandfather had taken in Eli and his three brothers, Conner, Ethan and Matt, a short two hours after a car crash on Seattle’s I-5 had taken their parents’ lives. Already a widower, Jack became a substitute parent to the four grieving boys, and his fierce commitment and support had created a family to heal their shattered lives.

Frankie watched Eli and Ava cross the room to join Justin and Lily, the little girl waving her hands excitedly as she talked.

“Why are you so determined to fix me up with Nicholas?” she demanded in an attempt to distract Harry, gesturing with her glass. “What about Eli? He’s single, he and his brothers own a successful construction company—isn’t he on your list of potential suitors?”

Harry glanced over his shoulder. “I’d be happy if you dated Eli. I like the boy,” he told her. “But he shows no signs of wanting to settle down. I suspect he’s a confirmed bachelor—I doubt he’ll ever marry.”

“You felt the same way about Justin once,” Frankie reminded him. “And look at him now—devoted father, loving husband. He’s a contented, happy man since he married Lily.”

“True,” Harry conceded with a dismissive shrug. “But Eli’s different than Justin. Justin hadn’t dated for a year or more before he and Lily got back together. He clearly needed Lily and wanted a wife and family. But like I said, Eli’s never given the slightest indication of being ready to settle down.” He nodded in Nicholas’s direction. “Now, you take Nicholas—he seems much more the type to marry and start a family.”

Frankie only half listened as Harry continued to list Nicholas Dean’s virtues. Unfortunately, she had to agree with Harry about Eli. He’d spent most of the last year recovering in stages after an accident on a construction site that snapped the bone in his lower left leg. Prior to that, however, if rumor was true, he’d been perfectly happy running his company and dating a variety of women. He’d been the poster boy for the quintessential bachelor before his accident, and Frankie assumed he’d returned to his active dating life now that he was recovered.

Wait a minute. Her eyes narrowed with sudden insight. The only way she could convince Harry to scratch her off his list of unmarried family members in need of his matchmaking assistance was if she could make him believe she was in a serious relationship.

But she wasn’t dating anyone at the moment, let alone deeply involved. What she needed, she realized, was a man willing to conspire with her to foil Harry. A man who, like her, had something to gain from plotting against her uncle. And a man who had no interest in settling down.

Eli Wolf was exactly the kind of man she needed.

She glanced sideways at Harry, murmuring a noncommittal response as he listed the charities that Nicholas Dean had contributed to the prior year.

The question was, would Eli be willing to plot with her to trick Harry?

“… and Nicholas said his family has lived in Queen Anne for over a hundred years,” Harry’s deep voice recited.

“Interesting,” Frankie murmured, catching only the end of Harry’s comment.

“Both of his grandmothers are alive,” Harry continued, “and live within a few blocks of each other on prime pieces of real estate.”

Harry kept talking, but Frankie tuned him out as she considered Harry’s matchmaking and how to stop him. She cherished her independence, loved her job as a research assistant and substitute English-literature professor at the University of Washington, and had no interest in changing her life. She was happy, content and did not want Harry nudging her toward marriage, no matter how well-intentioned his efforts.

Once again, her gaze went across the room, unerringly zeroing in on Eli. He and Ava were now seated with Lily and Cornelia, the little girl perched on his knee as she waved her hands and chattered enthusiastically to her mother.

Eli Wolf was the only man she knew who could stop Harry’s plans. He was well liked by Harry; in fact, he was practically an adopted son. And his company would benefit by getting the contract for constructing the HuntCom campus, so he, too, would benefit from joining forces with her.

An hour later, Frankie was still mulling over the potential scheme as she drove home. It wasn’t until she was in her pajamas and in bed, a book opened and then ignored on her lap, that she faced another, potentially more important, issue.

If Eli agreed to help her, they would have to spend time together pretending to be a couple. And maybe—just maybe—she would finally get over her long-ago crush on him.

She’d known Eli since she was eleven years old and her cousin Justin had brought his best friend to a party at Harry’s house. When she was fifteen, he’d joined Justin in vetting and harassing her first boyfriends, all under the guise of being protective stand-in brothers.

At sixteen, she’d suffered through a major crush on Eli, who was then twenty-one. By the time she was nineteen, she’d believed her crush was behind her and was relieved she’d kept her feelings a secret. She hadn’t even told her three sisters, Georgie, Tommi and Bobbie, about it.

She’d thought yearning after Eli Wolf was a part of her childish, romantic past, her feelings packed away with other high school memories. She’d gone on to date college boys and, later, a fellow professor at the University of Washington, a CPA and a lawyer or two.

She frowned at the blurred lines of type in the open book, not seeing the words.

Until he’d kissed her to wish her happy birthday, she’d been so sure she was over her crush. But the kissing experiment with three other men had raised serious questions.

Surely it couldn’t be that Eli Wolf’s kisses were addictive and had resurrected her schoolgirl infatuation—but if not, why did other men’s lips taste bland and boring?

She needed an answer. She didn’t date often, preferring instead to have a mixed circle of friends who attended events in a group. But in her admittedly limited experience, she’d never yet met a man who could hold her interest longer than a few dates. Surely the same thing would happen with Eli—and she’d permanently set aside her childish adoration for him and move on to happily date other men.

But what if she fell for him, rather than growing tired of him?

That won’t happen, she scoffed silently as she closed her book, set it on the nightstand and snapped off the lamp. I’m not foolish enough to fall in love with a commitment-phobic bachelor.

But she’d have to be on guard, she thought sleepily. She liked her life just as it was. She didn’t want to fall in love and surrender her independence or change the basics of her comfortable life. Though twenty years had passed since her father’s death, she vividly remembered the following days and months and how devastated her mother had been. Watching her mother over those early years as she coped with grief, Frankie had come to believe that loving deeply carried the potential for even deeper hurt.

Because Cornelia, Frankie and her sisters had adored George Fairchild. It wasn’t until after his death that they’d learned he’d had a gambling habit that left his grieving family nearly destitute.

She’d trusted her father with all the blind faith of a child. While she hadn’t stopped loving him, as she grew older she’d sworn never to foolishly trust a man that deeply again.

She’d always been goal-oriented and focused, she thought, stifling a yawn. Surely she could be the same while dealing with Eli? She’d keep her eyes on the prize—derailing Harry’s matchmaking intentions and putting to rest forever any remnants of her teenage crush.

Satisfied she’d fully considered and understood both the upside and downside of her plan, Frankie fell asleep.

She dreamed of a tall, broad-shouldered man with black hair and smoky-blue eyes—he held out his arms and her dream self ran joyously toward him.

In her quiet bedroom, she tossed and turned, murmuring and tangling the blankets as she dreamed.

Chapter Two

Two days after dinner at Harry’s house, Frankie left her office on the University of Washington campus midmorning and drove to Ballard. The Seattle community was twenty minutes west of the UW campus and an equal distance northwest of downtown Seattle. Wolf Construction’s business office was located in the industrial section near the Ballard Locks. Except for a diesel pickup truck with a Wolf Construction logo on the door, the parking lot on the south side of the building was empty.

When she entered the outer office, the reception area was quiet and empty, the two secretarial desks vacant.

“Hello?” No one answered her call, and she frowned. Surely the office’s outer door would have been locked if no one was here?

The silence was broken by a loud thump somewhere deeper in the building, followed by a male voice muttering what sounded like swearing. Frankie peered past the desks and down the hallway beyond, where several doors stood open into offices.

“Hello?” she called again. When no one appeared, Frankie waited another moment before determinedly rounding the desk and marching down the hall.

“Damn it,” a male voice rumbled with annoyance. “Where the hell did Connor put those plans?”

Frankie followed the deep voice, stepping into an office. She halted just inside. Eli stood across the room, his back to her as he pulled open a drawer and shuffled through the papers inside. He wore heavy black work boots, jeans and a black T-shirt. He bent over the drawer, and faded denim pulled tight over his rear. Beneath the snug clothes, sculpted muscles shifted and bunched as he stretched to reach the back of the drawer. Frankie stared, riveted, her body heating as her gaze followed the movements of his powerful body.

He straightened, shoving the drawer closed and opening the next one with an impatient jerk.

The noise snapped Frankie out of the spell that held her, and she gathered her composure, taking a deep, calming breath. “Hello, Eli.”

He stiffened and quickly swung around, his eyes flaring with surprise just before his mouth curved in a grin.

“Frankie? What are you doing here?”

Now that she was actually about to propose her plan to Eli, Frankie was suddenly nervous. Her fingers gripped the leather strap of her black Coach purse a bit tighter.

“I need to talk to you about something. Do you have a few minutes?”

Clearly surprised, he cocked his head to the side, considering her for a brief moment. “Sure.” He tossed a roll of blueprints into the open drawer, pushed it closed and moved away from the cabinet. “Come on in. Have a seat.” He gestured at the two leather armchairs facing the desk. “I’d offer you something to drink, but the office staff has the day off and the coffee is probably cold sludge left over from yesterday.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine.” Frankie crossed to the chair and sat, perching on the edge of the comfortable seat.

Eli half sat on the edge of the desk facing her. The position had him much too close to her. She had to look up to meet his gaze. At eye level, the worn denim of his jeans stretched across powerful thighs. Determinedly, she kept her gaze on his face.

“So, tell me,” he prompted when she hesitated. “What brings you to Ballard this morning?”

Now that she was here, faced with explaining her plan to Eli, Frankie was reluctant to begin the conversation.

“What were you looking for when I came in?” she asked, not answering his question. “You sounded frustrated.”

Eli glanced over his shoulder at the cabinet. “Frustrated isn’t a strong enough word,” he said, his gaze swinging back to meet hers. “My brother Connor told his secretary to send the blueprints down to the job site, but she sent the wrong ones. I came back to pick them up, but I’ll be damned if I can find them.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the cabinet with its long drawers. “They’re not in the project drawer.” He sounded thoroughly disgusted.

“Can you call him on his cell and ask him?” Frankie suggested.

“I tried that,” he told her. “He’s not answering.”

“I’m sorry,” she said with sympathy. “I know how disturbing it can be to have a project stopped. I hate wasting time while I wait for someone to respond before I can move forward.”

He nodded, his blue eyes warming. “It’s bloody annoying,” he agreed.

Eli studied Frankie through narrowed eyes.

She’s nervous, he thought with surprise. Making small talk about his search for the blueprints was only a ruse to delay telling him why she was here.

When he’d swung around and saw her framed in the office doorway, he’d been slammed with the same jolt of awareness that had plagued him ever since they’d shared a kiss at her birthday party four months earlier. Though it was meant to be casual, he hadn’t been able to forget the feel and taste of Frankie’s soft, lush mouth under his.

She’d featured prominently in more than one hot, sweaty dream ever since, leaving him sleep deprived and cranky the next morning.

He raked his fingers through his hair and shifted, forcing himself to remember the beautiful blonde sitting in the chair facing him was Justin’s cousin and, therefore, off-limits. “Come on, Frankie,” he coaxed. “Tell me why you’re here.”

She shifted in her chair, slim fingers tucking a strand of hair behind one small ear. She sat primly, feet aligned on the floor, hands now resting quietly on her lap. “I’ve known you a long time, Eli,” she began. “And more importantly, you’ve known my uncle Harry since you were a teenager. I’m sure you’re aware of Harry’s scheme to force his sons to marry, and how Justin fell in love with Lily in spite of Harry’s interference.”

“Of course.” Eli nodded. “Justin told me before the wedding.”

“What you might not be aware of,” Frankie went on, “is that Harry seems to think that since his scheming to force his sons to marry turned out so well, he’s decided to become a matchmaker for the Fairchilds. All four of us—including me.”

Eli was stunned. “You’re kidding” was all he could manage to get out. He shook his head in disbelief, but Frankie’s face didn’t look as if this was a joke. “That doesn’t make any sense. He damn near ruined all four of his sons’ chances at marrying the women they wanted.”

“I know!” Frankie leaned forward. “And he almost did the same with Tommi and Bobbie! Apparently, he thinks he’s successful, however, because he’s turned his sights on me.”

“What the hell?” Eli felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. “Who does Harry want you to marry?”

“Nicholas Dean.”

Oh, hell no! Eli’s rejection of the possibility that Frankie would marry Nicholas Dean was visceral and immediate. Somehow, he kept himself from snarling aloud. “Why did he pick Dean?” he asked, aware his voice was deeper, rougher than it had been only moments before.

Frankie waved one small, graceful hand. “Who knows? I think he picked Nicholas because Dean Construction was on Harry’s radar. Harry told me he’d run the usual background check on the company when it was shortlisted for the contract to build HuntCom’s new building in south Seattle. Evidently, Harry was impressed with Nicholas’s work ethic, plus the fact that he’s single, so Harry decided he should encourage Nicholas to ask me out.”

“And you’re not on board with the plan?”

“No!” Frankie frowned at him, her brown eyes sparking with gold. “I’m not.”

“I see.” Relief flooded Eli, the corners of his mouth lifting in a grin. “And you want me to tell Harry you’re not interested in dating Nicholas?” he guessed.

“I’ve already told Uncle Harry I’m not interested,” she informed him. “It didn’t faze him, and I suspect he’s working on a scheme to push me and Nicholas together even as we speak.”

Eli’s smile disappeared.

“I’ve watched Uncle Harry interfere in Tommi’s and Bobbie’s love lives,” Frankie went on. “And I’m convinced the only way to stop his matchmaking is to convince him that I’m taken. That’s where you come in.”

Eli blinked. “That’s where I come in?” he repeated.

She nodded decisively. “I have zero interest in getting married—and the general consensus of opinion in the family is that you don’t, either. Which makes you the perfect person for my plan.”

Eli narrowed his eyes over her thoughtfully. “I’m not sure I’m following you. Maybe you should give me the abbreviated version.”

Frankie waved her hands expressively, her expression wry. “I’m sorry—let me back up. The other night at Harry’s house when he was telling me all the reasons I should want to date and perhaps marry Nicholas Dean, you were standing across the room holding Ava. I’m afraid I used you to distract Harry and asked him why he didn’t suggest you as a potential husband. He told me he doubted you would marry. He said you seemed perfectly happy with your life as it was. Well …” She shrugged. “The moment Harry said that, I realized you were the perfect person for me to date, because neither of us wants to get married. When Harry kept droning on about all of Nicholas’s good qualities, I had a brainstorm.”

“A brainstorm,” Eli repeated. He realized belatedly that he kept repeating her statements and told himself to stop.

“Yes, exactly.” She leaned forward, her brown eyes gleaming with determination. “Which brings me to the reason I came to see you today. I need to convince Harry I’m madly in love and deeply committed to someone so he’ll stop trying to pair me up with single men. But I’m not in love, and there’s no one on my horizon. So I need someone to pretend to be involved with, while you,” she continued, pointing at him, “would like Wolf Construction to win the contract for the new HuntCom building. So … my proposal is that we team up. If you’ll pretend to be involved with me, I can almost guarantee Uncle Harry will move Wolf Construction to the top of the list for the contract. He’s already narrowed it down to you and Nicholas, and he as good as admitted to me that he’s inclined to award contracts to family or close family friends.”

“You want me to date you in order to get Harry to give my company a contract?” Eli asked, his tone neutral.

“Not exactly,” she told him. “I’m only suggesting that we both have something to gain—and frankly, I need a pretend-date/boyfriend as fast as possible. Harry, my mother and sisters already know and adore you, so they won’t bat an eye if it’s you I claim to have fallen madly in love with. If I introduce someone new, they’re going to be more skeptical. I want Harry off my back. Heaven knows what trouble he can stir up for me.” She shuddered.

Eli stared at her for a long moment. He didn’t want her believing he was the kind of man who would use her to gain a lucrative construction contract. On the other hand, there was no way he’d let her be courted by Nicholas Dean.

Not that Dean was a bad guy. He was, in fact, everything Harry thought he was—smart, successful and played a mean game of pool. Just the kind of man a woman could easily fall in love with.

Which was why there was no way in hell Eli was going to let him near Frankie, not if he could help it. He knew he was being territorial, but he couldn’t seem to help it.

Probably because I want to be the one burning up the sheets with Frankie, he thought. In fact, he realized with a start, he’d felt that way for months.

And it was time he did something about it.

“Well,” she said expectantly, interrupting his thoughts. “Will you do it?”

“Yeah,” he said with a slow drawl. “I will.” He stood, bending to cup her elbow and lift her from the chair. “Let’s go get some coffee and talk about the details.”

He hustled her out of the office and down the street to Zena’s Café before she had time to change her mind.

“So,” he said when they were seated in a booth with steaming mugs in front of them, “how do you envision going forward with this campaign to fool Harry?”

“I thought we’d keep it simple,” Frankie told him. “We can work out a list of events Harry is likely to attend. Then we can appear together and pretend to be in love while Harry’s watching. Hopefully, it won’t take long to convince him. Once he accepts that, he can cross me off his matchmaking list and sign your company contract for the new HuntCom campus, and we can go back to our normal lives.”

“Harry’s pretty shrewd—I’m not sure he’s going to be as easy to convince as you seem to think,” Eli told her. “He didn’t get his reputation as a shark in the financial world by being dense.”

“But that’s business.” Frankie propped her forearms on the polished wood tabletop and leaned forward. “When it comes to personal relationships, Harry can be amazingly unaware. Look at the women he married—disasters, every one of them.”

“You’ve got a point.” Eli shrugged. “It’s hard to argue with his marital record. The only good thing about Harry’s ex-wives is that he stopped getting married after making four bad choices.”

“Exactly.” Frankie nodded decisively. “I truly anticipate he’ll accept our romantic smoke screen as fact. I don’t think he’ll look deeper.”

“Nevertheless,” Eli told her. “If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right. Remember,” he cautioned her, “it’s not just Harry we have to convince. Your mother or sisters are likely to be attending the same functions as Harry. If we’re not believable, they’ll never buy it. Cornelia’s not going to be easy to fool—especially when it comes to one of her daughters. And if Cornelia knows we’re faking, she’s likely to tell Harry.”

Frankie frowned, unconsciously winding a lock of hair around her forefinger in a gesture Eli had noticed her make before when she was deep in thought.

“You’re right,” she murmured. She looked up at Eli, her brown eyes alive with bright determination, gold flecks swimming in the chocolate-brown depths. “So we can’t let her know we’re pretending. Think you can pull it off?”

Her tone matched the challenge in the quick curve of her lips.

“Absolutely.” He lifted a brow, tossing the challenge back at her with a slow smile. “The question is, can you?”

She laughed, shrugging in a quick, elegant shift of her shoulders beneath the tailored blue suit jacket. “A woman learns to fake being interested in a guy before she’s out of junior high school. It’s a rite of passage.”

“Yeah?” Startled and intrigued, Eli lifted an eyebrow in inquiry. “Why in junior high?”

“Because at my school, that was the first year of boy-girl dances, and every girl wanted a date. Unfortunately, the girls outnumbered the boys two-to-one. Which meant there was a lot of competition for invitations to the school functions.”

Eli swept a slow, appreciative gaze over her face, hair, down her throat and the swell of her breasts beneath the cream blouse she wore under her suit jacket. The table edge prevented him from going lower, and he returned to meet her eyes. “I bet you never had to compete for a date. I’m guessing the boys were lined up next to your school locker, waiting for you to choose.”

She threw back her head and laughed, the throaty musical sound stroking over Eli as if she’d touched him.

“Not hardly,” she said when she stopped chuckling, her eyes dancing. “When I was thirteen, I wore braces, was skinny—straight up and down without a curve in sight—spent most of my time with my nose buried in a book, and last but not least, I was taller than any boy in my class. So, no … I wasn’t exactly the most desirable date on anyone’s list.” She lifted her cup and sipped, eyeing him with amusement.

“No kidding?” Bemused, he stared at her. “I’m trying to imagine you as a skinny thirteen-year-old with crooked teeth, and it just doesn’t compute.”

“I’ll show you one of my seventh-grade class pictures sometime. Trust me—I’m not lying. In fact …” She considered for a moment. “It’s entirely possible that the reality of my thirteen-year-old nerdiness was much worse than I’m describing.”

Eli laughed, charmed by her candid comments. “Why don’t I remember you at thirteen?” he asked.

“Because you and Justin were freshmen in college that year and really busy—I hardly saw Justin that year, except for dinner on Christmas Day,” Frankie told him.

“That’s right,” Eli mused, thinking back. “First year at the UW was crazy busy. Now I wish I’d taken time to visit at Christmas. If I had, I could have seen you in braces.”

“You didn’t miss much,” she said dryly. “How about you? I’m guessing you weren’t a skinny nerd with braces when you were thirteen.”

Eli considered. “You’d have to ask the girls in my class whether they thought I was a nerd,” he told her. “I didn’t have braces, but I earned good grades and I was certainly a lot skinnier than I am now.”

“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

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.”

Chapter Four

The Grand Sylvania’s portico roof shielded the car from the rain as Eli stepped out and turned to take Frankie’s hand. The well-lit area did nothing to hold the wind at bay, however, and the two hurried into the hotel lobby, joining other guests to ride an escalator to the second floor. The muted rumble of crowd laughter and conversation underlaid an orchestra’s rendition of a Broadway tune as they stepped off the moving stairs and neared an open ballroom door.

A hotel employee greeted them, taking Frankie’s coat before passing it on to a young woman in a white evening gown, a Children’s Hospital ribbon pinned to her bodice.

“May I have your tickets, please?”

Frankie quickly located the lavender cards in her small evening purse and handed them over.

“Ah, yes. This way, please.”

“Thank you.” Frankie smiled at their hostess and followed her. Close behind her, Eli’s hand rested on the curve of her waist, his palm and long fingers warm and faintly possessive. Frankie was vibrantly aware of his broad bulk at her back; the very air separating them seemed alive with electricity.

They wound their way between tables toward the front of the big room. Frankie scanned the guests, locating Cornelia seated with Harry and another couple at a table for six on the edge of the polished dance floor.

Cornelia looked up, her lips curving in a welcoming smile as she raised a hand to beckon with a wave. Then her gaze moved past Frankie, her eyes widening as she saw Eli. She quickly looked back at Frankie, her eyebrows lifting in silent query just as the two reached the table.

“Hello, Mother.” Frankie bent to kiss Cornelia’s cheek and paused to say hello to Marcia Adkins.

Harry and Jonathon Adkins stood, greeting Frankie and Eli as he drew out a chair for her. She murmured her thanks, smoothing her skirts as Eli settled into the chair next to her.

“I didn’t know you were bringing Eli,” Cornelia said with a smile. “But I’m glad you did. It’s lovely to see you, Eli. I hardly got to say more than hello to you the other evening at Harry’s house.”

“I’m sorry, Cornelia. Justin and Lily promised Ava she could have a pet rabbit for her birthday. We spent most of the evening discussing the proper size of the hutch we’re going to build.” Eli’s eyes twinkled.

“That’s my Ava,” Harry said with a fond pride. “You’ll notice she went straight to a professional builder,” he said to Jonathon.

“Not to mention choosing a man most likely to give her whatever she wants,” Eli said dryly, earning him a soft, approving smile from Cornelia.

“You’ve got competition for the title,” Harry told him. “From her dad, me and her three uncles.”

Eli laughed. “True. She’s a charmer, that little girl.” He turned to speak with a waiter, and Cornelia leaned close to murmur in Frankie’s ear.

“You didn’t tell me Eli was your date for tonight.”

“It was a last-minute thing,” Frankie whispered back.

“I didn’t realize you two were dating.” Cornelia’s comment held a question.

“We’ve seen each other a few times,” Frankie said. It wasn’t really a lie, she told herself. She and Eli had seen each other recently—once at Harry’s house and then again at his office. That qualified as seeing each other, didn’t it?

Cornelia’s expression was intrigued, but before she could question Frankie further, two waiters arrived with bottles of champagne and began pouring.

“Oh, how wonderful. I love champagne,” Frankie said with delight, accepting a flute from Eli. “How did you know?”

“You had champagne at your last birthday party.”

His gaze met hers, and Frankie’s heart skipped a beat. The memory of her birthday party and the kiss they’d shared was in his eyes, and Frankie was suddenly back there, his mouth on hers, his arms warm and hard, wrapping her tight against the powerful muscles of his chest and thighs….

“How nice that you remembered.”

Cornelia’s warm voice broke the spell that held Frankie, and she tore her gaze from Eli’s, looking down at the bubbles rising in the gold liquid filling her flute.

Eli relaxed in his chair, a glass in one hand, the other arm stretched out along the back of Frankie’s chair. His fingers brushed the bare curve of her shoulder before closing warmly, lightly, over the nape of her neck.

“I remember everything about Frankie.” His voice was deeper, huskier.

Frankie glanced sideways, and their gazes meshed. She tried to remember he was only playing a role. But his blue eyes were darker, smokier, and the heat within seemed so real Frankie felt herself melting, her body unconsciously softening, easing toward his.

“I don’t recall seeing you at Frankie’s last birthday party,” Harry said.

Frankie glanced up, alerted by Harry’s tone, and saw his eyes narrow over Eli.

“I wasn’t there long,” Eli said without missing a beat. “I’d barely recovered from a second leg surgery and stopped in for a few minutes, looking for Justin. I didn’t know you were having a party until I got there and only stayed long enough to say hello and toast the birthday girl before leaving.”

“Ah, that must be why I don’t remember—I probably didn’t see you in the crowd,” Harry mused.

“There were a lot of people at the house,” Eli agreed.

His fingertips absently stroked the curve of Frankie’s shoulder, almost as if he was savoring the tactile pleasure of her skin against his. Despite knowing he was only touching her because Harry and Cornelia were watching, Frankie still shivered inwardly, her skin heating beneath his touch.

“Oh, Jonathon,” Marcia exclaimed, her eyes lighting as the orchestra played the opening notes of a classic Burt Bacharach tune. “I love this song—come dance with me.” She held out her hand to her husband.

“Excuse us, folks,” Jonathon said as he rose and took his wife’s hand.

Eli leaned closer, his lips brushing Frankie’s earlobe.

“Let’s dance.”

She nodded silently, and he stood, pulling back her chair.

“Harry, you should dance with Mom,” she said as Eli took her hand, threading her fingers through his.

“I think we’ll sit this one out and finish our champagne,” Harry replied.

Frankie thought she caught a fleeting frown cross her mother’s features before Eli tugged her gently out onto the gleaming floor.

He turned her into his arms, tucking her close. Her temple rested against his cheek, and each breath she took drew in the subtle scent of his aftershave, warmed by body heat. She loved that smell, she thought, leaning closer.

“Did you see Harry’s face?” Eli’s voice was a low rumble. He chuckled, his breath ghosting against her ear. “He can’t decide whether to demand we tell him why we’re here together or pretend it’s not happening.”

Frankie laughed. “I’d give anything to hear what he’s saying to Mom right now.”

Eli’s arms tightened around Frankie. “Heads up,” he whispered in her ear. “Harry and your mom are heading this way.”

Frankie tilted her head back and looked up at him. “Do we have a plan?” she asked, even as she reveled in the muscled strength of his arm at her waist, his warm fingers threaded through hers and the press of her increasingly sensitized body as it lay against his from breast to thigh.

His lashes lowered, his eyes going darker as the moment stretched. Then he swung her in a slow circle, his steps sure as he swept her into a secluded corner, behind a tall column with baskets of ferns and flowers widening its base.

Her skirts swirled around his legs as he stopped, easing her backward against the column’s support.

His gaze didn’t leave hers as he bent his head and brushed his mouth against hers.

It was like touching a live electrical wire. Frankie started, her hands curling into fists over his lapels as she caught her breath.

“Shh,” he murmured against her lips. Then his mouth fitted carefully over hers, changing the angle of the kiss as it lengthened, stealing the oxygen from her lungs until he breathed for her.

Frankie forgot that a roomful of people danced and laughed only feet away from where she stood, locked in Eli’s arms, concealed behind the column. The world faded away, narrowing to hold only Eli.

When at last he lifted his head, she was breathless. If she hadn’t been supported against his solid strength, she knew she would have wobbled, her knees weak.

Eli’s hooded gaze searched hers, his breath coming too fast. His fingertips moved reflexively against the bare skin of her back above the low-cut gown as if unable to keep from stroking, and a muscle ticked along the line of his jaw. Whatever he saw in her eyes had his lips curving upward in a slow, sensual half smile that made Frankie yearn for the feel of his mouth on hers again. Then he wrapped her closer and swept her out from behind the column, back into the crowd, the music a slow swirl of sound around them. Frankie let him guide her, her feet automatically moving to the rhythm as she struggled to clear her head.

She was every bit as shaken now as she’d been by that first kiss all those months ago at her birthday party. No question about it, she thought with faint dismay, when she’d felt the earth move during that first kiss, it hadn’t been the result of drinking too much champagne on an empty stomach.

Because it had just happened again.

Harry and Cornelia, with half the dance floor now separating them from Eli and Frankie, were each trying to digest and interpret what they’d just seen.

“I haven’t purposely spied on any of my daughters since they were teenagers,” Cornelia told Harry. “I feel guilty.”

“We didn’t spy on them on purpose,” Harry protested. “We just happened to be dancing near them when he pulled her behind that column. It’s not as if we were using binoculars.”

Cornelia leaned back against his arm and looked up at him. “Even you can’t believe that excuse, Harry,” she admonished him, shaking her head. “You know very well you asked me to dance solely to keep an eye on Frankie and Eli.”

“All right,” he admitted. “It’s true. But in my defense, I’m having a hard time believing she’s suddenly interested in Eli. They’ve known each other for years, and I’ve never seen a hint of anything romantic between them.”

“Maybe that’s precisely why,” Cornelia pointed out. “Sometimes two people can be too close and not realize they’re perfect for each other.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Harry scoffed, dismissing the concept. “If a man and a woman are thrown together often enough, sooner or later they’ll realize they’re attracted. Probably happen sooner rather than later,” he added.

“Perhaps,” Cornelia conceded. “But some people are so obtuse, they wouldn’t see the perfect partner if they tripped over them.”

Her voice held an underlying snap, but Harry didn’t notice.

“Well, I still think Nicholas would make the perfect man for Frankie.”

Cornelia’s eyes widened, then narrowed over Harry’s face. “Please tell me you’re not matchmaking again, Harry.”

Her voice held an ominous tone. Harry winced. “Now, Cornelia,” he said persuasively, “what makes you think I’d do that?”

Cornelia wasn’t entirely convinced but let the subject drop as the orchestra left the bandstand for a break and they returned to their table.

Three hours later, after dinner followed by more champagne and dancing, Eli handed Frankie into the back of the limousine once more.

The car moved smoothly away from the hotel portico. Outside the tinted windows, the glow of downtown Seattle’s neon signs, bright car headlights and red taillights blurred into rivers of moving color in the rain.

Frankie sighed and relaxed, turning her head against the buttery soft leather seat to look at Eli. “I think we were a success tonight. Harry was clearly surprised to see you with me, although I’m not sure he’s convinced yet that we’re a couple. What do you think?”

“I suspect it’s going to take more than one appearance to make Harry believe we’re involved. He needs to be convinced you’re crazy about me and unlikely to be interested in someone else if he’s going to stop trying to hook you up with Nicholas.” Eli’s half smile was wry. “Harry’s like a dog with a bone. Once he gets an idea in his head, it takes major evidence to get him to change his mind. He’s stubborn.”

“Then we’ll just have to be even more determined—and outlast him. Are you up for that?”

Eli shrugged, his eyes glinting at the challenge. “I told you when we first talked about this that I didn’t expect Harry to be easily convinced.” He shrugged. “Tonight was just the opening salvo in a campaign—but in the end, we’ll win.”

Frankie stared at him, arrested. “You sound like a character out of the Godfather movies. I suppose next you’ll be telling me we need to go to the mattresses.”

He laughed out loud. “We might reach that point, knowing Harry.”

“I know,” Frankie murmured, distracted by the flash of his smile in the shadowy interior of the limo. “I confess, when I came up with this plan, I thought we could be seen together a couple of times and Harry would abandon his matchmaking schemes. I should have known he wouldn’t give up so easily.”

“Not to worry.” Eli picked up her hand, threading her fingers through his before resting their joined hands on his thigh. “We’re partners, right? The two of us together are a match for Harry.”

The car slowed, pulling to the curb and stopping. Eli glanced out the window. “We’re home.” Before their driver could exit to open their door, Eli stepped out and opened an umbrella as he turned to lend Frankie a hand.

Rain pattered on the umbrella, but beneath it Frankie was warm and dry, tucked into the curve of Eli’s side, his hand at her waist. They hurried up the sidewalk to the shelter of the condo building’s wide overhang. The lobby was empty and quiet when they entered, the elevator and third-floor hallway equally hushed.

Frankie unlocked her door and turned, her shoulder brushing against Eli’s black tux jacket. “I’ll call you as soon as I talk to Mom and find out where we might run into Harry again,” she told him.

“Sounds good.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss against her mouth. “Good night,” he murmured, his blue eyes darkened between half-lowered lashes.

“Good night,” Frankie managed to respond before slipping inside and closing the door. She leaned back against the panels, hearing the sound of the elevator’s ping announcing its arrival, then silence. She hurried across her living room and peered out through the blinds at the street below. Short moments later, Eli moved across the sidewalk and ducked into the waiting limo. Then the car pulled away from the curb and disappeared around the corner at the end of her street.

She left the window and moved slowly into her bedroom, stripping off her coat and hanging it away in the closet before unzipping her gown and stepping out of it.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Eli as she finished undressing, removing her bracelet. To her relief, the necklace clasp opened easily, and she tucked it and the bracelet into her jewelry box. But when she took off the matching earrings, she discovered one of them was missing. Despite searching the carpet and shaking out the green gown and evening coat, she didn’t find the one-of-a-kind heirloom. With sinking heart, she added the single earring to the lacquered jewelry box and closed the lid.

I can’t imagine how I’ll find a jeweler to create a matching earring, she thought as she slipped into pink flannel pajama bottoms and a cotton tank top.

The troubling loss of her earring was soon set aside as she returned to thoughts of Eli. So far, her plan to erase unrealistic romantic notions left over from her teenage years was failing miserably. Eli Wolf was even more charming than she’d expected.

And kissing him could prove to be addictive, she thought as she settled under the comforter and turned out the lamp.

She still believed her plan to make Harry cease his matchmaking by convincing him she was madly in love with Eli would work.

But she wasn’t nearly as positive that spending more time with Eli would cure her of her high school crush. In fact, she suspected it just might do the opposite.

Chapter Five

On Sunday afternoon following the fundraiser for the Children’s Hospital, Frankie drove to her mother’s house. She was sure Cornelia would question her about Eli, but her mother didn’t raise the subject as they chatted about the success of the event while brewing a pot of tea in the kitchen. While Frankie loaded a tray with the Wedgwood teapot and cups, Cornelia carried napkins and a plate of shortbread biscuits out to the front porch just as a white pickup with a Wolf Construction logo on the doors pulled to a stop at the curb.

“Frankie,” Cornelia called, peering out a tall window as the driver stepped out of the pickup. “Isn’t that Eli? Were you expecting him?”

Frankie stepped out onto the porch, carrying the tea tray. She set the heavy silver tray on the low table in front of her mother and looked out the window.

There was no mistaking the tall, broad-shouldered man strolling up the walk—and no denying the swift surge of pleased surprise the sight of him elicited in Frankie.

“It is Eli—but I have no idea why he’s here.”

Cornelia had renovated the porch of her beautifully restored Queen Anne home and enclosed the wide space with waist-high windows. Now it was an extension of the living room, a wide glassed-in entry room that ran the length of the front of the house. Lazily turning wooden fans were suspended from the high ceiling; the floor was painted a glossy gray, and area rugs dotted the gleaming wood boards. Chairs and sofas of white wicker with colorful pillows were grouped in comfortable seating areas down the length of the room. At the moment, Cornelia sat in an armchair, its soft cushions covered in bright cotton with a coral and green floral pattern. Frankie took a seat on the padded white wooden swing, within reach of the low wicker table where she’d set the tea tray.

Eli glanced up as he neared, his gaze meeting Frankie’s through the glass. He smiled, his stride quickening as he loped up the three shallow steps to the door.

“Come in, Eli,” Cornelia called.

“Hello, ladies.”

Frankie felt the room shrink as he stepped inside and closed the door, his presence seeming to suck up the oxygen. He wore faded jeans, black boots, and a pale blue polo shirt under a worn brown bomber jacket. Raindrops glistened in his black hair as he shrugged out of his jacket and hung the damp leather over the back of a nearby rocking chair.

She drew a deep breath and patted the cushion beside her. “I didn’t expect to see you today—how did you know I was here?”

“I stopped by Justin and Lily’s place to deliver the plans for Ava’s rabbit hutch—which has turned into a rabbit-condo-castle,” he said with a wry grin. “Lily told me you’d mentioned spending the afternoon with your mom, so I thought I’d drop by on my way home.” He shoved one hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a glittering jet and gold earring. “You lost this in the car last night. I thought you might be worried about it.”

“Oh, you found it! Thank goodness.” Frankie held out her cupped hand, and Eli dropped the earring into her palm.

He settled onto the swing, one arm stretched out along the seat back behind her.

“I was so upset—I was afraid I’d lost it forever.” Impulsively, she leaned sideways into Eli and kissed his cheek. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” His eyes smiled at her. “Feel free to lose jewelry in my car anytime. I like the way you say thank you.”

Frankie felt heat move up her cheeks and knew her face was no doubt pink. She shot a quick glance at her mother from beneath lowered lashes. An amused, indulgent smile played about Cornelia’s lips. Apparently, her mother approved of Eli’s charm.

“I hope I don’t lose track of any more family heirlooms in the future, but if I do, it’s nice to know you’ll find them for me.” She patted his cheek with easy familiarity and shifted back, away from the hard curve of his body. Pretending she didn’t miss the sheer pleasure she felt in leaning against his warm strength, she leaned forward and picked up the Wedgwood teapot. “Mom and I are having Earl Grey—would you like a cup?”

She poured and handed Cornelia a delicate cup and saucer before glancing inquiringly at Eli.

“Tea?” He winced. “Honey, you know I don’t do tea.”

She couldn’t help laughing at his apologetic but pained expression. “I’m sure Mom has something else to drink.”

“Actually, I just had hot chocolate with Ava, so I’m good.”

“Did you drink it out of a mug or a thimble-sized toy china teacup?” Frankie asked, stirring sugar into her own tea before sitting back on the swing, cup in hand, one foot tucked beneath her so she could face Eli.

“Today we sat at the kitchen-island counter and had normal size mugs,” Eli told her. He shook his head. “Thank God. I can hardly pick up those tiny cups of hers. Not to mention, sitting at that little-girl table scares me. I’m constantly worrying the chair won’t hold me and I’ll break it.”

Frankie and Cornelia smiled with sympathy. Frankie had a swift mental image of Eli’s tall, broad body perched on one of Ava’s child-sized chairs. The picture was endearing.

“Do you see a lot of Ava?” she asked, sipping her tea.

“Not as much as I’d like—Justin has to spend quite a bit of time on his ranch in Idaho.” He leaned forward, taking a shortbread biscuit from the plate on the tea tray. “But when they’re in Seattle, we get together fairly often.” He glanced at Frankie, the tiny smile lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’m her honorary uncle, and apparently Ava thinks that requires certain duties.”

“One of which is having tea with her dolls?” Frankie guessed.

“Yeah, that’s one of them.” He pretended to shudder, but the fond smile barely curving his lips told her he didn’t really mind playing tea party with the little girl.

Rain pattered against the glass. Frankie sighed and eyed the wet world outside with gloom. “I think I’ll cancel tonight. The thought of standing around in the rain at a campus rally for world peace doesn’t appeal.”

Eli gave her disbelieving look. “You were going to join a bunch of college kids, in the rain, to listen to a freshman lecture everyone about solving the world’s ills?”

“How did you know the scheduled speaker is a freshman?” she asked, intrigued.

He shrugged. “They’re always freshmen—by their second year in college, students are more cynical.” He lowered his voice. “Rumor has it, the change is due to the amount of beer consumed at all those freshman frat parties.”

Cornelia laughed. “I think you may be right, Eli.”

“He could be.” Frankie tried to hold back a smile but failed. “I bet you formed this opinion through first-hand experience,” she said dryly.

“I have to confess I helped lower the beer level in a few kegs during my freshman year at college,” he confirmed. “But I never picked up a bullhorn and lectured the student population on a solution for world peace.”

“Did you rally for any good causes?” Cornelia asked him.

Curled next to him on the cushioned wooden bench seat, Frankie sipped her tea and listened as Eli bantered back and forth with her mother about his activities in college. He’d been a part of their extended group of family friends for a long time through his friendship with Justin. She knew he’d attended the University of Washington by combining scholarships and working at Wolf Construction. By the time he’d earned an engineering degree, Wolf Construction’s business had taken off under his leadership and become a major contender for commercial building in Seattle and the surrounding area.

Everything Harry had told her about Nicholas Dean’s success could be said of Eli, she thought, feeling a surge of pride at his accomplishments.

Eli glanced sideways at her, his gaze warming.

“Come to the movies with me tonight, Frankie,” he said easily. “We’ll be inside a theater, we’ll be dry and I’ll buy you buttered popcorn.”

“What movie are you going to see?” she asked, aware of her mother listening.

“An action adventure based on a book by one of my favorite authors.”

“Sounds like fun.”

He eyed her. “You like those kinds of books, too?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

His blue eyes gleamed with approval. “I’ll be damned. I keep learning things about you that amaze me.”

Frankie huffed. “Lots of women read suspense novels.”

“I know, but you have a PhD in English literature. Somehow, I didn’t expect you to like action-adventure fiction.”

“I’d be just as interested if there was a new film based on one of Jane Austen’s titles,” Frankie said firmly. “But I’m not a snob about books—I like all different kinds. I’d love to see the movie tonight.”

“Great.” Eli looked at Cornelia. “How about you, Cornelia? Would you like to come with us?”

“Oh, no.” Cornelia waved a hand. “My favorite mystery series is on PBS tonight, and I’ve been looking forward to the next installment. I’m going to curl up in my jammies in front of the TV with a bowl of ice cream.”

“All right, but you know you’re welcome to join us if you change your mind,” Eli told her. He looked at Frankie. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

She nodded. “I’ll be ready. What theater are we going to?”

“Pacific Place downtown.” He stood, the swing dipping and swaying on the heavy chains suspending the seat. “I’d better get going. I need to run by a construction site and check with the security guard.”

“Is there a problem?” Frankie felt a swift stab of concern.

“Only with water—we’ve had a lot of rain the last couple of days. I want to make sure there’s no flooding.” He took his jacket from the back of the chair and shrugged into it.

Cornelia rose, collecting the tea tray. “It was lovely to see you, Eli—stop by again soon.”

“I will, Cornelia, thank you.”

Her slim figure disappeared into the front hall.

Eli held out his hand, and Frankie put her fingers in his, letting him pull her to her feet. He slung an arm over her shoulders, tucking her against his side, and walked her toward the outside door.

“I hope you don’t mind my dropping by without calling. But when Justin told me you were spending the afternoon with your mom, I thought it was a perfect opportunity to return your earring and spend a little time reinforcing Cornelia’s belief that we’re a couple.”

“I don’t mind at all—I’m glad you stopped by. I confess I don’t like keeping the truth from Mom. The only thing that makes me feel okay about deceiving her is that I know she’d be the first to join us if she knew Harry was meddling again.”

“I suspect you’re right about Cornelia. But the more people who know about our plan, the more difficult it would be to keep it a secret from Harry, I’m afraid.”

Frankie sighed. “I’m sure you’re right.”

He stopped at the door, turning to face her, his back to the screen and glass and the gray rain outside.

“You don’t have to take me to the movie tonight, Eli. Mom will never know.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? Hanging out with you is one of the perks of this scam. Besides, it’s always more fun to watch a movie with someone. Then later you can go over the good parts, or, if it’s a bad film, you can commiserate and complain about all the lousy acting and special effects.”

“Ah, I see. So it’s not that you want my company,” she teased, inordinately pleased that she’d see him later, “it’s that you want someone to compare opinions with after the credits roll.”

He laughed. “You’ve caught me, that’s part of it.” He bent his head to whisper in her ear. “Your mom is standing at the kitchen sink. If she looks sideways, she can see us. Want to give her something to tell Harry?”

“Okay.” Frankie nodded, her heartbeat beginning to race as his mouth curved in a slow smile at her assent.

He slipped his arms around her waist and eased her nearer, lifting her up on her toes as his head bent.

Warm, seductive, his mouth coaxed hers to respond. Frankie clutched his biceps, her head spinning as the world narrowed to the hard body she leaned against and Eli’s lips on hers.

The kiss only lasted a moment. Too soon, Eli lifted his head, easing her back off her toes.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he murmured, blue eyes darkened to navy.

She nodded, unable to gather her wits and form a sentence.

He bent, his lips brushing against the sensitive shell of her ear. “And, Frankie, kissing you is one of the best parts of this scheme.”

Frankie felt her eyes widen. Then he shoved the door open behind him and, with a quick grin, left her. The door closed on his back as he loped down the sidewalk. Moments later, his pickup truck accelerated away from the curb.

He’s right, she thought, still faintly dazed. Kissing is definitely one of the perks of having Eli pretend to be my boyfriend.

Eli arrived at Frankie’s condo that evening and within a short half hour, they’d reached the Pacific Place and were settled into comfortable seats in a row near the back of the theater. He held her coat while she slipped out of it before handing her the container of popcorn.

“This is a lot of popcorn for only two people,” she said, eyeing the bucket dubiously.

“I like popcorn. Trust me.” He winked at her. “It won’t last long.”

Frankie laughed and took a handful of the salty kernels. As she ate, she glanced around the theater. The lights were still on and local business advertisements played with minimal sound on the wide screen up front.

“This reminds me of going to the movies with Mom and my sisters when we were little,” she said. “I love rainy Sundays at the theater.”

“Granddad used to drop off me and my brothers at the theater in Ballard on Saturday or Sunday afternoons,” Eli told her. “I suspect it gave him a much-needed break.”

“I’m sure Mom enjoyed the peace and quiet when we all were focused on the screen, too,” Frankie replied. “Parenting looks like a tough job when there are two people, but being a single parent must be beyond difficult.”

“I agree.” Eli nodded. “Watching Justin and Lily with Ava has been a real eye-opener. Don’t get me wrong,” he added hastily. “I think she’s great, but, man, she wears me out.”

“I know what you mean. Ava has nonstop energy.” Frankie smiled with affection as she sipped her water. “I have a play date scheduled with her on Saturday morning and I’m wondering if I should increase my vitamin intake and start lifting weights to build my endurance.”

Eli grinned at her. “Might not be a bad idea. Aren’t you a little old to have play dates?”

“Absolutely not,” Frankie said emphatically. “I adore Ava and every third Saturday, we get together to go to the park or the zoo or a children’s exhibition at the Seattle Center. Of course,” she added with a twinkle, “I call it bonding, but Ava insists we’re having play dates.”

“Ah.” Eli nodded. “Makes sense. So what else did you do when you were a child?” Eli asked. “Besides go to movies on Sunday afternoons.”

“Skipped rope, rode bikes, played Monopoly with my sisters, and—” Frankie paused to sip her water “—volunteered at a horse rescue barn in Arlington.”

Arrested, Eli stopped eating popcorn, one eyebrow rising in query. “I didn’t know you were interested in horses. I thought you were a city girl, through and through.”

“I suppose I am to a certain extent,” Frankie agreed. “But I love animals, especially horses. When I celebrated my eighth birthday, Mom told me it was time for me to pick a cause to donate my time to and I chose abused horses.”

“Good choice.” Eli nodded, his eyes gleaming with approval. “When Granddad told us we were old enough to start giving back to the community, I picked Habitat for Humanity.”

“That’s a wonderful cause,” Frankie enthused. “I’ve considered signing up, but I don’t know anything about carpentry.”

“A lot of volunteers don’t when they start. Join my group,” he said. “I’ll make sure you learn how to swing a hammer and saw a board.”

“I doubt it’s that easy,” she said with a shake of her head.

He shrugged. “It’s not complicated—and professional carpenters team with new volunteers to supervise them.”

“If you promise to teach me enough about carpentry so my contribution doesn’t result in a house falling down, I’ll sign up,” she told him.

He laughed. “You couldn’t make a house fall down. Don’t worry about it.”

Before Frankie could respond, the house lights dimmed and the previews for upcoming movies began.

When the popcorn container was empty and napkins had wiped away any traces of salt and butter, Eli caught her hand in his, threading her fingers between his own. Startled, she glanced sideways at him, but he was focused on the screen, his profile lit by the flickering light from the movie.

There was something nice about sitting in the dark theater, Eli’s warm, callused palm pressed to hers, the hard strength of his shoulder against hers.

Frankie turned back toward the screen, deciding to enjoy the moment and not worry about what it might mean that her heart stuttered each time his thumb smoothed over the back of her hand.

Since they both had to rise early for work the following morning, Eli dropped her off just after ten-thirty, saying good-night with another kiss that left her breathless. Forty minutes later, as she climbed into bed and switched off the lamp, Frankie realized she hadn’t spent such a relaxing, thoroughly enjoyable evening in a very long time.

And it was entirely due to Eli’s company.

Part of her loved the thought—while another part dealt with the niggling worry that she liked his company far too much.

A wise woman wouldn’t tempt fate, she thought drowsily.

Chapter Six

On Wednesday morning, Frankie was in her office at Liberty Hall on the University of Washington campus. Since completing work on a museum exhibit in December, she’d been reassigned from her usual duties as a research assistant. She was now temporarily filling in for an English Literature professor who’d gone on emergency leave. Much as she loved the variety of her research work, Frankie welcomed the opportunity to teach in a classroom. The new responsibility challenged her creativity and gave her one-on-one contact with students, which wasn’t usually the case.

Since her next lecture wasn’t for another forty-five minutes, she planned to make good use of the time to catch up on a few non-classroom duties.

Her desk was littered with data reports, printouts of class grading curves and miscellaneous information. Deep in thought, she contemplated a possible change in her syllabus notes for the current lecture series on classic British authors of the twentieth century.

“Hey, Professor.” The deep male voice was soft, just above a murmur, but Frankie jumped nonetheless, startled, her gaze flying to the doorway.

Eli leaned against the doorjamb, one broad shoulder propped against the walnut edge. He was dressed for work in a blue-and-white plaid flannel shirt that hung unbuttoned over a white T-shirt tucked into the waistband of snug faded jeans. A black leather belt was threaded through the belt loops of the jeans, and dusty black boots covered his feet.

“Hey,” she responded faintly.

“Sorry I startled you.” He shoved away from the doorjamb and walked toward her, his stride easy. “I had to stop at a job site near here, and when I picked up coffee, I thought about you, probably stuck in your office, slaving away. So I brought you a latte—double shot, vanilla, right?” He held up two take-out Starbucks cups with lids.

Frankie beamed at him, delighted. “You remembered.” She took the cup and sipped, closing her eyes in pleasure. “I owe you.”

“And I’ll collect,” he shot back, grinning when her eyes opened and she studied him with suspicion. He picked up a straightback wooden chair and spun it around, straddling it, his forearms resting along the top of the polished oak back. “Any new thoughts about our next move against Harry?”

Frankie leaned back in her swivel chair, propping her stockinged feet atop the open bottom desk drawer, ankles crossed. “Believe it or not, Harry called this morning. He’s having a group of people over for dinner on Friday night to welcome a visiting software mogul from London. He asked if I’d like to join them.” She looked at Eli from beneath lowered lashes. “I told him yes, providing I could bring a date.”

“And what did Harry say?” Eli drawled, lifting his cup to sip, his blue eyes watching her over the rim.

“He asked me if my date was Nicholas Dean.”

Eli stiffened, his eyes narrowing over her. “He’s still pushing Dean at you.”

Frankie nodded. “Apparently.”

“Has Dean called you?” Eli asked, his voice neutral.

“Interestingly enough, no, he hasn’t.” Frankie tucked her hair behind her ear.

Eli’s gaze tracked her fingers’ movement, lingering over her hair before fastening on her face once again. “So Harry must not be giving Dean the same kind of verbal nudging he’s giving you,” he guessed.

“I suspect not.” Frankie frowned, considering. “Has Harry tried to grill you about me?”

“Not yet.” Eli shrugged. “But we have a meeting tomorrow to discuss the Wolf Construction proposal for the south Seattle project. Maybe he’s waiting until then.” He sipped his coffee once again. “Harry’s cagey—I wouldn’t put anything past him, and if he’s not nudging Nicholas about asking you out, he must have a reason.”

“Or maybe Nicholas refused to get involved in Harry’s schemes,” Frankie said. “And if he did, then our plan isn’t really necessary.”

Eli’s eyes glinted. “If you believe that, then you don’t know Harry as well as I thought you did.”

“What makes you say that?” Frankie hoped Eli had a really good answer, because she was enjoying seeing him and didn’t want their dates to end.

“Harry always has a bigger view of his projects, and if fixing you up with Nicholas didn’t work out, he would go to plan B.”

“And what’s plan B?” Frankie asked.

“Not what—who. I have no idea who Harry would pick out to be the next candidate, but I’m sure he has another name on his list as a backup for Nicholas.”

“Of course.” Frankie sighed, tense muscles relaxing. “You’re right. Harry always has a plan. Mom said that’s the reason he was always so good at chess.”

“That sounds like Harry.” Eli glanced at his watch. “Time for me to go—I have an appointment in fifteen minutes.” He stood, swinging the chair back into its original position. “What time do you want me to pick you up on Friday?”

“How about seven?”

“I’ll see you then.” His gaze flicked to her mouth, lingered, before returning to her eyes. “Have a good afternoon,” he murmured, his deep voice a rumble.

And he was gone, before Frankie could gather her wits after that hot, focused stare.

Several minutes later, she was still sitting motionless, staring blankly at the notes on her desk when, for the second time in a half hour, knuckles rapped against her open office door. She looked up to find her friend and coworker, assistant professor Sharon Katz, standing on the threshold. Before Frankie could say hello, Sharon spoke.

“Wow, Frankie, who was that guy?” she asked, curiosity lighting her face. “He’s gorgeous.”

Frankie laughed at her friend’s expression. “He’s a friend of my cousin Justin.”

“And he’s visiting you … why?”

“He brought me a latte.” Frankie lifted the Starbucks cup and saluted Sharon with it before drinking.

“Nice.” Sharon leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed, a sheaf of papers in one hand. “Come on, fess up. Are you dating him?”

“I am.” Frankie grinned when Sharon rolled her eyes and fanned herself with the papers.

“Way to go, Professor.” She straightened, glancing over her shoulder. “Darn, students are already filing into my lecture hall. I have to go—let’s have lunch tomorrow, and you can fill me in on all the details, okay?”

“Okay.” Frankie turned back to the half-completed report on her desk as Sharon disappeared, the quick tap of her heels fading away down the hall.

Anticipation buoyed Frankie over the next day. But Friday morning brought disappointing news. Her department head emailed to tell her attendance was mandatory at an impromptu after-work cocktail party. She suspected her boss wanted to impress his superiors with the presence of the entire department.

Disappointed that she had to cancel her plans with Eli that evening, Frankie dialed his cell phone several times, but each time the call went immediately to his answering service. As the morning flew by and became afternoon, she grew more concerned that she wouldn’t be able to catch him before he left the house to pick her up at her condo.

She tried reaching him at the office, but when the message center picked up, she remembered Eli telling her that he’d given the secretaries the afternoon off. She left a message with the answering service but the operator couldn’t guarantee Eli would get it before Monday morning when the office staff returned and picked up messages.

Frankie hated the thought that Eli might think she’d stood him up but couldn’t think of another way to reach him.

Unless she could catch him on a job site, she thought with sudden inspiration.

She collected her purse and left her office in Liberty Hall. She was fairly certain she knew the address of the Wolf Construction site not far from campus. She had no idea whether Eli would be there or not, but she hoped to find someone who could tell her how to contact him. Within ten minutes, after a wrong turn that had her backing out of a dead-end street, she found the site.

The skeleton of what would become an upscale, five-story condo building rose in the air above her as she turned off the street and onto the bumpy dirt lot. Puddles of water left by the early morning downpour dotted the ground, and Frankie avoided them as best she could. Still, she knew her just-washed BMW would need another bath, and soon.

A contractor’s trailer stood at the end of the lot, and several pickup trucks were parked in front of it, two of which had Wolf Construction logos on their doors. Frankie hoped that meant Eli was in the trailer, and she mentally crossed her fingers as she parked next to one of the trucks and got out.

Skirting a muddy puddle, she climbed the two wooden steps and knocked on the metal trailer door.

“Come in.”

Frankie didn’t recognize the deep male voice, but nevertheless she pushed the door open and stepped inside, halting abruptly.

Three men stood at a drafting table that was littered with blueprints and notes. A fourth man, his eyes bright blue in a lined face below a shock of white hair, sat in a battered office chair, one foot propped on the opposite knee as he leaned back.

None of the four were Eli. All of them were big, broad and dressed alike in faded jeans, plaid flannel shirts and muddy work boots. And all of them watched her with alert male gazes.

Frankie returned their interested stares with a friendly but reserved glance. She’d never met Eli’s brothers or his grandfather, but the resemblance was unmistakable. These four had to be related to him.

“Hello. I’m looking for Eli Wolf.”

“I’m his brother Connor,” one of three men at the table drawled. “You’re too pretty for Eli, honey. I’d be happy to help you—with whatever you need.”

Taken aback, Frankie was speechless for only a second before the twinkle in Connor’s eye reassured her. She smiled. “Sorry—honey—but it’s Eli I need to find.”

“Smart woman.”

The deep, amused voice came from her left, and before Frankie could fully turn, Eli slipped an arm around her waist and bent to brush a quick kiss against her cheek.

“Hi, Frankie. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been trying to reach you, but you didn’t answer your cell phone,” she told him. “I have to go to a faculty cocktail party right after work, so I can’t make dinner at Harry’s tonight. I’m sorry to cancel so late, but my boss just informed me attendance is mandatory. Apparently, the department head wants to impress the university president with our show of support.” She grimaced. “I’d rather spend an hour or two being tortured by cannibals, but I can’t get out of it.”

“Sounds pretty bad,” he said with sympathy. “Did you let your mom know we won’t be able to join her at Harry’s?”

She nodded. “Mom said she’d apologize to Harry for me.” She looked up at him. “You should go, anyway—everyone has to eat, right? And maybe you could pin Harry down about the contract.”

He shook his head. “No, thanks—I think I’ll pass.” He smiled, a slow curve of his lips that made her breath hitch. “Just wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“I hate to interrupt you two,” Connor broke in. “But don’t you think you should introduce us to the lady, Eli?”

Frankie had been so focused on Eli that she’d all but forgotten the presence of the other four men. Now she realized they were all watching her and Eli with interest and curiosity. Even the older man had a curious gleam in his eye.

“Sorry,” Eli said easily, clearly not the slightest bit concerned at Connor’s inference he’d been lacking in manners. “Frankie Fairchild, these are my brothers—Connor, Ethan and Matthew. And the gentleman in the chair there is our grandfather, Jack.” He bent to whisper in her ear, loud enough that the others could hear. “All of them are disreputable and untrustworthy, and they cheat at cards—so watch out if you ever get in a poker game with them.”

“Good afternoon,” Frankie said, her amused gaze meeting each of theirs. Eli’s three brothers were as tall, brawny and as handsome—each in his own way—as Eli. They all had coal-black hair and blue eyes and an air of assured male strength. In fact, she thought dazedly, the amount of testosterone filling the air was palpable. She glanced at Jack and found him watching her shrewdly. She felt her cheeks warm under his knowing gaze.

“They’re kind of overwhelming, all in one room, aren’t they, missy?” he asked, his blue eyes warming. “Just like their grandpa, they have to beat women off with a stick.”

“Geez, Granddad,” Matt groaned, giving Frankie an apologetic look. “Sorry, Frankie. We can dress him up but can’t take him out—not anywhere in polite company, at least.”

“Hmmph,” the older man snorted. “Who’d have guessed I’d run into polite company in a construction trailer? Usually it’s just you four, and you don’t qualify as polite.”

Frankie laughed out loud. She could easily see the affection between the four brothers and their grandfather and was charmed. “I’d better get going.” Frankie looked up at Eli and found him watching her, his blue eyes half concealed by thick lashes as he looked down at her. “I’m keeping you from your work, and I have a class in—” she glanced at her wristwatch “—twenty-five minutes. I’ll leave and let you all get back to what you were doing.” She waved a hand at the drafting table with its unrolled stack of blueprints held flat by a large rock sitting on each corner.

“You’re not keeping us from work,” Eli told her.

“Not at all,” Ethan added, his voice a slow, deep drawl.

“We were all tired of looking at these damn blueprints,” Connor added.

“Nevertheless, I’d better get back to campus.” Frankie turned, and Eli was there before her, opening the door and holding it for her. “It was nice to meet you,” she told the four Wolf men.

They echoed a chorus of goodbyes, and Frankie stepped outside, followed by Eli, who pulled the door shut.

“Where are you parked?” He frowned at the wet ground.

“Just over there.” Frankie pointed at her car, just beyond the big dual-wheeled white pickup.

Eli took her elbow, scanning the ground between the steps and her car before walking beside her. “You’re not wearing the right kind of boots for this weather. I’ll get you a pair of rubber mud boots to keep in your car.”

Frankie felt inordinately pleased that he seemed to expect her to visit again. “That would be nice,” she murmured.

They reached her BMW, and he pulled open the door.

“How long do you think you’ll have to stay at the cocktail party tonight?” he asked, leaning on the open door to look down at her as she turned the ignition key.

“Not too long, I hope,” she told him. “I’m planning to slip out as soon as possible and head home. It’s been a long week—I think I’ll curl up in front of the TV and watch something mindless.”

He chuckled. “Sounds like a good plan. Drive carefully.” He stood back, closing the door with a quiet thunk.

As Frankie negotiated the bumps and puddles of the lot and turned onto the smoothly paved street, she could see Eli in the rearview mirror. He stood, hands thrust in jeans pockets, the sun glinting off his black hair, watching her drive away.

She’d been looking forward to seeing him this evening, and having to cancel their dinner date made the prospect of the boring cocktail party seem even more dull.

She turned a corner and could no longer see Eli nor the construction site.

No doubt about it, she thought with a sigh. She was much more interested in spending an evening with Eli than schmoozing at a cocktail party with her boss and coworkers.

Apparently, she wasn’t immune to the lure of a tall, dark and handsome man. Especially not when the man was Eli.

Eli watched Frankie’s car disappear into traffic before he turned and reentered the work trailer.

“Pretty woman, Eli. Where’d you meet her?” Connor asked.

“Does she have a sister?” Matt asked, grinning when Eli shot him a quick glare as he crossed to the kitchenette and poured a mug of coffee.

“Yes, she has sisters, and no, I’m not going to introduce you,” Eli said as Matt’s eyes lit with interest. “And I’ve known her since she was just a kid.”

“Yeah?” Ethan frowned at him. “I don’t remember a girl named Frankie.”

“Francesca Fairchild—she’s Justin’s cousin.”

“I still don’t remember her,” Connor said.

“She must be Cornelia Fairchild’s daughter,” Jack said with a decisive nod. “Cornelia’s the widow of Harry Hunt’s original partner—I heard the families stayed close after Cornelia’s husband died, and the girls consider Harry their uncle and his boys their cousins.”

“That’s right.” Eli carried his mug to the drafting table and set it on the ledge above the blueprints. “Frankie’s closer to Justin than any of his brothers. I met her through Justin when she was still in grade school.”

“Was she gorgeous in grade school, too?” Matt asked.

“She’s always been pretty,” Eli answered shortly. He leveled a lethal glare at Matt. “And she’s off-limits.”

“Whoa.” Matt took a step back, lifting his hands in mock defense, palms out. “Sorry, big brother. Didn’t know you’d already staked a claim.”

Ethan laughed, Jack’s chuckle joining him.

“You must be blind, Matt,” Connor said. “Nobody could have missed that whole she’s-mine-touch-her-you-die thing Eli had going on a few minutes ago.”

Matt’s deep laugh joined the other three, and Eli threw them a disgusted glare.

“Can we move past this and get back to work?”

“Sure,” Matt said, his eyes twinkling as he clapped Eli on the shoulder. “It’s nice to see you getting irritated with us over a woman, Eli. Must mean you’re finally recovered from the accident and back to normal.”

Eli growled a noncommittal response, and the conversation returned to finding a solution for a glitch in the design of the second-floor balcony supports.

Later, when his brothers and Jack left the trailer and he was alone, Eli’s thoughts returned to Frankie.

Where the hell had that surge of possessiveness come from when she’d stepped into the trailer and met his brothers? The Wolf men had hammered out an unwritten rule while in their teens—none of them ever poached each other’s dates. He had no reason to worry that Matt, Ethan or Connor would do more than flirt harmlessly with Frankie as long as he was dating her.

He’d never before felt the urge to threaten his brothers over a woman. So, why now—and why Frankie?

“The protective thing must be left over from Justin and me vetting her boyfriends when she was a teenager,” he muttered aloud, frowning unseeingly at the drawings taped on the wall.

Of course that was it, he thought with relief. He’d known Frankie a long time—it was only natural he’d feel protective. No doubt if he’d had a sister, he’d feel the same way.

A small voice in his head uttered a loud hah!

Eli ignored it, grabbed his hardhat and left the trailer to purposely stay busy so he wouldn’t have time to ponder all the reasons why he might feel so strongly about Frankie and other men.

Even if the other men were his brothers.

Even if he knew she was perfectly safe with them.

It was going to be a long afternoon, he thought with resignation.

It was nearly seven o’clock before Frankie reached home that evening. The afternoon sunshine had given way to dark skies and sheets of rain that drenched her as she ran from her car. She shrugged out of her raincoat, hanging it on a hook beside the door, then toed off her wet pumps the moment she closed and locked the condo door behind her. Bending to pick them up, she walked in damp-stockinged feet into her bedroom. She dropped her purse and leather briefcase onto the bed, set her shoes next to the floor heat vent and stripped off her jacket, blouse, skirt and hose.

She flipped on lights as she went, turning on the shower and letting it run to heat up the space while she shed bra and panties, dropping them into the hamper before she stepped into the shower.

The water pulsed against her skin, and she turned her face into the spray, relishing its heat for several moments before she shampooed and scrubbed.

She felt a thousand times better when she left the bathroom. She’d towel-dried her hair then run a brush through the tangles until it lay sleek and smooth before donning a clean black bra, panties and gray University of Washington sweatpants. She drew on a matching gray UW hoodie, zipping the front closed to a few inches below her collarbones.

Her stomach growled as she walked barefoot into the living room, pausing to switch on the television to a cable twenty-four-hour news channel before heading for the kitchen. She shifted items on the refrigerator shelves, but nothing appealed. She was just contemplating calling a local Chinese restaurant to order delivery when the doorbell rang.

Sighing, she padded out of the kitchen, across the living room to the tiny entryway. I bet it’s Mrs. Ankiewicz, she thought. Her eighty-year-old neighbor often dropped in on a Friday evening if Frankie was home. Much as she adored the feisty old lady and enjoyed their conversations, however, she was more interested in food at the moment.

One glance through her front door’s small glass viewer, however, had Frankie catching her breath.

Eli stood in the hall outside.

The sense of disappointment she’d felt since leaving him at the work site lifted, instantly replaced by a surge of delight.

Oh, no! Her fingers tightened on the doorknob. She leaned her forehead against the solid wood door panel, nearly groaning in disbelief.

What happened to her determination not to give in to her attraction to him? She knew he was dangerous for her heart—she did not want to take any of this too seriously.

She lifted her head, narrowing her eyes at her reflection in the mirror.

We’re just two people conspiring to teach Uncle Harry a lesson, she told her reflection sternly. Eli isn’t really interested in me—I’m not his girlfriend and he’s not my boyfriend.

Not really. She repeated the words in her mind but she couldn’t ignore the mirror’s reflection of the anticipation that flushed her cheeks and sparkled in her eyes.

She turned away from the mirror and its too-revealing image, drawing a deep breath and straightening her lips in an attempt to erase the smile.

Then she pulled open the door.

Chapter Seven

“Hi.” Unfortunately, she suspected her expression told him exactly how happy she was to see him, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“I thought you might be hungry, so I picked up a pizza—unless the food at the party was good …?” He lifted a square box in one hand; his other held a six-pack of imported beer.

“The food was awful, actually. Come in.” She caught his arm and pulled him inside, closing the door to lead him to the kitchen. “You’re drenched. It must be raining harder than it was when I came home.” She drew in a deep breath when he set the pizza box down on the table and lifted the top. “That smells like heaven.” With perfect timing, her stomach let out a low rumble.

“I’m guessing that means you are hungry?” A smile curved his lips as he shrugged out of his damp jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. He wore faded, well-worn jeans and a light blue polo shirt, the fabric stretching snugly over the hard, defined muscles of chest and thighs.

“That means I’m starving!” She laughed and opened cabinet doors to take out plates. “Why don’t you take off your boots and set them on the floor grate over there.” She pointed at the scrollwork vent under the window. “I use the vents for my shoes all the time—works like a charm.”

Eli nodded and pulled off his boots, padding in stockinged feet to set them on the grate.

“Will you grab some napkins out of the drawer next to the sink?” Frankie plied a wheeled cutter with quick efficiency, cutting the pizza into slices.

They carried loaded plates and napkins into the living room, Eli balancing two bottles of beer and a single glass for Frankie.

“Are you sure you don’t want a glass?” she asked, curling one leg beneath her as she sat on the sofa, balancing her plate on her lap.

“Positive.” Eli set his plate on the coffee table while he removed bottle caps, pouring a glass for Frankie and setting it on the lamp table next to her at the end of the sofa. “Real men drink beer straight from the bottle.”

Frankie rolled her eyes at him. “I’ll let that pass,” she said magnanimously. “I’m feeling kindly toward you since you knocked on my door bearing edible gifts.” She lifted her slice of pizza. “Mmm.”

Moments passed while they concentrated on their pizza.

“So, how boring was the cocktail party?” Eli asked after he’d finished his first slice.

“Deadly.”

“That bad, huh?”

Frankie pursed her lips, considering. “On the scale of really bad, it was somewhere between the torture of sitting through an hour lecture on the conception process of boll weevils and the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Whoa.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not even going to tell you about the most boring work party I was ever forced to attend. You win.”

She smiled sunnily, the last remnants of weary annoyance from a long day fading away. “Sometimes parties at work aren’t boring—I think this one wasn’t enjoyable because it was last-minute on a Friday night. Plus I was annoyed that it forced me to change our plans.”

“I know what you mean.” He nodded and picked up another pizza slice. They ate in companionable silence.

Frankie finished her second piece with a sigh of contentment, set her plate on the coffee table and picked up the remote.

“Is there anything you want to watch?”

“ESPN.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on,” he coaxed. “I brought you pizza—and there’s a Knicks game on tonight.”

“How about a compromise? I won’t make you watch a chick flick if you don’t make me watch a ball game.”

He tipped his bottle and eyed her over the rim. “How about a guy movie?”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What, exactly, are we talking about here?”

“Cruise through the channel listings and I’ll show you.”

“Okay.” Frankie thumbed the remote and brought up the channel log. “See anything interesting?”

They finally settled on an action film starring Will Smith.

As the opening credits began to roll, rain hammered against the windows outside. January in Seattle often brought winter storms roaring in off the Pacific to pound the city with wind and rain. Tonight was clearly no exception.

Inside, Frankie curled her legs under her. Eli stretched his long legs out in front of him, propping his feet on the coffee table, ankles crossed.

The wind whistled around the corner of the building. Frankie looked at the windows, where the shadowy shapes of tree branches, tossing in the wind, were visible in the faint glow from streetlights.

“Brr.” She shivered, clutching a throw pillow against her middle. “I’m glad we’re not at Harry’s. We’d have to drive home in this.”

“It’s nasty out there,” Eli agreed. He looked sideways at her. “Come here.” He reached out and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, toppling her sideways against him. Her head rested on his shoulder, his arm cradling her. Startled, she twisted to look up at him, but he gently pushed her head back down on his shoulder. “This is more comfortable,” he told her before pointing at the screen. “Shh, the movie’s starting.”

He’s right, Frankie thought as she wriggled slightly and stretched out her legs on the sofa cushions. This is very comfortable. His chest was warm and solid against her side, his arm draped around her enclosed her in a warm cocoon of male heat and his shoulder was the perfect cushion for her head.

“You still have freckles,” he murmured a few moments later, trailing a fingertip over the bridge of her nose.

She tilted her head back to look up and found him watching her instead of the television screen. “You noticed I had freckles?” she asked, surprised.

“Of course.” He looked faintly insulted. “You were a cute little kid with a little spray of freckles just over your nose and your cheekbones.”

His head lowered, and he brushed soft, tasting kisses over her face, following the arch of her cheekbone. Frankie’s breath caught.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he murmured as he drew back a few inches.

“Have you?” she whispered. His thick, dark lashes were half lowered as he cupped her chin in his palm and stroked his thumb over her cheek. She shivered. The faintly rough pad of his thumb moved against her sensitive skin, stirring heat in her midsection. His lashes lifted, his gaze leaving her mouth and lifting to meet hers. Desire, hot and alive, lit his eyes. Her skin warmed, flushing under his stare.

“Eli, I don’t want to mistake what’s happening here.” Her voice was a soft murmur. “We agreed to pretend we’re attracted to each other to fool Harry—but at the moment, he’s not here. It’s just the two of us.”

“Frankie,” he muttered, his fingertips trailing down her throat. “Just so we’re clear—this has nothing to do with Harry.” His gaze flicked to the base of her throat, where his thumb stroked over the fast race of her pulse. “I want you.”

His blunt words widened Frankie’s eyes and sent heat flooding through her body. “Eli, I don’t—”

He stopped her with a fingertip across her lips. “I’m not saying I want out of our deal to fool Harry. I just want you to know that if I’m kissing you—” he paused, his eyes going hotter “—or anything else physical, I’m not acting.”

Frankie’s gaze searched his face but found only sincere, focused intent. Much as she was tempted to tell him she wanted him, too, she was scared to death of opening that door. Desire warred with a deep conviction that she needed to protect her heart.

But if she wanted to move past her schoolgirl crush, maybe she needed to be a little more daring. Perhaps limited lovemaking with Eli would inoculate her against another full-blown crush, she thought.

Or maybe she was rationalizing because she desperately wanted more of his kisses. Whatever it was, Frankie decided to take a chance.

“Okay,” she murmured. He didn’t move, his gaze fixed on hers. Although his thumb continued to stroke seductively against her throat, he clearly waited for her to respond further. She’d never had a conversation quite like this with any man she’d dated but decided to be equally blunt with him. “I’m not ready to sleep with you yet.”

“All right.”

His body had tensed with her words, his restraint palpable as he waited.

She slipped her arms around his neck, her fingers testing the heavy silk of his dark hair. “Just so we’re clear, when we’re alone, I’m not pretending, either. And I’m sure I’m ready for more kissing.” His muscles tightened against hers. “Maybe some serious fooling around?” she ventured.

A half smile tilted his lips. “I’ll take whatever I can get,” he murmured before he lifted her, settling her across his lap, and his mouth took hers.

When Eli left Frankie’s condo several hours later, he was aroused and hungry, but he’d managed to keep his vow to honor Frankie’s decision not to make love.

How the hell he’d kept from seducing her on the sofa, or the carpet or any other available flat surface, he had no idea. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman this badly, nor when he’d been so turned on just by kissing.

He drove home and went to bed, but his dreams were hot and vividly sexual.

And all of them featured making love with Frankie.

After one last sizzling good-night kiss, Frankie closed the door behind Eli and slumped against the wood panels. When she straightened, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hair was disheveled and tumbled to her shoulders; her mouth was deeply pink and faintly swollen from the pressure of Eli’s lips; her eyes were heavy-lidded and her skin flushed.

She’d barely managed to keep from begging him to make love to her, and if he’d pushed, she wasn’t sure she could have said no.

Which meant she needed to decide how she felt about him while he wasn’t in the same room, because she obviously lost the ability to think clearly when he was kissing her.

She needed to talk to her sisters, badly.

Frankie picked up the phone and tapped in half the numbers for Tommi before she remembered to look at the clock.

Ten-thirty. On a Friday night. She couldn’t call her sister this late. Tommi was five months’ pregnant, probably exhausted from a long day at her thriving restaurant and, if she was lucky, her guy was rubbing her feet and feeding her chocolates right about now.

Since Max adored Tommi, Frankie was pretty sure he was taking good care of her sister, and she didn’t want to disrupt their time together. Tommi deserved to be cherished and coddled.

She’d talked to Georgie at work earlier that day and knew she had plans to go out that evening.

And that left Bobbie—but Frankie suspected her younger sister and her new husband were also probably engaged in newlywed bliss at the moment.

Where are the Fairchild women when I need them? She sighed and returned the phone to its base. Her two younger sisters were dizzy with happiness, partnered with men who adored them. Frankie couldn’t be happier for them.

But having her sisters busy left Frankie with no one to confide in.

Sighing, she walked into the bathroom. A few moments later, she’d changed into pajamas and climbed into bed, switching off the lamp to stare at the dark ceiling.

Suddenly, she sat bolt upright.

Lily, she realized with delight. She could talk to Lily about Eli. Not only had Lily gone through turmoil before she and Justin had worked out their difficulties to happily marry, but she also knew Eli very well.

She was scheduled to have a playdate with Ava the following morning. They’d arranged to meet at Lily’s boutique in Ballard—she could arrive early and, hopefully, have a private conversation with Lily before Justin dropped off Ava.

Relieved that she had a plan, Frankie closed her eyes. Her evening with Eli continued to replay itself behind her lowered eyelids, however, and it was some time before she finally fell asleep.

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