Christian shrugged. “You called. I came. What’s up?”
The normalcy of the question seemed to break Frankie out of her trance. She strode in the direction of the door. “Oh, yeah. I wanted to show you something. It’s in my office.”
Christian smiled, turned to raise his brows at Xavier. “Okay, lead on.”
The wink synched it, Xavier hated the guy. No, hate wasn’t a strong enough word. Loathe? No. Detested? Closer. Wanted to beat the living shit out of the guy? Yeah, that about described it.
***
She’d known the chastisement was coming. Knew Christian wouldn’t be able to ignore the fact she’d been all over Xavier. As soon as they stepped into the hallway, he started to laugh.
She did her best to pretend he didn’t exist until they were safely in the confines of her office with the door closed. As far as she knew, there wasn’t a rule against her dating one of the guys. That didn’t mean there wasn’t one. And Xavier was more than just one of the guys, he was her patient. Hell, she’d been in the freakin’ OR while his shoulder laid open and exposed.
She shook her head and strode around her desk to sit down. After twisting the chair around to face the wall, she leaned forward, her head between her knees. Christian’s hand on her back offered reassurance with the pressured circles.
“It was just me.”
“I know.” Her lungs turned to stone and she panted to get breath in and out. “What if it hadn’t been?”
“Frank.” He gripped her shoulder and silently told her to sit up. “Frank, look at me.” She did, expecting to see ridicule, but instead found concerned humor. “Don’t borrow trouble, sweetheart.”
“I’m not. It’s just—”
“Stop.” He dropped down on his haunches, positioning himself between her parted thighs. “From what I saw, he was as active participant as you were.”
“You weren’t there for the beginning.” She yanked the rubber band from her ponytail, ran her hands through her hair, and secured the band again. “I practically threw myself at him. He only—”
Christian’s smile and head shake stopped the words in her throat. “Obviously you didn’t check out his pants.”
Her brows furrowed. “His pants?”
“Those flimsy workout shorts didn’t hide a thing, babe.” He wiggled his brows. “He was right there with you.”
She felt color blossom in her cheeks at the reference to Xavier’s arousal. He’d been naked in front of her and hadn’t reacted to her. Not once.
“Maybe, but—”
“No maybe about it. A guy can’t fake that, Frank.” He tipped her chin and brushed his lips over hers as he stood. After he’d rounded the desk and plopped himself down in a chair, he crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “So, now to the reason I’m here.”
She tipped her head to the side and examined his face. “Yeah, ‘cause I didn’t call you.”
He threw his head back and bellowed a laugh. “I know. I just really like to dick with him. He’s such an easy target.”
Frankie scowled at him, but didn’t offer further reaction. She didn’t understand men, and surely didn’t understand why Christian goaded Xavier, or why Xavier cared.
“I’ve been offered a billboard.” Christian stretched his arms up, knitted his fingers then stuck them behind his head.
“No way! That’s awesome!” She’d thrown herself into his arms before she realized she’d even moved. Her giggling mixed with his chuckles. “Holy crap. Please tell me you’re not stupid enough to have said no.”
“Of course I said yes.” He continued to laugh as she stood to lean her bottom against the front of her desk. “It’s going to be on the I-15, right off the Strip. Do you know how many people will see my face?”
“And your body.”
He nodded. “And my body.”
“This is huge!”
His grin widened. “I want to celebrate. Can you sneak away for a bit?”
She thought of Xavier and his lack of transportation. “I can’t. Unless you want to grab something in the cafeteria. I’ll buy.”
“How very generous of you.” They both knew she didn’t pay for the food in their “cafeteria”. Nobody did. It was a perk of being a member of the Rockets family. “Let’s go. I love their mashed potatoes.”
13
Xavier’s call early this morning bothered Frankie. Since his injury, he’d ridden to the stadium with her. She enjoyed their time together. Despite his sour attitude, she liked having him to herself. This morning, though, he’d called to inform her he’d be going to the stadium himself.
She guessed she should have seen this scenario coming. Xavier’s shoulder was on the mend. It wouldn’t be long before he could resume a mostly normal life. She hadn’t seen evidence to prove otherwise, and still hoped he’d make a full recovery. If he didn’t…
Her heart plummeted to her toes. News like that would be the final cold gust of realization to complete his tailspin. She hated the idea of being the one to inform him of such detrimental news. She kept hoping each session of physical therapy, each massage, would be the turning point. And she kept hoping. And hoping.
Her thoughts still focused on him when she saw him walk past the large glass window separating her office from the hall outside. He didn’t look at her, didn’t search for her out from the corners of his eyes, didn’t slow down to make sure she’d seen him. The set of his jaw exposed a man on a mission.
What the mission happened to be, though, frightened her a little. She wasn’t sure where his head was at the moment. He seemed okay when they were together, a little distracted, but his outlook had seemingly improved. In the time they weren’t together, he’d changed. Drastically. Short one word answers on the phone. Hours between returned texts, if a response came at all.
Unable to help herself, she stuck her head out into the hall. His wide shoulders expanded with a deep breath. He disappeared into the PT suite. Without her.
What the hell?
She’d overseen every step of his rehab. She’d dealt with his piss-poor attitude and cutting remarks. And now he thought he didn’t need her?
He doesn’t.
Well, shit. Wasn’t that the blinding truth?
Xavier had healed enough he could take care of himself, do most everything on his own. She knew it. Apparently so did he.
Before she realized what she’d done, she stood in the doorway and watched as Jeff worked on Xavier’s shoulder. So, he wasn’t anti-help.
He seemed to be anti-Frankie.
That stung.
She went back to her office, determined to get through the mountain of paperwork on her desk before the day ended. Yeah, she’d heard what was said about good intentions. Who cared? She seemed to be in hell anyway.
And hell’s name happened to be Matthias Xavier III.
Damn man.
***
Def Leppard blared from the speakers in the PT suite and Xavier sang every word. In his head. He didn’t sing anywhere but the shower. Call it his gift to the world.
As Jeff lifted his shoulder, moving it through the necessary motions, Xavier gritted his teeth to allow for a grin. It was nice to work out his shoulder and not have to worry about reacting to the person jerking on him.
He shook his head, not willing to go there. Ever.
Holding Frankie in his arms for mere moments had given him a taste of something he wanted badly. Too badly. Unacceptably badly. No doubt he’d have pushed that kiss further if good ol’ Bell hadn’t decided to save the day. But that would have been because his libido was in control. Now that his brain called the shots, he saw things a bit differently.
During his surgery, she’d seen his shoulder flayed wide, completely exposed. He would never allow her to see his heart the same way. She’d gotten way too close in their time together.
“Great workout, man.” Jeff slapped him on his good shoulder.
“Thanks. I’m gonna hang out here for a little bit.”
&nbs
p; Jeff nodded, his shaggy blond hair falling into his face. “Don’t do anything more than the range of motion exercises. You don’t want to screw up all the progress you’ve made.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll behave myself.”
Another bob of the head and Jeff left.
Still sitting on the device of torture, X decided he needed a change of scenery. He hopped off the bench and went over to the massage table. He wore only his shorts and shoes, but didn’t let his lack of clothes stop him. Within seconds he lay on the table, his face resting in the hole. He’d never been much for sleeping on his stomach, because it inhibited his ability to breathe. Maybe he’d have to buy one of these tables for the times he needed a new sleeping position.
The gentle pressure caused every inch of him to go rigid. His eyes flipped open, cracking his lids wide. His entire body buzzed liked he’d gotten real tight with a set of jumper cables.
The touching continued with circles over his shoulder, kneading the muscles, her knuckles and fingertips on his bare skin stroking, caressing…
Oh, man! The sensations were too much.
“Don’t touch me!” He leapt off the table. He grabbed for a towel and bunched it in front of his crotch. He stared into her shell-shocked face, her wide, startled eyes, her quivering lip as she sucked it between her teeth. Time froze. They simply stared at each other. He wasn’t sure she breathed. He knew he didn’t, but for a very different reason. “Don’t ever touch me.”
“I’m sorry.” The first tear slipped down her cheek as she turned on her heel and all but ran out the door. And out of his life.
It’d only been a matter of time before she left him.
The clock had finally run out.
14
Xavier wondered if a guy’s head could really blow up. He wasn’t far from finding out firsthand. His flight left in two hours. The freeway resembled a parking lot. And every time he closed his freakin’ eyes, he saw that enormous tear slide down Frankie’s cheek, slicing a gouge in his heart.
It’s for the best. Didn’t matter how many times he repeated the mantra, he wasn’t buyin’ the load of horseshit. It hurt like hell.
How about that? He’d found his heart again. WooHoo. Go him!
Security was always a bitch, and today it so happened to be a raving one. The lady ahead of him had a baby who’d been roused from a dead-to-the-world sleep, now protesting at the top of its lungs. Xavier wished he could shove his fingers deep into his ears to block out the shrieking.
Of course the stroller would set off the metal detector. Idiots!
He shot a glance at his watch. Thirty minutes to get his butt up to the gate. He removed his shoes, let the loafers dangle from his fingers. His bag rested at his feet. He couldn’t bear to shoulder the sucker for more than a few minutes at a time. Habits died hard, and his bag belonged on his right shoulder. It held only the bare bones, but it still weighed too much.
It took another ten minutes for the geniuses to figure out the baby wasn’t a terror risk and for Xavier to get the all-clear. He slid his feet into his shoes and, holding the handle of his bag, took off on a run.
He skidded to a stop when he came to his gate. There, at the check-in desk, stood the most beautiful sight. His breath left his lungs in a whoosh and his heart hammered in his chest. Unwilling to make a scene, he stepped into the line and waited his turn.
Frankie hadn’t seen him and he’d keep it that way. Because she’d just checked in for the same flight he was on didn’t necessarily mean she headed to the same destination.
Cough-bullshit!-cough
Okay, he acknowledged that would be the king of all coincidences. She’d showed up. For him. To be with him. To help him. Even after he’d been a complete and total ass to her.
She was one hell of a woman. Way out of his league.
After he checked in, he slumped down into the seat next to her in the waiting area. “You came.”
She turned the page on the magazine she read, shifted in her seat only enough to acknowledge he’d spoken.
He couldn’t speak any louder than a whisper. “I can’t believe you came.”
She lowered her magazine in a flurry of frustrated pages. “Of course I came. I told you I would.”
“But … you came.” Awe. He couldn’t stop looking at the sweep of her jaw, the strand of hair that had escaped the confines of her ponytail. “You came.”
She twisted completely and narrowed her eyes at him. “We’ve established that.”
“Why?” The word came out on a breath.
Her look screamed Duh! She raised one brow, dropped one corner of her mouth. “What do you mean why?”
“Why are you here?” He shook his head. “Why did you come?”
“I promised you I’d come.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. The epitome of nonchalance. “I came.”
***
She’d stewed and worried and reconsidered her decision to accompany Xavier to Boston a dozen times. At least. While she’d waited for him to show up at the gate, she knew she’d made a horrible mistake. He had barely said two words to her since he’d screamed for her not to touch him.
Maybe she’d overstepped her bounds by placing her hands on him. Oh, who was she kidding? She’d done more than overstepped. She’d hopped, skipped and jumped over the freakin’ boundaries. But he’d looked so good lying on the bed, showing off so much sexy skin, and she’d been unable to resist putting her hands on him.
His outburst had changed everything for her, however. Christian’s influence, his wisdom in digging the tickets out of the trash after she’d thrown them away, was the only reason she sat next to Xavier on this important journey in his life.
His quiet question as to why she’d made the trip onto the plane reaffirmed Christian’s insistence. She was exactly where she needed to be. She suspected high school hadn’t been kind to Xavier. She didn’t understand the idiosyncrasies, but knew he needed someone with him who cared about the man he’d become. She cared. A little too much.
She’d promised herself—and Christian—she’d keep her hands to herself this weekend. She couldn’t afford to have Xavier file a sexual harassment suit against her. It was her job to see to his well-being. This weekend, she’d see to his mental well-being. And she’d packed the resistance band just in case.
“Why are you smiling?” His hazel eyes narrowed.
“Oh, am I?” She picked up her magazine and stuck her nose in it. It would be a very long flight.
It’d been a hell of a long flight. And they hadn’t even left the ground. They’d spent an hour on the tarmac, waiting for mechanics to examine some problem with the engine. They’d just received word said problem was “fixed now” and Xavier and the rest of the passengers had “nothing to worry about”.
On the contrary, Xavier had a lot to worry about. The majority of it sat to his left with her face still stuck in her damned magazine. The stupid perfume samples stung his nose and turned his stomach. He snorted to clear out his sinuses.
“Is there a problem?” She turned a page in her magazine.
The plane lifted into the air and irritation simmered just under his calm exterior. But only barely. He wanted to rip that magazine out of her hands, crumple it into a ball, and chuck it across the entire fuselage. If it wouldn’t make him a candidate for a body cavity search from the idiots on the ground, he might have.
“Hello, Mr. Xavier. Can I get you something to drink?”
He glanced up into the dark brown eyes of the flight attendant. She put a hand on his armrest, leaning into him. Her blouse dropped open.
Frankie put a hand on his upper thigh and stretched across until there was no possible way she could be missed. “I’d love some water.”
Ms. Cleavage blinked. “Of course. Would you like that in a glass with ice?”
Frankie smiled, her tone saccharin sweet. “The bottle will be fine. Thanks.”
When she leaned back to settle into her seat, her hand didn’t accompany her. Heat
from her palm seeped through the fabric of his slacks, blazing him, scalding him.
“Mr. Xavier, what can I get for you?”
A stiff drink. The whole frickin’ bottle would just about do the trick. Except losing any of his inhibitions anywhere near Frankie was a really, really bad idea.
“Water for me, too, please.” He flashed a tight smile in the flight attendant’s direction. She nodded then walked away. Frankie removed her hand and used it to open her magazine again. The woman infuriated him! “What was that?”
Although he’d snapped the question at her, he’d posed it to himself as well. He should have left her safely on the ground with the rest of his problems. Up here, at thirty thousand feet, he was the great Xavier, a guy with no issues, except which woman would be in his bed tonight. He could have had Ms. Cleavage, too. Normally, the idea of a few minutes in her arms would have had him out of his seat for another visit to the mile-high-club. Today, though, with Frankie sitting at his side, the thought made his stomach sick, his chest empty.
“What was what?” Frankie fluttered her eyelashes in an attempt to look innocent.
He raised a brow and she laughed, stuffing her magazine into the seatback in front of her. She twisted and folded her arms, coaxing her chest up. She seriously needed a new wardrobe. The one she currently had showed off nothing. He groaned. She snorted and dropped her hands.
“Really?”
His head jerked up just in time to catch her exaggerated eyeroll.
“There’s not much to see there.”
Yeah, he knew she was a liar on that count. He’d seen the way her scrubs pulled across her chest. Even now, in her mock turtleneck sweater, the fabric stretched very nicely.
“Do women hit on you all the time?”
“Yeah.” Why lie?
Frankie shook her head and frowned. “Do you like it?”
“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “Depends on what she looks like.” Wow, just call him Prince Charming.
Out of Left Field Page 10
