Another disgusted headshake. “I’m going to cramp your style, aren’t I?”
“You already did.”
“Oh.” She angled herself toward the window and stared out into lots of blue sky.
He leaned into her, bringing his lips to her ear. “And I don’t mind in the least.”
She jumped and whirled around in her seat. The blue of her eyes put the sky outside the plane to shame. They twinkled and shone as they roamed over his face. He smiled.
“I wouldn’t have asked you to accompany me if I hadn’t wanted you … with me.” He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her hands were so small, so soft. He’d never get over the softness of her skin. And the scent. It was a one-two punch, and if he ever let himself indulge in it, he’d be lost.
“Here are your waters.” The bottles fell into Xavier’s unwaiting hands. He fumbled with them, but managed not to embarrass anyone. When he looked up into the woman’s face, she wasn’t looking at him. Her frostbiting focus rested on Frankie.
Frankie handled the scrutiny like a champ. Her ruby red lips split into a ball-clenching smile. “Thank you.” She put the bottle in the seatback and took Xavier’s hand again. “Where were we, lover?”
The flight attendant left in a huff and all X could do was stare. At Frankie.
“Oh, come on. That was fun.”
Dismissing the woman whose frequent flier list could probably be used to repel from the plane to the ground wasn’t what had him stunned stupid. Hearing Frankie call him her lover had done something funny to his insides. He knew to her it’d been a joke. To him, though…
“I’m sorry. Call her back up here and I’ll apologize, then you two can go get busy in the bathroom.”
“I don’t want to get busy in the bathroom.”
She raised a brow, seeming to detect his lie. Again, it wasn’t what she thought, though.
“And I don’t want you to apologize to her. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s her. But I doubt we’re gonna get one any time soon.”
Frankie stretched up to look over the sea of seats then leaned into him and dropped her voice. “You have got to admit the look on her face was priceless.”
“Yeah, it was.”
***
Frankie loved Xavier’s laugh. The low rumble shook her insides and made her insides go gooey. She removed the bottle from the seatback and cracked the seal. A tiny part of her wondered if the water was safe to drink.
Call her a risk-taker.
She tipped it back and guzzled, touching her fingers to her lips once she’d finished.
As X’s eyes dropped down to her fingers, her heart thumped and her gut went all wonky. Without thought she dipped her tongue out to wipe away a bit of water and he noticed. The color in his hazel eyes darkened. His lids lowered.
Whoa!
He looked at her like that and she forgot her own name. The intense attraction between them sizzled. She knew she played with fire. Her entire body ached and throbbed and needed.
It took a great deal of effort to force her eyes to blink. The motion broke the spell, at least for her, and she could think again. She couldn’t do this. No matter how badly she wanted to.
She leaned forward, nearly folding herself in half, and dug through her carry-on bag. She pulled out her e-reader and held it up like a sword. “I thought I’d read for a while.”
“Sounds good.” He pulled the same fold in half move and dug under his seat, coming up with a tablet.
She settled in her chair and read, but the sexy fictional hero couldn’t hold a candle to the real-life one sitting next to her. Xavier had flaws. But who didn’t? She sure as hell did. She doubted there was anything that could turn her off when it came to Xavier. She’d seen him at his worst. And they’d made it through still speaking to each other. For the most part. In fact, she kinda liked the idea of their being friends. He’d never take the place of Christian. Nobody could. But Xavier…
***
Had she just mumbled his name?
Xavier watched Frankie fade. She probably hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep. Xavier’s first clue had been her drooping eyelids. It wasn’t long before her e-reader tilted. He’d reached out to snatch it before it fell. He shoved it in his bag and settled back in his seat just in time to have Frankie lean her head against his shoulder.
Surrounded by quiet and her scent, he brushed her hair out of her face and studied every flawless inch. Well, not flawless exactly. She had fine wrinkles around where her dimple appeared. Of course there’d be evidence of her joyful personality. He’d never met a woman who loved to laugh as much as his Frankie.
His Frankie.
Wow. Where had that thought come from? Even as his thoughts asked the question, he knew damn well where. He was falling for her. And that was a cliff he wasn’t willing to jump from ever again.
He was too damned old to recover from that kind of pain. It’d nearly killed him the last time. Twenty-one years ago. Shit. Had it really been that long?
Frankie mumbled again in her sleep, something about saving horses and riding cowboys. She nestled into his shoulder and he raised the armrest, lifting his arm to snuggle her into his side. He may not want this forever but he would take advantage of the few minutes of having a real woman in his arms.
He should be angry she’d put them both in this situation, but as he smoothed the hair away from her forehead and replaced it with a gentle press of his lips, he realized he could never hate her.
And wasn’t that going to be a bitch.
The plane began its descent and Xavier hated this time with Frankie would come to an end. Sure, they’d have the next three days, but it wouldn’t be like this. She’d retire to her room. He’d go to his, and he’d never be able to hold her in his arms. Disappointment saddened him, surprised the hell out of him. He allowed himself another heartbeat, tightening tightened his hold on her, sneaking another kiss before rocking her.
“Frankie, we’re landing.”
She moaned and pushed against him to upright herself. She rubbed at her eyes. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. I normally can’t relax enough in a plane or a car. Mostly I only can sleep in a bed.”
He wanted to ask if she slept in Christian’s bed, but didn’t. It wasn’t any of his business. Not now, not ever. He hoped Christian, much as he hated him, was good enough for Frankie. She deserved the very best. Yet another reason Xavier wasn’t the man for her.
15
Today had been the classic comedy of errors. First, the problems with the plane and the delay there. Then Frankie’s luggage had been the very last bag to come down the carousel. Now they were stuck in rush-hour traffic. It’d been a long time since Xavier had experienced that kind of aggravation.
Other than game days, he picked his commute times, staying late or going in early to avoid the madness. On those days, however, somebody else fought the headache. In another city, they all traveled together—as a team—so the bus driver dealt with tailgaters and all the freakin’ lunatics racing up to slam on their brakes.
Frankie said nothing from beside him. She’d busted out her e-reader again and seemed oblivious to the insanity roaring around them.
Xavier shook his watch free of his shirt sleeve and looked at it. Shit. They were late. Not going to be late. They were already late. The reception started two minutes ago. He hated to be late.
“How much longer?” He leaned forward to ask the driver.
“Almost there, sir.” He pointed out the windshield. “It’s that building there. See, we’re close.”
“Oh, it’s beautiful.” So, she was paying attention. Frankie gawked at the scenery. “You really grew up here?”
“Well, not here, exactly. We lived in a suburb, but my dad’s office was nearby. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here.”
“Here, not home?”
He shook his head. “No. Not home.” He’d never given much thought to where home was. He guessed, if asked, he’d consider Veg
as home. It was where he started his career and, thanks to Grayson, where it ended.
He watched one skyscraper melt into another and considered his career. Was it really over? Frankie hadn’t told him as much. He could play again. But why would coach put him back in? He was an old guy with a bum shoulder and Santiago was in his prime. It didn’t take a nuclear physicist to get four out of that two plus two.
The taxi flew into the round drop off driveway of the hotel and the driver slammed the engine into park. He jumped out and raced around to the back to grab their bags. A bellboy appeared, towing his cart. When he reached the bags, he put them on the cart and headed back inside.
Frankie followed him while Xavier pulled out his wallet and gave a fat tip to the taxi driver. “Thanks for getting us here in one piece, man.”
His eyes lit up at the number and denomination of bills. “Anytime, sir.” He rounded his car and opened the driver’s door.
“Be careful out there.” Xavier waved.
The driver returned the wave and slunk down into his car, speeding off to find his next fare.
Xavier took a deep breath and entered the rotating doorway. It wasn’t hard to find Frankie. Dressed in jeans and a sweater, she was still the most beautiful woman in the room. Wisps of hair escaped from the rubber band. He smiled. Only his Frankie could make porcupine sexy.
As he approached, she pointed at the paperwork he’d given her, jabbing her finger at the confirmation report. “No, according to this paperwork, we’re supposed to have a two-room suite.”
“I understand, ma’am, but as I said before—”
“I wasn’t here before,” Xavier interrupted, sidling up next to Frankie at the counter, “so if you wouldn’t mind telling me for the first time.”
The girl’s eyes widened and she swallowed. Yeah, she recognized him. “O- of c- course, Mr. Xavier. As I told your girlfriend, the hotel doesn’t have that type of room available.”
“Okay.” Xavier kept his tone soft, controlled. “So what is the hotel going to do about it?”
“We have two rooms across the hall from each other.”
“Not good enough.” He shook his head. “What else do you have?”
Her fingers flew over the keys on her keyboard and her eyes scanned the results on the screen. Her lips pursed, her brows frowned. More clicks. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip.
His temper flared fast and hot as a struck match. He cleared his throat. “It isn’t that hard.”
Frankie slid her hand into his and squeezed. He didn’t dare look at her for fear he’d take his frustration out on her. And she’d done nothing wrong.
“Let me ask you this, sweet thang—” A blush rose in the girl’s face. “—is the Presidential Suite available?”
Click. Click. Click. Head shake. “No, I’m sorry, it’s not.”
Frankie squeezed again and he stomped down his annoyance. “Okay. Any of those high-dollar suites?”
The girl blushed again and looked at Frankie when she informed them, “The honeymoon suite is available.”
Xavier bit back his groan. “I’m guessing there’s only one bed, huh.”
Childish giggles bubbled out of the girl. “Of course. Otherwise it wouldn’t be very honeymooney.”
“Of course.” He nodded and clamped his eyes closed.
“We’ll take it.”
His eyes flipped open. Frankie smiled up at him. After the girl left to get their paperwork off the printer, Frankie squeezed his hand again. “We’re both adults, X. It’ll be fine.”
He wasn’t so sure.
***
He stepped inside the room to discover his nightmare personified. The only way it could have possibly been worse would be for a chainsaw wielding psychopath to climb out from under the bed. Or a nutjob with a butcher knife in the bathtub. He shivered. Frankie sighed.
Rose petals dusted the enormous bed. Fresh rose petals. Good hell. When had the hotel had time to do play flower shop? He noticed their bags already tucked away in the corner.
The bellboy? Made sense.
Whatever.
It didn’t really matter who put the damn things on the bed.
“I need a shower. I feel really gross.” Frankie’s scowl wasn’t gross at all. The way it creased her brow and twisted her full lips pushed him closer to edge. He wanted no part of the cliff, no matter how badly he craved the fall.
When her fingers lifted the hem of her sweater, Xavier forgot his own damn name. She whipped it up over her head and stood in front of him in a white t-shirt. That’s it. She was trying to kill him.
She tossed her sweater onto the bed, then grabbed her suitcase and hefted it on the luggage rack.
He jumped to his feet. “Hey, lemme get that.”
“No.” She used her hip as leverage against the black bag. “Your shoulder.”
He lost the ability to argue further when she bent over. He forgot all about being a gentleman, giving over to his lustful thoughts.
The ziiip of her suitcase focused him. He grabbed his bag and carried it over to the bed before opening it. Everything was wrinkled. He dug through his t-shirts to get at the boxers he’d buried in the bottom. Thankfully he’d chosen to hang his suit and shirt in a suit bag.
“Why don’t you shower first? Then you can head down and I’ll be down as soon as I get ready,” she said.
“Are you sure this isn’t your way of getting out of being seen with me?”
She laughed softly. “I’ve already been with you.” She pointed at the bathroom. “Go. Shower.”
As he did just that, he tried to keep his mind away from Frankie, especially while being buck naked with a bar of soap gliding over his skin. He hurried with his shower, rubbed some gel in his hair, brushed his teeth, dressed… Oh hell, he’d only brought his boxers in with him. He looked at his reflection and shrugged, happy when his right shoulder did the rise and fall thing as well.
He didn’t really have a choice. They shared a room, and like Frankie’d said, they were both adults. It just so happened he was a very horny adult.
Xavier opened the door and Frankie raced toward him, shirt in hand. The grin on her face melted his heart. She held the shirt out, holding it wide for him to slip his arms in. “I pressed it for you. I was just working on your pants. Give me a second and…” Her eyes dropped to the black silk boxers covering his ass and her cheeks filled with exquisite color. “It didn’t even dawn on me you wouldn’t have pants.” Her brows furrowed. “I’m sorry. I should have done those first.”
She hurried back over to the fold-down ironing board and swiped the iron over the bottoms of his black suit. He buttoned up his shirt and waited for his pressed slacks. No other woman in his life had ever considered ironing his suit pants for him. Even his grandmother, God rest her soul, hadn’t ironed his pants.
She whipped the slacks off the board with a flourish and waved them like a flag of victory. “Here you go. Be careful they might still be hot in places.”
Appropriate. Certain parts of him blazed to the point it surprised him he didn’t have smoke rising from his skin. He took the pants from her and bent to kiss her cheek.
“Thanks, Doc. You’re sweet.”
“Ah, sweet had nothing to do with it. If I’m going to be seen with you, you can’t be looking like a bum.” She went back to the ironing board and pressed his jacket.
He finished dressing quickly then grabbed his tie from his suitcase. He draped it around his neck and began to tie it.
Her soft gasp surprised him. He caught her gaze. She smiled and walked up to help with the red and black Hugo Boss.
“How did you know?” She slid the knot to rest in the cradle of his shirt’s collar.
“Know what?”
Her hands smoothed down over his tie, over his stomach and abs. All coherent thought escaped him.
“Oh, never mind.” She patted his stomach again. “You’d better get downstairs. We’re very late.”
He shrugged. “Not late enough.”<
br />
She shook her head and laughed. “Go. I’ll be down in just a bit.”
“I’d tell you to take your time, but … yeah. I’ll see you in a few.”
“You look great.” She kissed his cheek. “Knock ‘em dead, killer.”
When the bathroom door closed and the shower turned on, he knew he couldn’t procrastinate another moment. At least this time, when he walked through the fires of hell, he’d have an angel by his side, holding his hand, helping him through by torching him from the inside out.
16
“Well, look boys, whatdyaknow, the mighty Matthew Xavier has chosen to grace us with his presence.” Matthew Shepherd shifted where he’d perched on the barstool. He shoved an elbow into the ribs of a Matthew Trenton, who stumbled into Bradley Matthews.
The three had been inseparable twenty years ago. Three Matts in a freakin’ pod. Seemed like some things really didn’t change.
But other things changed. Big time.
Back in the day, Shepherd had been the star point guard on the basketball team. Now—Xavier fought to keep his head shake to himself—the guy was nearly as big around as he was tall.
Trenton seemed to be a big fan of beer, if the gut he sported could be taken as any kind of hint. He stepped forward and switched his Heineken to his left hand, extending his right. “How’s the shoulder?”
Xavier ground his molars and took the offered hand, shaking it. “Good. It shouldn’t be long before I’m back in the game.”
“I don’t know,” Bradley chimed in, “that Santiago kid is pretty good.”
Xavier shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his Armani. Where the hell was Frankie? He shot a glance at the grand staircase. Nothing. Dammit.
He turned his attention back to Bradley, former quarterback, forever asshole. “How are things with Heather?”
Out of Left Field Page 11
