“Ah?” Mei said with approval. “Upper?”
“Yes.” Mark gave her his disarming grin. “Not bad, huh?”
“Not bad,” Mei conceded. “But doctor better.”
“You’re totally right, Mei,” Mark said. “Francine is better.”
“So,” Francine said, a bit unnerved at Mark’s grinning at Mei so sweetly, and his compliments. “I’ll have the green tea, please, Mei. Won-ton soup, extra spicy, and some garlic pork.”
“You hungry,” Mei said with approval. “Very good. I like when you eat lots of food.”
Francine flushed again. “Well… yes. I was too busy today to eat anything much.”
“That why you look so tired and bad?” Mei said.
Mark gave snort of laughter, then covered it up with a careful cough when Francine glared over at him.
“Um, yes.” Francine scrambled to maintain the last of her dignity in front of the most gorgeous man that she’d ever seen. “Yes, I am pretty tired.”
“You look it,” Mei said with her usual unflinching honesty. “OK, well, I get your food. Su-Yin bring tea now.”
“Thank you.”
They watched Mei wander away, then they looked at each other.
“She gets away with it, huh?” Mark said, still grinning widely. “Speaking her mind?”
“I know!” Francine shook her blonde head. “Every single time.”
“I guess being ninety-four years old helps.” Mark considered. “So does being utterly terrifying, in a charming kinda way.”
A laugh burst out of Francine’s throat, catching her by surprise. Mark laughed too, liking seeing her happy.
The last of the tension and awkwardness just melted away between them, leaving nothing but warmth in its place. Suddenly, Francine was very, very glad to be sitting here with Mark.
“So,” he said. “Did you have a busy day today?”
“Yeah.” She leaned back, relaxing in to the seat cushion. “Busy and stressful. You?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Mark shrugged. “I was with a client, on duty. It’s always nice to get out of the office.”
“You were bodyguarding?”
“Yep.”
“All went OK?” She nodded at Su-Yin, Mei’s granddaughter, and smiled as the younger woman poured her tea. “No dangerous situations to deal with?”
“Not today.”
“Is that unusual?” she asked, sipping her tea.
Mark shrugged again. “Depends on the client, and what it is we’re protecting them from. If we’re dealing with a deranged fan, or an abusive ex, or an obsessed stalker, things tend to be tense for the whole job.”
“I can see that.”
“But the guy I’m working with now is a businessman in town closing a huge deal. He’s worried about his security, but I don’t really see why, to be honest.”
“He has competitors? Rivals for the deal?”
“Not that we found. He just seems high-strung, and he needs us around so he can keep his focus, you know? If we handle his security, then he can relax, and do his job.”
“You’re on peace of mind duty?”
Mark laughed again. “Basically. Yeah.”
“So no beating anyone up today?” She found herself teasing him. “Nobody around to shoot?”
“Nuh-uh. Maybe tomorrow.”
She giggled, and he started at the surprisingly sweet, almost girlish, sound. He gazed at her some more, took in the strain around her eyes. Mei was right, he saw: she looked done in.
“So…” Mark said cautiously. He knew that Francine specialized in clients dealing with domestic violence, and sexual and psychological trauma, and so asking about her work was iffy, at the best of times. “You want to tell me a bit about your day?”
Startled, she stared up at him again. “You – really? You’re interested?”
As those clear blue eyes met his own, Mark’s cock stirred, hardened, lengthened. God, yes, he was interested; every inch of him was interested. He imagined how those eyes would look as she came under him, panting and crying out – they’d be wild and wide, he’d bet.
‘Interested’, babe? That’s putting it mildly.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I’m interested.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “Well… my day was… ummm. It was a hard one.”
“A client?” he probed gently. “A tough case?”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “A woman who’s being badly abused at home.”
“By her husband?” Mark kept his voice low and calm, but he felt anger building in him. Fuck, he hated guys like this, hated them with everything that he had, and was, and held dear. Bullying, pathetic cowards, beating on people smaller and weaker than they were, all to feel like the men of the house. Goddamn dickheads. “He’s the one hurting her?”
“Yes. I can’t say too much, Mark, but yes. It’s – a bad case. I mean, they’re all bad, but something about this one.” She gazed down at the table as Mei brought her soup, waited for the other woman to leave. “I don’t know… I can’t explain it. I just really feel like this one’s going to end badly. And soon. The way he’s escalating, it feels like the ticking clock is going triple-time.”
“Nothing you can do?”
Francine sighed. “No. Not until she asks for my help. The second she asks, I’ll take her to the cops personally, and then get her to the safe house that I work at.”
“You mean Olivia’s safe house?”
“Uh-huh. But I can’t do anything until my client asks.”
“Yeah, I know.” He had the overwhelming urge to reach over the table, take her hand. “That must be hard.”
“It is,” she admitted in a small voice. “It never gets easier.”
“I can imagine. I’m sorry.”
That seemed to bring her back to herself. “Don’t say you’re sorry for me, Mark. I’ve got it easy. It’s the women, men, and kids in abusive situations who need support and empathy.”
“Well, sure. But if you get beaten down or burned out, you’re no good to anyone, are you? You need to be strong for them, right? They can’t lean on you, and ask you for help, if you’re exhausted and tired. ”
Surprised yet again by this man, she felt her brow furrow in confusion. “Well, yeah.”
“So… eat.” He gestured at the plate of pork that Mei was carrying over. “Warm up, get some sustenance. Relax, hang out with me for an hour, then go home. Have a hot bath, read a racy romance book, curl up in bed. Go to sleep early, wake up late.”
Stunned, Francine felt her mouth drop open. “Uh – racy romance book?”
“Sure.” His eyes sparkled. “The best way to relax at the end of a rough day.”
“Is that what you do?”
“Sure do.”
“Shut up,” she said, delighted at this tidbit of information. “What kind?”
“Oh, military romance, all the way. Some romantic suspense, maybe the occasional paranormal romance.”
She laughed aloud. “Vampires?”
“Nope. Shifters. I’m very partial to wolves. Shape-shifting, growling wolves that move in packs.”
“Shut up,” she said again.
“OK, no. I’m totally lying. I’ve never read a racy romance in the whole of my life. But I had you going for a minute there, huh?”
“Yeah.” She felt every ounce of tension just ease out of her shoulders now, and she started to eat with enthusiasm. “Yeah, you got me.”
How Mark wished that that was true… that he had her. That she was his, his all the way, his all the time, and his everywhere. In his life, in his arms. In his bed, and in his heart. He’d make room for her in all of those places.
“So.” Francine smiled up at him, a real smile that made his cock strain against his zipper yet again. “Why don’t you want M
ei to know that you’re a doctor?”
“Well, I’m not,” he said, draining the last of his coffee. “Not anymore.”
“When did you stop practicing?”
“When I left Afghanistan. Five years ago.”
“You never wanted to practice here in the States?”
“Oh, I did practice here, kind of. For a little while, right after I first graduated from med school, just to gain some experience.”
“Yeah? What specialization?”
“I never had one. I was always a trauma surgeon, so I did most of my time in the E.R., doing triage on whatever was rolled in the doors. Handling the worst of it, getting patients stable if at all possible, then sending them on to the surgeons and doctors who specialized in whatever it was they needed.”
“But don’t you need extensive training to be a trauma surgeon?” Francine asked. “I mean, you basically have to deal with whatever the problem is, so you have to be able to deal with… well. With everything. Right?”
Mark shrugged, and she saw real humility in that gesture.
“I studied general surgical, thoracic, and vascular procedures. I needed to make hard decisions, with no time and with almost no information, and I did that every single time I went to work. I had to know what I was doing.”
“I’ll bet,” she said quietly.
“I made some bad calls, but I made more good ones, thank Christ. It was the best job I’ve ever had, and doing it in Afghanistan for our troops – while under attack, while taking fire – was the most important work I’ve ever done. I wouldn’t change my time in trauma for anything.”
“And you stopped completely after coming back home?” She hoped she wasn’t pushing, but Francine suddenly wanted to know more about this man. She was just starting to realize that his astonishing good looks were the least interesting thing about him. “You never went back to it after your time in the military?”
“Nope, never did.” Mark sat back, his shoulders huge and broad. The feminine part of her responded to all that strength and muscle – responded fiercely. “I said that my time in trauma and war was the best, most important work that I’ve ever done… I never said it was the easiest.”
She nodded.
“I was burned out when I came back from Afghanistan,” Mark said. “But I still wanted to help people. Keep them safe. Protect them. Bodyguarding seemed like a good fit.”
“I can see that.”
“Dallas only hires people with military backgrounds, since we all need to carry while on duty. We need to be able to make split-second decisions, usually with no time and often with no information, and we need to act calmly and decisively under fire and insane stress. Most importantly, we need to work as a team. No lone wolves in the military, none in protection and security. We need to totally trust each other, and have each other’s backs.”
“You have a thing for wolves, huh?” She was teasing him again, she was shocked to see. “What’s up with that?”
He cocked his head at her, his gorgeous face splitting in to a beaming smile. God, it took her breath away. The man was sex on legs, just pure, dark, hot sex, and even though she barely knew him, Francine couldn’t deny her attraction to him.
“Dunno,” he said, his tone playful but his eyes intense. “You’re the shrink, Doctor Cabot. What’s up with me and wolves?”
She swallowed hard. Was he flirting with her? No, impossible.
“Uh, well.” She tried to stay focused. Not so easy with Mark looking at her the way that he was. The force of his charisma just carried over the table at her, so strong and unapologetically male, it was almost a physical touch. Her voice died in her throat, and despite herself, Francine felt her back arch, helplessly, just a tiny bit. Reaching for him. Offering herself to him.
The movement pushed her full breasts forward, and his incredible eyes dropped to her chest. Just for a second, but she saw him look. His hard, powerful gaze flicked over her curves, over her hard nipples pushing up against her thin sweater. And when those mint-green eyes returned to stare in to her own blue ones, the hunger and want she saw in them was real. Hot, possessive, overwhelming. Feral. Her whole body jolted in response.
Oh, dear, sweet God. Help.
His smile was dangerous now, as he took her in. She felt her cheeks flush again under his frank perusal, and suddenly, surprisingly, her pussy gave a hard spasm, then a series of small flutters.
Barely suppressing a moan, she shifted her hips on the leather seat, the tiniest of movements, but even that rubbed her thighs together and stroked her pulsing clit. She was seconds away from orgasm, she was horrified to realize. Flustered, panicking, Francine bit her lip, almost afraid of what was happening to her. No man had ever turned her on this much, and Mark had done it without so much as touching her.
He saw her arousal, and she knew it. She had no way to hide it, no way to control it. She was rapidly dissolving into a messy, shuddering puddle of desire right here in front of him, and she felt nothing but confusion and humiliation at that fact. This wasn’t her, this wasn’t her at all.
Mark saw the glitter in her eyes, saw the coiled-up tension in her body practically begging for release. His own body reacted just as helplessly: his cock was painfully hard, his thighs were taut with fighting to stay in control, his breathing was speeding up. Fuck, yeah, she felt what he felt – and it was nothing less than pure, animal attraction. It was undeniable.
She looked freaked out, though, almost to the point of vulnerability, and his heart clenched. He didn’t want that. If there was something between them, he wanted to act on it, see where it might lead. No way that’d happen if Francine was feeling shameful or conflicted about her own desires. He had to get her to relax.
“Hey,” he murmured, low and sultry. “You were saying something?”
“I – I –” She looked away now, struggling for air. “I don’t remember.”
“About me and my thing for wolves?” he prompted her gently.
“Oh. Right.” Was she seriously supposed to hold up her end of a conversation, after that scorching, searing look between them? She might as well try to swim underwater without oxygen, or go skydiving with a blindfold. It was goddamn impossible.
Just then – and thank God! – Francine’s cell phone rang. With palpable relief, she lunged for her purse. But when she saw the number flashing up, any sense of respite dissipated, and she felt nothing but fear. She’d been waiting for this call, she realized now. She’d known it was coming.
“Hey,” Mark said, alarmed as he watched the color drain from her face. All the heat and flirtation were gone from his words now. Protectiveness surged up in their place, hard and strong. “What? What is it?”
She didn’t answer him, didn’t even look at him. She swiped the phone, answered in a terse voice. “Alexandra?”
Mark watched her, saw the pulse in her delicate throat jump.
“Alexandra?” she repeated. “Can you talk to me?”
Silence. Francine strained to hear. Was that breathing?
“Alexandra? Do you need my help? Are you hurt?”
A sudden, stifled sob. More silence. But that was enough for Francine.
She shot to her feet, and Mark followed suit. She ignored him, fumbling with her wallet, her purse, her outdoor things, all the while still holding the phone.
“I’m coming, Alexandra,” she said, keeping her voice level and calm. “You stay on the phone as long as you can, OK?”
“OK.” The word was a shrieking whisper of pain, of terror, of surrender, and everything in Francine recognized it. She’d heard that same tone a thousand times, and every single time, the person who’d used it had barely survived whatever had led up to its utterance. It was bad, whatever it was at the other end of the line, and Francine just hoped that she got to Alexandra in time. “OK.”
“Keep quiet now,” Francine said. �
�Just breathe. Stay with me.”
More silence, but at least she heard Alexandra’s shaky, rapid breaths. For now, that was about the best that Francine could ask for.
She looked up to see Mark holding her coat for her. She blinked, slid her one arm through the sleeve, then the other. Quickly, he wrapped her scarf around her neck, then held her one mitten out. She extended her hand, he slipped the mitten on, then did it again with her other hand. She looked away as he did up the buttons on her coat, his nearness overpowering, and that was when she saw that he’d left the money for both of their meals on the table. He yanked on his own coat, grabbed her purse, took her hand, tugged her to the door.
“C’mon,” he said urgently. “I’ll take you.”
She covered the phone mouthpiece. “You don’t have to –”
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Mark said, incredulous. “You’re gonna drive in this weather, while holding a cell? Gimme a break, Francine.”
“I – I…” She looked up at the sky, saw the heavy snowfall. “No, you’re right. Thanks.”
He ushered her over to a black SUV, unlocked and opened her door, did up her seatbelt. He slammed her door shut, hurried around to the driver’s side. He started the engine even as he did up his own seatbelt, then he glanced over at Francine.
“Address?” he grated out.
She gave it to him, and he nodded. He hit the gas, spun the wheel hard to the left as he peeled out. Francine gasped, held on, and he looked at her again.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m a trained and semi-pro race car driver.”
She raised her eyebrows at him, still concentrating on Alexandra’s breathing.
He saw the look, grinned at her. “I raced cars for money when I was in high school and college. I’m all about speed and safety.”
Making a mental note to ask him about that sometime in the near future, Francine relaxed a bit.
“Alexandra?” she said. “We’re coming now. We’re in the car, and we’ll be there in fifteen minutes. You doing OK?”
“OK.” The word was released on the quietest of breaths, so faint that Francine barely heard it.
“Listen, ma douce… are you alone?”
Solid Heart (Unseen Enemy Book 7) Page 2
