Frankie settled his gaze on her as he considered her words.
Was he going to say something? Anything? Dust particles floated on the air and Lucie waved a hand at them. It was easier than thinking about how she’d just let her most intimate feelings fly.
He leaned closer and focused on her lips. “I’m definitely getting laid today.”
This would be one of the times when his one-track mind irritated her, and she bit down hard to keep from spewing. Damn him. She turned and flipped the lid on the box closest to her. Had she even gone through this box? Never mind that, how could he not say something more appropriate? Idiot.
“Stop it,” he said. With swift moves, he shoved the box away and mashed her with a lip lock that sent the familiar fire to her core. But no, he would not distract her from being mad, except his hand moved up her waist, his fingers gentle and soothing. His thumb settled at the curve of her breast and stroked and—yow—good stuff there. She inched closer, allowing a chip to form in that wall of anger between them. When he kissed her like this, he knew the power of it, how it affected her and every feminine inch of her adored that.
Still, he was an idiot. Her idiot. But she wanted him. She also wanted this feeling of floating away. No dognappings, no job loss, no crazy family. Just Frankie bringing calm and lightness to her life.
He pulled back and looked her in the eyes. “I love you. I want you all the time. Don’t be pissed at me for it. It’s my way of telling you what you mean to me.”
“But that was a big moment for me and you reduced it to something sexual.”
“I’m sorry.”
He meant it. The way he refused to look away, his eyes searching hers, told her so. She nodded. “No more talk about sex. We don’t have time. I have to get these last few boxes done, walk the dogs and get home so I can work on collars.”
“Yes, boss.” He glanced around. “How many boxes are left?”
Lucie smacked her hand over three boxes. “Just these.”
“Got it.”
And just like that, he settled in to go through dusty old boxes with her.
“By the way, I talked to my sister about helping with collars. She’s in if you need extra help.”
“Perfect. Another set of hands will help with the orders coming in. She can help with gluing the rhinestones. She’ll have to do it here though. She can bring Paulie with her if her husband isn’t around.”
“Count on that.”
His sister was another one Lucie didn’t understand. “Why does she stay married to him? He’s never home. What’s the point?”
Frankie focused on the newsprint wrapped item in his hand. “No idea. It’s her life. If she wants to spend it married to that knucklehead, I’m not going to argue with her.”
“She could have so much more.”
“Yep.”
And yet she chose to be married to someone in the life. A real leg-breaker. Such a waste.
Lucie watched Frankie carefully unwrap the item that had probably been in this attic for thirty years. “Maybe that’s what your sister knows. Everyone around her is in the life or married to someone in it. You and I are the freaks. We went legitimate.”
Frankie laughed. “You’re right. It’s you and me, babe. We’re stuck with each other.”
“Pretty much. Who else could understand this craziness?”
All this time she’d been fighting, wanting to get away from here, blaming Frankie for not wanting to move. She never once tried to understand his loyalty. Truth was, she’d probably never understand, but as her mother had said, as long as they were a team, maybe she didn’t need to. Tears bubbled behind her eyes and she turned to the box awaiting her attention.
“Luce?”
The softness in his rich voice, like liquid butter gliding over her, brought up a sob. She could never live without hearing that voice. At night, in the morning, when they made love and when he talked dirty. She had to have it.
The sob broke free and she bent over the box and let the tears fall because she’d been such a fool. A fool that almost lost the one thing she’d always wanted.
Fear and relief melded inside her and she hiccupped.
Frankie set the small bowl he’d just unwrapped on the floor and pulled her from her bent position into a hug. “What is it?”
The smell of his soap, some fancy stuff he bought at Neiman’s, drifted into her and she slipped her arms around him and squeezed. She had to tell him. He deserved it. “I’ve been asking you to move away. Moving wouldn’t solve it. We’d still be part of this. We can’t run from our families.”
“Luce, it’s okay. We’re okay. You want things and you’re trying to figure out how to get them. I want things, too. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Finally, she pushed back, gripped his arms. “I’m not going to ask you to move anymore. If this is where you want to be, I’ll deal with it, but we need to set boundaries. I don’t want everyone up our butts all the time.”
“I hear you.”
“I don’t know where my life is going, but I know I don’t want to spend the rest of it being Lucie Rizzo, Mob Princess.”
He shook his head. “You don’t have to.”
“And I want us to be a team. I’m tired of fighting with you about making changes and not defending me to your parents. If you’re willing to set those boundaries and take my side once in a while, then I’m willing to stop bugging you about it.”
“I don’t want to sell my house. I want to stay in Franklin. Are you good with that?”
“Yes. As long as we separate ourselves from the chaos. That’s why I liked living downtown. I was able to be me and didn’t have to think about being Joe Rizzo’s daughter.”
“Luce, you don’t have to live far away to do that. Build your own life and people will see you for what you are. You can be Lucie Rizzo, CEO, whose father happens to be Joe Rizzo.”
She never thought of it that way. Again, he was right. She hated that.
“Good point.”
“Damn straight. And the way things are looking for Coco Barknell, maybe you’ll make me some big-time money.”
Lucie grinned. “Now you’re talking.”
“See. You don’t need to be an investment banker to become a billionaire. You can build a corporation. And I can be a kept man who travels from state to state watching baseball games.”
She laughed. “You’re an idiot.”
“You wouldn’t support me?”
“Oh, I’d support you. As long as you do all the cooking, cleaning and laundry.”
Frankie made a pffing noise and went back to his box. “I’m not doing that.”
“Then you’d better get back to work.” She checked her watch. “We need to hurry with these last two boxes. I made us late with my emotional upheaval.”
He shrugged. “We’ll get it done.”
Yes. They would. That she knew for sure.
* * *
While walking Otis, Aretha Franklin’s lovely pipes sounded and Lucie snatched her phone from her jacket pocket. A 312 number. Downtown.
Who could this be? Cranky. That’s what she was. Really, she should have been happy because they’d finished the search of the attic and found nothing. Nada. Not one errant diamond.
It should have been a good thing. Except it left them with another dead end.
She picked up the call. “Hello?”
“Lucie?” A man’s voice asked.
“Yes.”
“This is Noel Ferguson at Westerner Bank.”
The guy she had interviewed with. Holy smokes. She glanced at Frankie and shoved the leash at him. Probably a courtesy call to let her know they’d hired someone else. “Hello, Mr. Ferguson.”
Frankie’s mouth slid into an O. He continued walking Otis while Lucie lagged behind.
“I wanted to let you know we’ve been through the candidates and we’ve come to a decision.”
Here it comes, the big kiss-off. “I see.”
“If you’re st
ill available, we’d like to offer you the job.”
A job. She could move out of Franklin and get her life back.
A choir of angels should have been singing. Unfortunately, all Lucie heard was the sound of Otis barking at a car and Frankie telling him to shut the hell up.
She got the job. Just what she’d wanted. Back to being Lucia Rizzo, associate investment banker. Even if it meant seventy-five-hour workweeks.
Something caught in her throat. She swallowed to relieve the pressure. After the last couple of weeks, a banking job sounded pretty darn good. A relief even.
She stared down the block at Otis sniffing his favorite tree. He’d be there for at least five minutes. She knew this, because she and Otis had come to an agreement. She’d give him time at his favorite tree and then, somewhere in the next block, he’d poop for her.
If she took a job, she’d have to give up Otis and Coco Barknell. Abandon her mother and Ro. Lucie’s chest seized. How could she do that to Mom and Ro?
But a banking job? This is what she wanted.
“Lucie?”
She cleared her throat, tightened her grip on the phone. “Mr. Ferguson, thank you for the opportunity. Unfortunately—” Unfortunately? What was she doing? “I’ve had another opportunity come up and I’d like to pursue it.”
“Oh.” His voice displayed shock. Or was it irritation?
“I appreciate your offer,” she said. “I don’t want to accept the job if I’m not sure it’s what I want. That wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“I see. I’m disappointed, but your honesty is admirable.”
Honesty. Wasn’t that what she’d been craving all this time? For someone to recognize that in her? For someone to admire her rather than pass judgment?
After exchanging goodbyes, Lucie shoved the phone in her pocket and slapped her hands over her face. Did she really decline a job that offered security, a steady paycheck and the opportunity to move out of Franklin?
Yep. Sure did. God help her. Three weeks ago, she would never have done that. A bird flapped by her head and she straightened, took a breath of crisp morning air and settled herself. It was done now. No turning back.
“Luce?” Frankie called from three houses down. “What’s up?”
She trotted up to him. “I just turned down the banking job.”
His head snapped back. “Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yep.”
He laughed. “Really? Because, I don’t believe you.”
She kneeled in front of Otis, stuck her cheek in front of his snout and gratefully accepted a wet lick. After a second of the Otis love, she stood to face Frankie. “Here’s the thing, I don’t have that sick what-did-I-do feeling in my stomach. That tells me I wasn’t ready to give up on Coco Barknell.”
“Good for you, Luce.”
“I guess we’ll see.”
Frankie handed her the leash. “Truthfully, I don’t think you even like banking. You set a goal and getting a job was more about reaching the goal. Did you ever think about that? About actually liking banking?”
No, she hadn’t. Banking gave her credibility, at least she thought so. It had never occurred to her to waver from the plan. “I know I’m not terrified that I just turned down a job. That has to mean something, right?”
He slid his arm around her. “I believe it does.”
Chapter Sixteen
After getting off work early, Frankie wandered over to Lucie’s having no idea what to expect. Lately, the Rizzo nuthouse had gotten nuttier. And it was impossible to ignore their kind of crazy.
Lucie sat in her usual spot at the dining room table, her laptop open in front of her and various reports, fabric samples and other Coco-related items scattered about.
“Hey,” he said.
She stared at him with eyes as blank as a sheet of unused paper. Okay, then.
“Oh. My. God.” She squeezed her head between her hands. “I am completely freaking out.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. She looked…deranged, and somehow…cute as hell. “Why?”
“They ordered five hundred coats.”
“Who?”
“Ro took it upon herself to meet with a buyer from Frampton’s. I should kill her for that alone, but five hundred coats? How are we supposed to do that?”
This information, just as Frankie was about to launch into one of his talk-her-off-the-ledge speeches, knocked him daffy. A major department store wanted Lucie’s products. “Luce, that’s fantastic.” He grabbed her hand, smothered it with kisses. “Damn, I’m proud of you.”
She snatched her hand away. “Did you hear me? Five. Hundred. Coats. Not to mention the two hundred collars.”
Even better. Coco Barknell had arrived. Frankie could understand Lucie’s turmoil, but this was awesome.
“Stop smiling,” Lucie screamed.
He rolled his lips under and she jabbed a stiff hand at her laptop. “I’ve been working on a production schedule and it’s impossible. We’ll never make it. What was I thinking, agreeing to this order?”
“You were thinking it’s a great opportunity and you should jump on it.” He grabbed the spreadsheet she’d left on the table and perused it. “What have we got here?”
Lucie flicked her finger at the underside of the page. “Cost estimates, production schedules, man hours. The whole works.”
His girl, as usual, had everything organized. The numbers looked good. Totally doable. “You’ve got a start on what you need. Let’s work it out. You need more money? I can give you a bridge loan until Frampton’s pays you.”
She shook that off. “What I really need is more time. I called the buyer after the meeting and talked her into delivery spread out over four weeks, but it’s still tight. We need to get them two hundred items in two weeks, then the remaining order over the following two weeks.”
Frankie perused the report in his hand. “You have five seamstresses here.”
“I figure we can get it done with five. They’ll have to work their butts off though.”
He set the spreadsheet down, looked at poor Lucie and her tight-lipped God-save-me expression. “Your mom knows people, right?”
“Yes. We’re hoping they’ll jump in.”
Sounded like a plan. “And my sister said she’d help.”
“I don’t know what to do about the dogs. I’ll have to get someone to cover for me; and how am I supposed to explain this whole dognapping thing?”
Frankie shrugged. “Joey will do it.”
And won’t he be stoked about that? Frankie picked up the spreadsheet again and pretended to read.
Lucie gasped. “For a minimum of three weeks? He’ll kill me. And if he doesn’t, I’ll have to listen to him moaning and I’ll wish he had killed me.”
He looked up from the spreadsheet and gave her his no-fail smile. “You’re cute.”
That earned him a big, honking eye roll. So much for his no-fail smile.
“Frankie, this Frampton’s thing adds pressure. We need to figure out who that diamond belongs to so we can all get on with our lives.”
“I know. With the search of the attic being a bust, we’re hitting dead ends everywhere.”
“Yeah. And Joey keeps telling me to check the walls for the diamonds, so I’ve been walking around banging on them. Next he’ll have us taking a hammer to my mother’s house.”
“You’re not doing that. This house hasn’t been painted in a couple years. How in the hell would someone hide something in the walls without your mother noticing? And Joey will walk the dogs for you.”
Lucie shook her head. “He won’t do it.”
“All he cares about is someone seeing him picking up poop. Outside of that, he doesn’t care. Plus, I have a little something that’ll convince him.”
Lucie leaned forward, a wicked gleam in her eye, which was a nice change from the psycho panic look.
“What is it?” she asked.
Frankie tosse
d the spreadsheet aside. “Nothing you need to know about. You’ll owe me big, though. I’ve been saving this chip a long time and I’m giving it up. For you.”
Where Lucie was concerned, owing him always meant sex, a lot of it, in experimental positions. In his opinion, hardly anything to cringe about.
She offered him a half grin. “If that’s what it takes. I’ll sacrifice my body.”
He grabbed her, nuzzled her neck and hoped for different ways to distract her. He backed away, stared into her eyes and saw the spark of heat there. That spark crackled between them as she ran her hand up his forearm and his skin did that funky pulsing that always happened when she touched him. He’d kill himself if it ever went away.
“You always come through for me,” she said.
And that was saying something with the crew they ran with. Never mind. This moment was too good to let it slip into drama-filled crapola. “Just make sure you do a lot of stretching. If Joey agrees to this, you’ll need to be limber.”
Her cheeks fired to the color of cherries. Probably thinking he was bad. But he was her bad. And the weeks they had spent apart before this dating thing happened had been torture.
Together, their unbalanced world evened out. He understood her life and the chaos of her family. They were a team. A damn good one.
* * *
Frankie parked the car a block from the Lutz’s. Once again, Lucie thought, he got a great parking spot. Good news considering it was already ten o’clock and they needed to pick up the scooters and get moving. She might as well walk Otis while they were here. It would blow her schedule even more out of whack because Otis wasn’t supposed to be walked until eleven-thirty, but she needed to cut time. Another night with Frankie forced her to work on collars early this morning rather than last night, which of course threw off her morning.
“Who’s first today?” Frankie asked.
“Walking Otis now will save us a trip.”
“Hopefully, we weren’t followed.”
Lucie flapped her arms. “Thanks for putting that idea into my head.”
“I’m just saying.”
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