Pati’s mouth pinched. “He cheated on me. This is not helping. We’re here to make Stephanie stop cutting school and stealing car stereos.” A commotion on the other side of the door told Francesca that Caleb found her office easily enough.
Stephanie flashed her mother the middle finger, rushed to the door to escape, and opened it so forcefully it bounced against the file cabinet as she ran to escape, bouncing off Caleb’s chest. Caleb’s fist was raised, poised to knock. Francesca didn’t know who seemed more surprised, him or Stephanie. Stephanie, however, was the one glaring.
“Sorry.” He peeked inside, looking uncomfortable. He was wearing his black biker jacket and couldn’t have been sexier. Pati and Stephanie, however, only seemed to see his neck scar.
“Caleb.” Francesca stood.
“Is Tiny yours?” Stephanie sounded impressed.
“Tiny?” Caleb frowned at Stephanie before turning to Francesca.
“I’m in session,” she said. Pressing her sweaty hands to her wool skirt, she ignored her tingles of excitement. She missed him when she was away from him. “Pati, Stephanie, this is my fiancé, Caleb.”
“Is that your car?” Stephanie said. “I mean…I like your car.”
Caleb hesitated, as if he wanted to ignore Stephanie, but nonetheless gave her his full attention. “Thank you.”
Pati frowned, reaching out to Stephanie as if she wanted to pull her away from Caleb. “I can barely understand a word he’s saying. What’s wrong with his throat?”
“Mom! Do you have to be so rude?” Stephanie pursed her lips, glaring.
Pati glared back. “Don’t you talk to me that way!” Stephanie’s face crumpled and she ran past Caleb, out of the office. Francesca held up her hands, hoping to calm everyone, but Pati grabbed her purse and gave chase.
Francesca dropped her hands, dejected. “Terrific.”
Caleb lifted his brows. “Sorry.”
Francesca stepped to the window, wondering if Stephanie had run outside, and sure enough, there she was. “Oh, no.” Stephanie ax-kicked Caleb’s passenger-side window out with her Doc Marten. His car alarm went off. Caleb joined her at the window, his size enveloping her, his heat warming her back…giving her yummy tingles. He watched with her as Stephanie dived waist-deep into his car, her feet dangling in view.
Francesca covered her mouth. “Well, I consider this a setback.” She folded her arms over her chest, watching her patient’s kicking feet.
Caleb left the window, and when she turned toward him, she saw he’d retrieved her purse from the floor next to her chair and was holding it out to her. “Hungry?” With a sigh, she nodded. Caleb led her out of her office. “I was hoping you’d be free for lunch,” he said.
Francesca scanned the waiting room and noted none of the patients were hers. Pati and Stephanie were her last for the day. “I should stay…see if I can help.”
Her supervisor came out of his office, his reader glasses perched on his forehead. “Security just called. Apparently, Stephanie Jansen broke into a car downstairs?” He was in his sixties, potbellied, wore brown slacks, and a white collared shirt. “Know anything about that, Francesca?” He ran his hand over his balding head, as if it were an old habit, from back in the day when he had hair.
She glanced at Caleb, resting a hand on his arm. “Give me a moment.” He nodded, and waited in the hall outside, while she and her supervisor stepped into his office.
It took her five minutes to explain, with Mr. Reynolds nodding sagely the whole time, making affirmative noises to project calm and understanding. “The police are on their way,” he said. “Why don’t you go, and let me deal with this…they’ll want me to sign the paperwork anyway. I’m afraid Stephanie has made her choice.” Francesca nodded, though she wanted to argue. She wasn’t willing to give up on Stephanie just yet, but it would do no one any good to argue now, with the police on the way.
When she stepped into the hall, Caleb greeted her with lifted brows, patience personified. “Want to slip out the back, avoid the crowds?”
Crowds being code for the police and the inevitable chaos she’d trigger when Stephanie and Pati caught sight of her. “Seems like the best decision for all of us.”
“I’ve texted your bodyguards. Gave them the heads’ up.”
“What about your car?”
“It’s not mine.” He winked. “It’s your father’s.”
Francesca groaned as she approached the stairwell. “Poor Stephanie. She has no idea the amount of trouble she’s signed up for.”
He opened the door, and waited for her to walk through first. “I have a feeling she knows exactly what she’s doing.”
“She’s thirteen.” Her heels clicked on the stairs, the sound echoing off the gray cement walls. “You talk as if she’s a career criminal.”
“That little girl wanted to get caught.”
Francesca didn’t know what to say. “How would you know?”
He shrugged. “I understand people.” They reached the bottom floor soon thereafter. He opened the door, waiting for her to walk past, out into the sunshine and the busy sidewalk. “You in the mood for Chinese?” The car alarm now competed with the police sirens and blue flashing lights as cruisers drove past, taking the corner toward the crime scene.
Francesca felt torn. “I can’t help thinking I should be there when Stephanie interacts with the police.”
“Your boss seems to think otherwise.” Caleb was surveying the street, frowning. “And I’m not interested in spending my lunch at the police station.” He pressed his hand to her lower back, walking in the opposite direction of the commotion. “She broke into a car, in front of witnesses. That alone has earned her a few hours of worry. Maybe this will scare her straight.”
“But—”
“I can’t believe your father allows you to work here. We’ve been on this sidewalk for less than a minute and I’ve seen three felonies already.”
“What?” She turned around, searching for these felonies. “I don’t see anything.”
“No. You wouldn’t.” He continued to hurry her down the street.
Francesca refused to feel guilty. It was impossible to worry with Caleb by her side…and her bodyguards were never far away. She could see Ralph and Walter across the street, their guns breaking the line of their suit jackets.
He was making her walk a bit faster than her heels were designed to, so she nudged him until he slowed. “I feel like we’re sneaking away.”
“We are.” He chuckled. “Isn’t it a rush?”
He took her hand, absently drawing his thumb over her knuckles until it found her engagement ring. Francesca refused to be the first to mention it, and instead focused on her surroundings. The farther from the shelter they walked, the better the neighborhood became, leaving behind metal-gate-reinforced storefronts, abandoned real estate, dollar stores, and tiny restaurants with handmade signs. His steps, previously so difficult to keep up with in heels, now slowed to meandering when Essex Street was in their wake.
Five minutes later, him still nudging the engagement ring, she realized Caleb had no intention of bringing it up. She’d have to or he’d simply move on, as if nothing had happened. Francesca refused to make life that easy for him. She pulled her hand away, shook it out to dispel the residual heat from his hand, and then pursed her lips. Time to spank this big boy.
“You’ve been scarce lately. What’s the occasion?” She gave him side eye, hoping to disguise her motives. When it came to men like Caleb, like her father, a sneak attack was the only type that had a chance of getting through their defenses, and she was in the mood to win this battle.
“I was hungry,” he whispered, grabbing her hand again. He pressed it to his lips, kissing its back as he smiled. “And I missed you.” He tugged her against his side, dropping a kiss on her lips. She almost fought the contact, but then he used his glorious, skillful tongue to deepen the kiss, and his superpowers overcame her resistance. She stumbled, he steadied her, but not before co
pping a subtle, if thorough, feel before she could push him off. He laughed.
Hands on her hips, she glared, confronting him on the sidewalk.
“Francesca,” he crooned, his gravelly voice giving her name a sexy depth she found irresistible. It was quite unfair, actually. His voice could turn her on with little effort, and made her wiggle even when she was in the mood for a fight. “I missed you. Did you miss me?”
Yes. “I have a right to be annoyed. I wake up with a ring next to my head and no explanation.” Or romantic words, or kisses, or explanation if he thought their fake engagement was anything but fake. A girl liked to know these things when waking to a Tiffany ring box.
He did a quick scan of the street, subtly reminding her they were in public, and her bodyguards had caught up with them, twenty-feet away. They were frowning.
“What’s to explain?” Caleb said. “We’re engaged.”
She stepped closer, whispering. “Fake engaged.”
“Okay.” He smiled.
“What do you mean, okay? Okay? As in okay yes, we’re only fake engaged, or okay as in…what?”
“As in, okay, you’re upset. I’m sorry. Don’t you like the ring?” She held it out, admiring it. That wasn’t the point. “Last night—” he said.
“This has nothing to do with last night,” she snapped. Now he had her looking left and right, afraid of being overheard. She held her hand closer to his face, flashing the ring. “This is different from what happened last night and every night since the party. It’s different.”
“Why?” He seemed genuinely baffled.
“We have sex, Caleb. This…” She glared at the ring. “It’s just different.”
“Hmm.” He nodded, allowing her conclusion to go unchallenged, and then took her hand, prompting her to walk again. “Have you had any conversations with your father lately?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“It’s pertinent.” His glance was hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure she’d receive his news well. It worried her, so when he took a breath to continue, she tensed, afraid she’d become even more upset. “I’m sorry I left the ring on the pillow. I should have woken you. I’m an ass. Is that what you want me to say? Or better yet, I’m a guy. Guys don’t do girl stuff right. That’s why we’re not girls.”
“That’s it? You’re a guy, so you get a free pass for continuing”—she glanced behind her at her lurking bodyguards, now forty-feet away—“this farce of an engagement? Buying me a ring so it appears we’re really going to go through with the marriage? It’s not happening.”
“I know.”
“I’ll tell my father…I just…” Didn’t have the guts yet.
“If I woke you this morning, I would have made love to you, and I couldn’t be late.”
“Huh?”
Caleb grimaced, as if annoyed she wanted him to clarify. He wouldn’t meet her gaze, so she stopped trying to force him to, and stared at the sidewalk, absently walking, no idea where he was leading her.
“So can we talk about what I want to talk about now?” he said.
He made her sound like a fishwife. “Okay.”
Caleb tugged her to his side and draped his arm over her shoulder, squeezing, then he kissed her temple. “Francesca,” he growled into her ear. It sent trembles of awareness through her body. “Don’t be mad at me.”
She wasn’t. She was mad at herself. “I’m sorry. You’re trying to tell me something. No, trying to tell me something about my father.” And all she could concentrate on was a fake engagement, a ring that meant nothing, and a future that would soon be without Caleb. That it depressed the hell out of her wasn’t Caleb’s fault. “No. My father and I haven’t talked. He’s allergic to talking to me.”
Caleb scanned the street, ever watchful. “During this morning’s meeting, he dropped that he wanted us married within the next two weeks.” He shrugged, looking ahead. “I’ve scheduled an appointment with wedding planners. I’ve been assured that timeline is impossible, but since we have no intention of getting married…who cares, right? It will buy us time with your father.”
“Right. Who cares?” Only Francesca did care.
Caleb squeezed her again. She studied his face, marveling how he looked so angelic even with his unshaved whiskers and unruly hair. A dark angel. “Okay?” he said.
No. It was not okay. “I need to tell him, Caleb. Put us out of our misery.”
Caleb kissed the top of her head, still guiding her down the sidewalk. “He’s dying. Maybe you need to decide what you want more. Him in your life, or me out of it.”
“Don’t say that.” Francesca pressed her cheek to his chest and slipped her hand under his jacket, feeling his heat through the thin T-shirt. “It’s just…it’s been a tough week.”
He lifted her into a hug and twirled her around, setting her down when she was good and dizzy. “I blame you!” He laughed, and then kissed her, thoroughly, and when he was done, she realized they’d stopped walking and were standing on the sidewalk as passersby took note, curious and amused. “You haven’t let me sleep since the party—”
“You wake me!”
“And when I’m working, all I think about is getting back to you.” He dropped another kiss on her lips, and then one on her nose. “Totally your fault.” He tilted his head to the side, indicting the storefront he’d brought her to. “My favorite Chinese restaurant. They have a crispy duck that will make you moan.” He opened the door, and a bell chimed overhead, catching the attention of a blond waitress inside. “And let me be clear.” He winked. “I can’t wait to hear you moan.”
The waitress heard him and was smirking, forcing Francesca to hide her embarrassment and dig deep to repair her composure…because Caleb was the only person, place or thing that had ever made her moan. Full-throated, uninhibited moans. He could drag one out of her with a look, shattering her inhibitions, making her forget their arrangement and dissolve in his arms. Even now, the look he was giving her usually preceded him unbuckling his belt. It primed her for euphoria, had her aroused, randy, and wondering how she’d survive lunch without the release only he could give her.
“Tony.” Caleb nodded to the man behind the counter.
Tony wore a Boston Red Sox cap and a faded Dropkick Murphys concert T-shirt. She glanced at the menu on the wall, and yeah, this was a Chinese restaurant. Why was she surprised it would be like no other Chinese restaurant she’d ever entered? This was Caleb. He didn’t do anything like other people.
Tony didn’t return Caleb’s greeting. He gave her a once-over and then pulled his phone out and walked deeper into the kitchen, making a call. Caleb didn’t seem to mind, and she allowed the behavior to go unnoted as he escorted her to a corner booth. He dwarfed it, but kept his back to the wall, sitting next to the floor-length window, overlooking the sidewalk. She sat across from him, her back to the kitchen.
Francesca tilted her head, indicating Tony, who was half in and half out of the kitchen. The man continued to stare, talking energetically on his phone. His behavior was making Francesca uncomfortable.
“Is he mad at you?” she said. The restaurant was clean, if worn, and the booth seats were comfortable, but she didn’t want to eat a meal prepared by a disgruntled cook. “He’s acting odd.”
“Tony is odd, sweetheart. Then again”—he shrugged—“aren’t we all?”
“Speak for yourself.” Francesca had spent a lifetime making sure she wasn’t. Odd was not acceptable to her father.
He held up two fingers and nodded to someone over her shoulder. “Coronas.” Francesca forced herself not to look to see who he was speaking to. She was already feeling under a microscope.
“It’s lunch,” she said.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere.” He took off his leather jacket and stuffed it in the corner before sinking deep into his seat, spreading out.
“It will put me to sleep.”
“I like waking you up.” His smile told her just how. She blushed.
&
nbsp; Lots of people passing on the sidewalk seemed to notice Caleb and hurry away. Francesca blamed the neighborhood’s reputation and optics. He was a big guy. And if you didn’t know him, Caleb could come across as intimidating, maybe slightly dangerous. She supposed it was because he was her large, intimidating, slightly dangerous man that it didn’t bother her.
“Why are we here?” she said.
“Amazing food.” Caleb smiled at someone over her shoulder, and this time, Francesca felt a presence, so she turned. A thirtysomething bleach-white blonde, fair-of-face waitress set two opened Coronas on the table. “Thanks, Lanny.”
Lanny’s hair was short and spiky, fun. Her shorts were cut so high at her ass, Francesca wondered why she bothered wearing pants. Her white camisole could only be more revealing if someone dumped water on her, and if that wasn’t bad enough, her smile was directed at Caleb, giving every indication Lanny knew him well. Really well. And it really bothered Francesca.
She flashed her diamond ring, allowing it to click repeatedly on the table. Lanny continued to ignore her, so she tapped the white-gold band louder, doing everything but whistle and point. Lanny finally noticed.
“Caleb, since when do you fool around with taken women?” Lanny put her hand on her hip. “A new low.”
“No, no”—she pancaked her hand, flashing the diamond—“we’re engaged.” Lanny’s jaw dropped. Then she rolled her eyes and hightailed it out of there.
“Maybe Chinese wasn’t a good idea.” He grimaced, taking a pull from his beer.
“These people are exceptionally odd.” Francesca sipped from her bottle, because Lanny didn’t think to bring a glass. A glance out the window revealed that her bodyguards were bookending the wall-length window outside on the sidewalk, no more than eight feet from her.
Caleb touched her hand. “You okay?”
He seemed confused, as if oblivious to what just happened. Lanny practically announced she was his old girlfriend, angry that he was bringing his fiancée to eat at her place of business. Why wouldn’t Caleb think that would bother her? Because she’d been telling him they weren’t really marrying. Because their engagement wasn’t real. This ring she’d just flashed…it was a prop. Why would Caleb think Lanny would bother her? Francesca was filled with a confusing mix of anger, jealousy, confusion, and self-pity.
Seduced by Sin (Unlikely Hero) Page 10
