Frankie’s vision blurred for a moment. She craned her head to plant a kiss on his dark cheek. “Let me hold you tonight,” she whispered against his heated flesh. “Let me love you.”
A current moved between them, liquid and hot. He coasted to a stop and turned to meet her lips.
“I can’t get enough of touching you,” he whispered.
Gage stepped out of the truck and pulled her into his arms. The evening air was brisk. A chorus of crickets sang to them across a cool breeze. They walked slowly over damp grass and onto the smooth, brick porch.
He turned the doorknob and led her inside.
The roaring in Frankie’s head remained there. She watched, smoky eyed, as he sat her gently on the couch and began to undress her. When she was down to bare skin, he sat back on his haunches and slowly looked her up and down.
“You humble me with your beauty.” He wrapped her in a fleece blanket. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Frankie watched him stroll to the fireplace and start a crackling blaze. Her flint gaze followed each step he made. He disappeared into the bathroom. She could hear him search the cabinet below the sink, she smelled the acrid sulfur of a lit match, saw the glow of candlelight. Frankie closed her eyes at the sound of a bath being drawn.
The romantic side of Gage Adams revealed itself.
She let the flames from the fireplace absorb her sense of sight, felt the warmth on her flesh. Gage had moved from the bathroom to stand beside his elaborate stereo system. She could almost see him through her closed eyelids. He picked through his collection of music and inserted a disc into the CD player. Frankie counted to herself. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand. A sensual Viennese waltz filtered the air from surround-sound speakers.
“Dance with me,” his deep voice urged.
Her breath hitched as warm lips grazed her neck.
“Dance with me,” he repeated.
“I thought the purpose of our taking dance lessons together was to learn how to waltz,” she balked.
“No,” he answered and pulled her to stand before him. “The purpose of taking dance lessons was to get you to spend some off-duty time with me. I already know how to waltz.” He pushed the blanket from her shoulders. His hand cupped her breast. He pulled her into his arms.
Frankie smiled. “You big sneak.”
Gage replied by dipping her backwards with a flourish. In the back of her mind, Frankie tried to picture what they looked like. Gage—tall and dashing in his white uniform. She—starkly nude and tinged with the erotic flush of arousal.
He danced her to the sofa and eased her down.
“We’re perfect together,” he whispered and bent his head to nuzzle her thighs. His hands pressed her legs apart and exposed her vagina, dripping wet and begging for attention. His tongue snaked out to lick her juices. Frankie gasped and arched back.
“Mmmmm, you taste so good,” he growled and latched his mouth to her wet pussy. “I’m going to get you off and then we’re going to bathe together.” His tongue flicked across her clit and traced the outline of her labial folds. She moaned, gripping the cushions of the sofa. Gage raised his head and smiled, slid a finger inside. Her entire body jerked at the sensation. He gave her a second finger, moving them in and out as she writhed in delight and met the thrust of his fingers with her hips. His lips captured her engorged clit and gently sucked it into his hot mouth.
Frankie screamed with pleasure.
Gage continued to work his fingers and tongue in synchrony, wrenching the maximum pleasure from her sensitized nerve endings. Her climax was swift and intense. A gush of fluid release squirted into his hand all the way up his wrist.
With a gasp, he drew back and stared at her in awe. A proud grin spread across his face. “I’ll be damned.” He began to chuckle at the irony of it. “And all those years you thought you couldn’t have an orgasm?”
He pulled her off into a tight embrace.
“You’re amazing!” He covered her mouth with musky kisses.
“What? Why?”
“You’re a squirter! Do you know how rare that is in a woman?”
Frankie opened one glassy gray eye. “Ah, no. Should I be embarrassed or elated?”
Gage burst into laughter. “Elated, sweetheart. You’re the best.”
Chapter 25
ISABELLE PACKS A LUNCH
“Taking your date to see a Russell Crowe flick is like foreplay,” Damon announced with conviction and folded his cards on the table.
Frankie glanced over the top of her water glass and pondered the revelation. The kid hadn’t been paying much attention to the poker game. While everyone else was still dressed except for an occasional shoe, Damon had lost all the way down to his skivvies. He’d been talking nonstop most of the day and getting more and more outrageous with each passing hour. He couldn’t sit still. He couldn’t focus. Crazy energy shrieked around him. Frankie reasoned that whatever had him acting out the part of a poster-child for Adult Attention Deficit Disorder, couldn’t be good for the rest of them.
Ever since Isabelle surprised them that evening with a mouth-watering dinner of steamer clams and grilled halibut, Damon had been wound up tight. When she’d unloaded a box of individual sack lunches, Damon went berserk. The week had been harrowing for all of them, Frankie thought. Maybe he was suffering from post-traumatic stress.
Gage scowled and folded his cards. He steepled his long fingers before his face and stared at their row of flight helmets, absorbed in introspection.
“What’s the matter, mate? Is Lady Luck turning her back on you?”
“She can be a real bitch sometimes,” Gage scowled and pulled off a sock.
Frankie studied Gage’s stark features. She felt her heart jump. Lust rippled across her. She shivered. Thoughts of him bombarded her with images, memories.
Stewie jumped into her lap and demanded attention, kneading her thighs with his paws. Frankie stared at him in shock.
“This cat is getting downright friendly with me lately,” she spoke. “What’s up with that?”
Quinton interrupted with a statement directed at Damon.
“Hey, mate, I forgot to mention it earlier. The manager of the Seaside Bed and Breakfast called this afternoon. He wanted to thank you for the generous tip you left the maid after trashing the room you were in last week. He also said you left some sort of bizarre leather apparatus there. It’s waiting for you at the front desk in a brown paper bag.”
Frankie cringed and glanced up in time to catch Gage’s smirk.
“I wonder which apparatus it was?” Damon asked.
“You mean you can’t remember?”
“Well, it’s not as though I don’t have a spare. I brought an overnight bag full of toys to use with her.”
Frankie shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“That’s exactly what she said,” Damon beamed.
Her eyes narrowed in disgust.
“Don’t look at me in that tone,” he said defensively.
“What tone?”
“That, ‘you’re such a skanky pervert’ tone.”
“If the aberrant social behavior fits, wear it,” she replied.
Quinton and Gage were both smirking now.
“Damon has never suffered from a lack of depravity,” Quinton said and threw two matchsticks into the poker kitty.
“The only thing he suffers from is prolonged adolescence,” Frankie sneered.
Damon sat up straight. “Give a bro a break. I am only acting on the normal impulses every male has and I’m doing it without hurting anyone.”
“Really? And what about Amber?”
“What about her?” Damon defended. “She had a great time at the banquet. The fun just went on a little longer than she could handle.”
“She didn’t look like she was having fun to me,” Frankie replied.
“There’s a fine line between pain and pleasure,” he huffed. “I told Amber exactly what to expect and what migh
t go wrong. If you’ll pause to remember, I’m always open and honest in my dealings with women.” Damon turned to stare directly at Gage. “I can’t help it that most guys are wimps when it comes to effectively communicating with the opposite sex.”
Frankie sat up straight and splayed her cards face-up on the table for Quinton to peruse. He responded in kind. She glanced over his winning hand and toed off her remaining boot.
“I haven’t asked the question yet,” Quinton said.
“I don’t care. Whatever it is I’m not answering it,” Frankie said.
“I’m starving,” Damon suddenly exclaimed and bounded out of his chair.
“How can you be hungry again so soon?”
“I’m a growing boy,” he replied with a languid shrug.
“You’re a growing pain in the ass,” Frankie sniped.
He strode to the refrigerator and yanked on the handle and took a deep breath. “There’s something really tasty off-gassing in here.”
“Good thing you were the only boy your folks had,” Quinton observed.
“Feeding another like him would’ve bankrupted his parents,” Gage piped up.
Frankie could see Gage grin at the sidelong glance she sent him. A flash of heat coiled in her belly. She looked down at her clasped hands and willed them to relax. Stewie was purring so she wove a couple of fingers in the fur behind his ears.
“What did my wife leave for you, mate?”
Damon dug through a sack with his name scribbled on it.
“A slab of roast beef and two ham sandwiches.” He made a pleased noise. “Hey, boss, can I see what she sent for you? Maybe we can make a trade?”
“Sure,” Frankie answered. “But don’t eat anything in there until you ask me first.” She threaded her fingers through her curly hair and waited for Quinton to deal the next hand. He shuffled the deck again, staring at Damon as he dealt.
A scanner squelched in the background.
A log in the fireplace crackled and popped.
Gage yawned.
Stewie rolled to his back and presented a soft, white belly. Frankie glanced over her shoulder. The house seemed too quiet. “Damon, did you find anything in there to trade for your roast beef sandwich?”
He didn’t answer.
She looked over questioningly. He was frozen in place, staring into an open sack.
“Well? Do you want to trade for anything or not?”
“Yes and no.” His voice had a peculiar strain to it.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Maybe you should come take a look.”
Damon held the bag out-and-away like it contained a poisonous snake. Frankie pushed Stewie from her lap. The cat hissed and sped under the nearest couch.
Plastic rattled when she grabbed the sack from his hand. Behind her, Gage moved stealthily across the floor.
Frankie peered inside and snapped the bag shut.
“Holy shit!”
“What is it?” Gage asked.
She took a breath and opened it again. Inside, a small box with Early Pregnancy Testing Kit printed on the side, stared back at her. All the color drained from her face.
“What’s in the sack?” Gage asked impatiently.
“You don’t want to know,” Damon piped up.
“The hell I don’t,” he answered and carefully eased the bag from her tensed fingers.
Quinton’s voice rumbled across the room. He couldn’t disguise the humor in it. “I think it’s time for Frankie to go pee on the stick.”
“It can’t be,” she whispered in disbelief. “This can’t be happening to me.”
“What do you mean it can’t be happening to you?” Damon said. “Don’t you remember that sperm-egg thing they taught us about in high school?”
Gage reached around her shoulders and gave her a comforting hug. “You haven’t sent Quinton to the store after tampons lately,” he offered.
“Yeah,” Damon quipped. “You’ve been a real argumentative bitch lately too.”
Frankie shot him the finger.
Quinton cleared his throat.
“You’ve got the same symptoms of pregnancy that Isabelle had.”
Frankie looked slowly around. All three men stared back at her.
“Go pee on the stick, boss.”
“I’m not sure I can,” she mumbled.
Gage gently ushered her towards the nearest bathroom. She felt frail beneath his grip. He wanted to say something to make her feel better but had no idea what.
Fifteen minutes later the three men were still lurking outside the bathroom.
“Haven’t you done it yet?” Damon yelled to be heard behind the closed door.
“Shut up,” she yelled back.
“What’s the hold up?”
“I can’t go.”
“Turn the faucet on,” Quinton advised.
“I already tried that.”
“Do you need something to drink?”
“I tried that too.”
“How about a beer?” Damon chuckled. “That always works for me.”
“No beer,” Gage bellowed.
“It doesn’t help matters to have you three buzzards hanging around listening to me.”
“It’s okay, boss, we’ve heard you pee before.”
“Why don’t you go play in the street?”
“Okay, okay. We’re leaving now.”
“That’s right,” Quinton added. “We’ll be out on the helipad if you need us.” He nodded when Gage gestured his intent to stay behind.
“Fat chance,” she grumbled.
“We’re going,” Damon echoed through cupped hands. “Here we go. We’re leaving now. Later! Adios!”
“Goodbye dipshit!”
* * * *
Gage glanced at his watch. Five minutes had passed. He glanced again. Another five minutes of his life gone. What the hell was she doing in there? He shuffled his weight from foot to foot, stretched his arms. Two more minutes passed.
He couldn’t wait any longer. He burst through the bathroom door to find Frankie staring at the test strip. He looked down. The directions were simple. There was no mistaking the result. Two pink lines meant pregnant. He eased his arms around her.
Frankie blinked and looked up at him.
“You deliberately knocked me up, didn’t you?”
“It takes two people to make a baby,” he said cheerily. “I didn’t see you rushing to the drugstore for condoms.”
“That’s not what I mean. You wanted me to get pregnant, didn’t you?”
The harshness of her voice wiped the cheer from his face. “I’ve always wanted kids.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re cute and innocent and they smell good.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she replied.
Gage’s eyes narrowed. The tone of her voice made him wary. “You’re going to keep my baby, aren’t you?”
Any remaining color drained from her face. Gage moved closer. “Francesca?”
“I didn’t think I could ever get pregnant. I didn’t take any precautions because it was never supposed to happen.”
“Why?”
“Quinton is the only one who knows about it,” she said. “I’ve never told anyone else. Not even my girlfriends.”
“Tell me,” he urged. “I have a right to know.”
Frankie gulped in a deep breath. “A pretty boy,” she answered shakily. “My last boyfriend. He gave me an infection.”
She paused.
“I was hospitalized for almost two weeks. Late at night I could hear the nursing staff talking about it, feeling sorry for me. I never saw him again. He didn’t even bother to visit.”
Gage tensed.
“The doctors told me that I’d be sterile because of all the scar tissue the infection left behind.” She waved a hand in the air. “I got this tattoo on my butt the week after I was released from the hospital and have never taken another lover, until you.”
Gage had no idea what to sa
y. No slicks words of wisdom popped into his head other than how much he’d like to run into the bastard some dark day. He hugged Frankie tightly.
“I guess the docs were wrong, sweetheart.”
Frankie suddenly pushed away.
“It’s hot in here,” she rasped. “I’m going for a little walk and try to figure out what to do about this,” she broke off and rushed from the bathroom.
Gage was silent. He felt his heart break as he watched her leave.
Chapter 26
MAKING PLANS
“Sophia, did you actually have sex with him or was it another of your pathetic roll and grope sessions?”
Sophia answered Claire with a scalding look.
“Let me put it this way,” she announced. “Tonight all the drinks are on me.”
A rabid cheer rose up from their table.
“Now that is something to celebrate.”
“You never buy all the drinks,” Lauren said.
“Frankie needs to save her money.”
“Why?”
“Because by this time tomorrow she will be handing her entire paycheck over to the Swordsman.”
The Sisterhood collectively gasped.
“You heard me correctly,” Sophia turned to wink at Frankie. “I think it’s time you told them.”
Frankie groaned and hung her head. As if life wasn’t complicated enough lately, she thought. Now she was going to have to come clean with her girlfriends.
“Damon won the bet,” she whispered.
“What bet?” Claire and Lauren echoed simultaneously.
Frankie rubbed the slight curve of her stomach. “Does anybody have an antacid?” When she didn’t respond to the question, Sophia was more than happy to explain.
“Damon and Frankie made a bet for an entire month’s paycheck.”
Andie moaned under her breath. “Oh no.”
“Damon had three months to seduce every unmarried, heterosexual female in the Sisterhood.”
Guarding the Coast Page 26
