by Cari Quinn
She glanced at his name tag and frowned. Matthew Xavier. That wasn’t right. She’d seen his medical records. Hell, she’d seen all his—
“What’s up with the name tag?” She looked pointedly at it.
He shot a disgusted glance at the plastic covered tag with his graduation picture on it. “Long story.”
She leaned forward and cupped her chin in her palm, resting her elbow on the table. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His sigh seemed to pain him. “When I went to kindergarten, it seemed every kid in the class was named Matthew. The teacher started calling me Matt, which seemed okay, until there were like seven of us who answered. I didn’t want to be Matt X, so I told her I wanted to be called Matthias.”
“’Cause that’s your name.”
“Yes.” He took her hand, the warmth spreading through her like fire over frost. “Anyway, the other boys said I only wanted to be called Matthias because I wasn’t cool enough to be Matthew.” He paused and looked down at where his fingers twisted and weaved around hers. “I insisted I was.”
“And you became Matthew.”
“Yep. But I never seemed cool enough for them.” His gaze darted around the room. “I need a drink.”
She reached for the name tag and carefully unpinned it from his lapel. She eased the paper out of the plastic clip and tore it in half. “You’re Matthias Xavier, Major League Baseball All-Star. You’re handsome and kind and you have more money than anyone in this room.”
He laughed. “Not exactly. See the guy over there at the bar?”
She squinted to see. “The short guy with the mullet?”
“Yeah. He started a social networking site and is worth a fortune.”
Frankie nodded. “Okay, well—” She cupped his cheek in her hand. “You’re better looking than he is. I’m sure he’s not near the ladies’ man you are.” Saying Xavier was good-looking? No biggie. It was the truth. Calling him a ladies’ man, though, had nearly choked her.
“Thanks, Frankie.” He leaned forward and ever-so-gently kissed her cheek.
“That’s what I’m here for.”
* * *
Xavier wasn’t sure anything else on earth could ground him the way Frankie did. No other person—let alone a woman—could have stopped him from putting his fist into Shepherd’s fat mouth. She’d talked him down off the wall, and he would be forever grateful.
He’d never have enough gratitude, though, for the way she’d made him feel when she removed his name tag, giving him back his identity. She probably didn’t even realize the meaning of the gesture.
He’d searched a very long time to figure out who the hell he was. He’d been born a third. He’d started out his life living in someone else’s shadow. Two someone else’s, actually. Then he’d been Matt, along with every Tom, Dick, and Harry at Rogers Elementary.
It hadn’t been until college when he’d made the baseball team he became Xavier. Everyone called him that. Teammates, coaches, teachers. Girls. The name gave him an individuality he’d never known before.
Matthew or Matthias, the third, was just another face in the crowd.
Kids admired Xavier. Men respected Xavier. Women loved Xavier, wanted to be loved by Xavier. Xavier stood out.
As long as Xavier worked hard, practiced harder, he could do anything he wanted.
“Xavier?” Frankie stroked his arm. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He took off his suit coat and laid it across the table. “Why don’t we get something to eat?”
“And drink?” she asked with a laugh.
“Yeah. Something stiff.”
Eyes from every direction followed them as they made their way to the buffet table. A couple of people approached, taking a plate of their own. Each time someone came close, Xavier’s entire body stiffened. His smile screamed forced, but he graciously accepted their congratulations or condolences, and he always introduced her.
After leading her back to the table, he waited for her to slide in then placed his plate next to hers. “What would you like?”
“Oh. I can go with you.” She made to stand.
He held up a hand. “That’s okay. I’ll just be a second. What would you like to drink?”
“White wine.” He turned and she hollered after him, “And a glass of ice, please.”
So she planned to dilute her wine. Interesting. Apparently she didn’t want to get tipsy. He, on the other hand, would love to see Doctor Frances Holden lose a bit of control.
At the bar, he waited in a small line. Shepherd, stupid man that he was, approached him. “Hey man, I’m sorry I—”
“I suggest you stay out of my way.” Xavier didn’t turn around. “Frankie isn’t here to protect you.”
“Protect me?” A harsh bark sounded. “That tiny thing couldn’t protect a hamster from a stiff wind.”
Xavier was actually surprised at the calm he felt. He had no desire to break the guy’s jaw. Set him straight, sure, but his nose and dental work would remain in one piece. “Look, Matt, I’m not interested in anything you have to say. Frankie’s my girl and you’re an ass. End of story. So why don’t you do us both a favor? Go crawl back under the rock you slithered out from?”
Shepherd nodded, almost like he approved. “Wow, so somewhere along the way you found your balls.”
Xavier didn’t respond. Didn’t need to. He’d found more than his balls in the time since graduation. As he caught Frankie’s worried stare, he raised his fingers to his lips then blew her a kiss. Her eyes flew open wide and he smiled. He found he liked to surprise her.
* * *
Frankie didn’t like the look on the big guy’s face as he glared at Xavier. He was trouble with a big, fat, capital T. Under the table, she’d wrung the napkin between her hands until there wasn’t anything left. Stupid paper napkins. She would have thought a place as fancy as this would have cloth ones. But making hamster bedding out of her napkin didn’t top her list of worries at the moment.
Xavier crossed the room and placed the drinks on the table before sliding in next to her. The smile on his face revealed he’d been content with whatever had gone down at the bar, but she found herself curious and couldn’t stop the question.
“Everything okay?”
“Never better, Doc.” He took a sip of the amber liquid in the squat glass. “Never better.” Picking up his fork, he speared a piece of asparagus, holding it up in salute. “Let’s hurry and eat. I feel like dancin’.”
His request surprised her, but she didn’t say anything. She’d never thought of him as much of a dancer. She guessed he wouldn’t suggest it if he didn’t know how.
The band played covers from the late eighties, early nineties. It wasn’t Frankie’s first choice in music, but she didn’t hate it either. The tunes were all a little before she’d gotten nice and friendly with the stereo.
Xavier wiped his mouth with his napkin and placed it on the table. He took a drink, leaving only ice cubes in the glass. He smiled at her.
She studied his face. “You really want to dance?”
“Hell, yeah.” He took her hand. “I’ve got the most beautiful woman in the room. I wanna show her off.”
Frankie’s cheeks heated. She hoped the dim lighting would keep her excitement under wraps. The music, slow and soft, would be the perfect start to their dance party.
He gathered her in his arms, holding her tight against his body. His warmth enveloped her. She shivered, snuggling closer. She hadn’t realized she was chilly until his warmth began to unthaw her. Unable to help herself, she laid her head against his shoulder and loved knowing she’d had a part in putting it back together.
She’d see him back in left field if it was the last thing she ever did. She’d pull strings if she had to, but she’d be damned if Xavier had played his last inning.
The music shifted into something more upbeat and disappointment surged through Frankie. She wasn’t ready to release her hold on Xavier. He wasn’t ready to let her go either, it seeme
d. His strong embrace continued as did his steady swaying and gentle turning.
“I can’t dance.”
“I never would have guessed.” She nuzzled his chest while his hands drew lazy circles over her spine. “I think you dance very well.”
“Did I mention I really like those heels?”
His question had come … out of left field.
She did a little stutter step, dropped her head, and looked at her red heels, turning in a circle between his black loafers. “Thanks. I like them, too.”
Her response sounded lame, but really, what else could she say?
His hand came up to cradle her cheek, his fingers gripped the back of her neck. “No, I like them because they put you at the perfect height for this.” And then he kissed her.
She’d died and gone to heaven.
Or she’d dreamed the whole thing.
If that was the case, this had become the best dream. Ever.
Xavier’s hands moved down over her behind and fit her more tightly against him. She moaned softly as his lips drifted from her mouth, over her cheek, down her neck.
“You taste so good, Doc.” He tasted her again. “Too damned good.”
She wouldn’t survive this night. His tenderness, his attention, negated all the jerky things he’d ever done to her. She loved being in his arms.
As another couple danced by, doing the hand jive, one of the Matthews from earlier laughed. “Seriously, Matt, you’re going to eat her alive. Maybe you two should take things upstairs and stop making the rest of us jealous.”
The woman slapped him, but laughed. “I’ll take you upstairs, Matt,” she slurred.
“That’s okay, honey.” The other Matt tucked her under his arm and they disappeared into the sea of people.
“I’m sorry. It’s really easy to forget this isn’t for real.” He shook his head, his expression sad. “Sometimes I want…”
She held her breath. Her heart beat so hard in her chest, her ribs ached. She wanted, too. Desperately.
Xavier loosened his hold, putting an unwelcome distance between their bodies. She felt the retreat in her marrow. It chilled her down deep. She shivered. “Hey, are you cold? Let’s grab my jacket. It’ll be big on you, but it’ll keep you warm.”
She didn’t want a stupid jacket to keep her warm. She wanted Xavier to do the job. He’d nearly set her on fire with his kisses and she needed to know just how hot he could make her before she burst into flames.
Chapter Seventeen
Xavier had lost his freakin’ mind. The lack of metal ability could be the only explanation. Having Frankie in his arms, pressed up against him, all warm and soft and sweet smelling, and he had lost his ever-lovin’ mind.
He slid his suit coat over her shoulders and had to remind himself kissing her skin first was a no-no. He shook his head. She’d gotten too close. Which meant one of them would walk away from the experience broken hearted. And by damn, it would not be him.
She raised a hand and covered his where it rested on her shoulder. Her smile melted him and hardened him all at the same time. He was a mess.
And he’d be damned if he would ever hurt her.
Oh, shit.
She twisted around and threaded her arms around his waist. “Thanks for showing me this side of you. I know not many people get to see it.” She eased up and kissed his chin. “You’re not so bad.”
He laughed. “Yeah? Compared to what?”
“Compared to the monster, who hates being injured and snaps at little ol’ Doc for forcing him to do things he doesn’t like.”
“Yeah.” Guilt slithered up, cold and menacing, to snake around his heart, making it hard to breathe. “I’m sorry, Do- Frankie. I’m a stubborn asshole sometimes.”
“No.” Her sarcasm warmed his insides and he laughed. “Nobody likes to have to depend on other people, but sometimes it’s the only thing we can do.”
“And who do you lean on?”
“My mom.” She shrugged. “But given her condition, she leans on me much more. She hates it. Has lots of guilt. Especially when I was young.”
He didn’t want to ask the next question, but couldn’t stop the words from leaping from his brain and springboarding off the tip of his tongue. “Do you lean on anybody else?”
“Christian.” That she didn’t hesitate nearly castrated him. “He’s always been there when I needed a shoulder to cry on or a strong back to help out. I’m not sure what I’d do without him.”
Xavier’s throat constricted so tightly he wondered if his face turned blue. He choked down a breath. “It’s good to have people like that in your life.”
Not that he’d know from personal experience.
Well, now that wasn’t quite true. Grayson had been the best friend he’d ever had. He nearly burst out laughing. He and Grayson weren’t anywhere near that kind of friend.
A jealousy like he’d never felt before rolled and tossed, bubbling through his veins like molten lava, eating everything in its path. He didn’t like the idea of Frankie having that kind of friend.
Hell, for all he knew, she could be a heartbeat away from a proposal.
His jaw clenched closed, the muscles forcing his molars to grind together. Frankie’s finger, soft and tender, slid over the flexing muscles.
“And who does the Great Matthias Xavier lean on?”
“Nobody.”
“Oh, come on. You have to lean on somebody.”
She ran her hand down his chest, smoothing his tie into place. He hadn’t noticed earlier, the stripe running through his tie matched her dress perfectly. He nodded to himself. That’s what she’d meant when she’d asked if he’d planned it.
No, he hadn’t. He wished he had, but because he hadn’t, it meant they were on the same wavelength. And being in unison with Frankie on anything sounded like a really good place to be.
“I’d like to lean on you.” He didn’t know where the words had come from. He didn’t know where the thought came from. He cracked his neck on his spine, wondering if the motion would trigger the head rotation common with possession. That had to be the excuse, because he sure as hell didn’t admit those kinds of things. Even if he was stupid to think them.
Her blue eyes twinkled brightly in the low light of the room, her lids drooped a bit and she bit her lip before admitting, “I’d like that very much.” And then she leaned into him, letting him support the both of them.
When had his life taken this turn? He certainly hadn’t seen it coming. He would have avoided it like the plague if he had.
Frankie barely got her hand in front of her mouth to stifle the yawn before it cracked her jaw. Her eyes started to water and she smiled. “I guess I didn’t realize how tired I am.”
He reached into his pocket and threw some bills onto the table for the cleaning staff. Or one of the assholes he’d, at one time, hoped to call friend. “Why don’t we head up to the room?”
“Don’t let me ruin the party.” She yawned again. “You can hang out if you’d like.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I so wanna do that.” Tucking her against his side, he purposely glanced around the room. “’Cause I’ve spent so much time hanging out with them.”
She nodded. “But if you want—”
“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. And I don’t want.” He kissed the top of her head. “Now let’s get you upstairs before you fall asleep.”
* * *
Frankie stood in front of the bathroom mirror and wondered how this weekend would end. She felt her heart softening toward Xavier. Who was she kidding? She’d fallen in love with him.
She liked being on his arm. Liked having him look at her the way he had tonight. Liked being pressed up against all the hard planes of his body. And she really, really liked his kisses. They were demanding in their passion, gentle in their possession. It wouldn’t take many more to become addicted to them. Addicted to him.
Outside in the room, she heard her cell phone ring. Twice. Thr—
“Frankie’s phone. Xavier. Who the hell’s this? Oh. Hey. She’s in the bathroom.”
She wanted to race out into the bedroom and rip the phone out of Xavier’s hand. It would be Christian calling. And Christian didn’t hold his tongue. He thought it, he said it. Kind of like Xavier. So put the two of them in a conversation and…
Oh crap!
“How the hell should I know what she’s wearing to bed? Boxers. What do you sleep in? Oh … dude! I so did not need to know that!”
She whipped the door open and bee-lined it for Xavier. He looked up from where he sat on the edge of the bed and smiled. His eyebrows raised and his gaze dropped to openly gawk at her chest. She crossed one arm over her breasts and held her hand out for the phone.
He chuckled, shaking his head, not taking his eyes off her pajamas. Or what showed plain as day through the nearly sheer, white cotton of her tank top. “Hey, your girl’s right here.”
He handed Frankie the phone and wiggled his brows. “I’ll be in the shower if you need me.”
As she raised the phone to her ear, Christian bellowed, “He did not just say that!”
“Say what?”
“He invited you to join him in the shower, sweetheart.”
“He did not!” But as Xavier glanced over his shoulder and smiled before strutting into the confines of the bathroom, she wasn’t so sure.
“Don’t be naïve.” Christian laughed. “More importantly. I need to know how you two ended up in the same room.”
She explained, giving him the quick version. His laughter built with every word of the story, until she knew he’d doubled over, arms wrapped around his gut, while he gasped for breath.
“The honeymoon suite?” Laugh. Laugh. Wheeze. Snort. “Are you shittin’ me?”
“It’s not funny, Chris.”
“You’re right. It’s not funny. It’s awesome! You’re going to sleep with him.”
“I am not!” Her feet widened and her hand popped onto her hip. She glared at the wall, wishing he could see the disgusted look on her face.
“And how many beds are there in the honeymoon suite?”
