The man was just too damn good-looking not to be noticed—so how had she missed him, she couldn’t help wondering.
“C’mere,” he said, surprising her by taking hold of her arm. “Dinner’s about to be served and you definitely don’t want to miss dinner.”
Dinner. That meant it was already later than she’d realized.
Frankie suppressed a sigh. She had forgotten all about leaving early. That was because she’d been enjoying herself.
Just the way that Luke had predicted she would.
Damn the man, anyway. He was probably going to gloat about this.
But she made no attempt to separate herself and leave.
She didn’t want to.
Chapter 16
“That was really your mother?”
Frankie shifted in the passenger seat to look at him as Luke drove her back to her apartment. It was way past midnight, a great deal later than she had initially thought she would be coming home.
But she couldn’t complain. She had had a genuinely good time. Looking back, she had probably spent more time talking to people in this one evening than she had in the last year—probably even longer than that.
There were hardly any vehicles out on the road and he spared her a quick glance. “Yes, that was my mother. Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Well, from the few things you’d said about your mother, I expected to see this old, worn-out, tired-looking woman.”
And Maeve O’Bannon was anything but old or worn out. If anything, the woman operated like a live wire.
“I never described my mother that way,” Luke protested, switching lanes to make a right turn at the end of the block.
“No, you didn’t describe her at all,” Frankie agreed. “But you did say that she was a widow, that she’d raised five kids on her own and that she had driven an ambulance for years in order to make ends meet before she finally saved up enough to buy the company.”
“So far, you’ve got it right,” Luke agreed. “But why would—”
“Because that kind of life can wear a person out after a few years. But the woman I saw at your uncle’s party was young,” she told him. His mother had been dressed in a flattering silver-and-blue dress. “A lot younger than I thought she’d be.” Frankie smiled, remembering. “And she certainly displayed a lot of energy on the dance floor with her boyfriend.”
Luke flinched a little at the label she’d just given to his mother’s escort. “Um, I think it’s a bit early in the game to be calling him her boyfriend.”
In this instance, Frankie was more than willing to be corrected. “What would you call him?”
Luke stared straight ahead at the road before him. “Fire Chief Carlyle—her date for the evening.”
“So that was the first time they went out?” she asked, trying to get her facts straight. She assumed that if Luke’s mother had been dating the fire chief on a regular basis, Luke would have been more comfortable with the situation.
“The second time,” Luke corrected. Then, after a pause, he reconsidered the count and said, “Maybe the third.”
“Three dates means that she’s dating him. Which means he’s her boyfriend,” she concluded. And then suddenly, she replayed the man’s name in her mind. It rang a bell. “Wait, did you just say Carlyle?” she asked. “And he’s the fire chief?”
“Yeah, Craig Carlyle,” he told her,
“That’s Sierra’s father, isn’t it?” she asked, referring to his brother Ronan’s fiancée. She’d met both—fleetingly—before.
He still kept his eyes on the road, refusing to register any sort of a reaction. “Yes. Mom works out of the same firehouse that Carlyle does.”
Frankie was doing her best to read between the lines. There was something that the detective wasn’t admitting, and she was doing her best to get a proper perspective on what it was.
“And this bothers you, your mother going out with someone?” she asked, trying to get to the bottom of all this.
“You know,” Luke said honestly, “she even came to ask me if she should go out with the fire chief. I told her if she wanted to go out with him, then she should. It was her decision to make.”
“But?” Frankie prodded. When he spared her a quick glance regarding the nature of her question, she elaborated. “It’s really obvious that having your mother dating someone bothers you.”
Luke shrugged. “It just seems strange, that’s all. She’s never dated before.” Throughout his entire childhood and adolescence, he couldn’t remember her ever going out with anyone.
“Well, she must have dated at some point or you wouldn’t be here,” she told him.
“You know what I mean.”
“Look at it from her point of view. Her kids are grown, her career is settled. I’d say that your mother has time for something new—and she’s certainly earned the right to open a new chapter in her life,” Frankie speculated as they drove into her apartment complex.
Luke pulled his car into the first parking space that was available in guest parking. Given that it was past midnight on a Saturday, there were only a few spaces left.
“You’re probably right—and I’m glad for her. She did look happy,” he acknowledged. Turning off the engine, Luke released his seatbelt and looked at her. “So, what’s your excuse?”
Frankie had no idea where that question had come from. “What?”
Getting out, Luke came around to the passenger side of his vehicle and opened the door for her. “You told me that you didn’t go out on dates. I was just asking what your excuse was.”
“I don’t have the time.” She slid out of her seat and deliberately avoided taking his hand. “My job keeps me busy.” He, above all people, should know how demanding police work was.
“You don’t work 24/7,” he pointed out as he walked her to her door.
She stubbornly hung on to her excuse. “Currently, I’m working for this hard-ass who just doesn’t let up and keeps after me. Not to mention, I’m working a case that’s really important.”
Luke appeared unmoved. “Every case is important—and there’ll always be another one.” That was a simple fact of life that every detective learned early on. “I think you should take a page out of my mother’s book and start enjoying life.”
“I am enjoying life,” Frankie insisted. “I enjoy putting bad guys away. Besides, didn’t we have this argument before, centering around my coming with you to your uncle’s party? I went, didn’t I?” she reminded him.
“And you had a good time,” Luke countered.
There was no way she could get away with denying that. “Yes,” she agreed loftily. “I did.”
“So, maybe you’ll do it again.” It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact.
“If I’m invited,” she allowed.
Luke decided to push things a little further. “How about if you’re invited out on a date?”
“If that comes up, then I’ll see,” Frankie replied. Her mouth was beginning to feel like wet cotton, making it almost impossible for her to speak.
Luke was standing no closer to her than he had been a moment ago, yet it felt closer, somehow. It also felt as if there was less air around her than a moment ago. She could feel her body heating—or was that heat from his body that she felt?
She couldn’t tell.
All she knew was that she felt hot, really hot.
Go inside before you do or say something you’re going to feel stupid about.
Frankie fished around for her keys, coming up empty several times before she finally found the right one and pulled it out, only to have it slip from her fingers and drop on the ground in front of her.
“Damn,” she murmured under her breath.
Frankie stooped down to pick the key up at the exact m
oment that Luke did. The end result was that their heads bumped against each other.
The impact threw her off balance and Frankie would have fallen backward, bruising her dignity as well as possibly several other parts, if it hadn’t been for Luke’s quick reaction. He caught her by her arms, keeping her from sprawling on the ground right before her doorstep.
Regaining his own balance, Luke brought her up along with him.
It had been quiet in the development when they had first arrived. Now the area seemed to be as still as a tomb.
So still that she was sure Luke could hear the pounding of her heart. Any second, he was going to comment on it, joking about hearing the thunder of drums.
Except that he didn’t make a joke. He didn’t laugh or even say anything vaguely cryptic.
He didn’t say anything at all because he couldn’t. It was obvious that Luke had never learned the trick of talking and kissing at the same time, and he was far too busy doing the latter to attempt the former.
Frankie could feel her heart racing even while her knees took on the consistency of leftover whipped cream.
She had no idea how her arms came to be around his neck.
And when had his gone around her waist?
What was happening here? And why wasn’t she pushing him away the way she should have been doing? she silently upbraided herself.
* * *
He shouldn’t be doing this.
For some reason beyond his understanding, the woman he’d taken to his uncle’s party was being exceedingly vulnerable. And he, he was breaking every rule he believed in by taking advantage of her.
That wasn’t the way he operated.
And yet he couldn’t quite make himself pull away. Couldn’t make himself stop kissing Frankie. There was something very stimulating, very exciting about kissing this woman.
Damn it, get hold of yourself, O’Bannon. This isn’t you!
Somehow, he managed to pull back, even though everything within him wanted him to continue what he was doing.
“What the hell was that?” Stunned, Frankie blinked, trying to clear her head and struggling or control. Struggling to steady her breathing and her racing heart.
“An aberration,” he answered. He should have never given in to himself. “Sorry.”
Her eyes met his. “Are you?” she asked, trying not to sound breathless. “Are you sorry you kissed me?”
“No,” he admitted truthfully. “I’m not sorry. But I still shouldn’t have done it,” Luke added.
Key in hand, Frankie turned away from him and unlocked her door. Luke took that as a signal to leave. If he remained, he’d only complicate matters more by taking another inept stab at an apology and, most likely, he’d fail.
More than that, he’d be severely tempted to repeat his mistake.
It was better for both of them if he just made a quick getaway.
Luke had taken less than three steps toward where he had parked his car when he heard Frankie quietly ask him, “Would you like to come in for a nightcap?”
For a second, he thought he’d just imagined her voice. And then he turned back toward her, but he remained standing exactly where he had been.
“You don’t drink.” He hadn’t seen her have anything but sparkling water all night—and only that one beer at Malone’s, which she hadn’t looked as if she’d enjoyed. “And I shouldn’t, since I’m driving myself home.”
“How about some coffee, then?” she suggested. “That shouldn’t violate any laws.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he told her, referring to his coming in.
Frankie said nothing. She just remained standing in the doorway, looking at him.
He was going to regret this, a voice in his head told him. Regret crossing that threshold. But he knew that he would regret walking away even more.
“Oh, hell,” he cried, crossing the threshold and following her into her apartment. “What kind of coffee do you have?”
She closed the door, then locked it before turning back around to face him. There was a look in his eyes that spoke to her. She saw what she needed to. “Does it matter?”
“Not a damn,” he replied in all sincerity.
The next few moments were a blur.
Luke didn’t quite remember how the distance between the two of them wound up disappearing, which of them crossed to the other or if they both just met somewhere in the middle.
What he did remember was thinking that she felt so good in his arms, as if she was meant to be there. As if she had always been meant to be there.
Unable to hold back, Luke kissed her over and over again. Kissed Frankie as if stopping meant he would have to stop breathing.
It was insane.
He was insane.
Where had this sudden, insatiable need for this woman come from? It wasn’t as if he was some sex-starved prisoner who hadn’t been with a woman in years. He’d always had a very ample love life and had had more than his share of women over the course of the last few years.
And yet, Luke was forced to admit, there had always been something missing, some ingredient without a name that hadn’t been part of the mix, no matter how agile, how nimble, how beautiful the woman in his bed was.
There was always a challenge that wasn’t being met.
Francesca DeMarco was a walking challenge, and he’d recognized that from the first moment that he’d laid eyes on her.
That was it, he thought with the sudden clarity of a sunrise. Her stubbornness, her feistiness, the challenge that she represented, that was what had been missing from his life.
Frankie made it up in spades.
But that still didn’t give him the right to seduce her.
Cursing inwardly, Luke forced himself to stop and draw back from her a second time. He saw the confusion in Frankie’s eyes as she stared up at him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked hoarsely, immediately thinking that she had crossed some imaginary line, violated some rule and that was why he was pulling away from her.
“I am,” he told her. “I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be seducing you like this.”
They had found their way to her sofa, leaving behind a few articles of clothing along the way. He began to get up now, but she caught his hand, holding it fast.
“I had the impression that we were seducing each other,” she said.
“I—”
Still holding his hand, Frankie got up on her knees on the sofa cushion. Petite, delicate, she was still a force to be reckoned with.
“I want you to get something straight, O’Bannon,” she told him, her eyes blazing. “If I didn’t want this, it wouldn’t be happening. You might be as good-looking as all hell, but I’ve got free will and that means I make my own choices, and heaven help me, I don’t know why, but I choose you. Now stop treating me like I’m some sort of weak-wristed, addle-brained pushover who can be won by a set of dimples and a cleft chin. I am and have always been my own person.
“Now, are you going to finish what you started or are you going to force me to tie you up so that I can have my way with you?”
Luke laughed, pulling her back into his arms. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Well, there has been talk,” Frankie allowed whimsically.
“I’ve had enough of talk,” Luke told her. “How about you?”
“Finally, you’ve said something intelligent,” Frankie told him. Looking up at Luke, her eyes spoke legions.
Chapter 17
She knew there were so many reasons for her not to be doing this. It was unprofessional. It might backfire on her and get her sent back to Major Crimes before her cousin’s murder was solved.
Worse, it could get her called on the carpet and disciplined for unbec
oming conduct. Her heretofore perfect record would be forfeit.
But the biggest reason she shouldn’t be doing this was because she just didn’t do this kind of thing. Ever. She didn’t impetuously give in to the moment and make love with a man she hardly knew.
But somehow, none of those reasons mattered. Not in the face of this overwhelming, burning need that was only growing stronger. Nothing else mattered right now except following through on her desire to make love with Luke.
She couldn’t think straight anymore.
She wanted to make love with him so badly that she could swear she was aching inside, and that was something that had never happened to her before. Having reached the ripe age of twenty-nine, Frankie had never felt that kind of overwhelming attraction that made her just blindly dive into the moment.
Relationships, if they happened in her life at all, were at best mild things that could easily be pushed to the back burner.
This, however, was something that was not about to be budged. And it was shaking up her world.
The moment Luke had kissed her, any resistance she might have had dissolved.
Warm shivers of anticipation rippled insistently through her body as she felt Luke’s lips moving along her neck, her cheeks, her eyelids, before making their way back to her lips.
Frankie could feel her very soul fluttering.
For several moments, she was the wildly enthralled recipient, but then, suddenly she shifted her focus and became a participant in this exquisite dance of mounting desire, as well.
Her heart slammed against her chest as she kissed Luke over and over again, tugging at his shirt. She worked to remove it, even as her lips remained sealed to his.
The room began to spin. He caressed her, tugging away her dress and then other pieces of clothing that presented an annoying barrier, keeping him from touching her, from running his hands along her burning skin.
Frankie moaned as his lips touched her again, skimmed her body, moving along to all parts of her, branding them and making them his own.
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