She summoned her hardest expression and locked gazes with him. "Frank, my job is everything to me. It will always come first. I turned you over to the mob once because it was the only way to preserve my cover—and I'll do it again if I have to. Do you really want a relationship with a woman who'll put her work ahead of your safety? Because that's what it boils down to." She stared at him, long and hard. "Think about it."
She marched out of the room, closing the door behind her.
In Too Deep: Chapter Five
Turning Frank away had been more difficult than Angel had ever imagined. The next day at work, the thought of this assignment with Frank swirled through her head like a tornado, laying to waste her usual concentration. His mere presence sent her common sense spiraling into a nose-dive. When he touched her, she lost touch with reality. How could she keep him at a distance while working with him day after day? While pretending to be in love with him? And, after the wedding, while pretending they were lovers?
The day slipped by and, too soon, it was time to go home. Too soon because at work, she was safe from Frank's physical presence, if not from rampant thoughts of him. Frank wouldn't come into her office—not until he'd established himself as her boyfriend—but he might drop by her townhouse. She didn't want to see him, didn't want to feel the things he made her feel, but she couldn't hide from him. She had a duty to perform and she'd never shirked her obligations before. She wouldn't start now.
When the doorbell rang at seven, she didn't want to answer it, worried Frank would be standing on her porch. She pulled open the door and peered outside.
"Dino! What are you doing here?"
"We have a date." He smiled smugly. "You really didn't think I'd show, did you?"
His gaze raked over her, making her suddenly conscious of how snug-fitting her black jeans were and how the lacy pattern of her turquoise knit sweater revealed the lace of her camisole. She folded her arms across her chest. "I said no, remember?"
"I've made reservations at Mama Theresa's, that great little restaurant on Jacob Street. Their Chicken Marsala is incredible." He caught her arm and tried to draw her out as he spoke. "And then I thought we'd hit that new comedy club that's just opened, you know the one over by—"
She tugged her arm out of his grasp. "Dino, I said no."
"Come on, Angie. We'd be great together. Give us a chance."
With that he slipped his hands around her waist and drew her towards him. She felt a moment of panic and had to resist her natural instinct to knock him to the ground. Instead, she ducked out of his grasp. "I'm not going out with you."
His expression grew hard and he planted his hands on her shoulders. "Why not?"
"Because she's going out with me. Get your hands off my woman."
Angel's pulse leaped as she glanced toward the source of that cutting voice.
"Frank!"
Dino's eyes narrowed and he scowled at Frank, who stood at the foot of the porch.
"I said get your hands off her." Frank spoke quietly but with a tone carrying the weight of authority. He took the three steps up the porch and smiled at Angel. He hooked his hand around her waist and tugged her gently away from Dino. "Are you ready to go?" His voice was casually intimate.
Dino directed his glare at Angel. He went to grab her wrist, but when Frank bristled, violent intent emanating from him like sparks from a savage blaze, Dino hesitated.
"Is this true, Angie? Are you going out with this guy? You only met him two days ago."
"I told you, Frank and I are old friends." She silently cursed Frank for putting her in this position. "We're going out for a coffee to renew our acquaintance."
"I been asking you out for ages and you don't give me the time of day. He asks you to coffee and, bang, you're gone like a shot. What do you see in this guy?"
She felt tension stiffen Frank's body and she knew any minute now something would blow. "Look, now's not the time to discuss this. I'll see you tomorrow."
Dino sent one last piercing glance at Frank, then turned to Angel, wagging his finger at her. "I'm not giving up on you."
With that he turned and strutted down the walk. A moment later his black muscle-machine tore down the lane, leaving a trail of rubber.
"Tomorrow?" Frank's eyebrows rose.
"I work with him."
"So, was that the infamous Don?" His tone was demanding and Angel bristled.
"Don who?"
"Your boyfriend, remember? The one you were expecting last night."
Angel couldn't believe it. Frank was jealous? As if he had a right to be. Automatically, she started to correct him, but then stopped herself. Maybe it would be better if he thought she had a boyfriend. "His name's Dino and he's none of your concern."
His mouth turned down in a frown, menace emanating from him in waves. "If you're involved with him, he's my concern. We're getting married, remember?"
How could she forget? It was all she'd been thinking about since he'd told her what their cover would be. She stomped to the door and spun around to glare at him. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
"Can I come in?"
"No!" She clutched the doorknob, her body blocking the entrance.
Frank must have considered his options and decided to change tactics. His ominous frown turned to a boyish grin—a devastating transformation that took her breath away. Angel instantly grew wary.
"Angel, is that any way to treat an old friend?" His voice was light, teasing.
She narrowed her eyes, remembering the days they'd spent frolicking in Hawaii. With the instant attraction that had sizzled between them right from the start, she could never categorize what they'd had as friendship. And then when she'd turned on him…
"We may have been many things, Frank, but never friends."
"Come on, Angel. Let me in. I want to talk to you."
She hesitated.
"What's the matter? Afraid of me?"
She scowled but stepped back, allowing him to enter. He sauntered across the room and sprawled on the couch, lining his hands behind his head. She closed the door and glared at him, crossing her arms. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable?"
He grinned.
"You put me in an awkward position out there, Frank."
"We'll face worse than that."
"Why are you here?"
"Because, sweetheart, we need to be seen around town by your…friends. The sooner I start dating you, the sooner I can marry you." He reached forward as she passed by the couch and pulled her down beside him, drawing her against his side, his arm around her waist. He nuzzled her ear. "And the sooner I marry you, the sooner we go on our honeymoon."
She pulled his hand from her waist and slid away.
"How clear do I have to make this, Frank? Our marriage will be in public only."
"Wouldn't it be easier to convince everyone of our cover if we did everything a real married couple does?" His teasing grin grated on her nerves at the same time as it toppled her heart. "After all, you're the one who's a stickler for details."
"I don't find this funny." Her back was so stiff she felt it might snap at the least pressure. He slid over beside her and put his arms around her before she could escape again. She silently cursed the tingles that started everywhere he touched her.
"Angel, relax. You're so stiff." He placed a hand on her shoulder, starting a tingling web of pleasure emanating from his touch. "You've got to loosen up around me or no one will believe we're falling in love." He started rubbing her neck with both hands, and her body shifted into a tension of a different kind. "What would happen if I tried to kiss you?" Sparks of amusement danced in his eyes like mischievous fireflies. "Maybe we ought to take this opportunity to practice."
The amusement turned to something else—something dangerous—and she felt herself drawn to him. He cradled her face in his hands, then brushed his lips on hers lightly, lowering her defenses with his gentleness. He shifted, mating his mouth to hers in a perfect union.
The f
eel of his lips on hers started an ache deep within her. She wanted to throw her arms around him, to pull him close, to let herself melt around him like warm honey.
He hadn't kissed her like this since the last day they'd been together four years ago. He'd been so loving and gentle, crumbling her carefully built barriers. But then, as now, she'd known she shouldn't let him get close. It wasn't safe to let anyone close. Ever. As a result of her recklessness, she had hurt herself and, worse, she had hurt Frank.
She remembered the look of betrayal on his face, when she'd returned to her cabin to find Frank in the clutches of Cavaglione and his henchmen. When she told Cavaglione about his partner, Frank's eyes had filled with hatred. When he'd confronted her in Hal's office, she'd glimpsed how deeply the pain had burrowed into his soul. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She wouldn't allow him to be hurt by her again. Somehow, she found the strength to pull away.
"No, Frank. We can't do this."
"Angel…?"
Concern filled his eyes. He stroked his finger across her cheek and it was only then that she realized some tears had escaped.
"Sweetheart, I—"
She clenched her fists. "Please, Frank. Just go."
He cupped her face in his hands. "Not yet," he murmured. His lips caressed her cheeks as he kissed away her tears. Her eyelids dropped closed. Her heart ached being this close to him and being touched so lovingly. As though sensing her thoughts, he stroked away the last bit of moistness with his thumbs and stood up.
"So, Angel, where will we live once we're married?"
"What?" She blinked twice, wondering at his matter-of-fact tone. "Oh, well… I assumed here. Our marriage will only be temporary so… for me to move and all, I…"
"So you're inviting me to move in with you?" Amusement curled around his words and he grinned at her.
She took a deep breath. "Frank…"
He ignored the warning tone in her voice and shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing around with interest.
"What is this, a one bedroom?"
"Um, yes, it is." Good heavens. Frank living here? How could she stand being in such close proximity to him? It wasn't that her place was too small. In fact it was perfect—for one person. But with Frank here, filling every room with his indomitable presence, she knew it would diminish in size as their time together increased.
He swung the bedroom door open and walked inside. "Mmm. Nice. It reminds me of you, Angel. All soft and feminine."
"Frank." She didn't like him being in here.
He walked over to the bed and ran his hand along the soft, white eyelet duvet. "It's so…virginal."
She didn't know how to take that. Did he remember? Did he think she was still—
He grinned at her. "It suits you."
She felt her face flame. She stood in the doorway and watched him, a masculine invader in her frilly white haven. He reached up and ran a finger along the ruffle on the canopy over her bed. To her, the room suddenly looked far too young for her. She felt foolish.
"It's not a colour I would have chosen, but I like it." He turned to look at her as he sat down on the side of the bed and stroked the soft cotton cover. "I'll love sleeping under this comforter. With you." His hand moving back and forth across the soft, white fabric—slowly, purposefully—started a fire burning within her, as though he was caressing her flesh. "We'll be so warm and cozy together."
Imagining that warm coziness was all too easy with him here in her bedroom, sitting on her bed, his eyes inviting her to join him. If she stepped forward and opened her arms, she knew he'd welcome her. No matter what had happened in the past, this lingering attraction between them grew hotter every day. Dangerously hot. She knew they would both get burned if she didn't dampen the fire.
"You won't be sleeping in here," she said firmly.
His lips curled up in amusement. "Yes, I will."
She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.
"I'm quite serious, Angel. Even if we don't…" He glanced at the ruffled pillows, then back at her. "…enjoy it, I'm going to sleep in this room. If I don't, someone's going to get suspicious."
She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Like who? How would anyone find out?"
"You're the one who pays attention to details, sweetheart. All we need to cast doubt on our whole cover is one snoopy friend who sneaks in here while visiting and sees no evidence of a husband. As you pointed out, our marriage will be highly suspect, so we have to be very careful."
"I don't have friends over."
"Ever, Angel? And, where would you put me? On the couch? We'll have to be on our toes and I won't be at my best with a crick in my neck all the time. We don't even know how long this assignment will last. I can't imagine months of sleeping on your couch."
"The couch is very comfortable."
"How do you know that?" His mouth crimped into an amused grin. "Have you slept on it?" Then his mouth shrank into a tense line. "Or have you sent Don there after a fight? Did he assure you it was comfortable when you made up the next day?"
Ah, the imaginary boyfriend again. She decided to play it for all it was worth. "No. Believe me, I never made Dawn sleep on the couch."
Her voice had gone all sultry and suggestive. Frank felt his jaw clench at the thought of her with someone else. God damn it. He had been enjoying his perusal of her bedroom, with Angel's sweet scent lingering in the air, but now he imagined her here, under that innocent-looking comforter making love with another man. The image slammed into him, shocking in its intensity. His fingers curled and he imagined them wrapped around some slob's neck, someone who looked a lot like that Dino creep. He spun around and stormed out of the room.
"Finished your tour, Frank?"
He didn't answer. He heard Angel follow him into the living room, closing the door tightly behind her. He whirled around to face her. "And what about this Dino stud? Does your boyfriend know he's been putting the moves on you?"
She jabbed her hands on her hips and thrust her face towards him. "My personal life is none of your business!"
He scowled. "That's not entirely true. A husband has a right to ask about his wife's boyfriends."
"You can ask all you want, but I don't have to answer. What happens before we're married…" She froze, staring at him in horror. "Good Lord, it sounds like we're a real engaged couple discussing past affairs."
"We are a real engaged couple. Don't forget that." He grabbed her shoulders and held her at arms length, trying to pierce her self-confidence with his glare. "Let's get one thing straight, Angel. If we're going to make this cover work, we'll have to co-operate. We also have to make it look real. That means you'll have to cut good old Don loose."
She chewed on her lower lip, dropping her gaze. "Of course. I'm not stupid. No one would believe you and I are happy newlyweds while I'm dating another man."
Frank felt a sudden twinge of guilt at coming between Angel and someone she might care for very deeply. Memories of the pain of losing the woman he loved—Angel—seeped into his brain.
God damn it, what's the matter with me? Angel walked away from me. There was nothing I could have done about it.
And she'd do it again. He knew that.
What kind of fool am I, anyway? This woman doesn't care about anyone but herself. Didn't I learn that much four years ago?
Slamming away the thoughts, he knew he couldn't stay within the confines of this house, totally surrounded by the sights and smells of Angel, a moment longer. He had to get out. He grabbed her hand and tugged her along to the door. "Come on, Angel. Let's go."
"Go? Where?" she asked in surprised as he pulled open the closet door.
"Out for coffee. That's what you told your…friend…we were doing."
"But—"
"No buts. We've got to keep the story real, sweetheart."
Angel couldn't argue with that. She grabbed her jacket from the closet and Frank helped her slip it on. As they strolled down the street,
Frank took her hand.
"Frank," Angel warned.
"Angel, we're supposed to be dating."
"We aren't dating yet." She snatched her hand away.
Frank led her into a little diner a couple blocks away and picked a relatively quiet booth in the corner, away from the main bustle and hum of the late dinner crowd. She settled into the cool vinyl of the bench seat and slipped off her coat, as she took in the decor. The lights were bright and the decor late-sixties style. A waitress hurried over with a cheerful greeting and placed an open menu on the table in front of each of them, then went to take the order from four denim-clad teenagers in the booth two down.
Frank rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward. "Just what did you tell that guy about us?"
Angel plucked at the corner of her plastisized menu.
"Dino? I told him that I knew you a long time ago. That we ran into each other two nights ago."
"And he thinks I'm invading his territory."
"He's worried about me. The family is very protective of their members."
"He wants to get you into bed."
"And don't you?"
Angel directed her attention to the menu, shifting it so the reflection of the glaring lights didn't obscure the print. Needing to do something with her hands, she picked up a fork and started turning it end over end, bouncing first the tines on the table, then the handle.
The waitress came back and stood by the table, pen held ready. Frank ordered a coffee and, even though her stomach rumbled in complaint at missing dinner, Angel settled for the same. She didn't want to be here any longer than necessary.
"Frank, about our cover. Why do you think you can just drop into the middle of Carlos' operation? It's taken me years to gain their trust."
Didn't he realize this wasn't a one shot deal for her? Being deep undercover meant taking on the role totally, not just for the length of one case. The information she passed on often defined cases for people like Frank.
He plucked the fork out of her hand and laid it on the table. "Exactly, and I'm going to piggy-back on that. They trust you, they'll trust me. Enough to start with, anyway." He glanced around as though looking for eavesdroppers. "You know, we really shouldn't be talking about this here."
Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers Page 105
