"Yes, Angel told me." Vendetti turned affectionate eyes on Angel. "Well, I can certainly understand your impatience. I would not want to wait, either, were I in your place. Enjoy your evening." He leaned over to kiss Angel's cheek. "I'll see you in the morning."
How could Angel allow the scumbag to touch her like that?
Vendetti turned and strode away. Dino sent them a scowl before turning to follow.
Frank ignored Dino and watched the silver-haired Vendetti as he crossed the restaurant. His bearing was that of a kindly older gentleman, elegant and schooled in old-world charm. Frank had to remind himself that Vendetti's charm was only a thin veneer. Knowing the business the man was involved in, and the violence he was responsible for, sent chills through Frank. Appearances certainly were deceptive.
As he glanced back to Angel, her innocent appearance no longer seemed so appealing. Had she started to fool him into believing she might be what she appeared? Fool being the operative word.
Anger flared within him like a flame igniting on kindling as he realized the damn woman had dragged him into the fantasy again.
"Finish your dessert, Angel. I think we should be going."
Angel's gaze darted to Frank. He knew she was wondering at the sudden change in him. They ate the rest of their meal in silence. After he paid the bill, Frank helped Angel into her coat and they stepped from the quiet ambiance of the restaurant to the hustle and bustle of the busy street, allowing him to further avoid conversation with Angel. Frank flagged down a cab. Once they'd slipped into the back seat, it was impossible to ignore the questions in her too-big eyes.
She reached out tentatively and touched his hand, as though she feared he might pull away, then slipped her hand under his fingers. He relented and curled his fingers around hers.
"It really bothered you meeting Carlos, didn't it, Frank?" she murmured, too low for the driver to hear.
Is that what she thought? That he'd been intimidated by her boss?
"I guess." His tone made it clear he didn't want to discuss it further.
She snuggled close to his body and rested her head against his arm.
What the hell was wrong with him? Here was a beautiful woman, one he was attracted to in a big way, close and warm against him. So she was an informant? Nothing had changed since yesterday. Just because he'd gone a bit soft headed over the past hour, didn't mean he had to be immune to her. He'd just make sure he kept the situation in perspective. He'd keep reminding himself that with Angel he'd be a hit-and-run victim, not a companion, during the long drive of life.
He had to keep the fact that he was here on a case firmly entrenched in his mind. Now that she'd started to thaw toward him, he had to grab the opportunity to gain her trust.
She'd been staring at their intertwined fingers but when she glanced up and saw him staring at her she smiled. He allowed his mouth to curl up in response and he slid his arm around her. She settled her body more closely against him. Feeling her breasts pressed against his side made his body swell in response. And that's all it was, he convinced himself, a physical response to a desirable woman.
"I'm sorry, Angel. I didn't mean to spoil our evening."
"You didn't spoil it," she said softly, then smiled sweetly. "It has been going well though, hasn't it?"
He slid his hand up to her face and stroked her cheek.
"Very."
Their gazes joined and Frank watched her tongue trail over her lips as though in anticipation of a kiss. Before he could act on his instincts, the cab pulled up to the curb and stopped.
"We're here, folks," the cabby informed them.
Frank pulled out his wallet and paid the fare, then went to open Angel's door and help her out. As they walked to her door, she entangled her hand with his once again. She fished her key out of her purse and unlocked the door. Then she turned back to him.
Leaning against the door, she gave him the most seductive smile he'd ever seen and asked, "Do you want to come in for a drink?"
Her throaty voice matched her smile in invitation.
In Too Deep: Chapter Six
She knew playing with fire could mean getting burned but she couldn't help herself. She didn't want the evening to end yet. Frank had been so warm and affectionate, reminding her of how it had been when they'd first met. The time had passed so easily between them. The way he'd touched her tonight, first when he'd picked her up, then during the meal, had kept her body in a heated state.
The problem was, she knew it wasn't just physical desire. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He said he loved her. The problem was, she was starting to believe him. She was starting to crave things she'd never craved before. Like a home and a man to share it with. But not just any man. Frank.
He reached out and stroked her hair. Then he released the barrette that held her wild curls secure. His fingers tangled in her hair and he arranged it around her face and shoulders.
"That's better. I love your hair down."
"I…" The slow burn of longing in his eyes frightened her a little. If she were to release the volcanic need between them, would she be consumed by the flame? "About that drink…"
"Having second thoughts, Angel?" His voice was a soft whisper. As he spoke, he trailed his hands down her arms. "Be very sure of what you want. If you invite me in, I'll take it that you're releasing me from that promise. You know what will happen then."
She hadn't meant to sound uncertain, had simply wanted to confirm the invitation, but now she hesitated.
"Having trouble deciding?"
He slipped his hand behind her head and brought his lips down on hers. At the gentleness of his touch, she melted against him. His arm curled around her waist. The light-headedness from the champagne, combined with the giddiness she felt from being in his arms, made her head spin. She slipped her arms around his neck and clung to him. He tightened his arms, telling her he wouldn't let her fall. His tongue pressed against her lips, invading, pushing them open, and the sweetness of that invasion made her moan into his mouth. He pulled her body more snugly against his and ran his hands up and down her back, as though he couldn't touch her enough. Could anything that felt this good be wrong?
When she felt his hand slip around to cup her breast, then squeeze, she gasped. Things were moving too fast, getting out of control. She struggled to put some distance between them and Frank released her.
"Too much, Angel?"
"I…" Her voice came out husky and raw. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Frank, I…"
"Never mind. Let's just say it's better for both of us if I go home right now."
His lips zoomed down on hers for one last kiss, then he walked away. Her hand fluttered to her mouth, covering her lips as if to hang on to that last burning touch. She watched him stride along her front path, then down the street, until he disappeared from view.
* * *
What the hell was that all about? She'd been there for the taking. If he'd moved slowly instead of grabbing her like an impatient kid, he'd probably be in her bed right now, her naked body writhing in pleasure beneath his own. But, damn it, something inside wouldn't allow him to take what she'd offered. She'd wanted him as much as he'd wanted her. So what the hell was the problem?
The problem, you fool, is that she believes you love her. And somehow he couldn't bring himself to make love to her under false pretenses. She may be a traitor, his conscious mind told him, but that doesn't make it right to use her. Of course that was the reason. With that he called himself noble and whistled as he tried to walk off his physical frustration, totally ignoring the smaller, subconscious voice that told him the real reason was that maybe he was starting to believe she really wasn't a traitor.
* * *
Frank picked Angel up from work the next day and took her to the little diner where they'd had coffee, deciding that being alone with her was not a good idea. Doubts about her guilt had curled through him all night, like smoke from a fire, clouding his judgment. While near Angel, he nee
ded a strong shield around his heart to stop from getting hurt. Again. Unfortunately, the best one he'd had—a clear belief that she was a traitor—had started to crumble.
"Carlos wants to pay for our wedding," Angel informed him.
Frank stopped stirring his coffee and tapped his spoon on the side of the mug before putting it down. "Why?"
"He knows I don't have any family and," she shrugged, "you know us Italians. We like big weddings with lots of food and friends."
"So Vendetti is just going to hand us a huge sum of money to pay for it?"
"You've got to realize, Frank, that Carlos really does consider his people a big family."
Was this one way he kept his people loyal? Draw them into a feeling of community by having them attend the wedding. Make displays of generosity by treating his administrative assistant like a daughter?
Frank shook his head. "He doesn't exactly represent my idea of family values."
She put down her dessert fork and clenched her fist. "I'm not going to defend him, Frank. I'm merely telling you what he's offered. I told him we want to get married soon and he called a friend of his who owns a restaurant. They've set up the reception for a week from Saturday. He wanted to set up the church, too, but I told him you wanted the ceremony at city hall." She tapped her fingers on the table distractedly. "He kind of insisted."
"Do we have any say in this at all?"
She smoothed the napkin on her lap. "You can invite anyone you want—but I told him you're new in town and you don't have any family."
Why fight it? He didn't want to jeopardize his chances of working himself into Vendetti's operation. Turning down an offer like this would not endear him to the man. Frank shrugged. "As long as I'm invited—and you're the bride—that's all I care about. Anything else?"
She glanced down at the table and rolled her spoon over several times. "He…arranged for our honeymoon. He knows we're short of cash, with you out of work and all, so he asked a friend who has a resort to give us a good price. A week on St. Lucia in the West Indies."
"Really?" Frank raised his eyebrows. "Sounds romantic. I can just picture it—walks along the beach, midnight swims in a warm ocean, you in that red bikini I remember so well." Or less. He felt his breath lock inside his lungs and had to purposefully exhale. Slowly, trying to release the tightness that had gripped his body at the erotic images that shimmered through his mind. He tilted his head and grinned. "You do remember that bikini, don't you, Angel?"
She blushed so prettily he wondered why he didn't tease her more often.
"Yes, I remember," she grumbled. "Frank, about the honeymoon and—well, what happened last night—I don't want you to get the idea… I mean, I know what you probably thought…"
He shook his head and laughed. "Angel, what are you trying to say?" Was she going to deny her attraction to him?
"It's just that… I still don't think it's a good idea for us to… become involved."
"Involved?" He loved her euphemism. She didn't want him to drag her off to bed and make hot, passionate love to her, then leave her breathless and sated. Involved. "You mean other than the fact we're getting married?"
She glared at him, clearly knowing he was goading her. "You know what I mean. All the reasons I said we shouldn't start up a relationship still hold. I just forgot that last night—for a little while."
He rested his hand on her clenched fist and slowly unwrapped it, tenderly stroking with his fingers, trying to release her tension. "That's all right, Angel. You're only human." All too human. Unfortunately.
She slid her hand out from under his and picked up her fork. Frank watched her in silence as she ate her apple pie and wondered at the fact that he really knew very little about her. He finished his own pie and wiped his mouth with a napkin, deciding it was time to break the long silence between them—a silence that had lasted longer than the last few minutes—a silence that had been filled with empty words that told him nothing about her.
"So, Angel Tortina has no family. What about Cindy?"
She glanced up at him. "My parents died when I was a teenager." Ignoring the remains of her pie, she grabbed the napkin from her lap and crumpled it in her fist. "My dad was a member of the mob—for real."
"What?" Frank stared at her, as much in disbelief at what she'd said as the fact that she would tell him. If she were the informant, it wouldn't make sense to reveal such a thing—unless she thought he was on to her and had decided this would throw him off the trail.
"He decided to pull out—but found it wasn't that easy. He fell in with the FBI and agreed to give them enough information to put away some of the big names—in exchange for keeping him and his family safe."
When she didn't continue, he prodded. "And what happened?"
"It didn't work. The mob found out and killed him, and my mother. I was fifteen at the time."
She scrunched her eyelids together then opened them again, slowly. Her eyes glistened and he thought either she was an excellent actress—a thought that had occurred to him many times before—or she was fighting back tears.
"I'm sorry, Angel. I didn't know."
Before he could offer any more, she laughed, a hollow sound. "Sorry, Frank. I didn't mean to get maudlin." She pushed away her half finished pie. "I think I'd like to go home now."
He walked her home, intertwining his fingers with hers, swinging her hand to the rhythm of their steps. The magic of the night, clear and crisp, the stars twinkling in the black sky above, drew him into the role. Of loving Angel. When they got to the door, reluctant to give up the fantasy so soon, he gave her a single, lingering kiss.
* * *
The day of the wedding arrived and Angel woke up to a sense of unreality. She couldn't believe how quickly the weeks had gone by. She knew she'd picked out the invitations one lunch hour and printed them on the laser printer in her office, but the memory was vague at best. She clearly remembered the evenings she and Frank had spent together addressing and stuffing envelopes, then hand delivering them. She found it disconcerting to realize how much she'd enjoyed spending that domestic time with him. Then last Saturday, Frank had picked her up for lunch and gone with her to choose her wedding dress, though he'd spent more time trying to talk her into modeling the sheer, white lace body suit displayed on a mannequin than paying attention to the dresses.
She had picked a simple style with a full skirt and a sweetheart neckline. She pulled it on now, then smoothed it over her hips. Settling the veil in place, she eyed herself critically in the mirror.
She looked like a bride.
Oh, God. She was a bride!
No, that wasn't really true. She would be walking down the aisle today. And she would be saying wedding vows. But not for a forever-after marriage. It would end when the case did.
The doorbell rang. That would be Carlos—he'd insisted on coming to pick her up in his long, black, limousine. She reached for the flowers and saw her hand shaking. She clutched her fingers around the bouquet and hurried to the door, her dress rustling in the silence. How would she get through this day?
She entered the church on Carlos' arm and walked up the aisle to the tempo of the organ music. As she stared at all the faces of the people she worked with each day, but barely knew, she felt a hollowness inside.
Good heavens, this is really happening. I'm marrying a man I barely know in front of a crowd of people I barely know. What has my life become?
Carlos handed her arm to Frank, squeezing her hand before he stepped to the vacant spot awaiting him in the first pew.
"You look beautiful, Angel," Frank whispered to her.
"Thank you," she murmured.
She met his gaze for only a moment, but the impact of that look crushed her fragile hold on reality. Was the love she saw shining from his eyes real? Or just a figment of her imagination? Did she want it to be real?
She stared at the stained glass behind the priest for the duration of the ceremony, and withdrew her mind from the proceedings, respondi
ng to the words automatically.
When the time came for their kiss, Frank swept back her veil and pulled her into his arms. The heat of his lips on hers started to melt the deep freeze that had claimed her. Frank was real, even if their marriage wasn't, in truth. She could cling to him through this ordeal. And cling to him she did, prolonging their kiss when he would have pulled back. He was her shield. In his arms she could deny the emptiness of her life. In his arms she could make believe this marriage was real and that it would last beyond the end of this case.
The sound of the priest clearing his throat, along with the odd twitter from the guests, made Angel release her death grip on Frank's neck.
"I'm sorry," she whispered as her lips parted from his.
His eyes held amusement. "Any time, Angel."
She marched down the aisle on Frank's arm and the guests followed eagerly. After that, she was inundated with congratulations, then the photographer herded them over to the garden for picture-taking. Lots of picture-taking. Angel's face began to feel frozen in a smile.
At the reception, after dinner, people filled Angel's champagne glass continuously and made toast after toast. Frank kept close to her side all evening. When he swept her into his arms to dance, she couldn't help thinking about the night to come. Their honeymoon. Not that anything would happen between them—but she found herself wishing it could.
"Angel, it's time to go change. We'll be leaving soon."
She and Frank went up to the courtesy room the hotel had supplied. She sat on the bed for a few moments to steady her spinning head.
He slipped his jacket off and hung it up, then started unbuttoning his shirt. She couldn't help watching as each button released and more and more of his broad chest was revealed. The white silk provided a delightful contrast to the bronze of his skin. He seemed to move in slow motion, the V of his shirt deepening, the rate of her pulse increasing. She licked her lips and tried to catch her breath.
"Need help with your zipper, Angel?"
Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers Page 107
