carried loaded plates and napkins into the living room, Eli balancing two bottles of beer and a single glass for Frankie.
“Are you sure you don’t want a glass?” she asked, curling one leg beneath her as she sat on the sofa, balancing her plate on her lap.
“Positive.” Eli set his plate on the coffee table while he removed bottle caps, pouring a glass for Frankie and setting it on the lamp table next to her at the end of the sofa. “Real men drink beer straight from the bottle.”
Frankie rolled her eyes at him. “I’ll let that pass,” she said magnanimously. “I’m feeling kindly toward you since you knocked on my door bearing edible gifts.” She lifted her slice of pizza. “Mmm.”
Moments passed while they concentrated on their pizza.
“So, how boring was the cocktail party?” Eli asked after he’d finished his first slice.
“Deadly.”
“That bad, huh?”
Frankie pursed her lips, considering. “On the scale of really bad, it was somewhere between the torture of sitting through an hour lecture on the conception process of boll weevils and the Spanish Inquisition.”
“Whoa.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not even going to tell you about the most boring work party I was ever forced to attend. You win.”
She smiled sunnily, the last remnants of weary annoyance from a long day fading away. “Sometimes parties at work aren’t boring—I think this one wasn’t enjoyable because it was last-minute on a Friday night. Plus I was annoyed that it forced me to change our plans.”
“I know what you mean.” He nodded and picked up another pizza slice. They ate in companionable silence.
Frankie finished her second piece with a sigh of contentment, set her plate on the coffee table and picked up the remote.
“Is there anything you want to watch?”
“ESPN.”
“No.”
“Oh, come on,” he coaxed. “I brought you pizza—and there’s a Knicks game on tonight.”
“How about a compromise? I won’t make you watch a chick flick if you don’t make me watch a ball game.”
He tipped his bottle and eyed her over the rim. “How about a guy movie?”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What, exactly, are we talking about here?”
“Cruise through the channel listings and I’ll show you.”
“Okay.” Frankie thumbed the remote and brought up the channel log. “See anything interesting?”
They finally settled on an action film starring Will Smith.
As the opening credits began to roll, rain hammered against the windows outside. January in Seattle often brought winter storms roaring in off the Pacific to pound the city with wind and rain. Tonight was clearly no exception.
Inside, Frankie curled her legs under her. Eli stretched his long legs out in front of him, propping his feet on the coffee table, ankles crossed.
The wind whistled around the corner of the building. Frankie looked at the windows, where the shadowy shapes of tree branches, tossing in the wind, were visible in the faint glow from streetlights.
“Brr.” She shivered, clutching a throw pillow against her middle. “I’m glad we’re not at Harry’s. We’d have to drive home in this.”
“It’s nasty out there,” Eli agreed. He looked sideways at her. “Come here.” He reached out and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, toppling her sideways against him. Her head rested on his shoulder, his arm cradling her. Startled, she twisted to look up at him, but he gently pushed her head back down on his shoulder. “This is more comfortable,” he told her before pointing at the screen. “Shh, the movie’s starting.”
He’s right, Frankie thought as she wriggled slightly and stretched out her legs on the sofa cushions. This is very comfortable. His chest was warm and solid against her side, his arm draped around her enclosed her in a warm cocoon of male heat and his shoulder was the perfect cushion for her head.
“You still have freckles,” he murmured a few moments later, trailing a fingertip over the bridge of her nose.
She tilted her head back to look up and found him watching her instead of the television screen. “You noticed I had freckles?” she asked, surprised.
“Of course.” He looked faintly insulted. “You were a cute little kid with a little spray of freckles just over your nose and your cheekbones.”
His head lowered, and he brushed soft, tasting kisses over her face, following the arch of her cheekbone. Frankie’s breath caught.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he murmured as he drew back a few inches.
“Have you?” she whispered. His thick, dark lashes were half lowered as he cupped her chin in his palm and stroked his thumb over her cheek. She shivered. The faintly rough pad of his thumb moved against her sensitive skin, stirring heat in her midsection. His lashes lifted, his gaze leaving her mouth and lifting to meet hers. Desire, hot and alive, lit his eyes. Her skin warmed, flushing under his stare.
“Eli, I don’t want to mistake what’s happening here.” Her voice was a soft murmur. “We agreed to pretend we’re attracted to each other to fool Harry—but at the moment, he’s not here. It’s just the two of us.”
“Frankie,” he muttered, his fingertips trailing down her throat. “Just so we’re clear—this has nothing to do with Harry.” His gaze flicked to the base of her throat, where his thumb stroked over the fast race of her pulse. “I want you.”
His blunt words widened Frankie’s eyes and sent heat flooding through her body. “Eli, I don’t—”
He stopped her with a fingertip across her lips. “I’m not saying I want out of our deal to fool Harry. I just want you to know that if I’m kissing you—” he paused, his eyes going hotter “—or anything else physical, I’m not acting.”
Frankie’s gaze searched his face but found only sincere, focused intent. Much as she was tempted to tell him she wanted him, too, she was scared to death of opening that door. Desire warred with a deep conviction that she needed to protect her heart.
But if she wanted to move past her schoolgirl crush, maybe she needed to be a little more daring. Perhaps limited lovemaking with Eli would inoculate her against another full-blown crush, she thought.
Or maybe she was rationalizing because she desperately wanted more of his kisses. Whatever it was, Frankie decided to take a chance.
“Okay,” she murmured. He didn’t move, his gaze fixed on hers. Although his thumb continued to stroke seductively against her throat, he clearly waited for her to respond further. She’d never had a conversation quite like this with any man she’d dated but decided to be equally blunt with him. “I’m not
