years, and I’ve never seen a hint of anything romantic between them.”
“Maybe that’s precisely why,” Cornelia pointed out. “Sometimes two people can be too close and not realize they’re perfect for each other.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Harry scoffed, dismissing the concept. “If a man and a woman are thrown together often enough, sooner or later they’ll realize they’re attracted. Probably happen sooner rather than later,” he added.
“Perhaps,” Cornelia conceded. “But some people are so obtuse, they wouldn’t see the perfect partner if they tripped over them.”
Her voice held an underlying snap, but Harry didn’t notice.
“Well, I still think Nicholas would make the perfect man for Frankie.”
Cornelia’s eyes widened, then narrowed over Harry’s face. “Please tell me you’re not matchmaking again, Harry.”
Her voice held an ominous tone. Harry winced. “Now, Cornelia,” he said persuasively, “what makes you think I’d do that?”
Cornelia wasn’t entirely convinced but let the subject drop as the orchestra left the bandstand for a break and they returned to their table.
Three hours later, after dinner followed by more champagne and dancing, Eli handed Frankie into the back of the limousine once more.
The car moved smoothly away from the hotel portico. Outside the tinted windows, the glow of downtown Seattle’s neon signs, bright car headlights and red taillights blurred into rivers of moving color in the rain.
Frankie sighed and relaxed, turning her head against the buttery soft leather seat to look at Eli. “I think we were a success tonight. Harry was clearly surprised to see you with me, although I’m not sure he’s convinced yet that we’re a couple. What do you think?”
“I suspect it’s going to take more than one appearance to make Harry believe we’re involved. He needs to be convinced you’re crazy about me and unlikely to be interested in someone else if he’s going to stop trying to hook you up with Nicholas.” Eli’s half smile was wry. “Harry’s like a dog with a bone. Once he gets an idea in his head, it takes major evidence to get him to change his mind. He’s stubborn.”
“Then we’ll just have to be even more determined—and outlast him. Are you up for that?”
Eli shrugged, his eyes glinting at the challenge. “I told you when we first talked about this that I didn’t expect Harry to be easily convinced.” He shrugged. “Tonight was just the opening salvo in a campaign—but in the end, we’ll win.”
Frankie stared at him, arrested. “You sound like a character out of the Godfather movies. I suppose next you’ll be telling me we need to go to the mattresses.”
He laughed out loud. “We might reach that point, knowing Harry.”
“I know,” Frankie murmured, distracted by the flash of his smile in the shadowy interior of the limo. “I confess, when I came up with this plan, I thought we could be seen together a couple of times and Harry would abandon his matchmaking schemes. I should have known he wouldn’t give up so easily.”
“Not to worry.” Eli picked up her hand, threading her fingers through his before resting their joined hands on his thigh. “We’re partners, right? The two of us together are a match for Harry.”
The car slowed, pulling to the curb and stopping. Eli glanced out the window. “We’re home.” Before their driver could exit to open their door, Eli stepped out and opened an umbrella as he turned to lend Frankie a hand.
Rain pattered on the umbrella, but beneath it Frankie was warm and dry, tucked into the curve of Eli’s side, his hand at her waist. They hurried up the sidewalk to the shelter of the condo building’s wide overhang. The lobby was empty and quiet when they entered, the elevator and third-floor hallway equally hushed.
Frankie unlocked her door and turned, her shoulder brushing against Eli’s black tux jacket. “I’ll call you as soon as I talk to Mom and find out where we might run into Harry again,” she told him.
“Sounds good.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss against her mouth. “Good night,” he murmured, his blue eyes darkened between half-lowered lashes.
“Good night,” Frankie managed to respond before slipping inside and closing the door. She leaned back against the panels, hearing the sound of the elevator’s ping announcing its arrival, then silence. She hurried across her living room and peered out through the blinds at the street below. Short moments later, Eli moved across the sidewalk and ducked into the waiting limo. Then the car pulled away from the curb and disappeared around the corner at the end of her street.
She left the window and moved slowly into her bedroom, stripping off her coat and hanging it away in the closet before unzipping her gown and stepping out of it.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Eli as she finished undressing, removing her bracelet. To her relief, the necklace clasp opened easily, and she tucked it and the bracelet into her jewelry box. But when she took off the matching earrings, she discovered one of them was missing. Despite searching the carpet and shaking out the green gown and evening coat, she didn’t find the one-of-a-kind heirloom. With sinking heart, she added the single earring to the lacquered jewelry box and closed the lid.
I can’t imagine how I’ll find a jeweler to create a matching earring, she thought as she slipped into pink flannel pajama bottoms and a cotton tank top.
The troubling loss of her earring was soon set aside as she returned to thoughts of Eli. So far, her plan to erase unrealistic romantic notions left over from her teenage years was failing miserably. Eli Wolf was even more charming than she’d expected.
And kissing him could prove to be addictive, she thought as she settled under the comforter and turned out the lamp.
She still believed her plan to make Harry cease his matchmaking by convincing him she was madly in love with Eli would work.
But she wasn’t nearly as positive that spending more time with Eli would cure her of her high school crush. In fact, she suspected it just might do the opposite.
Chapter Five
On Sunday afternoon following the fundraiser for the Children’s Hospital, Frankie drove to her mother’s house. She was sure Cornelia would question her about Eli, but her mother didn’t raise the subject as they chatted about the success of the event while brewing a pot of tea in the kitchen. While Frankie loaded a tray with the Wedgwood teapot and cups, Cornelia carried napkins and a plate of shortbread biscuits out to the front porch just as a white pickup with a Wolf Construction logo on the doors pulled to a stop at the curb.
“Frankie,” Cornelia called, peering out a tall window as the driver stepped out of the pickup. “Isn’t that Eli? Were you expecting him?”
Frankie stepped out onto the porch, carrying the tea tray. She set the heavy silver tray on the low table in front of her mother and looked out the window.
There was no mistaking the tall, broad-shouldered man strolling up the walk—and no denying the swift surge of pleased surprise the sight of him
