“The worst part was the boredom. I have no patience with sitting around. A guy can only watch so many cable-TV sports events without a break. Thank God I’m fully recovered and back at work, because, trust me—my grandfather and brothers were about ready to throw me into Puget Sound and let me drown.”
She laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’m sure you couldn’t have been that difficult.”
“According to them, I was worse,” he assured her. “I’m not a good patient—in fact, I’m lousy at it.” Maybe that was the reason he was so eager to take up Frankie’s plan to foil Harry, Eli thought. Maybe the memory of those long, boring months had made him susceptible to any pretty woman with an interesting scheme. “Your plan to outmaneuver Harry at his own game is perfect timing for me,” he told her, although he suspected Frankie was the most compelling element. “It’s just intriguing enough to distract me and make me forget those never-ending months of being stuck at home with my leg in a cast.”
“Whatever it is that made you agree, I’m just thankful you’ve said yes.” Frankie smiled at him and slid the tip of her tongue over the plump curve of her lower lip, licking away a drop of creamy coffee. Eli nearly groaned out loud, his body tensing.
He saw women drinking coffee nearly every morning when he stopped at the local Starbucks on his way to work. He didn’t have this reaction to any of them, he realized with a flash of awareness. Only Frankie managed to turn him on with one glimpse of the tip of her tongue sliding slowly over her bottom lip.
No, it’s not just any woman I want. It’s Frankie.
Chapter Three
Frankie glanced up just in time to see Eli’s lashes lower, his eyes going dark as he stared at her mouth.
She’d certainly seen desire on a man’s face before. But Eli’s intent, focused stare sent heat shivering through her belly. She felt her cheeks warming and knew her face must be flushing with pink color.
She was speechless, unable to respond as she watched Eli’s dark gaze flick upward to hers, awareness arcing between them in a palpable hum.
Fortunately, he apparently took pity on her frozen vocal chords. His mouth curved in a warm smile.
“When do you want to start our scam?” he asked mildly, with no trace of the heat that had flared between them. “Soon?”
“The sooner the better,” she told him, happy to set aside contemplation of that moment between them until she was alone. “Especially if you’re right about Harry not being convinced quickly or easily.”
“This is one time when I hope I’m wrong, but knowing Harry, I doubt it,” Eli said wryly. “That only makes the challenge more interesting, though.” He winked at her, a gleam of anticipation in his blue eyes. “Do you have a plan?”
“I thought we’d start with a simple, first-date kind of thing. Mom has tickets to a fundraiser for the Children’s Hospital on Saturday night—she said a group of her friends are going together, including Harry.”
“Sounds good. What time shall I pick you up?”
“Around eight—and it’s black tie,” she added.
“I think Connor mentioned he’s taking someone,” Eli commented. “It’s a dinner dance, right?”
Frankie nodded.
“Do you think Cornelia can wangle seats for us at her table? I’m assuming Harry will be sitting with her.”
“He almost always does if they’re at the same function. I’ll ask her to pull strings so we can join them.” Frankie glanced at her wristwatch and gasped. “Oh, no. Look at the time. I’m going to be late for my next class.” She caught up her purse and slid out of the booth, only to find Eli already standing.
He pulled a handful of bills out of his pocket and peeled off several, dropping them on the table before cupping her elbow in his warm palm. “Let’s go.”
They moved quickly down the sidewalk and back to the Wolf Construction parking lot; Eli tucked a card with his home and cell-phone numbers into her jacket pocket as they walked. Frankie recited her home address and phone numbers, impressed when he didn’t need to write them down.
At five-eight, Frankie had never considered herself dainty but walking next to Eli made her feel delicate and very feminine. He was not only much taller, he was broader, bulkier and outweighed her by what must surely be at least a hundred pounds. Additionally, he exuded a protectiveness that made her feel safe. Cherished.
He handed her into her car, bending to say he’d see her on Saturday night. As she drove away from the lot, she glanced in her rearview mirror. He stood motionless, hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, the faint breeze ruffling his dark hair as he watched her leave.
She wondered briefly if she’d made a mistake. She wanted to put a stop to Harry’s matchmaking so she could go on with her life, unimpeded by marriage-minded suitors. She’d purposely picked Eli because she was convinced he had as little interest in matrimony as she did.
But after spending more than an hour in his company, she was having second thoughts.
Not about Eli—about herself. She was definitely attracted to him. Could she keep that attraction from complicating their plan to distract Harry?
She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully as she left Ballard and headed back to the university campus.
Of course I can, she concluded after several moments. Granted, Eli Wolf has the power to send my hormones crazy, but that doesn’t mean I have to act on the feeling.
She’d remain levelheaded and keep the end goal in mind, she decided firmly. Eli would only become a problem for her if she allowed him to distract her. She just had to remember that he wasn’t a man interested in a long-term relationship—that irrefutable fact should be enough to keep her from falling foolishly in love with him.
Braking for a stoplight, she used her cell phone’s speaker feature. “Mom? I’m so glad I caught you—can you get me two tickets for the fundraiser on Saturday night? And can we join your table?” She paused. “Yes, Mom, I’m bringing a date. Oops, have to go—I’m driving back to campus and the light just changed. See you Saturday!”
Later that evening after showering and donning pajama bottoms and a pink tank top, Frankie brewed a cup of green tea and climbed into bed. She loved her bedroom—it was her favorite room in her Queen Anne condo. Aided by her sisters, she’d painted three of the walls in a buttery cream color, but the fourth was a warm shade of red-gold pumpkin. Her bedstead was antique mahogany and had a matching nightstand. After months of searching, she’d found a tall chest of drawers that nearly matched the bed at an antique shop in Greenwood.
The lamp on her nightstand was a rare antique Tiffany, a Christmas gift from Uncle Harry, while the fluffy white comforter that covered the bed’s wide mattress had been a birthday gift from her mother.
In a corner near the window, a huge Boston fern sat atop a tall wicker floor stand, just to the left of a low base holding a medium-sized TV, its plasma screen now dark.
Frankie plumped the pillows and tucked them against the
