After Hours Desire
By Elizabeth Lennox
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Copyright 2021
ISBN13: 9781950451357
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any duplication of this material, either electronic or any other format, either currently in use or a future invention, is strictly prohibited, unless you have the direct consent of the author.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
Excerpt to “An Unexpected Affair”
Chapter 1
“Why am I still doing this job?!” Frankie muttered as she trudged into the cool elegance of the Dallas, Texas hotel lobby. Francesca Lorelei Windward was more exhausted at the moment than she should be. After all, she’d been finding cheating spouses for years now. Well, pretty much all her life, she mentally corrected.
Hitching her heavy backpack higher on her shoulder, Frankie peered towards the bank of elevators, then at the darker interior of the hotel bar. “Cool, refreshing shower? Or a nice, cold beer?”
Other hotel guests hurried by as she contemplated her options. Everyone in the world seemed to have a purpose. But Frankie had been rushing around this incredibly hot, infernally humid city all day. She absolutely refused to hurry now. Especially since her rushing hadn’t produced the desired results. She wasn’t any closer to finding the man she was looking for now than she had been this morning.
Normally, she’d head for a shower. But she’d walked about ten miles on hot, concrete sidewalks, checking various bars and restaurants, hotels and pawn shops, looking for her current client’s husband. The client, a lovely blond back in Seattle, suspected her handsome husband cheated on her every time he went on a business trip. Hence Frankie’s presence here in Dallas.
She glanced over at the elevators again, but the crowd of people waiting, plus all of the extra steps required, made her decision. Her hotel room would require a walk to the elevators and then down a long hallway. Meanwhile, the cool, dimly lit atmosphere of the hotel bar was right there, mere steps away.
“To the bar,” she whispered to herself. “Because what better way to end a miserable, pointless day than to pay twenty dollars for a beer?” She slid onto one of the tall stools, dumping her backpack on the floor beside her and slipping her leather jacket onto the back of the chair.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, adding what he probably thought was a charming, flirtatious smile. But Frankie was too tired and irritated to notice.
“Can I get a Corona?” she asked, aiming for a polite tone, but she most likely missed the mark since the bartender’s smile slipped away. Thankfully, he got her beer quickly, even adding in a fresh lime wedge.
“Thank you,” she replied, sliding her credit card along the expanse of polished wood towards the bartender.
He glanced down at the name on her card, his smile back in place and Frankie mentally groaned. “Francesca, would you like me to start a tab for you?”
Frankie closed her eyes, cringing in horror. Good grief, that name! She hated it when someone used her full first name!
Lowering the glass slightly, she eyed the bartender sternly. “It’s Frankie,” she told him. “And no. Just this one beer is all I need.”
Disappointment flashed through his eyes at her uncompromising tone and she felt a touch of remorse. But she was seriously too worn out to flirt with the guy.
“Thanks,” Frankie muttered to the bartender when he returned the credit card.
“Hello beautiful!” a man in a dated, brown suit called out.
Frankie glanced at the man, her gaze immediately dropping to his left hand. Sure enough, the pale line on his ring finger was a dead giveaway. “No,” she snapped, then turned back to the bartender as he handed her the bill.
“I’ll get that,” the man offered with a jovial chuckle. “A pretty lady like you shouldn’t have to buy your own drink.”
Frankie eyed the guy curiously. “Does that line ever work?” she asked, ignoring his offer to pay for her beer and signing the slip with a flourish. Frankie then stuffed her copy of the receipt into her wallet, which in turn, was stuffed into her backpack.
The guy shuffled on his feet, his smile shifting from self-assured to wary now. “Well…yeah!” He replied, but he didn’t look nearly as confident as he had a moment before. “Usually,” his voice trailed off.
Frankie swung her backpack over her shoulder, shaking her head. “Then there sure are a lot of pathetic women in the world.”
She walked away from the man, heading towards one of the tables as she ran a hand through her copper curls. They were longer these days, but only because she hadn’t found the time to get a haircut. Frankie thought about find a place here in the city, but her hair reached just past her ears now and it was easier to tuck back out of the way. So maybe not.
“He’s an ass. Why don’t you join me?” another male voice called out.
Frankie looked at the newest guy, studying him dispassionately. This one had removed his tie, unbuttoning the top button on his dress shirt. The look helped him seem a bit more casual and laid back, but she suspected that he was married too. Frankie wasn’t sure how she knew that, but her spidey sense was tingling. His suit was more khaki than brown, and was of better quality, but Frankie still wasn’t interested. Her job brought her into contact with cheating men too often. She didn’t want to socialize with them when she was finally off the clock.
“No, thank you.”
His eyes lit up, his expression eager. “You’re gay, right?” He chuckled and puffed up a bit, his eyes shifting from interested to eager. “Hey! That’s awesome! How about a…?”
Frankie rolled her eyes and stepped around the guy. She wasn’t gay, but she was offended on behalf of lesbians everywhere. “Don’t you dare suggest a threesome!” She growled and stalked towards the back of the bar where she could just relax and drink her stupid beer. Maybe the cool shower would have been a better option after all!
Unfortunately, the obstacles in her route were not over. A third man decided to try his luck.
“Since the other two struck out, how about me?” he asked, stepping off of his stool and into her path. This guy wore a charcoal suit, but his bland appearance simply didn’t do anything for her.
Frankie sighed and looked longingly down at her beer. She should just leave, she thought. What’s the point in staying when she couldn’t sit and enjoy herself without getting hit on?
She looked him up and down, then allowed her eyes to stop on the wedding ring. Stepping into his space, she glared up at the man. “I’m a private investigator,” she said and saw his eyes widen. “So, if you don’t want me to do a little digging, maybe let your wife know that you pick up women in bars, then I’d suggest that you back away and leave me to enjoy my beer alone.”
The guy’s jaw went slack, and a moment later, the poor guy slid back onto the bar stool, his tail between his legs. She heard him order another drink and the word “Bitch!” was muttered. But Frankie continued towards the back
of the hotel bar, towards the darkened area where she could sit and work in peace. Or not work, she thought, as she turned sideways to slip between two tables. Maybe she’d just sit and stare at nothing for a while. Turn off her brain. The table in the corner, way in the back…yeah, that looked like the perfect place to stop thinking.
Unfortunately, by the time she reached the dim, back corner, she realized that there was already a man sitting in the booth where she’d been heading. “Darn it!”
“Please, have a seat,” the man offered, his voice deep and sexy. “I won’t bother you. I’m here for the exact same reason.”
Frankie hesitated. She’d already run the jerk-man-gauntlet.
She really didn’t want to go back to her hotel room. It was beige. She hated beige! And just now, she hated Dallas and her job and the jerk she’d been hired to find and her client and…and the ridiculous road system around Dallas. Why in the world had some idiot had decided that it was a good idea to number the interstate roads six-thirty-five, thirty-five, thirty…and they all intersected and split up and…? She truly hated Dallas!
Okay, the road system in the city wasn’t the issue. It was her intense fatigue. Her deep down exhaustion with the world and her job and with creepy men who…well, this guy didn’t look creepy. In fact, he was kind of…hot?
Looking into the dim light, she eyed the man warily. He was obviously larger than average, head and shoulders rising over the backrest of the chair. But all the other tables were now filled with people celebrating the end of the hot and humid day, creating a low hum of background noise.
Turning back to the table, she narrowed her eyes. “Are you a good man? Or a creepy jerk?”
The answering chuckle was oddly sensuous. She couldn’t see his face clearly, but she could see his outline. The guys she’d just waded through were like children compared to him. And yet, she didn’t sense danger. In fact, just the opposite. This man seemed…? “Safe” was definitely not the right word to use. But she didn’t feel threatened.
“I promise that my bark is much worse than my bite,” the nearly faceless stranger assured her and, with his foot, pushed out the chair opposite him. In the dim light, she saw him lift a glass, heard the ice cubes clink against each other.
Nice voice too, she thought.
Still…there was something about the big guy that made her wary. “You’re not a raving lunatic, are you?”
Another chuckle. More shivers of awareness. The air seemed to tighten.
“No promises there.”
For some reason, his lack of a promise was more reassuring than anything else he could have said.
“Fair enough,” Frankie replied, and sat down in the “offered” chair. She dumped her backpack on the floor, and shifted to a more comfortable position, setting her beer carefully on the table. “So, what do you do, stranger?” she asked, mocking his southern drawl.
She saw a flash of white teeth. “You mean, besides drink in dark corners of hotel bars and kick chairs for fire-headed ladies?”
Frankie ignored the blip of excitement at the admission that he’d noticed her and carefully sipped her beer as she nodded. “Yes, that would be crux of my question.”
“Cattle,” he replied. The one word answer piqued her curiosity. The lack of bragging or just superfluous words intrigued her.
Cattle, huh? That was unexpected. And oddly fascinating! Cattle as in…well, she wasn’t sure if there were different kinds of cattle, so she decided to just ask. “What kind of cattle?”
Another flash of teeth and she felt something warm and tingly fill her tummy.
“Are there different kinds of cattle?”
She titled her head, shrugging one shoulder. “Well, I was born and raised in Seattle, Washington. So, my knowledge of cattle begins and ends with milk cattle versus beef cattle. Which do you raise?”
She caught another one of those sexy smiles, still trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. “I’m in the beef business,” he replied. “How about you?”
Frankie leaned back in her chair, relaxed and oddly comfortable despite the unappreciated flutterings. “I find people.”
She felt, rather than saw, his eyebrow lift. “What kind of people?”
She lifted an eyebrow in return. “I didn’t know that there were different kinds,” she teased, grinning as she threw his words back at him.
He laughed and Frankie suspected that she could become addicted to that sound. It was as if caramel was a sound; rich, warm, and seductively enticing.
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “I guess my knowledge of the people-finding business is limited to those that search out bail jumpers, versus lost souls, or those who misbehave.”
Frankie conceded his point with a lift of her shoulder and a slight tilt of her head. “I guess I fall into the lost souls and misbehaving category.”
“So, you’re a private investigator?” he clarified.
“Unfortunately,” she confirmed. She was surprised at her lackluster response. She loved her job…didn’t she? Yes. Well, maybe. Not all the time, she mentally concluded. “I mean, yes. I am.”
His dark eyebrows lifted and Frankie wished she could see the color of his eyes. Still, she tilted her head, hoping to get a better angle with the light behind her.
“You aren’t as enamored of your work just now?”
Frankie breathed deeply, contemplating his question, comparing it to her exhausted state after a fruitless day. “Yes, that’s probably all it is.” Although, if she were being honest, Frankie didn’t feel particularly tired. Not at the moment. At least, not anymore! Just the opposite, in fact. Talking with this man, she felt…surprisingly stimulated. The man she couldn’t see clearly, other than his size and the rough edge of his hard jawline. And his voice! Goodness, he had an incredible voice!
“You’re frustrated about today’s work.” That was a statement, not a question.
“Yes,” Frankie admitted, but didn’t explain further. She always respected her clients’ privacy, so she’d never reveal details of her investigations. But she didn’t want to talk about her work, even the vague details, with this stranger. “So, what are the frustrations in working with cows?”
“Cattle,” he corrected mildly.
She blinked at him curiously. “What’s the difference between a cow and cattle?”
She saw another brief glimpse of straight white teeth. “Ah, the life of a city girl,” he teased, shaking his head in mock frustration. “A cow is a female. Cattle refers to both genders, including calves. Bulls or steers are the male cattle.”
Frankie didn’t take offense at his comment about her being a “city girl”. She was and she loved it. She’d love to see this guy try and find the best deli or coffee shop in Seattle!
So instead of berating him for the truth, she tilted her head slightly, acknowledging his answer. “Huh. That makes sense,” she replied. “I guess I could have figured that out if I’d thought about it. So, what are the problems with cattle then?”
“You mean, besides sourcing healthy food, eliminating viruses from the herd, problems with calving…which is giving birth to you city folk,” he explained. Frankie couldn’t stifle her laughter, throwing her arm over the back of the chair next to her as he continued. “There are also foxes and wolves, cattle theft, keeping the staff out of trouble on payday, vaccinations, castration…”
“Wait!” she held up her hand to stop his litany of cattle issues, leaning forward slightly. “You don’t really do that, do you?” she asked. “I mean, that’s just an urban or…a country…whatever…myth, right?”
He looked back at her with an odd expression. “Do what?”
She shifted uncomfortably in the chair and dropped her gaze to her glass. “Cut the…thingys off of the boy cows. I just assumed that was a myth.”
The stranger blinked at her for a long moment, then threw his head back and roared with laughter. Normally, Frankie would have been insulted, but she suspected that he didn’t get to laugh
often. It sounded rusty, but heartfelt.
After his laughter faded, he nodded his head as he replied, “Yes, it’s true. Ranchers really do…uh…cut them off.”
Frankie was horrified at the thought of doing…that…to anything. She leaned forward, earnest and curious. “Why? Why would you do something like that? I mean, you don’t do it to the cowboys who work for you, do you?”
There was another chuckle and Frankie ignored that stupid, repetitious fluttering again. “Course not. We do it to the bulls for safety. Both for the safety of the herd as well as the staff.”
“Safety?” she echoed, not quite following.
“Yep,” he confirmed. “The bulls are aggressive. Have you ever seen a rodeo?”
She blinked, still not making the connection. “Sure. On television.”
He grinned and she found that she really liked his smile. Now that her eyes were adjusting to the dim light, he was magnificent! Broad shoulders, sharp jaw, and clearly a great sense of humor.
“Well, you’ve seen the bulls then. They are incredibly aggressive and literally try to kill the cowboy riding them.”
“Then perhaps the cowboy shouldn’t try to ride them,” she countered, smiling because she knew it was probably an ignorant response.
“Probably,” he replied, smiling in return. “It’s a bit like poking the bear and hoping to come away with all your skin still intact.”
“Have you ever ridden a bull?”
He chuckled. “Nope. I feed my dare devil issues by soothing the angry horses.”
Her eyes widened. “You ride the bucking broncos?”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. You’re thinking about the rodeo and entertainment. That’s a completely different world than that of a working cattle ranch. I soothe the horses before I ride them. I get the horse to trust me, make friends with them. I talk to them, show them that I’m not going to hurt them.”
Frankie realized that she was leaning forward now, and she enjoyed the rise and fall of his captivating voice. “I bet that you’re good at soothing nervous horses,” she replied, wondering why her voice was barely a whisper now.
After Hours Desire (Forsaken Sons Book 3) Page 1