Undercover Blues

by Undercover Blues (lit)

  She chewed on her lower lip, dropping her gaze. "Of course. I'm not stupid. No one would believe you and I are happy newlyweds while I’m dating another man."

  Frank felt a sudden twinge of guilt at coming between Angel and someone she might care for very deeply. Memories of the pain of losing the woman he loved — Angel — seeped into his brain.

  God damn it, what’s the matter with me? Angel walked away from me. There was nothing I could have done about it.

  And she’d do it again. He knew that.

  What kind of fool am I, anyway? This woman doesn’t care about anyone but herself. Didn’t I learn that much four years ago?

  Slamming away the thoughts, he knew he couldn’t stay within the confines of this house, totally surrounded by the sights and smells of Angel, a moment longer. He had to get out. He grabbed her hand and tugged her along to the door. "Come on, Angel. Let’s go."

  "Go? Where?" she asked in surprised as he pulled open the closet door.

  "Out for coffee. That’s what you told your…friend…we were doing."

  "But—"

  "No buts. We've got to keep the story real, sweetheart."

  Angel couldn't argue with that. She grabbed her jacket from the closet and Frank helped her slip it on. As they strolled down the street, Frank took her hand.

  "Frank," Angel warned.

  "Angel, we’re supposed to be dating."

  "We aren’t dating yet." She snatched her hand away.

  Frank led her into a little diner a couple blocks away and picked a relatively quiet booth in the corner, away from the main bustle and hum of the late dinner crowd. She settled into the cool vinyl of the bench seat and slipped off her coat, as she took in the decor. The lights were bright and the decor late-sixties style. A waitress hurried over with a cheerful greeting and placed an open menu on the table in front of each of them, then went to take the order from four denim-clad teenagers in the booth two down.

  Frank rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward. "Just what did you tell that guy about us?"

  Angel plucked at the corner of her plastisized menu.

  "Dino? I told him that I knew you a long time ago. That we ran into each other two nights ago."

  "And he thinks I’m invading his territory."

  "He’s worried about me. The family is very protective of their members."

  "He wants to get you into bed."

  "And don’t you?"

  Angel directed her attention to the menu, shifting it so the reflection of the glaring lights didn’t obscure the print. Needing to do something with her hands, she picked up a fork and started turning it end over end, bouncing first the tines on the table, then the handle.

  The waitress came back and stood by the table, pen held ready. Frank ordered a coffee and, even though her stomach rumbled in complaint at missing dinner, Angel settled for the same. She didn’t want to be here any longer than necessary.

  "Frank, about our cover. Why do you think you can just drop into the middle of Carlos’ operation? It’s taken me years to gain their trust."

  Didn’t he realize this wasn’t a one shot deal for her? Being deep undercover meant taking on the role totally, not just for the length of one case. The information she passed on often defined cases for people like Frank.

  He plucked the fork out of her hand and laid it on the table. "Exactly, and I’m going to piggy-back on that. They trust you, they’ll trust me. Enough to start with, anyway." He glanced around as though looking for eavesdroppers. "You know, we really shouldn’t be talking about this here."

  She was suddenly conscious of the people around them. She couldn’t believe her sloppiness. Frank threw her so badly off balance, that working with him would be dangerous in more ways than one.

  The waitress returned and placed a coffee in front of each of them, the cups clinking on their saucers as they hit the table, then she rushed away to take orders at the next table.

  "So…what do we talk about now? We’re essentially strangers, you know?" Angel asked.

  "Not quite that." Frank’s heated gaze threatened to penetrate the shell of ice Angel had erected around herself.

  "What about the last four years? What have you been doing?"

  "Missing you."

  "Yeah, right. Missing the opportunity to ring my neck and drop me in the river, no doubt."

  "My, my, Angel. You do have quite a violent streak, don’t you?" His grin, and the resultant crinkles around his eyes, made him look incredibly sexy.

  "Frank, get serious."

  Frank resisted the urge to show her just how seriously he wanted her. Over the last four years, he’d been tormented by the memory of her. She’d haunted his dreams and crept through his waking thoughts. He’d forced himself to remember she’d been scamming information from him for the mob. Unfortunately, now he knew that wasn’t true. Damn it, knowing she was an undercover FBI agent put a whole new slant on things.

  "All right. What about you? What did you do after our last encounter?" Her mouth tightened into a fine line and he remembered she had gone to prison. That thought spiked through him. He couldn’t help thinking how tough it must have been for her. He shoved away the thought that if he proved her guilty, she’d be back there. "I’m sorry, I…"

  She jerked her hand away from his touch. "I don’t really want to talk about it."

  "It must have been…rough. Why did you do it? Is any job worth a year of your life?"

  She turned her sharp, brown gaze on him. "I hurt them. Because of that operation, Cavaglione and a host of his most trusted men were put out of operation for years. Of course it was worth it."

  "But why do you have to pay the price alone?"

  "I don’t. There are a lot of men and women out there working for the same cause."

  "But not many who’ve given up as much as you have." He couldn’t help a soaring admiration for her. She’d been honest once, and she must have believed in her cause. He felt a compelling curiosity to find out what drove this woman.

  "Don’t feel sorry for me. I love what I do."

  "But, Angel, living with criminals…pretending to be a criminal… I don’t know how you do it." He’d never been undercover for more than a few weeks at a time and he despised having to associate with the scum that lived their lives on the wrong side of the law. It took him weeks to wash off the stench of corruption.

  "That’s the main problem, isn’t it Frank? You don’t understand. And you never will."

  * * * *

  Angel finished her coffee, suffering the stiff silence between them, then tugged on her coat, signaling her readiness to leave. Frank pushed his own cup aside and they left the diner. As they strolled back to her townhouse, Angel pace quickened in response to her anxious need to get away from Frank. As she stepped inside, he said, "I’ll be back tomorrow night. Want to catch a movie?"

  She turned to face him. "Frank, I…"

  "Angel, remember our cover. We’ve got to be seen together on dates. We need a whirlwind romance that’ll end in marriage." He smiled a devilish grin. "We want to be convincing. Make everyone believe that we’ve fallen madly in love."

  "Yes, I know," she said quietly.

  He looked deep into her eyes and she felt the pull of his sexual magnetism. Firm, warm lips found hers in a sweet, persuasive caress. When his lips finally released her, his blue gaze did not. "Are you going to ask me in?"

  Her hand jumped up and rested on his chest in a defensive measure. "No." She pushed lightly to put some distance between them. "Frank, this is very hard on me. Please don’t make it worse."

  "It’s hard on me too, Angel." He dragged his finger across her cheek. "You know how much I want you. I can’t stop touching you."

  "Frank…"

  He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, then turned it over to press his lips against her palm. She tried to pull away, but he shook his head and held firm. "I told you that I want us to start again. What I didn’t tell you is that I’m still in love with you."


  "No." She sagged against the door jamb, shaking her head in horror. "Oh, no, Frank. You can’t be, you mustn’t…"

  "But I am."

  He brushed a stray hair behind her ear and his vivid blue eyes gazed at her with a warmth that would thaw an ice queen. Why had she ever doubted people would believe he’d fallen in love with her? Right at this moment, she was thoroughly convinced.

  Frank in love with her? Oh, God. She desperately needed his animosity. How could she hold him off when her own heart threatened to melt into a little puddle of warm honey? She had to keep him at a distance. She had to harden her heart against him. How she would do that she wasn’t sure, since her heart was currently in the process of liquefying.

  "Frank, I… You must know I don’t love you."

  "Don’t you?"

  She felt his hands slip onto her shoulders and draw her near. He nuzzled her temple.

  "Ask me in, Angel."

  The persuasion in his voice settled into her, coaxing her to say yes. The feel of his breath wisping against her skin sent shivers of pleasure through her and common sense temporarily abandoned her. "Yes, I…" She felt him smile and his hands skimmed her sides. "I mean, no." She planted both hands firmly on his chest and pushed.

  "Do you know what you really want?"

  "I want…." She sighed. "I want you to give me space. No more talk of love. And no more trying to seduce me. If you really care about me, you’ll do as I ask."

  He stared at her for a few moments and she saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a glimpse of conflicting thoughts waging a battle inside him.

  She put her hand on his arm. "Please, Frank." He glanced at her fingers resting on his denim sleeve then back to her eyes. She stared at him with her most pleading expression.

  He sighed. "You don’t play fair, sweetheart."

  "I play to win. Will you promise?"

  He scowled and eased away from her, a heavy reluctance colouring every move. "Okay, I’ll back off."

  "Thank you."

  Relief rippled through her. Then his gaze captured hers and he smiled.

  "Until we’re married. Then we’ll talk."

  * * * *

  Frank stepped up to Angel’s front door and knocked. Tonight was the night he would propose. He’d even brought flowers along for the occasion.

  Over the past two weeks, he had dated Angel, going to very public places. He’d had fun throwing Angel off balance. Holding to his agreement not to push a sexual relationship between them, he’d made no advances towards her, other than the natural ones expected in public, like holding hands or putting an arm around her in the movies. It took a great effort of will, however. Every time he touched her, he found it increasingly more difficult to hold back. The attraction between them was growing more intense.

  Tonight he’d give her flowers, take her out to a fancy restaurant, and ask her to marry him. Just like he’d always imagined doing with the woman he loved. But he didn’t love Angel. He may have thought he did once, but the lingering residue from their previous encounter was not love. You can’t love someone you never really knew, he kept reminding himself.

  He scowled at the roses in his hand, painfully aware of the bitter gap between reality and fantasy. How the hell would he get out of this charade with his sanity intact? By reminding yourself that it is a charade, you fool..

  But he’d been doing that constantly, and still he felt himself slipping into the fantasy a little more each day.

  Angel swung open the door and he felt the breath catch in his throat at the sight of her. The red evening dress she wore was a simple cut with spaghetti straps, but the way it caressed the contours of her body was literally breath-taking. The hem fell short of her knees and her long legs appeared even longer with the black stiletto heels she wore. Some kind of barrette captured her hair at the side of her head, forming a cascade of flowing curls floating down one bare shoulder. The song "Lady in Red" immediately came to mind and he knew, just like in the song, he’d be the envy of every male in the restaurant.

  "Come in, Frank. You look wonderful."

  The way her gaze traveled the length of his body made Frank tug at the collar of his light grey shirt. He’d worn a charcoal suit with a matching tie, spiced with a swirling pattern of crimson and grey, hoping she’d be wearing red tonight. The colour set off her dark hair and eyes so well.

  "So do you. Here." He held out the bouquet. "These are for you."

  She took it in both hands and lifted the blossoms to her nose to breathe in the delicate fragrance. The look of rapture on her face made him think of floral sheets and Angel laying on them naked. In that scenario, he would be the one giving her that rapt expression and a bouquet of flowers would not be involved.

  Damn, he had to get himself under control.

  "They’re lovely, Frank. And my favourite. Pink roses."

  "I remembered."

  She glanced up at him nervously. She probably didn’t want him remembering things like that. It made their relationship too intimate.

  "Why is it you like pink roses, Angel? I would have thought red more appropriate. I mean you wear it so often — and so well."

  She laughed. "Yes, well — I don’t look good in pink but I love it. And pink roses are more delicate than red. And a little more unusual."

  She glanced up at him, as though wondering what his reaction would be. Could it be that she liked them exactly because it wasn’t what others would expect? Was it one way she sought to maintain a personality separate from the cover she lived?

  "I’ll go put these in water, then we can leave. Unless you want a drink first?" Her query was hesitant.

  He glanced at his watch. "The reservations are for eight. We don’t really have time," he said regretfully.

  It was the first time she’d allowed him into her house since the night he’d promised to keep his hands off her. She obviously didn’t believe in tempting fate. He smiled to himself. Maybe he should have tried flowers sooner.

  He pulled her black wool coat out of the closet and, when she returned, he held it up so she could slip it on. He couldn’t help himself. He had to touch her. The expanse of creamy back exposed by that delicious dress cried out to him. As he pushed the coat up over her shoulders, he allowed his fingers to trail over her bare skin.

  "Frank…" she warned.

  "You feel wonderful." He lowered his head to her neck, a delightful wisp of perfume drawing him close. "And you smell wonderful, too." Once his nose touched her temple he couldn’t seem to pull away. His lips caressed her hairline, then he nuzzled the base of her neck in the hollow of her collarbone. After a moment’s hesitation she slowly turned to face him.

  "Frank, you promised," she admonished.

  But her voice was husky and her eyes dark. He pulled her against his body, his hands slipping inside her coat, sliding up and down her sides, the feel of her luscious curves driving him insane. The dress was silk — the curves pure woman.

  "Angel, how can I resist you? Especially when you’re wearing that incredibly sexy dress."

  She backed away but there was nowhere to go. She stepped back, pressing against the wall. Frank followed. He pressed against her and brought his lips to hers in a tender, persuasive kiss. He couldn’t help himself. He had to taste her. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, the rate increasing as their kiss deepened. She responded to him, but kept her mouth sealed against his tongue as though that barrier would keep the lines drawn between them. He respected that boundary, knowing if he pushed past it she would pull away and deprive him of her body against his, her nipples rising against his chest. To know he had this effect on her empowered him. He didn’t need more. Not now. Even though his body swelled in response to all she was giving him. But sooner or later he knew he would have make her his. He would have to relieve this terrible ache inside him. Even though she had once betrayed him. Even though she might be the informant.

  He pulled away and looked down at her startled eyes. "We’d
better get going."

  Her look of dismay at the brusque comment sent a pang of guilt through him. He pulled her coat together and started doing up the buttons, but she batted his hands away as she stepped out of his reach, resolutely keeping her eyes turned away.

  He followed her out into the brisk night air. The restaurant they had chosen, called the Pianoforte, was a favourite haunt of many of her associates. It would be the perfect place to ‘pop the question’. With luck, they might even run into Vendetti himself, since he often dined there.

  Luck proved to be with them.

  The mâitre d’ seated them at a table right beside a decorative marble fountain, the delicate trickle lending a romantic mood. A pianist sat at a baby grand playing dinner music.

  Angel leaned toward Frank and whispered, "Vendetti’s here. By the fireplace."

  Frank picked up his menu and glanced over as though to admire the large stone fireplace on the opposite wall, and in his peripheral vision, picked out the elderly man sitting with two other men. Vendetti had sharp hawk-like eyes that seemed to pierce the composure of the man he was speaking to. He definitely had a natural aura of command. As Frank had noticed in the photographs he’d seen, his looks contrasted with what one would expect from a fierce underworld figure. His full head of grey hair, neatly combed sideways and back, along with his cleanly defined features, gave him a distinguished appearance that belied the dirty side of his operation.

  Frank turned back to Angel as their waiter arrived and they ordered dinner and a bottle of champagne. Frank made a show of holding Angel’s hand all through dinner. When dessert and coffee arrived, he held her hand in both of his and gazed straight into her eyes.

  "This is it, Angel. The moment you’ve been waiting for." He glanced around to ensure no one was in hearing distance. "Will you marry me? Until the-end-of-our-assignment do us part?"

  She giggled. "Oh, Frank. You’re so romantic."

  "Angel, do you really think it’s appropriate to giggle when a man proposes to you?"

  "Well, it is if I’ve had more than one glass of champagne. The stuff makes me a bit giddy."

  He grinned. "Maybe I should feed you champagne more often." And bring you flowers, he thought. He rather liked her like this, a delicate flush to her cheeks, her mouth turned up at the sides in an effervescent smile, and her eyes shining brightly. He brought her hand to his lips and brushed across her knuckles. She giggled again.