"That tickles, Frank."
He turned her hand over to caress her palm with his thumb. "That, too, Angel?"
"No, that doesn’t tickle, exactly."
He could see in the darkening of her eyes — from milk chocolate to semi-sweet — exactly what it did do to her. He pulled a solitaire diamond ring from his pocket and slipped it onto her finger.
She tugged her hand out of his grasp and held it up, wiggling her fingers. She seemed mesmerized by the diamond sparkling in the candlelight.
"Oh, Frank. It’s lovely."
"So are you, Angel."
Her gaze found his, her eyes dark and compelling. He found himself wishing this were a real proposal. The way she looked at him, he was sure he could take her back to her place and start their honeymoon tonight with very little persuasion. It was clear she wanted him. And, dear Lord, he wanted her.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he never heard the words she meant to say. Her eyes flicked up to a point over his right shoulder.
"Carlos. How are you?" she murmured, her voice thick and throaty. She coughed and took a gulp from her champagne glass.
Frank looked around as Carlos Vendetti came to stand by their table.
"Angela, how lovely you look tonight." His sharp gaze landed on Frank. "So, this must be the young man who’s been taking so much of your time." He turned his gaze back to Angel. "And I had always rather hoped Dino would be the one to win your heart."
Hearing a grunt behind him, Frank swiveled around to see Dino standing a couple of feet behind Vendetti.
"Now, now, Dino. Don’t be a sore loser," Vendetti said. His gaze shifted to the champagne then back to Angel. "It looks like you’re celebrating something. Am I being too inquisitive if I ask what?"
Angel smiled prettily and shook her head, sending tendrils of hair spraying across her shoulder.
"No, it’s quite all right, Carlos." She sent a loving look at Frank. A look that froze Frank in his spot.
Suddenly, a wild longing to have Angel look at him like that for real gripped him. He fervently wanted to believe she was as innocent as she appeared. Because then… then it might just be possible to have a future with an Angel.
"Frank just asked me to marry him. And I said yes."
Vendetti’s eyebrows rose. "I offer my sincerest congratulations." He smiled broadly and shook Frank’s hand. "So now you’ll be stealing my girl’s time planning her large wedding. Italian weddings are quite an affair, you know."
"Not really, Carlos," Angel replied, smoothing her napkin on her lap. "You see we plan on a wedding very soon and…well, there won’t be time for anything very big."
His sharp gaze landed on Frank again. "I see." He glanced back at Angel. "I can’t help wondering, why the hurry? Will you be requiring an extended leave…in seven or eight months?"
"Carlos! We’ve only been seeing each other for two weeks," Angel cried.
Frank’s teeth clenched as he saw Angel’s face flush darkly and he barely stopped himself from rising to his feet and clobbering the guy.
"Of course. Forgive my bluntness. But why the rush?"
Frank forced himself to relax. He stared at Angel’s blushing face and smiled affectionately. "Because I can’t wait. I’ve been in love with Angel forever." He glanced back at Vendetti, matching those keen eyes with his own directness. "We’ve known each other since we were kids."
"Yes, Angel told me." Vendetti turned affectionate eyes on Angel. "Well, I can certainly understand your impatience. I would not want to wait, either, were I in your place. Enjoy your evening." He leaned over to kiss Angel’s cheek. "I’ll see you in the morning."
How could Angel allow the scumbag to touch her like that?
Vendetti turned and strode away. Dino sent them a scowl before turning to follow.
Frank ignored Dino and watched the silver-haired Vendetti as he crossed the restaurant. His bearing was that of a kindly older gentleman, elegant and schooled in old-world charm. Frank had to remind himself that Vendetti’s charm was only a thin veneer. Knowing the business the man was involved in, and the violence he was responsible for, sent chills through Frank. Appearances certainly were deceptive.
As he glanced back to Angel, her innocent appearance no longer seemed so appealing. Had she started to fool him into believing she might be what she appeared? Fool being the operative word.
Anger flared within him like a flame igniting on kindling as he realized the damn woman had dragged him into the fantasy again.
"Finish your dessert, Angel. I think we should be going."
Angel’s gaze darted to Frank. He knew she was wondering at the sudden change in him. They ate the rest of their meal in silence. After he paid the bill, Frank helped Angel into her coat and they stepped from the quiet ambiance of the restaurant to the hustle and bustle of the busy street, allowing him to further avoid conversation with Angel. Frank flagged down a cab. Once they’d slipped into the back seat, it was impossible to ignore the questions in her too-big eyes.
She reached out tentatively and touched his hand, as though she feared he might pull away, then slipped her hand under his fingers. He relented and curled his fingers around hers.
"It really bothered you meeting Carlos, didn’t it, Frank?" she murmured, too low for the driver to hear.
Is that what she thought? That he’d been intimidated by her boss?
"I guess." His tone made it clear he didn’t want to discuss it further.
She snuggled close to his body and rested her head against his arm.
What the hell was wrong with him? Here was a beautiful woman, one he was attracted to in a big way, close and warm against him. So she was an informant? Nothing had changed since yesterday. Just because he’d gone a bit soft headed over the past hour, didn’t mean he had to be immune to her. He’d just make sure he kept the situation in perspective. He’d keep reminding himself that with Angel he’d be a hit-and-run victim, not a companion, during the long drive of life.
He had to keep the fact that he was here on a case firmly entrenched in his mind. Now that she’d started to thaw toward him, he had to grab the opportunity to gain her trust.
She’d been staring at their intertwined fingers but when she glanced up and saw him staring at her she smiled. He allowed his mouth to curl up in response and he slid his arm around her. She settled her body more closely against him. Feeling her breasts pressed against his side made his body swell in response. And that’s all it was, he convinced himself, a physical response to a desirable woman.
"I’m sorry, Angel. I didn’t mean to spoil our evening."
"You didn’t spoil it," she said softly, then smiled sweetly. "It has been going well though, hasn’t it?"
He slid his hand up to her face and stroked her cheek.
"Very."
Their gazes joined and Frank watched her tongue trail over her lips as though in anticipation of a kiss. Before he could act on his instincts, the cab pulled up to the curb and stopped.
"We’re here, folks," the cabby informed them.
Frank pulled out his wallet and paid the fare, then went to open Angel’s door and help her out. As they walked to her door, she entangled her hand with his once again. She fished her key out of her purse and unlocked the door. Then she turned back to him.
Leaning against the door, she gave him the most seductive smile he’d ever seen and asked, "Do you want to come in for a drink?"
Her throaty voice matched her smile in invitation.
Chapter 6
She knew playing with fire could mean getting burned but she couldn’t help herself. She didn’t want the evening to end yet. Frank had been so warm and affectionate, reminding her of how it had been when they’d first met. The time had passed so easily between them. The way he’d touched her tonight, first when he’d picked her up, then during the meal, had kept her body in a heated state.
The problem was, she knew it wasn’t just physical desire. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He said he
loved her. The problem was, she was starting to believe him. She was starting to crave things she’d never craved before. Like a home and a man to share it with. But not just any man. Frank.
He reached out and stroked her hair. Then he released the barrette that held her wild curls secure. His fingers tangled in her hair and he arranged it around her face and shoulders.
"That’s better. I love your hair down."
"I…" The slow burn of longing in his eyes frightened her a little. If she were to release the volcanic need between them, would she be consumed by the flame? "About that drink…"
"Having second thoughts, Angel?" His voice was a soft whisper. As he spoke, he trailed his hands down her arms. "Be very sure of what you want. If you invite me in, I’ll take it that you’re releasing me from that promise. You know what will happen then."
She hadn’t meant to sound uncertain, had simply wanted to confirm the invitation, but now she hesitated.
"Having trouble deciding?"
He slipped his hand behind her head and brought his lips down on hers. At the gentleness of his touch, she melted against him. His arm curled around her waist. The light-headedness from the champagne, combined with the giddiness she felt from being in his arms, made her head spin. She slipped her arms around his neck and clung to him. He tightened his arms, telling her he wouldn’t let her fall. His tongue pressed against her lips, invading, pushing them open, and the sweetness of that invasion made her moan into his mouth. He pulled her body more snugly against his and ran his hands up and down her back, as though he couldn’t touch her enough. Could anything that felt this good be wrong?
When she felt his hand slip around to cup her breast, then squeeze, she gasped. Things were moving too fast, getting out of control. She struggled to put some distance between them and Frank released her.
"Too much, Angel?"
"I…" Her voice came out husky and raw. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Frank, I…"
"Never mind. Let’s just say it’s better for both of us if I go home right now."
His lips zoomed down on hers for one last kiss, then he walked away. Her hand fluttered to her mouth, covering her lips as if to hang on to that last burning touch. She watched him stride along her front path, then down the street, until he disappeared from view.
* * * *
What the hell was that all about? Frank asked himself. She’d been there for the taking. If he’d moved slowly instead of grabbing her like an impatient kid, he’d probably be in her bed right now, her naked body writhing in pleasure beneath his own. But, damn it, something inside wouldn’t allow him to take what she’d offered. She’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her. So what the hell was the problem?
The problem, you fool, is that she believes you love her. And somehow he couldn’t bring himself to make love to her under false pretenses. She may be a traitor, his conscious mind told him, but that doesn’t make it right to use her. Of course that was the reason. With that he called himself noble and whistled as he tried to walk off his physical frustration, totally ignoring the smaller, subconscious voice that told him the real reason was that maybe he was starting to believe she really wasn’t a traitor.
* * * *
Frank picked Angel up from work the next day and took her to the little diner where they’d had coffee, deciding that being alone with her was not a good idea. Doubts about her guilt had curled through him all night, like smoke from a fire, clouding his judgment. While near Angel, he needed a strong shield around his heart to stop from getting hurt. Again. Unfortunately, the best one he’d had— a clear belief that she was a traitor — had started to crumble.
"Carlos wants to pay for our wedding," Angel informed him.
Frank stopped stirring his coffee and tapped his spoon on the side of the mug before putting it down. "Why?"
"He knows I don’t have any family and," she shrugged, "you know us Italians. We like big weddings with lots of food and friends."
"So Vendetti is just going to hand us a huge sum of money to pay for it?"
"You’ve got to realize, Frank, that Carlos really does consider his people a big family."
Was this one way he kept his people loyal? Draw them into a feeling of community by having them attend the wedding. Make displays of generosity by treating his administrative assistant like a daughter?
Frank shook his head. "He doesn’t exactly represent my idea of family values."
She put down her dessert fork and clenched her fist. "I’m not going to defend him, Frank. I’m merely telling you what he’s offered. I told him we want to get married soon and he called a friend of his who owns a restaurant. They’ve set up the reception for a week from Saturday. He wanted to set up the church, too, but I told him you wanted the ceremony at city hall." She tapped her fingers on the table distractedly. "He kind of insisted."
"Do we have any say in this at all?"
She smoothed the napkin on her lap. "You can invite anyone you want — but I told him you’re new in town and you don’t have any family."
Why fight it? He didn’t want to jeopardize his chances of working himself into Vendetti’s operation. Turning down an offer like this would not endear him to the man. Frank shrugged. "As long as I’m invited — and you’re the bride — that’s all I care about. Anything else?"
She glanced down at the table and rolled her spoon over several times. "He…arranged for our honeymoon. He knows we’re short of cash, with you out of work and all, so he asked a friend who has a resort to give us a good price. A week on St. Lucia in the West Indies."
"Really?" Frank raised his eyebrows. "Sounds romantic. I can just picture it — walks along the beach, midnight swims in a warm ocean, you in that red bikini I remember so well." Or less. He felt his breath lock inside his lungs and had to purposefully exhale. Slowly, trying to release the tightness that had gripped his body at the erotic images that shimmered through his mind. He tilted his head and grinned. "You do remember that bikini, don’t you, Angel?"
She blushed so prettily he wondered why he didn’t tease her more often.
"Yes, I remember," she grumbled. "Frank, about the honeymoon and — well, what happened last night — I don’t want you to get the idea… I mean, I know what you probably thought…"
He shook his head and laughed. "Angel, what are you trying to say?" Was she going to deny her attraction to him?
"It’s just that… I still don’t think it’s a good idea for us to… become involved."
"Involved?" He loved her euphemism. She didn’t want him to drag her off to bed and make hot, passionate love to her, then leave her breathless and sated. Involved. "You mean other than the fact we’re getting married?"
She glared at him, clearly knowing he was goading her. "You know what I mean. All the reasons I said we shouldn’t start up a relationship still hold. I just forgot that last night — for a little while."
He rested his hand on her clenched fist and slowly unwrapped it, tenderly stroking with his fingers, trying to release her tension. "That’s all right, Angel. You’re only human." All too human. Unfortunately.
She slid her hand out from under his and picked up her fork. Frank watched her in silence as she ate her apple pie and wondered at the fact that he really knew very little about her. He finished his own pie and wiped his mouth with a napkin, deciding it was time to break the long silence between them — a silence that had lasted longer than the last few minutes — a silence that had been filled with empty words that told him nothing about her.
"So, Angel Tortina has no family. What about Cindy?"
She glanced up at him. "My parents died when I was a teenager." Ignoring the remains of her pie, she grabbed the napkin from her lap and crumpled it in her fist. "My dad was a member of the mob — for real."
"What?" Frank stared at her, as much in disbelief at what she’d said as the fact that she would tell him. If she were the informant, it wouldn’t make sense to reveal such a thing — unless she thought he was on to h
er and had decided this would throw him off the trail.
"He decided to pull out — but found it wasn’t that easy. He fell in with the FBI and agreed to give them enough information to put away some of the big names — in exchange for keeping him and his family safe."
When she didn’t continue, he prodded. "And what happened?"
"It didn’t work. The mob found out and killed him, and my mother. I was fifteen at the time."
She scrunched her eyelids together then opened them again, slowly. Her eyes glistened and he thought either she was an excellent actress — a thought that had occurred to him many times before — or she was fighting back tears.
"I’m sorry, Angel. I didn’t know."
Before he could offer any more, she laughed, a hollow sound. "Sorry, Frank. I didn’t mean to get maudlin." She pushed away her half finished pie. "I think I’d like to go home now."
He walked her home, intertwining his fingers with hers, swinging her hand to the rhythm of their steps. The magic of the night, clear and crisp, the stars twinkling in the black sky above, drew him into the role. Of loving Angel. When they got to the door, reluctant to give up the fantasy so soon, he gave her a single, lingering kiss.
* * * * *
The day of the wedding arrived and Angel woke up to a sense of unreality. She couldn’t believe how quickly the weeks had gone by. She knew she’d picked out the invitations one lunch hour and printed them on the laser printer in her office, but the memory was vague at best. She clearly remembered the evenings she and Frank had spent together addressing and stuffing envelopes, then hand delivering them. She found it disconcerting to realize how much she’d enjoyed spending that domestic time with him. Then last Saturday, Frank had picked her up for lunch and gone with her to choose her wedding dress, though he’d spent more time trying to talk her into modeling the sheer, white lace body suit displayed on a mannequin than paying attention to the dresses.
Undercover Blues Page 9