Thigh High

by Edwards, Bonnie

  “When he told you about this promotion, did he ask you to join him? How serious is this?”

  “When it looked as if he was going to ask me, I kind of changed the subject. Distracted him. If it was any other time, and especially any other place, I’d want to be with him.”

  “That’s quick.”

  “Crazy, huh?”

  There was a prickly silence. “Oh, Frankie.” Fee’s voice crackled with sympathy. “I hate fate. Sometimes it really fucks up.”

  “It sure seems to be giving me the gears.” She cleared her throat and tried to put a smile in her voice. “Speaking of keepers, you have one in Bernie.” She couldn’t believe she was saying it, but boring old Bernie was dependable and honest and a far better man than Fiona would find now. Yes, thank God for Bernie. He kept Fiona grounded.

  “I realize Bernie’s a forever kind of guy.” She sighed, long, hard and suffering. “About this safari in Africa. Do I really have to go?”

  “You really have to go. Unless you can promise to keep a low profile when you get back from Alaska.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Bernie gets it, why don’t you?”

  On that note, Fiona growled her frustration and disconnected.

  Frankie had been fighting an uphill battle with her sister for six months. With a touch of good luck, some of this traveling would open Fiona’s eyes.

  Frankie could only hope.

  “Fiona is a sweet girl, Barkley,” she said as she scratched the dog behind the ears, “but not particularly aware of the world at large. If conditions don’t effect her, they don’t exist.” The dog looked up at her, brown eyes bright and curious. He tilted his head. “Don’t get me wrong. She isn’t cruel, or mean-spirited, she’s just…small in her scope.”

  Barkly groaned and rolled to his back, presenting his belly for a rub. She obliged, happy to be outside, even if she was dressed in an ugly caftan that covered her from neck to ankles.

  A seaplane roared out of the harbor, water dripping, sparkly and light, from its pontoons. Maybe she should be on the next one out of here.

  But she didn’t want to go. These nights with Daniel had twisted her up into knots of want. She wanted Daniel in bed, she wanted Daniel at the breakfast and dinner table, she wanted Daniel holding her hand, Daniel’s arms, his trust, his…love. She wanted all of it.

  But could she give him all those things? Without complication, without mistrust, without doubt. She definitely couldn’t if he found out her secret. And the longer she stayed here the more likely it was that her secret would come out.

  That would spell the end of this time with him. The end. No more Daniel. No more loving in the wee hours when the soft quiet of the waterfront seeped through her bones.

  The pain of losing him seared her.

  She tracked the seaplane, banking to the left, heading into the sun. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe she’d book a flight tomorrow. One more night with Daniel couldn’t hurt.

  She picked Barkley up and buried her face in his neck, fighting tears. He kissed the top of her head, then yipped and squirmed to get down. She let him go and swiped at the moisture gathered in her eyelashes.

  “Your sister?” Daniel’s voice startled her, while Barkley danced on deck.

  “Yes, Fiona.” She sniffed. “Thanks for the use of your phone.” Her own might be traceable. She hadn’t needed to explain, Daniel had simply passed her his cell phone.

  “Ah.” He nodded. “She has a name.” He pulled a chair over to sit close. Leaned in. “Is there anything wrong?” His finger smeared across her cheek with a gentleness she loved.

  “No, I just miss my family. We’ve grown apart.”

  “You can always mend fences.”

  She stayed cross-legged on the floor, back to the wall, hating that she’d made him believe there’d been a falling out. Every lie of omission, every half truth and misrepresentation ate at her. Daniel deserved better.

  He grinned and made a show of raising his eyebrows. “Nice outfit. Sexy as hell.”

  “Oh baby,” she quipped, then slid her hem to her knees in a peek-a-boo slide designed to make him laugh.

  He did.

  Humor. Comfort. Acceptance. All three flashed between them.

  This was the way it was supposed to be between people who cared for each other. It pained her that she had to be dishonest.

  “You’re taking a chance being out here,” he commented, with a quick glance around the harbor.

  She cleared her throat. The man’s intuition kept surprising her. He ran his fingers along the center part in her hair, then slid them through to the ends. “Tell me what’s going on, Frankie. Whatever it is, I can help. I want to help.”

  She tilted into his hand seeking the comfort he offered, but taking none. The push–pull in her heart was making her crazy. Daniel pulled at her while her own problems yanked her away from trusting him.

  “This is something I need to work out for myself. I’m the only one who can do it.”

  “Okay.” His voice quieted. “If it’s money you need, I’ve got some.”

  She warmed. “That’s sweet. You have no idea what that offer means to me, but money from you won’t help.”

  “Then what else can I do?”

  “Take me to bed, Daniel. That’s what I need.” More of his Fourth of July rockets would set things right for the moment.

  8

  Daniel gathered her close and swept her up into his arms. It was clear she’d been to Chicago, knew the place intimately. She’d told Daniel about favorite places to eat, play and walk with an insider’s knowledge. At one point or another she’d mentioned all four seasons, too, so the likelihood of her living there seemed a sure thing.

  She got a nostalgic look in her eyes when he pressed her for details. She was in hiding, and all he could think was how lucky he was that she’d chosen him to hide with.

  He’d pressed her about her fear of exposure, but given the Boondoggle’s silent, midnight appearance he figured he was lucky to have even this much time with her.

  But he wanted more. He wanted her.

  Here. Now.

  For the rest of his life.

  She must trust him to some extent to stay with him after the camera-toting man showed up on the yacht. But, still, he needed answers if this was going to continue. “The guy with the camera wasn’t a cop, Frankie. You’re not on the run from justice. You’d have been gone in thirty seconds after I told you about him.”

  He cupped the back of her head, dug his fingers into her hair and eased her head back to read her expressions. Her eyes widened with the action.

  “No, he wasn’t a cop,” she vowed.

  “Are you running from an ex-husband or boyfriend? A stalker?”

  “I wish it were only one man.” She eased her mouth to his and kissed him with delicious intent. She’d tried once before to distract him with sex and he was more than willing to allow it this time.

  Because he planned a bigger distraction.

  He swept Frankie, oversized caftan and all, into his arms. Barkley danced around his ankles but soon wandered off into his doghouse for a nap. “Apparently, the pooch has figured out we don’t want his company.”

  She chuckled and nuzzled at his neck, nearly making him stumble.

  He couldn’t believe how much he wanted her. Now and always.

  When she landed with a whump on the bed, he followed her down. “I want to help, Frankie. I want to be the one you turn to when you’re scared. I want to keep you safe. I want to keep you, period. Marry me.”

  She blinked and the smile she’d worn since she’d seen him on deck slid off her face. “I don’t know what to say.” She frowned. “We hardly know each other.” She made a show of counting off on one hand the number of days and nights they’d shared. She stopped at three.

  “How long does it take to make a decision when your heart’s in charge?”

  She smiled, tentative and shy. “Are you sure it’s your heart that’s leading the w
ay here? Or is it something else?” Her clever hands cupped him and gave him a light squeeze.

  She could make him ache with no more than a touch.

  “Okay, you want to keep things easy for now, fine. But it’s making me nuts that some flake’s making you nervous. Promise me one thing, Frankie.” He slid between her thighs, cock nudging at her lips.

  She closed her eyes and raised her cradle to envelop him. He pulled back.

  “This isn’t fair. You’re using sex to extort promises.” But she grinned and settled back into the soft pillows.

  “And you use sex to distract me, so it’s pretty much a given that we’re both lowlifes and will use whatever means necessary to get what we want.”

  She laughed, but still didn’t give him the “yes” he wanted. “So, will you promise?”

  “What promise do you want?” Her palms bracketed his cheeks, and he knew she’d given him one more iota of herself.

  “That you won’t run without telling me. That if you have to leave, I’ll know where you’re going.”

  She blinked. “I’ll tell you before I go, Daniel. I promise.”

  “But not where you’re going?”

  “I’ll try if circumstances allow. It’s the best I can do.”

  It was all he was going to get. It wasn’t enough, not by a long shot, but with her determination to keep everything to herself he was smart enough to know this was the best he would get.

  He slid into her welcoming warmth as he watched her eyes slide shut with the grasping entrance of his burgeoning cock. She loved this as much as he did. They were so good together.

  He stilled to enjoy the softening acceptance of her tight channel. There was a moment of deep gentle clasps that he loved, and while he felt her walls expand and contract around him he accepted he didn’t want to live without her.

  It would kill him if she left without understanding how he felt.

  “I love you, Frankie. God help me, I love you.”

  She took him inside her body while he gave her his heart.

  He couldn’t offer any more help than a place to hide if he didn’t know what Frankie was running from. Trust wasn’t an easy thing for a skittish woman to give, but the time they’d spent in bed had to count for something. She trusted him with her body, surely she could trust him with her troubles.

  She still refused to accept money, even though he’d offered it again. The friend who owned the yacht must be taking care of her living expenses too.

  He hated the idea that another man had taken responsibility for her, that another man was trusted when Daniel wasn’t. That grated.

  Hard.

  He signed off for the night and ended his shift. Butch needed to know about the transfer. The morning drive. Shit.

  Decision time. He vacated the seat in front of the microphone as the morning man arrived. Daniel put on the canned show they used for filler between four and six A.M. and nodded a greeting to Jace. The morning man was a good DJ, thorough and professional. A man obsessed about prepping two hours in advance, while his cohost usually sailed in just in time for the show.

  “Jace, does it get to you that you and Jenna have such different styles?”

  “You mean me coming in this early while she’s barely in her seat on time?”

  “Something like that.”

  Jenna was also like a runaway train. No telling where her mouth was going to take her. But from what Daniel had heard, her career was on the fast track.

  “Yeah, it does. But what bites is the offer she’s got from Chicago.”

  Belly rolling, Daniel pursed his lips. No wonder Butch wouldn’t answer him. He knew Jenna was the kind of cohost Daniel would hate to work with. “Morning slot again?”

  “Big raise, too.” While Jace was being left behind. Disappointment radiated out of his slumped posture.

  “I thought she had her sights on television.”

  Jace shrugged and went back to selecting his music. Without his planning, Jenna wouldn’t have a clue, because music was not Jenna’s thing. Banter was Jenna’s thing. Daniel suppressed a shudder.

  In the radio business weird shit happened every day. When stations changed formats, dedicated pros were overlooked or fired for new voices with sex appeal and a knack for hitting the right note for a new target market.

  He couldn’t figure out what the Chicago station saw in his style that appealed to them. Especially if they wanted to pair him with Jenna.

  Daniel ambled outside to the darkness before dawn and headed to his car. No answers waited for him as he checked the sky. He loved this time. The streets were just beginning to flow with pre-dawn traffic. Early morning workers, the ones who avoided rush hour by rising earlier than everyone else, cruised the unclogged roadways.

  There was a bakery he liked to stop at on his way home. Their croissants made his mouth water and the baker always put on the coffee for him.

  “Where you been the last few days? I heard you sign off every morning, but you didn’t come in like usual. You sick or something?” Lou was burly and hairy as a gorilla but had a touch like nobody else with the light, delicate pastry.

  “Had to take my dog to the emergency clinic for an X-ray the other morning. Since then, I’ve been busy.”

  “Yeah?” Lou put his elbows up on the display case while Daniel helped himself to a coffee on the side counter. An early morning show from a competitor squawked in the background. Something about girls in bikinis on the expressway. And banter.

  God save him from banter.

  Lou chuckled. “I love these guys,” he said with an amused shake of his grizzly gray head. He raised his hand. “I know it’s the competition, but I hate that canned stuff you put on.”

  So did he. An old British rocker rambling about his glory days forty years ago wasn’t his idea of good radio.

  The morning drive team on the competing station consisted of a man and woman. She, in a rare twist, was the wild one, while he was the straight man. Usually, that would be seen as the stupid girl and the wise man, but these two made it work. The woman used acerbic wit and brilliant observation while the man was smoothly calm, if a little dense.

  “They’re babbling about girls in bikinis on the side of the expressway,” Daniel said.

  “Yeah, but they’re funny.”

  Funny. He thought of trying to be funny for four straight hours when he was trying like hell to keep his eyes open and wake up.

  He’d hate it, especially if he got stuck in a slot with a cohost like Jenna. He wasn’t as obsessive about prepping as Jace was, but he sure as hell didn’t sail into work at the last minute either. He liked to pick his music with a theme in mind. A night-inspired theme. A lonely theme. A quiet theme.

  Morning drive time was never about quiet.

  Lou gave him an appraising stare. “You look different.” Rubbed his chin. “You gettin’ some?”

  “You talk to all your customers that way?” But he couldn’t keep the happy out of his voice.

  “Just you. Most of my customers are on the run, heading to work. You come in to sit and enjoy the quiet of the place before the rush. You like quiet, like me.”

  “Yes, I do.” The quiet of the wee hours, the peace on the airwaves. The easy drive home against traffic.

  He loved it.

  “This woman, she good?”

  “What do you mean?” His hackles rose.

  “Oh, hell, not that way. That way’s none of my business, but a good woman’s hard to find. Especially these days. I had one once, but I screwed up bad and I lost out. Kick my ass every night when I crawl into those cold, empty sheets.”

  Daniel snorted. “You’re always telling me about all the ladies you’ve got on a string.” Most of the stories he dismissed as the ramblings of a too-hairy man’s lonely mind.

  Lou snorted. “There are times, my friend, when settling for second best is worse than having nothing at all.” He checked that the coffee cream jug was full and headed back behind the counter. The baker in back h
ollered out that more muffins were ready, and Lou disappeared through the swinging door into the back.

  Lou was talking about women when he’d said second best could ruin a life.

  He had not been talking about career choices. Lou had once had dreams of being an artist, but he’d inherited the bakery. Now, his creative side came out in the pastry he loved to create.

  Daniel loved what he was doing on air, but he loved Frankie more. Wanted her so bad he’d give up all the other, smaller things he loved just to have her.

  He scraped the chair out from the table and headed out into the fresh morning. The city was more awake fifteen minutes later than when he’d gone into the bakery.

  He thought of climbing between the sheets with Frankie and grinned like a fool. He kept the vision of her front and center when he dragged out his cell phone and called Butch at home.

  “I’ll take the transfer,” he said when Butch answered.

  “What the fuck time is it?”

  “Early.” He heard rustling as if Butch was sitting up at the side of the bed. He wasn’t sorry to wake him.

  “No one but Daniel Martin, a tried and true blues fan, would have to think about it.”

  “I know.” He refused to ask about Jenna. He’d deal with that when the time came.

  “Why?”

  “Sometimes life hands you beautiful things. Sometimes you have to give up stuff to keep those beautiful things. Choices are made.”

  9

  When he got home, she was there, warm and welcoming and still awake. “Didn’t you sleep?” he asked as he lifted the covers and slid in, already hard.

  “No, I always listen. I love your show. Even before I knew it was you, your voice seduced me.”

  He chuckled. “You’re crazy.” But he grinned at the compliment. He wanted to finesse her this morning, make her feel like a queen. The way she made him feel like he could take on the world and win. He grinned to himself, happy with his decision.

  If he could have Frankie every day, he wouldn’t mind that he’d given up the late-night shift he loved.

  He could learn to love banter.

  He would learn to love banter.