“When did you get the tattoo?” he asked.
“Not long after you left. When I still had hope.” The sunflower had been a symbol for her, a belief that he would return to her.
His lips pressed against hers and her eyes flew open. His blue eyes were alight with an emotion she knew all too well. Frank wanted her. She opened her mouth to speak and he slid his tongue inside. She moaned as he delved deeper. His taste was familiar and her entire body heated with longing.
She’d missed him so much.
Danger signs flashed in her brain and she pulled back even though part of her yearned to stay. She couldn’t forget that he’d left her and she still didn’t know why.
He brushed his lips over hers one final time. “Rest. We’ll talk when you’re more rested.”
They certainly would. One way or the other, she was getting answers.
She turned onto her side and Frank moved in behind her once again. His arm came around her and the evidence of his desire pressed against her bottom. She wiggled and his arm tightened.
“Tease.” There was heat but also pleasure in his voice.
Satisfied, Martha closed her eyes. At least one thing hadn’t changed. Frank still wanted her and she wanted him. But would that be enough? Would she finally put the past to rest or was she opening herself up to a world of hurt once again?
“Sleep,” he told her. “You can figure it all out later.”
He knew her too well in spite of all the years between them. Martha sighed and let the heat of his big body seep into her. Comforted, she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Four
Frank stroked his fingers over her face. She was so beautiful to him. He’d unconsciously compared every woman he’d ever met, dated or slept with to Martha. She smiled at him and he kissed her. He couldn’t help himself.
He cupped her face and tasted desire on her lips. He tried to beat back the lust surging through him but couldn’t quite manage. She was here, her naked body pressed against his.
Groaning, he deepened the kiss. He couldn’t get enough of her. It had been far too long since he’d had her. He slid his hand down the slope of her shoulder, over her arm and around to her breast. The firm, full mound filled his hand. He thumbed her pert nipple and was rewarded with her moan of pleasure.
Heat built inside him, demanding an outlet. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
His cock swelled and he pressed it against her thigh. He had to get inside her. Desperation clawed at him like a demon, demanding to be fulfilled, refusing to be denied any longer.
His fingers tingled. He swept them down her body.
A scream of pain echoed in his ears. He pulled back and stared down in horror. His hand was on fire. And so was Martha.
Her eyes were filled with terror and accusation.
Frank beat at the flames but they wouldn’t be extinguished. He was killing her.
He sat upright in bed with a yell, gasping for breath. Sweat covered his body, making his shirt stick to him.
Martha grabbed his arm and he jumped out of bed, getting as far away from her as he could. She knelt up on the mattress. “Frank? What’s wrong?”
He almost fell to his knees in gratitude. She was all right. She wasn’t burned. He hadn’t hurt her. But his dream had been a most vivid reminder of his greatest fear—harming the woman he loved.
He leaned back against the wall and slowly slid to the floor, burying his face against his knees. Christ, he hadn’t had a dream like that in years. Obviously, being with Martha had triggered all of his old fears.
He heard her scrambling across the sheets and then she was on the floor beside him, one hand brushing through his hair. “It’s okay, Frank. Everything is okay.”
He wished he could believe her. He wanted to so badly he ached inside. He swore and dragged her into his arms. She didn’t protest his manhandling. No, not Martha. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him close.
“Was it a dream?”
He nodded, still not ready or able to talk about it.
“I’m sorry.” She brushed her fingers over his face. “You must see a lot of terrible things in your job.”
“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse. He wondered if he’d yelled out loud or only in his dream. But it wasn’t his work that haunted his dreams. It was his fear for the woman wrapped around him.
He shuddered and held her close to reassure himself she was indeed fine. He hadn’t hurt her.
Funny that he’d never had that worry with any other woman. He’d slept with women over the years, but he’d never had any kind of a serious relationship, not since Martha. Sex with the others had been fun for both parties. Yet, he feared making love with Martha, feared he’d lose control and inadvertently harm her.
“You want to talk about it?” she asked. “We used to be able to talk about anything. Or at least I thought we could.”
He knew the question was coming before she even asked it.
“What happened, Frank?”
He tilted his head back and leaned it against the wall while he stared at the ceiling. He owed her some kind of explanation. His biggest fear was telling her the truth and having her look at him as though he was some kind of monster.
He wasn’t sure he could bear it.
“Frank?”
He scrubbed one hand over his face. Then he glanced at his watch. It was six in the morning. They’d slept all through the evening and night. He’d wakened several times to check on Martha and once to go to the bathroom. Fatigue had caught up with both of them, and sleeping so hard and so deep had allowed him to dream.
“Let’s go out and get some breakfast.” He needed a shower and time to compose himself.
She nodded. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
He kissed her forehead. “Thanks.”
She crawled off his lap and began to strip the sheets off the bed. He wondered why she was doing that and then realized they were probably damp from his sweat.
“I’ll help you with that,” he told her.
“I can do it.”
The woman was amazing. She’d almost died in a fire the day before yesterday and this morning she was calmly changing the sheets on the bed they’d shared last night. Her voice was a little hoarse, but other than that she seemed fine.
She offered him a smile. “Go shower. You look like you could use it.”
“Yeah.” He probably looked and smelled as grungy as he felt. He was still wearing his jeans and a T-shirt. Not the most comfortable thing to sleep in but he’d done it for Martha’s protection and his own. He didn’t want to roll over in the middle of the night and start making love to her because he was too tired to think straight. Being fully dressed allowed him to come to his senses before he did something stupid.
He pushed himself off the floor and went to the linen closet to gather fresh sheets. Martha took them from him and pushed him out the door. “Go. You look worse than I do.” She went up on her toes and kissed his cheek to take the sting out of her words. It helped.
Frank padded down the hallway and into the master bedroom. He didn’t even pause to gather any clothes but went straight into the bathroom. The overhead light glared, spotlighting his ragged appearance. Sweat stains darkened the material of his shirt. He yanked it off and tossed it onto the floor.
His eyes were haunted and his face pale and drawn. He could still see the remnants of fear from his dream. Beyond that, he could also see shimmers of flames just waiting to explode.
“Fuck.” He turned his back on his reflection and walked into the shower. He cranked both taps, swearing slightly while he waited for the heat level to adjust. He stood there for the longest time, letting the warm water beat down on him.
His cock was semi-erect but he ignored it. He had bigger worries. Like how he was going to explain things to Martha. How much was he going to tell her? It wasn’t like he could get advice from anyone. He’d been adopted and knew nothing about his real parents. Were they like him or were they norma
l? He’d never know.
He grabbed the soap and began to scrub away the sweat and fear that coated his skin. He had two choices. He could tell her everything and hope she loved him enough not to think he was crazy. Or he could lie to her and let her go.
Everything inside him protested the second option. He’d walked away from her once to protect her. He didn’t think he was noble enough to do it again. He’d missed Martha every single day since he’d left her half a lifetime ago. If he left her again, he’d still be missing her on his deathbed.
He tossed the soap onto the built-in shelf and rinsed the suds from his body. Then he grabbed his bottle of shampoo and quickly washed his hair. When he was clean, he stood under the water.
When he was younger, he’d stand in the shower and wonder if he stayed there long enough could he douse the flames inside him? He held up his hand and watched the flames ignite from his fingertips even as the water washed over them. His fire was unnatural and didn’t play by the rules of regular fire.
He closed his hand and extinguished the flames. He quickly turned off the taps, stepped out and grabbed a towel. Martha was probably waiting for him. Unless she’d changed a lot over the years, it didn’t take her long to get ready.
Frank dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. He probably should shave. His jaw was covered in short, prickly hair that would abrade Martha’s skin when he kissed her. That decided it. He took the time to quickly shave and only nicked himself in two places.
He gathered his dirty clothes, carried them to his closet and tossed them into the laundry hamper.
“Frank?”
He turned and there was Martha standing just inside his bedroom door, her expression filled with concern. She looked as fresh as a sunflower. She was wearing the dress she’d purchased. It fit snugly around her breasts but flowed downward to land just below her knees. She also wore the shoes she’d bought. The white canvas flats looked great with the blue of the dress. She was so beautiful it made his heart ache. But that wasn’t the only part of him that was noticing how good she looked.
Her cheeks turned pink the longer she watched him. He was only wearing a towel and the front part of it was being pushed outward as his erection grew.
“Ahh, I’ll just wait out in the living room for you.” She fled and he felt the corners of his mouth lifting. Martha could always make him smile.
He dressed quickly in jeans and a T-shirt. He grabbed his wallet and keys and stuffed them in his pockets. He was starving, and not just for food.
• • •
Martha sat across from Frank in the bright, clean diner. They both had plates of pancakes in front of them. Frank had eggs and hash browns as well. Both of them had coffee. In spite of the early hour, the place was hopping. The service was fast and friendly.
And the food was delicious. She cut off another piece of light, fluffy pancake, dipped it in the syrup that had pooled around the edge of her plate and popped it into her mouth. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was until she’d started eating.
She was relieved that Frank was devouring his breakfast and seemed more himself again. His nightmare had frightened both of them. She wondered if he had them often. As much as she wanted to know what he’d dreamed, she didn’t want to bring up the topic and bring that haunted expression back. He’d looked utterly shattered.
She had no idea what he’d been through over the past two decades, but she imagined he’d seen a lot of terrible things due to the nature of his job.
He shoveled in a forkful of egg and chased it with a mouthful of coffee. “So you’re doing your art full-time now?”
It startled her to be reminded once again just how little they knew about one another now. “Yes.” She took a sip of coffee. “I went to college and majored in business.”
He planted his elbows on the table and leaned his chin on his folded hands. “Business. I thought the plan was art school.”
“I lost my heart for it.” What went unsaid was that it was after he’d left her.
He scowled and then sadness filled his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged it off. “I ended up doing business instead and took some art classes at night.” She gave him a self-deprecating smile. “I couldn’t stay away from my art for long.”
“Why didn’t you quit business and do art classes full-time?”
“Too stubborn. Too much money invested in the degree I was working on.” After he’d left her, she’d lost a lot of her confidence and had no longer believed she could make a living with her art, but she didn’t tell him that. It would only make him feel worse.
It was funny how life worked out. Years ago when she was still mired in anger, she would have loved the opportunity to make Frank Ellis hurt. Now, she understood that for whatever reason he’d made his decision, he hadn’t gotten away unscathed. He’d obviously been hurt enough in his lifetime and she wasn’t about to add to it, because beneath all the anger and pain, love was still there.
Frank motioned to the waitress, who swooped by and filled their coffee cups. After he thanked the woman, he turned back to Martha. “So, what happened after college?”
“I went to work. Had several jobs over the years.” She didn’t want to rehash the where and why she’d left each position. “I met my husband at one of them.”
Frank’s mouth tightened and a muscle twitched in his jaw. He didn’t like that. Well, tough. It gave her a small sense of satisfaction to see him realize that at least one man had wanted her. Just as quickly, that satisfaction faded. David had cheated on her. Which was worse? she wondered.
“How long were you married?” Each word seemed an effort for him.
“Almost four years.” Not a long time, and only the first two years had been happy ones. “We divorced two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “Anyway, I got laid off from my job about four years ago and decided I wanted to start working on my art. David and I were having problems. He didn’t like being married to an artist. Thought I wasn’t being realistic.”
“David was an ass,” Frank proclaimed.
Martha laughed and took a sip of her coffee. “We were both at fault. He thought he was getting one thing and got another.”
“Bull. If he loved you it wouldn’t matter.”
“Sometimes love isn’t enough.” She gave Frank a pointed look that made him swear and look away. Love hadn’t been enough for them.
She took the moment to study him. Even dressed casually in jeans and a plain blue T-shirt, Frank commanded attention. He was tall and strong and exuded a raw masculinity that had almost every woman in the diner glancing at him. Some outright stared. His biceps stretched the short sleeves of his shirt and his broad shoulders strained the shoulder seams. Yes, Frank was quite the eye candy.
He kept his dark hair shorter than he had when they were in high school. She imagined it was easier for his job. He’d always been intense and focused, even as a teenager. That trait had only deepened as he’d grown older.
“What happened after that?” he asked. She sensed he wasn’t just asking to be polite, that he really wanted to know, so she told him.
“I kept working at my art. By the time I left David for cheating on me, I was selling some of my pieces. Just after the divorce, a gallery in New York took me on.”
“That’s wonderful.” Frank reached across the table and took her hand in his. “But how did you end up in Chicago?”
“I relocated about three months ago. The gallery I’d originally signed with lost interest in my work but a former employee now manages a gallery here in Chicago. She contacted me, told me how much she believed in my work, and here I am.” Jenna had also become a good friend, which reminded Martha she needed to contact her again later today.
She decided it was time to turn the tables. “What about you, Frank? You’d always talked about joining your father’s landscaping company.”
“My adopted father.”
Martha wa
s shocked. “You were adopted?” She hadn’t known that. “When did you find out?” A sick feeling built in the pit of her stomach. She knew what he was going to say before he said it.
“The night I left.”
What else had he discovered? What had he found out that would drive him to leave his family who loved him, to leave her? Because finding out he was adopted wouldn’t have been enough.
He opened up his mouth to speak but his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pants pocket and glanced at the number. “I have to take this.”
Martha mentally swore at whoever was on the other end of the line. She’d been so close to discovering the truth.
Frank gave curt answers to the person on the line and quickly ended the call. “We have to go.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and tossed several bills on the table, more than enough to cover their bill and a hefty tip.
“Who was it?” She gulped down the last of her coffee, slid out of the booth and smoothed down the skirt of her dress.
“Burke. He and the cops want to talk to you.”
“Do they know something?” Over the quiet breakfast with Frank, she’d almost forgotten that someone had deliberately set the fire.
“We’ll find out.” He put his hand on the small of her back and ushered her out. Within seconds, she was sitting in the passenger seat of his truck and they were headed toward the police station.
Chapter Five
Frank glanced at Martha as they walked into the police station. She appeared calm but he knew she was still thinking about the bombshell he’d dropped on her just before they’d left the diner. He’d been saved by the bell—literally. Given a reprieve, if only for a few hours.
He knew he had to be honest with her, tell her the truth, but he feared what would happen when he did. Right now, she had another ordeal to get through and he was sticking by her side until it was done.
“Ms. Benson. Ellis.” Jacob Burke met them in the lobby, giving them both a nod in greeting. “This way. Everyone is waiting.”
Rescue Me Page 4