by Pat White
“I thought we were totally compatible, in sync with one another’s wants and needs.” He fingered his suit coat where the engagement ring bulged inside his pocket. “But this…I don’t know what to do with this.”
Anger bubbled up in her chest. He was acting as if he was the one to make all the decisions in their relationship.
“You said you admired me for helping my uncle. It showed loyalty and strength of character, remember?”
“That’s before I knew what kind of business he was in.”
“Come on, Bradley. It’s not like I’m selling my body or robbing banks.”
“But Francine...wrestling?” he hushed.
She hated that tone, that shaming tone that made her feel like she was four and had been caught smashing her mother’s perfume bottles to smithereens.
This time she’d done nothing wrong. Not in her book. “I’m sorry this is so offensive to you. I didn’t choose my uncle’s business, but I’m trying to save it. He’s been good to me and I owe him.”
“That’s another thing.” Bradley started pacing. “I’d never heard about this uncle until today yet now, suddenly, he’s the most important male figure in your life?” He ran his hand through his hair, sending stray waves flopping to one side.
“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” she said. “I’m sorry I lied. I didn’t know what else to do. It started as a simple financial analysis and ended up—”
“With you taking your clothes off!”
“I did not take my clothes off. I have a costume. I play a part.”
“And that part included kissing another man, crying over him. You’re quite an actress.”
No, I’m not. The tears were real, the kisses...
“Thank you,” she said, recovering.
“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.” He paced to the restaurant entrance and back.
“My uncle gave me presents when I was a kid, remembered my birthday when my own father couldn’t be bothered. Uncle Joe asked me for this one thing: to help him save WHAK. I analyzed his books and offered advice, but it was grim. Then an opportunity presented itself to draw in thousands of dollars in sponsorship. He needed me to fill in for one of the girls. There was no one else. It was an emergency and I was there.”
She didn’t dare reveal her uncle’s involvement with the mob.
“And that man you kissed?”
“Jack? He’s a twenty-year veteran of wrestling. He’s my partner.”
Bradley lifted a brow.
“It’s a business relationship, Bradley. You should be able to appreciate that.”
“Well, I don’t. I don’t understand any of it. I mean, Frankie, professional wrestling of all things.”
“Yes, professional wrestling. It’s not like I murdered someone, for heaven’s sake. It’s a job, like any other.”
“My God, your job! Francine, you’ll be fired.”
“That’s against the law. What I do with my leave of absence is my own business. No one else’s.” She bit back her own fears about her career. Someone had to keep a level head, and it sure as sunshine wasn’t going to be Bradley.
“I’ll be fired,” he croaked.
“What are you talking about?”
“When they find out at work I’ll be a laughingstock. I’m engaged to a professional wrestler.”
His self-absorption rankled her. “I’m not a wrestler, I’m a tiger lady.”
“Well, that makes it all right, then.” He paced to the corner of the lot and back, stopping five feet from her. That was as close as he’d been since his discovery that she’d been moonlighting as a feline.
“And this man, your partner? What part does he play?”
“He’s my husband.”
“What!”
“It’s in the script.”
“Then there’s nothing between you?”
Her fingers burned at the memory of Jack’s warm, solid chest. She brushed them against her twill pants.
“Of course not. Look, I’m hungry and tired, and we’ve been going at this for an hour. Can’t we at least get something to eat?” She pushed away from the car and searched her purse for her keys.
“I’ve lost my appetite.” He sounded like a six-year-old who’d had his skateboard taken away, or in Bradley’s case, his calculator.
“Okay. So what now?” she challenged, something she’d never done before.
They’d had their share of “discussions” when she’d plead her case and occasionally even win. Bradley believed in fairness, after all.
Yet she’d been anything but fair to him these past few weeks since she’d basically been lying to him.
She touched his arm. “Listen, why don’t I give you a ride to the hotel and we can order room service.”
“I need to think.” He pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose.
“You’ll think better on a full stomach.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I need space, Francine. A little time to figure out what all this means.”
Her heart sank as she watched her perfect life swirl down the proverbial toilet before her eyes. “Okay. I’ll drop you at the hotel.”
“No. I’ll catch a cab.”
“Bradley—”
“Please, Francine.” He sounded pained, or was that irritation in his voice, irritation that his perfect little woman wasn’t so perfect after all?
“You’ll call me tomorrow?” she said.
“I’ve got meetings all day, not that I’ll be able to concentrate. I’ll try you later in the week,” he said, walking toward the restaurant door.
“Bradley?”
He turned.
“I am sorry.”
He nodded and disappeared into Leo’s.
She slid behind the wheel of her rented Chevy. Well, that was that. All the months of planning their perfect life together, picking out safe cribs and china patterns, arguing about investments and brands of toothpaste…
It was all for naught. It was over.
She pulled away from the curb and headed for the expressway. It couldn’t be over. She couldn’t lose everything she’d dreamed of because of a misunderstanding.
“Some misunderstanding.” She tuned the radio to a jazz station, something she wouldn’t do in Bradley’s company. He preferred traditional classics to uninhibited jazz.
Bradley. A knot formed in her throat. She was going to lose him because of Uncle Joe. Mama was right. Certain men always pulled you into the eye of the storm. Uncle Joe was one of them.
Black Jack Hudson was another.
His very essence drew her in, seduced her in a way she didn’t understand. And the jerk didn’t have a clue how attracted she was to him, nor did he care. It was a struggle for him to be civil to her, mostly barking orders and pushing her away, like last night in the hospital. He’d pushed her away when he needed her the most, the fool.
No. He didn’t need Frankie. He needed someone, anyone who could offer love and compassion against his protests. Things she should save for her life mate not give away to a transient, burned-out athlete. It wasn’t like there could be anything real between them. Jack wasn’t stable, focused, or directed. Who knew where he’d end up next. Would he race cars? Climb mountains? He probably hadn’t a clue himself. As a wrestling superstar his options were limited. With the lack of respect for wrestling he’d probably be laughed out of traditional job interviews. Then again, she didn’t picture him dressing in a navy suit and working for a Fortune 500 company.
She didn’t picture him fitting into her life, period.
Pushing the car to fifty-five, she merged into the flow of traffic on the Kennedy and headed west. Her eyes burned with the threat of unshed tears.
“Oh, grow up,” she scolded herself. “If he really loves you he’ll forgive you.”
Frankie let out a gut-wrenching sigh. She and Bradley never really talked about love, only commitment, loyalty, and investing in diaper and dental equipment stock.
“He must love me,” she whispered and caught herself. She didn’t want love. Not now, not ever. She’d seen how her mother had suffered thanks to love. What else would have compelled Emma McGee to stay with a man who was barely around? If that was love Frankie wanted no part of it.
At least that was what she’d told herself for the past thirty years. She didn’t need love and she wouldn’t miss it. She’d find contentment instead.
The empty spot in her heart spread across her chest. The temptation of love had never even entered her thoughts…
Until Jack stormed into her life.
“No, this has nothing to do with him.”
Deep down she knew it had everything to do with Black Jack Hudson, a man who ruled with his heart not his head. He cared about people, complete strangers, offering compassion and a part of himself every time he shook a hand or told a story. He was about passion and drive, and going with the flow.
And surprisingly, he’d opened her eyes to a new way of thinking. She actually thought the word “love.” She wasn’t sure Bradley was aware of the concept. He, too, seemed to lead with his head and avoid warm and fuzzy things, or the painful ache in one’s chest that came with a lover’s rejection.
An ache similar to the one she felt last night when Jack ordered her out of his hospital room. He didn’t want her around, didn’t need her help. She thought they’d developed a kind of friendship but in reality he still considered her the Franken Niece, the woman most likely to ruin his life with binding contracts and common sense. The woman who didn’t understand an ounce of what Jack went through to get up in the morning.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
“I’m striking out with all the men in my life,” she said, eyeing the exit ramp.
Her perfect fiancé was dumping her because she’d helped her uncle, her wrestling partner resented her very presence, and her uncle had her making dangerous jumps from catwalks. She suddenly felt terribly alone.
Turning onto Golf Road, she headed for the extended stay hotel. She wanted to go home and pretend she’d never heard of WHAK, never offered to help her uncle with his financial troubles.
That’s it. She’d pack up and get the hell out tomorrow morning. If Uncle Joe needed any more advice she’d offer it from a thousand miles away. That should be a safe distance.
Who was she kidding? The damage was done. She’d been exposed as a tigress on national television, ruining her engagement, her career…her life.
She aimed for her designated parking spot across the parking lot from the front door. Even the parking lot seemed empty. No one. Anywhere.
Tears welled in her eyes. How did it all come to this? How did everything spin so out of control that she didn’t even recognize her own life?
“I hate this!” She pounded at the steering wheel.
She hated being out of control, messing up and not being a “good little girl” as her mother used to call her. She hated her uncle, Bradley, and Jack. She hated—
A bang on her window made her jump and she banged her elbow on the steering wheel.
“Argh!”
“Frankie, open the door,” Jack shouted through the window.
“What are you doing here?”
“What’s wrong? Are you crying?” He pressed his face to the glass.
“Go away!” She hit the automatic locks three times for emphasis.
“Open the door, Frank. I’m not leaving.”
“Then I’ll sleep in the car.” She flopped down on the seat and buried her face in her hands.
“Frankie, open the door.”
Embarrassed at her melodramatic loss of control, she willed him away. Why did he have to show up now, when she was at her weakest?
“Okay, fine. I’ll break the window,” he said. “I’d hate to see your car rental bill when I get done.”
She sat up and stared him down. He balanced on one crutch and wielded the other like a baseball bat.
She cracked open the window. “What are you doing?”
He edged up to the car, his lips nearly touching the glass. She couldn’t take her eyes off of them, full, moist, tantalizing.
“I’m breaking into your car because you won’t open the door,” he said seductively.
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Okay, fine.” She closed up the window, snatched her key from the ignition, and flung open the door. “You win. Okay? I’m out.”
Marching toward the hotel, she cursed the day she’d returned Uncle Joe’s phone message asking for a “little” help.
“Boss Frankie around day, that’s what this is,” she muttered.
“Wait up,” he called after her.
“I didn’t invite you, remember?” She stopped and turned to him. “Why are you here?”
“I have to talk to you.” His chest heaved in and out. He was clearly out of breath from having to peel across the parking lot on crutches. Guilt tickled her insides. The least she could do was listen.
No. She wouldn’t let him get to her again. He’d only confuse things, confuse her. She wanted Bradley, the ring, her dream of a perfect life, and thanks to Uncle Joe and Jack, she’d lost it all.
“Business hours are Monday through Friday, nine a.m. to five p.m. If you need to talk to me, make an appointment.” She spun on her heel and stormed through the hotel door burning a path to the elevator.
“First Bradley, now Jack,” she muttered. “He probably wants out of his contract. Well, get in line. I could use out of the niece contract right about now.”
She punched the elevator button, oblivious to everything but her own frustration. “Men, all they do is push you around. Jump from a catwalk. Share my bed. Save my company. You’re ordering the wrong drink. Don’t hug me in public. Marry me. Don’t marry me.”
The elevator doors opened and she stepped inside, digging in her purse for her key card. She glanced up to press the second-floor button and froze at the sight of Jack, propping the elevator door open with his crutch.
“Don’t marry me?” he said, staring at her intently.
“Go away.”
“He saw it, didn’t he? The teaser for the Summer Suplex Slammer?”
“Yes, he saw it, the bar full of drunk men saw it; everyone at work probably saw it. My life is over. Okay? Happy?”
“Honey, I’m sorry.”
Pity from Jack Hudson was one thing she definitely could not handle. She didn’t want his pity. She wanted…
“Get out of my way.” She pushed past him and headed for the stairs. She knew he couldn’t make the climb, and she needed the physical exertion right now to work off her frustration.
“Frankie, wait.”
She ignored his pleading tone dripping with compassion. No one could help her, not Jack, not Uncle Joe, not even Mama. Frankie dove into this mess all by herself and she’d have to dig her way out.
Heck, she’d waitressed at the Lucky Duck Ice Cream Parlor in college. They said she was a natural. Restaurants were always looking for competent help. It wasn’t like she’d be unemployed for long. The thought of using her master’s degree to wipe up ice cream spills made her stomach clench.
“Snap out of it,” she scolded.
So, Bradley was having second thoughts. He’d come around. Perhaps her boss had left a voice mail about her inappropriate behavior. There were plenty of jobs for smart women like Frankie.
She pushed open the door to the second floor and marched toward her suite. Fortitude was Frankie’s middle name. She’d stand tall, walk through the fire and come out the other side a little singed maybe, but not completely burned to ash.
She wasn’t about to let a failed engagement and possible pink slip destroy her. Frankie was a strong, independent and talented woman.
Who at this very moment couldn’t figure out how to make her plastic key card open her hotel room door. She shoved it in the door five different ways. No dice.
“Damn this thing.”
“Here, let me
,” a deep, male voice said.
She’d been so absorbed in her own misery she hadn’t noticed Jack hobble up beside her.
“How did you get here?” She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She hated feeling vulnerable, and hated him seeing her this way.
“I took the elevator. There.” The green light flashed and he swung open the door.
She reached for her key card, and their hands touched. Heat burned a path across her shoulders to the base of her spine. She was tired, that’s all, emotionally exhausted from having her life turned upside down.
Great. Not only had she lied to her future fiancé but now she was lying to herself. The truth was…every time she and Jack touched, accidentally or otherwise, a wave of desire spread through her body, and it wasn’t caused by exhaustion, stress or nerves.
It was desire, pure and simple. A need so strong it scared the daylights out of her.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said.
“I was worried about you.” He hobbled to the sofa.
“You’re getting better with the crutches,” she said, checking the phone message light. It wasn’t blinking. What was she hoping for, a change-of-heart call from Bradley?
“What happened tonight?” he said.
“Nothing I can’t handle. What can’t wait until tomorrow?” She flopped down in a chair a good five feet away from him.
“You were crying.”
“You should be used to that by now.” He’d seen her cry at least twice. She’d never cried in front of Bradley.
“You want to talk about it?”
“No thanks.”
Silence fell heavily across the room.
“I came here tonight because I wanted to apologize,” he said.
“For what?” She crossed her left leg over her right and interlaced her fingers in her lap.
“For being a jerk. All I’ve done these past few days is be rude to you. That’s not right. You’ve been so nice. You let me lean on you, physically and in every other way that counts.”
“That’s me, the girl with the broad shoulders.”
“I’d like to return the favor.”
“No need. It’s all part of a day’s work.”
She hoped he’d leave.
She wanted him to stay.
Frankie jumped to her feet and paced to the dresser where she’d left her purse. A peppermint would hit the spot. She pulled out the little metal tin. Empty.