by Pat White
Taking a deep breath, she marched toward the door, catching her reflection in the mirror above the dresser.
“Ah!” she cried at the naked woman staring back at her. Frankie answering the door in her birthday suit would scare Bradley witless. They might have shared a bed, but they never really looked at each other’s complete nakedness.
She snatched her robe from the closet and hurried to the door, tying the garment firmly in place. Running her hands through her hair, she took a deep breath and flung the door wide.
“Bradley? What are you doing here? I thought you had a plane to catch.”
“I rescheduled the flight for later this morning.” He paused as he crossed the threshold. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.”
He gave her the obligatory kiss on the cheek. Well, that was a good sign. He ambled past her to the breakfast bar.
“No coffee yet?” he asked.
“Just got up.”
“It’s nearly ten.”
“I didn’t get much sleep.” She wandered to the kitchenette and poured coffee grounds into a filter.
“Me either, sweets. I was up all night thinking. Nearly gave myself a migraine.” He shifted onto a bar stool and squeezed the bridge of his nose.
She poured water into the coffeemaker. It gurgled and spit. And her heart pounded.
“I couldn’t believe what you’ve done to me,” Bradley said in a hushed voice.
She stilled. He couldn’t know, could he? She glanced at the bedroom door, wondering if the silk flowers had sprouted a hidden camera courtesy of Uncle Joe. She wouldn’t put anything past him where ratings were concerned.
“To put our lives in such jeopardy over something like wrestling. I was very upset,” Bradley said.
He looked at her as if he expected something. What? A confession? No, he couldn’t know about last night, and she didn’t think she had anything to apologize for regarding her wrestling career.
Besides, she couldn’t undo what she’d already done, including her all-night aerobics with Jack. Shame strangled her vocal cords as she struggled to carry on a conversation with her ex-pre-fiancé.
Focus, Frankie. All’s not lost.
“Bradley, I explained to you last night how important it is for me to help my uncle. I don’t know what more—”
“Wait.” He put up his hand. “Hear me out. I understand your loyalty to your uncle. You haven’t had many positive male figures in your life, besides me, of course.” He smiled that million-dollar smile flashing such clean, bright teeth.
“Anyway, I called a few people at work this morning and happened to mention this whole wrestling business,” he said.
“You told them what I was doing?”
“No, of course not. I mentioned it in passing and it seems I may have been a little unfair. Professional wrestling is a very popular form of entertainment, even with people of our caliber. As a matter of fact, Lundstrom, Marks and Beetle is trying to get a contract with Doodles Candy, a major sponsor of one of those wrestling groups.”
“WHAK, that’s my uncle’s company.”
“No kidding?” His eyes lit up.
“No kidding.”
She poured him a cup of coffee, added exactly 1.5 ounces of milk and passed it to him across the counter.
“Well, hmmm.” He scratched his chin. “Maybe this has all worked out for the best.”
“How so?” She cradled the mug of coffee in her hands.
“If you could get me front row tickets for the show in Chicago, I could bring the executives of Doodles and score major points. It would be a great boost for my career, Sweetums. And where I succeed, we succeed.”
It shouldn’t bother her that Bradley had gone from shaming her about wrestling to begging for tickets. But it did.
“I’ll talk to my uncle. Is that the only reason you stopped by this morning?”
“Of course not.” He reached for her hand and brushed his thumb across her knuckles. His touch felt unusually cool. “I wanted to talk about us.”
She held her breath.
“I was a little hard on you last night, but I didn’t know what to think. You’d lied to me. Imagine, you dancing around half-naked in front of thousands of people. I didn’t think you were that kind of girl.”
If you only knew. She cleared her throat.
“I didn’t know either,” she said, remembering her total abandon last night, her incredible want, need and possession of Jack’s body.
She shoved the memory out of her brain and refocused on salvaging the crumbling pieces of her perfect life.
“Bradley—”
“Wait, I’m not finished.” He put up his hand. “Relationships have their ups and downs, their good days and bad. But with a little luck, this bad experience may have turned out to be a good one for all of us.”
“How’s that?”
“It’s strengthened our bond and provided a valuable business opportunity which means more stability for our future.” He reached into his pocket. “I guess what I’m saying is, I’m sorry I over reacted. I’d like to try again.”
He placed the velvet box on the breakfast bar.
Emotion numbed her throat. This was what she wanted, right? Yet images of last night replayed in her mind: Jack’s sweet kisses, his gentle, arousing touch.
Last night was an anomaly, a fluke. Something she never would have tasted had Bradley not rejected her.
She stared at the box and considered all that it represented: her dream of security, happiness, and the perfect life.
She reached for it.
“Wait,” Bradley said.
She snatched her hand back as if she’d been caught sneaking Macaroons out of Mama’s cookie jar.
“I’m going to leave the ring with you, but first I’d like to make a few things clear.”
She studied his face, his tight-knit brows and pursed lips. So, this proposal came with conditions?
“I expect loyalty and complete honesty,” he began. “There will be no secrets between us. Our goal is to devote our lives to one another’s professional success, which in turn will lead to personal happiness. That’s my offer, Francine.”
It sounded more like a business deal than a marriage proposal. She wondered if confessing what she’d done last night would be a deal breaker.
Snap out of it. He’s giving you another chance.
Besides, she wasn’t engaged last night when she gave herself to Jack, loved Jack.
Love? No, it couldn’t be love, it was carnal desire, the serpent that drew you in and left you writhing in pain.
She sighed, realizing she didn’t deserve this ring. Not unless she told him everything. She watched him deliberately stir his coffee. It would crush him if she confessed what she’d done on the rebound from his rejection.
In a way it was Bradley’s fault. She caught herself. No, Frankie had made the moves on Jack all by herself, risking her chance at happiness in the process.
He placed his coffee cup on the counter. “What do you think?”
“I’m glad you stopped by.”
Talk about feeble.
“Me, too, Sweetums. Well, I’d better get going.” He started for the door. “I heard there’s a special wrestling show coming up this Friday in Chicago. I don’t suppose you could get tickets for that one? It would score big points for me, for us. Teamwork, that’s the key.”
“I’ll look into it.” She absently followed him to the door, her mind a blur of thoughts.
“Consider my proposal, Francine.” He turned and narrowed his eyes. “Loyalty and honesty. An easy job description for a woman like yourself.”
With a hand at the small of her back, he kissed her on the lips. She felt nothing. No electricity, no excitement.
Tell him. Tell him now!
She couldn’t ruin everything they’d built together in a matter of seconds. And what about her perfect life?
“Oh, and Frankie, it goes without saying that your wrestling days are over. Y
ou won’t be prancing around the ring dressed like a Vegas showgirl, right?”
“Tiger lady. I was dressed like a tiger lady.”
“You’ve had your fun. Time to get on with our future.” He dropped a perfunctory kiss atop her head. “That’s a good girl.”
Forcing a smile, she shut the door. A perfect, safe life had been her goal ever since she was a little girl. Glancing toward the bedroom, she realized she’d been anything but good last night.
She mulled over Bradley’s offer, a future of healthy meals and budget vacations. He planned everything down to his thirteen-minute shower in the morning and the hundred-and-two-degree temperature of his milk at bedtime. He calculated every penny spent, picked every movie by how much money it grossed at the box office a week after it opened, and lined up his canned peas, kidney beans, and fruit cocktail by expiration date.
Frankie liked being in control, but did she really want this?
Yet Bradley offered stability, security, and a nice, normal life, a classy life with a handsome prince and new partner at Lundstrom, Marks and Beetle.
Yeah, and how real is a life without love?
But she loved Bradley in her own way. She had to. Why else would she have invested three years in their relationship?
Bradley’s tone bristled the hairs at the nape of her neck. Conditions, everything came with conditions. Whereas, Jack acted from his heart, lived life to the fullest and rode the wave of uncertainty. A part of Frankie was fascinated by this strategy. She wondered what it was like to go with the flow and not have to micromanage all the time. She’d like to give it a try.
But not with Bradley. That man couldn’t go with the flow if he wore two life jackets and sailed in a steel-bottomed boat.
She struggled to make sense of it all, of her perfect, precarious relationship with Bradley: Marry me, don’t marry me; marry me only if you can commit to complete honesty.
Yet she’d cheated on him, hadn’t she? No, he’d broken their pre-engagement. She wasn’t being disloyal. Technically she didn’t have to bare her soul to Bradley about the wonder of last night with another man.
Jack. The man she loved.
“No!” she cried, marching to the breakfast bar and taking a swig of coffee. There was no denying the fact she loved Jack in a totally uninhibited and undefined way. She loved the unstable, transient, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants pro wrestler. But how did he feel about her? She considered all the things he’d done for her. He’d always protected her, held her, took care of her.
Loved her?
Dishonesty had been her mistake all along. No more. She’d start with Jack. She’d tell him how she felt. Okay, so they were polar opposites and wanted different things out of life. It didn’t matter. She had to tell him she loved him, that she would entertain the notion of living on the edge and going with the flow, if it meant being with him.
She had to find out if they could be more than show biz partners. Frankie would finally do it. She’d stop thinking with her head and let her heart lead for a change.
***
There weren’t a lot of women he’d let throw him out of bed or send him half naked onto a public balcony, but then Frankie McGee wasn’t a lot of women.
She was the woman, Jack’s heart and soul, his imperfect, aggravating life mate. If only he could convince her of that.
Jack stood in the corner of the cement balcony out of view of a family getting into their minivan in the parking lot below. She could have at least given him his pants for crying out loud, but she’d been in a hurry to hide his presence from her fiancé.
Her fiancé? Not for long, not if Jack had anything to say about it.
Okay, so maybe he and Frankie weren’t the most compatible people in the world but they shared something more important than compatibility. They shared a physical and emotional connection more powerful than anything he’d ever experienced in his life.
He wasn’t about to let her go. Not in this lifetime.
Butch always said the best things in life were the ones you had to fight for the hardest. Frankie definitely fell into that category.
She’d accused him of ruining her life? Hell, she didn’t have a clue. Her well-planned, anal-retentive life with Mr. Accountant USA was going to ruin her chance at happiness, and Jack wouldn’t let that happen. Frankie had saved him from the loneliness and desperation of the business. She’d not only taught him to take charge of his life but she’d cared for him in a way no other woman had.
She loved him. Somewhere, deep down in that place she kept locked and under armored guard, Frankie knew she loved Jack, and it scared the hell out of her.
Awake for the better part of the night, he’d plotted how to make it work.
Because he loved her, too.
They would have a great life. He’d rediscover painting and make public appearances, continuing his efforts as a positive role model. A lot of retired wrestlers were successful rallying for good causes because of their superstar popularity.
Maybe it wasn’t the life Frankie had envisioned with regular paychecks and business socials. But when it came to love, sometimes you had to sacrifice.
“Listen to me. Like I’m an expert on love,” he said.
No, he wasn’t an expert. What he’d had with Sandra wasn’t anything like this, and the handful of other flings were merely his way to pass the time and take his mind off the discontentment of his life.
Discontentment. One feeling he looked forward to giving up very, very soon. When he finished his contract he’d move on with his life. He’d more than paid his dues. It was time to reap the rewards.
With Frankie.
He closed his eyes. The crisp morning air brushing against his half-naked body reminded him of Frankie’s delicate hands touching his chest, and working their way down to other, more intimate places. He took a deep, steadying breath. In a minute he was going to break through the sliding glass door with his bare hands. He wouldn’t let that pencil-necked geek talk his way back into her life. He’d had his chance and blown it. Now it was time to get out of the way and let Jack make his plea for her love.
He pressed his face to the window, straining to see through the sheers. He spied Frankie amble into the bedroom as if her mind was a million miles away. He tapped on the glass. She glanced up, but he couldn’t quite make out the emotion in her eyes. Sadness? Frustration?
He banged on the door, to hell with the audience in the parking lot. Flashing strangers was nothing compared to the thought of losing her. Desperation drove him to pound harder. She opened the door and ambled away from him into the living area. He followed her inside, his heart racing.
He could do this. He could tell her he loved her.
“I’ll have you know the guests in 115 reported me to the police for indecent exposure,” he joked, wishing she’d turn around so he could read her eyes. He flung the bed sheets onto the floor in search of his boxers.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize I’d only given you a T-shirt,” she said, heading into the living room.
“So, what was Prince Charming’s story?” He slipped on the briefs and grabbed his jeans off the floor.
“He came to ask for tickets to Friday’s event.”
“You’re kidding.” He limped to the breakfast bar, but the knee felt a little better today. Hell, his whole body felt better.
“Jack, listen, about last night.”
“I smell coffee,” he said, needing sustenance to build his courage.
“I made some for Bradley. Knee still bothering you?”
“Always bothers me.”
Like you. Every time I see you, every time I think about you. You bother me by breathing, by smiling.
Time to confess he’d spent the last fifteen minutes planning their lives, dreaming that they could live together and love one another...forever.
“Frankie, I thought…” He reached for the coffeepot and froze at the sight of a black velvet box. “What’s this?”
He opened it and his heart b
roke into a million pieces.
“Wow,” he rasped. All his dreams, all his hopes were washed away in pain.
She snatched the box from him. “Bradley left it.”
“He proposed?”
“Kind of.” She cradled the box in her palm, a faraway look in her eye.
With a trembling hand, he poured coffee and casually leaned against the counter. His eyes burned. Must be lack of sleep. Who the hell was he kidding?
Dammit, Hudson. Don’t confuse the woman. The diamond ring in the little box she cradled in her hand symbolized everything she’d ever wanted, the very things Jack couldn’t give her.
Swallowing hard, he blocked out his dream of a life with Frankie. If he loved her, really loved her, he’d do the right thing.
He’d let her go.
“Anyway,” she continued, wandering to the couch. “He proposed with conditions. One being that I turn in my mask and whip.”
“Ah, he doesn’t like his woman dressing in leopard skin and feathers.” He was surprised he could even speak past the pain arcing through his chest.
“He also said we need to be honest with one another.” She looked at Jack and his heart skipped.
“Honesty’s important,” he said.
“You think so?”
“Is this a trick question?"
“No, but…” She held his gaze with those amazing, iridescent eyes. He had a feeling his dreams would be haunted by those colors for years to come.
“…about last night. Jack, I have to be honest with you.” She sat down on the couch.
This was it. The opening he’d hoped for, his chance to profess his love.
Do the right thing! He had nothing to offer, no stock options, fiscally sound budgets, or guarantees of any kind.
He took a deep breath. “Don’t worry about it, kid. We all make mistakes.”
“Mistakes?”
“Sure, you screwed me last night and had to face the fiancé this morning? I’d call that a mistake.”
“Screwed?” Her eyes rounded.
“We definitely screwed.”
Push her away, Hudson. Let her get on with her perfect life.
“Well, of course, I mean, I guess technically—”