Skin

by Karin Tabke

  “I know he was a mob boss and someone wanted his job enough to kill him. Now it looks like they want your uncle’s and are willing to put you into the collateral damage category.”

  She tossed her long hair over her shoulder and put her hands on her hips. She moved into him, the gesture meant to push him back. He didn’t move. “Don’t believe everything you read in the paper or see on the five o’ clock news.”

  Unable to resist, Reese swept a stray lock of hair from her face, his knuckles caressing the smooth skin of her cheek. He watched her eyes close for the briefest of seconds, as if she just wanted to melt into him. “Don’t be so naive, Frankie.”

  Her quick flash of vulnerability didn’t last. Her eyes, angry again, flashed open, and she stepped back. “Believe me, I lost my naïveté a long time ago.”

  Reese touched her shoulder. “You don’t trust easy, do you?”

  She yanked her head back. “I don’t trust at all.”

  “You can trust me.”

  She laughed low, not amused. “I don’t even know you.”

  “Sometimes you just have to go with your gut.”

  She smiled. “My gut tells me you’re up to no good.”

  He traced a finger along her cheekbone, swerving upward toward her eye. “You have beautiful eyes.”

  “You have beautiful lines. Do they always work?”

  He lowered his lips to hers. “Most of the time.”

  Frankie turned her head and laughed as his lips brushed her cheek. “Not this time, cowboy. What part of ‘I don’t do my employees’ don’t you understand?”

  “It’s just a kiss.”

  “That would be trading body fluids.”

  Apparently, those drugs she took hadn’t loosened her up enough. Reese knew when he was beat. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping back and allowing her to go in. He watched Frankie’s eyes scan the Spartan apartment. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “Just move in?”

  He shrugged and tossed his keys on the small table just inside the condo door. “It works for me. For now.”

  “I’m surprised all of your women haven’t femmed it up.”

  He headed for the kitchen without answering, flicked on the light, and opened the fridge. “Want a beer?”

  Frankie shook her head and yawned.

  “I want to go to bed.” The minute she said it, he popped his head up from inside the fridge, the light illuminating his handsome face. “Alone.”

  He groaned, twisted off the bottle top, and took a long swig. “I only have one bed.”

  She walked out of the kitchen and said over her shoulder, “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  She dropped her purse and camera bag on the cushion. “I plan on taking shots at my leisure.”

  Reese walked out of the kitchen and leaned a broad shoulder against the jamb. His blue eyes danced, and Frankie knew that in a different place and time she wouldn’t hesitate to slip between the sheets with this man. He was all things male and carnal wrapped up in one very sexy package. She couldn’t wait to get him stripped and in her camera lens.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, Frankie, you’ll give me no other choice but to trade body fluids with you.”

  “Trust me, Reese, the last thing you want is to get tangled up with me.”

  He chugged the rest of his beer and set the bottle down on the coffee table. “I doubt that.”

  She cocked a brow and strode past him into the kitchen. “I changed my mind.” She grabbed a beer from the fridge, twisted off the cap, and tossed it into the sink as he had done. She turned and tipped the bottle his way, then chugged almost half of it down. “The fact is, Reese, I’d rock your world, then walk away without giving you a second thought.” She winked at him and strode past him into the living room.

  He followed her, watching the gentle sway of her hips. His groin warmed.

  Flopping down on the couch, she took another healthy swig of the beer. “And after I rocked your world, you’d be whining and crying for more, and I don’t do more.” She polished off the beer and set the bottle down next to his. She raised her eyes and smiled. “So, can I borrow a shirt and a pair of boxers to sleep in?”

  Reese grinned. Her moxie impressed him. “Yeah, I’ve got something you can wear.”

  When he returned with a shirt and pair of boxer briefs, she was still smiling. He couldn’t remember ever enjoying an undercover assignment so much. He lived for the hunt, and this particular prey, once felled, would be well worth the effort. His dick swelled and he muttered a curse under his breath.

  Frankie raised a brow. “You okay?”

  “Couldn’t be better.” Reese handed her the clothing. “Bathroom is the first door on the left and the bedroom is the last door on the right.”

  “So you’re sleeping on the couch?”

  He nodded. She smiled. He watched her walk down the hall, his skin warming at the sight. “There’s an extra toothbrush in the cabinet,” he called.

  She turned and smiled at him over her shoulder. “I never doubted that for a minute. I’m surprised you don’t have an entire ladies’ wardrobe for your ‘guests.’ ”

  “I’m working on it.”

  While Frankie did what women did in his bathroom, Reese reassessed his game plan. She was dug in hard about the nofraternizing thing. And he needed to get her into bed. One, to build lust; two, to build trust; and three, to get as much information out of her as possible. He was convinced that once he had her emotionally, she’d give up sensitive information. It wasn’t the most gentlemanly ploy, but then she wasn’t Emily Post either. At the very least, she was guilty of Lord knew what by association, and at the most, she was a cold-blooded killer. He felt no remorse for his means of generating information.

  So to get her in bed, he had to make it her decision. Some reverse psychology. He’d play hard to get and see how she liked it.

  He groaned audibly when she emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, her skin scrubbed to a rosy glow, clad in one of his white wifebeaters and black boxer briefs that were too big for her and hung sexily off her full hips.

  As she walked down the hall, she pulled her hair up and wound a rubber band around the thick mass. Her tits rode up high, and blood slammed to his cock. He could see her nipples under the thin white fabric and he knew she knew it. Instead of focusing on that very fine sight, his eyes traveled lower to her belly, then her long, tanned legs. He swallowed hard and raised his eyes to lock with her gaze. She smiled, and if he were a betting man, he’d say she blushed. The look became her.

  “I’m hungry,” she said.

  Reese stood, not caring if his hard-on was noticeable. “So am I.”

  Chapter Eight

  “I have frozen pizza, pistachios, and enough beer to float an aircraft carrier.”

  Frankie sighed, stepped into the kitchen, and poked her head around his shoulder and into the freezer. The chilled air swirled around her chest and she felt her nipples pucker. She smiled. Why she enjoyed rattling Reese’s cage, she had no idea. But she did. Immensely. Maybe it had to do with the fact he seemed genuinely interested in her, even if it was on that most basic male-female level.

  Grabbing one of the boxes, she read the ingredients on the front and gave it her seal of approval. “Right now I could eat cardboard and not complain.”

  Reese bent his head down to her ear and said, “Then don’t complain when you bite into this.”

  She turned with the box in her hand and smiled. Heat swirled around them, tempering the cold from the freezer. His eyes dipped to her protruding nipples.

  Grinning like an idiot, Reese took the box. “Go into the living room, I’ll be right there.”

  A few minutes later, Reese joined her in the small room. Handing her a beer, he sat on the floor next to the coffee table. He propped up a knee and rested his elbow there.

  “So, tell me, Frankie, what’s up with your family?”

  She shrugged and took a sip of her beer. “Not
hing is up.”

  “So it’s par for the course for your family to be shot at?”

  She shrugged again. “It’s — complicated.”

  “I guess. Who were those guys at the restaurant?”

  Frankie sighed and settled into the comfortable cushions. It was common knowledge who was who in her family. “Tweedledumb and Tweedledee are Johnny and Mikey Buzzawini. My auntie Ada’s boys. We call Mikey ‘Meatball.’ The other one is Jimmy ‘Peanuts’ Tambouri. My auntie Lola’s son. His dad died in Vietnam. Didn’t even know Lola was pregnant. Unk raised Jimmy.”

  “I can see why you call Mikey Meatball. Why Peanuts?”

  Frankie smiled. “When Jimmy was a kid he always had a pocket full of pistachios. He left shells all over the place. Auntie Lola used to yell at him to clean up his trail. They were everywhere. If you ever wanted to know where Jimmy had been, just follow the shell trail.”

  “He didn’t look like a nice guy.”

  “Jimmy? He’s an angel. He had some trouble a while back. But he’s cleaned up now.”

  “Who was the big guy with your purse?”

  Frankie smiled and sipped her beer. “Leo. He used to be my father’s bodyguard but now he’s Unk’s.”

  Reese shook his head and tipped the bottle back, taking a long drink.

  “Why are you shaking your head?”

  “Leo would be the last person I’d want looking out for my back.”

  Frankie squinted, not understanding. “Leo is loyal.”

  “He obviously isn’t very good at his job.”

  Frankie sat up, the impact of what he said hitting her broadside. “I never thought of it that way. Do you think my uncle should hire someone else?” The minute she asked the question, she recanted it. “Ignore that.”

  “Why? Is everything such a big secret in your family?”

  “No, it’s just, well, we like to keep a low profile.”

  Reese laughed out loud, the rich timbre sending tremors across her skin. “C’mon, Frankie, how can a family like yours keep a low profile?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Your family business?”

  She shrugged and finished her beer. The second was nicely mingling with the painkiller Sanzo gave her. She felt warm and very relaxed. “My family is legit.”

  Reese shook his head again and finished off his beer. Without a word he rose, went into the kitchen, and brought back two more cold ones. He twisted off the caps and handed her one. She hesitated for only a second before she took it.

  “Really? Name one legitimate business.”

  The need to protect her family welled. “I can name several. Finance. Import-export, and there is Skin.”

  Reese chuckled. “Is that the PC way of saying loan-sharking and contraband?”

  “And you have the perfect family?”

  Reese scowled. Frankie caught the look. “Tell me about them?”

  “Who?”

  “Your family.”

  “Nothing to tell.”

  “There is always something to tell.”

  “In my case there isn’t.”

  Frankie laughed low. “I see how it is. It’s okay for me to spill the beans but not you. I’ll remember that. It’s a two-way street for me that way. Not one-way.”

  “I don’t have fond memories of my family, let’s leave it at that.”

  A wave of sadness filled her. Her family was on a good day difficult. On a bad day? Impossible. So she didn’t have much room to talk, and there were more days than not she wished she’d been born to a normal family. But she’d also learned to accept her family for what and who they were. But still, there were those days when she longed for normalcy. Maybe that was one reason why she so much wanted Skin to fly. It was the only legitimate holding the family possessed. As long as she had breath in her body, she would not allow it to turn into yet another nefarious family scheme.

  The oven timer dinged. Frankie tried to stand up and the room spun. No food, drugs, and three beers collided. Reese grabbed her, steadying her. His long arms slipped around her waist and, oddly, she felt safe. She looked up at him and caught her breath. His features had sharpened in what she knew was hunt mode.

  He smoothed back a lock of hair from her cheek. “You okay?”

  “I just need to sit down.”

  His arms wrapped tighter around her waist. Her breasts pushed against the hard plane of his chest. His clean, woodsy scent tickled her nostrils. “You smell really good.” Oops, did she just say that?

  Reese lowered his nose to her hair and inhaled. “So do you.”

  He gently sat her down. Reluctantly, she slid her arms from around his waist. Then watched him go into the kitchen. Not for the first time, she felt something shift inside of her body. There was something very basic about this man that moved her. She shook her head. That was the drugs and alcohol talking. She needed to get a grip.

  Frankie wrinkled her nose as she chewed the first bite of the pizza. “This is awful.”

  Reese nodded and chased a bite down with a swig of beer. “I told you.”

  Despite the cardboard consistency, she finished her piece and a second one along with her beer.

  Reese helped himself to another beer but gave Frankie a glass of water instead. She frowned but nodded. “Thanks, I’m feeling a little too comfortable right now, another beer would kick my ass.”

  Reese grinned and took a long pull of his beer. “Talk to me about you.”

  Frankie’s eyelids hovered over her eyes. She looked damn sexy sitting there in his wifebeater, her full breasts screaming for release and her sexy green eyes hooded behind her long, black lashes. His cock twinged and he knew having her once wouldn’t be enough.

  “I’m boring.”

  “Not to me.”

  “You’re just saying that coz I’m your boss.”

  “I’d say it regardless.”

  She picked at a piece of crust. “Don’t try and take advantage of me in my wounded state.”

  Reese laughed. “I would never attempt to take advantage of you. There would be hell to pay the next day.”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  “So, then, tell me about you.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  He grinned wide, and Frankie shook her head. “It’s always got to be sexual.”

  Reese warmed to the conversation. “I’d love to find out what a woman like you fantasizes about.”

  “I don’t have any fantasies.”

  “Everyone has fantasies.”

  How could she explain to him her fantasy was having a normal family? Or rewinding her life back two and a half weeks?

  “Look, Reese, even if I did, I don’t think it’s professional to divulge such intimacies to an employee.”

  He actually looked affronted. He quickly recovered. “I think we’re a little past the standard employee-employer relationship, Frankie.”

  She nodded. “I’ll give you that. But that doesn’t negate the fact I’m paying you a lot of money for a specific job. The last thing I want is for gray areas to develop.”

  “True, but what better way to get into my head than by allowing me into yours? Don’t we need that certain je ne sais quoi?”

  He made a good argument.

  “I mean, just you sharing with me about your family gives me more of an understanding of you. You don’t come across as the hard-ass you did earlier.”

  “Don’t fool yourself, Reese. The last thing I’ll allow is for my emotions to interfere with my business.”

  “I can be a very demanding model, Frankie.”

  She stood, not comfortable with the conversation. He was right, to nail the shots, to be simpatico, they should be cultivating the natural chemistry they shared. But the thought terrified her. She didn’t trust herself to remain in an emotional void. “I can be an equally demanding boss.”

  Reese stood as well. He moved close to her but not enough for her to feel his heat. She was disappointed. “Well, I
guess we’ll just have to play it out, won’t we?”

  Frankie turned and carefully made her way down the hall. “I guess we will. Good night.”

  Reese grumbled and finished his beer. Damn it, even drugged and liquored up she didn’t budge. If he wasn’t careful, his scheme could backfire. It was a tightwire act. One false move and he’d fall crashing to the ground. He needed Frankie in bed.

  He’d learned long ago pillow talk was not only the most expedient way to get incriminating evidence but also the most pleasuable.

  He’d simply reverse roles. Women always wanted what they couldn’t have. He knew she wanted him naked as her cover model, and she would come to want him naked in her bed. He laughed softly. He’d make her work to get his soldier up. As she worked that angle, he’d work just as hard to keep the devil between his legs quiet, until he maneuvered her right between the sheets. Excitement heated his blood. He felt no guilt. It was just business, and there was more at stake than Francesca Donatello’s feelings.

  To build a case against the family, he’d use any means available. He chugged the balance of his beer and grimaced. He preferred Jack neat, but for this cover, beer would have to do. He grabbed another one from the fridge and shucked the lid.

  He turned off the lights and slipped over to the living room window. With the tip of the bottle he pushed back the heavy curtains enough to see a dark colored sedan parked inconspicuously at the corner. It looked similar to the one Anthony and Tawny jumped into earlier.

  He didn’t doubt Carmine Donatello had them followed. But how the hell? He’d been careful.

  The hair stood up on the back of his neck. “Son of a bitch.” More than likely the good doc called Carmine and gave him a description of his car. The wily bastard planted a GPS device.

  Reese drained the bottle. He’d take care of that first thing in the a.m. Carmine Donatello might be the new don, with muscle and money to buy him an army and loyalty, but he was playing a game Reese had mastered with his own inexhaustible supply of manpower.

  Chapter Nine

  Reese woke to the quiet whirring sound of a camera shutter. He opened his eyes and stretched in the pullout bed. Unhurriedly, he turned over onto his back, the white sheet falling to his waist. He grinned up into the surprised hazel eyes of his guest. Her eyes dropped to the tented portion of the sheet.