by Karin Tabke
“What about the clock?”
“I told you. Anthony’s scare tactic. He wants Skin, and for a second I was scared.”
Once they entered the elevator, Reese stood quietly absorbing her words. She looked solemnly at him. “It’s not me they want, Reese. I swear it.”
“Who would gain with you dead?”
Frankie let out a long breath. “Anthony.”
“Then I suggest you keep him close.”
“I told you, Anthony doesn’t have it in him. And he doesn’t have the power yet. He couldn’t even order a hit.” When they reached her office door she turned to Reese. “And let me tell you this. If Anthony or anyone so much as looked at me wrong? You saw how Unk was last night. He’s worse than ten nonas. He would hunt the bastards down and kill them himself. All of the Bay Area families know that, and a good many So Cal families.”
Reese opened his mouth to comment but she put her hand up, halting him. “Am I so arrogant like my father to think I’m untouchable? No, but there would be nothing gained by my death. With the family, there has to be gain. They don’t kill for pleasure.”
She put her hand on the doorknob. “I’ve said too much already. I won’t discuss this matter with you again. Now, please get down to the studio so we can finish up your scheme and get the hell out of here. I have plans for us.”
Reese cocked a dark brow. “Care to share?”
“I will when I come for you.”
She turned and entered her office, loudly closing the door behind her.
Making her way to her small bathroom, Frankie tidied up, her thoughts zigzagging. She refused to give Reese, an outsider, another word on the topic of Anthony ordering a hit on her. It was preposterous. She even pushed her worry over her uncle aside. He was a big boy and had plenty of muscle. Since her father’s death, Carmine’s men had made themselves very noticeable. Besides, she didn’t have time to worry, she had business to take care of.
“Tawny!” she called through the open door. The spunky assistant popped in, her brows raised. “Make sure I have a key to Anthony’s office. And have the locksmith re-key mine.”
“Will do.”
Reese sat patiently while Stella the wardrobe/hair stylist/makeup tech draped him with one swatch of colors after another. “My best color is naked.”
The older woman stuttered and stammered, and he smiled. It was in his best interest to have as many Skin employees in his pocket as possible.
He heard the click of Frankie’s heels coming into the room before he saw her tall, curvy body, her head held high, her stride confident. Her energy filled the room. His blood quickened in immediate response. He might be there to work a case, but he found himself sucked in by her on more than one occasion and on several levels. He constantly reminded himself he was there to do a job, not get tangled up in an emotional quagmire.
His libido, however, had other ideas. Francesca Donatello had become an incessant itch he couldn’t scratch.
“Stop pestering my employees, Barrett. I’d hate to have to slap you with a sexual harassment suit.”
“He wasn’t bothering me, Frankie.” Stella draped a large swatch of royal-blue cloth across one of Reese’s broad shoulders and down his chest.
Frankie stopped in her heels. “Perfect color, Stella. Matches his eyes.” Crossing her arms across her chest to cover her suddenly hardening nipples, Frankie nodded at him. “I see a beach location in your future. I’d love to get a shot of you naked coming out of the surf, your hair all wet and those big hands of yours brushing it out of your eyes as the afternoon sun glistens off your hard, wet body.” The picture she painted stirred every nerve south of her neck. Stella sighed and Frankie glanced at her, a wistful look softening the hard edges of Stella’s face.
Frankie laughed. “Earth to Stella.”
The old woman shook her head, her face pinkening.
“I know he’s hard to resist, but you can do it,” Frankie said.
Reese scowled as if embarrassed, which Frankie knew was impossible. The man ate up attention.
“He likes women, and that makes a big difference,” Stella admitted.
Reese waved a hand in front of Frankie. “I’m here, so knock off the third-person dialogue.”
Frankie laughed and stepped close enough to touch him. “Feel like an insignificant piece of meat, do you?”
He scowled hard.
Taking his chin in her hand, she wagged it. “Imagine how it is for all of us women.”
He grabbed her hand and bit the tip of her index finger. When she pulled away he increased the pressure. His eyes sparked and she felt a hard rush of heat. He sucked her finger into his mouth and tongued it.
She yanked her hand from him and cursed the cool air as it crossed the warm moistness of her fingertip. Damn, he was distracting.
“Stella, can you finish up later? I need to have a chat with Mr. Skin here.”
Stella nodded, giving Reese a longing glance. He rewarded her with a wicked smile. The old woman returned it, then scampered out of the room.
Frankie stood with her hands on her hips and tapped her toe on the linoleum floor. “Stop seducing my employees.”
Reese stood up. “Stop being so naive.”
Back to that again? “Stop trying to scare me.”
“You don’t get it, do you, Donatello?”
“Do you always call your lady bosses by their last name?”
“Only the stupid ones.”
“You’re fired.”
“It’s really a moot point, since at your current hit rate, you’ll be dead by the end of the week.”
Frankie stopped short. “Even if you are right, which you aren’t, we’re leaving town tonight, so whoever you think is after me will have to find me, and since you’ll be the only person who knows where I’ll be, I guess we’ll be fine.”
He swiped his hand across his chin. “I can’t just up and leave town. And what the hell for?”
“I’m beginning to feel like a damn parrot with you, Reese. I own your ass. You go wherever, whenever. The when is tonight, the where is Carmel, and I would greatly appreciate it if you kept that information to yourself.”
“If someone wants you, they’ll find you.”
He could worry for them both and in the end see that it was all for naught. Moving closer into Reese’s personal space, Frankie smiled up at him. “It has occurred to me, I owe you.”
Reese raised a dark brow and grinned down at her. “Big-time.”
“Can I touch you?”
He nodded.
She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Can I kiss you?”
He nodded again.
On her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his — the force of the contact jolting.
Frankie meant to give him a thank-you peck on the cheek, but the meeting of their lips morphed into a wild moment. His arms slid around her waist, pulling her tightly against his hard chest. She opened her mouth, allowing her tongue to meet his. His hands slid down the small of her back to rest on the swell of her ass. The hard strength of him pressing intimately against her sent her senses reeling.
Her lips parted further and she rolled her tongue languidly against his. He tasted…dangerous. Excitement filled her and the realization she wanted to tame this glorious man hit her broadside. The thought sent a bolt of desire straight to her womb.
As abruptly as she started the kiss, Reese ended it. Stunned, she stood breathless, glad he didn’t completely release her but kept her within the hot circle of his arms. “I don’t do mafia princesses.” He set her away from him, a rueful look on his face as he looked down to the obvious mound below his belt.
“I’m not a mafia princess.”
“That’s not what I hear. Besides, you have a price on your head. And if I allow you to make love to me, that might piss someone off, like your uncle or that crazy Peanut.”
Frankie laughed. “It’s Jimmy Peanuts and he’s not crazy.”
Reese’s expression
turned serious. “Kidding aside, Frankie, call the cops and let them get in on this.”
“I told you, I don’t do cops. I’ll call my uncle if I need protection. My family can handle it.” She turned and started toward the computer stand, where swatches lay in colorful disarray.
“Like they did for your father?”
She whirled around and faced him, an unexpected surge of emotion welling up in her. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Speak the truth? Was he as arrogant as you? Did he walk around feeling bulletproof like the Pope did thirty years ago? Did Santo Gabriel think he was immortal?”
“How do you know that?”
“I read the paper.”
“Who are you?”
“An airhead model can’t read the newspaper?”
“And kick three of my cousins’ asses at the same time, tell my uncle you’ll kill him, and then save my life and my dumb-ass brother’s?”
Reese shrugged. “I’ve been around.”
“Around who? Rambo?”
“Nah. I was a nerd in school and decided I was tired of the bullies pushing me around. It’s why I did the military thing.”
“You, a nerd? I hardly think so.”
He shrugged. “It’s all about perception, Frankie. What you think you see may not actually be the reality.”
She grinned. “Now that I can relate to. It’s what I do with my camera. I’m going to give every red-blooded female in this country the illusion she has a chance with you.”
“Ah, back to business.”
Damn straight. Business was safer than the way he made her feel. “It’s what makes the world go round. Now let’s get a few test shots.”
An hour later they were on their way to Reese’s place.
“After we get your stuff, take me back to my uncle’s office. I need to get my car. You can follow me to my place. I’ll throw a few things together and we’ll head to Carmel.”
Reese nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
Frankie settled back into the comfortable captain seat. “You know, I think this is going to be huge. You and Skin.”
Reese nodded but remained silent.
“For copy, I’m thinking you can answer questions from readers. We’ll set up an e-mail addy for you. Each issue until your reveal, you answer sexy questions.” Frankie laughed. “Maybe you can find your fantasy woman.”
Reese speared her a harsh look.
Warming to the subject, Frankie turned to face him. “Tell me.”
He continued to look straight ahead, his concentration on the road ahead. “Tell you what.”
“Your ultimate fantasy.”
Reese shook his head and cast her a scowl. “You won’t like it.”
“Try me.”
A half smile twisted his lips. “My ultimate fantasy is for once to have a woman I just made love to not want to set up house.”
Frankie coughed, not expecting that. “Oh, puhleese. I doubt every woman who sleeps with you wants to have your babies.”
He cocked a brow and looked at her. “You’d be surprised.” Looking back at the road, he asked, “Why is that?”
“Why is what?”
“Why do women want to instantly nest? Why can’t a woman just have sex for the fun of it? Live for the moment? Why does it always have to be more?”
Frankie shrugged. It bugged her that Reese spoke the truth. While she hadn’t been a wallflower when it came to sex, and she always had a bevy of wannabes to choose from, she’d selected her lovers with extreme care and thoughts of future potential. After it became painfully apparent by her senior year of college that men were more interested in her last name than her personally, she’d sworn them off. Until Sean walked through her door. She really believed he was “the one.” She learned painfully that he was not.
Frankie sighed and looked out the window. The sun was beginning to set. She was tired and wanted a good night’s sleep. Somehow she didn’t think she’d get it.
Her thoughts drifted back to Sean. Two years later she was still fighting for respect in the industry, and from the men in her family, as well as her own self-respect. The emotional ruin had taken longer. At least she could think of Sean now without the uncontrollable urge to rip his balls from between his legs and stuff them down his throat.
Even so, the fallout continued. Before Sean, she never second-guessed herself. Since Sean, it had become a habit. Hiring Reese was the latest example of her inner debate. She needed to stop it. She needed to just go with her gut and trust herself. Realizing her fists were clenched, Frankie relaxed them.
“What are you thinking?” Reese asked.
“I was thinking that most every pretty boy I’ve ever met has been arrogant and untrustworthy, and if for some reason I found myself waking up next to you in the morning, I could walk away from you as easily as from a bad cold.”
“Bad colds linger.”
She gave a laugh, a caustic edge lacing it. “Don’t kid yourself, Reese. I can be every bit a man about sex. I’m not one of those cling-on types.”
“So you caught your pretty boy in the sack, huh?”
“Hardly.”
“And since he screwed you, you put us all in the same category.”
“Butt out.”
“Just don’t let it affect our working relationship.”
Frankie faced him. “Since when do you worry about a working relationship? All you’ve tried to do is get me out of my skirt.”
Reese glanced at her and flashed a wolfish grin. “I don’t need to get you out of your skirt to do what I want.”
“There you go again.”
He turned back to focus on the road. “Point taken. I apologize. I will from this point forward speak only about business. The last thing I want is to jeopardize my job, or whatever friendship we may develop.”
Frankie opened her mouth to protest, to tell him joking around was okay, she liked it, from him, it made her feel — wanted. But she didn’t. It was better this way.
Chapter Fourteen
Frankie walked ahead of Reese into his condo. Two men stood in the middle of the living room. On the floor a man rolled around like a trussed-up hog. It took her a moment to notice ropes around his ankles and tied to his hands behind his back. Another moment before she got a good look at his face. Was that…“Jimmy?”
The two men turned, their eyes intense and intimidating. Then she noticed their bodies, even more intimidating. What the hell? Her skin flushed and her lips formed a silent O, Jimmy forgotten.
Holy shit. The two guys in front of her could give Reese a run for his money. If he didn’t fall in line, she’d offer one of these two — or hell, both of them — a contract.
Jimmy’s muffled scream pulled her back to reality. Reluctantly she tore her gaze from the men to look down at her cousin.
“Why is he tied up? And why the hell is he here?”
“Hey, boys!” Reese stepped over a red-faced, grunting Jimmy. Frankie bent down to pull the sock out of his mouth. Reese caught her arm, holding her back.
“We came by to say hi and found this goombah lurking in your hall closet,” the Adonis with the long black hair and slight Latin accent explained.
Jimmy squirmed against his ties.
“And we were just having a beer, deciding what we were going to do with him if you didn’t show up soon,” the hunk with milk-chocolate-colored hair and laughing green eyes said.
“Who the hell are you two?” Frankie demanded. She scowled, tapping her foot on the carpet and wondered why the hell her cousin was hiding in a closet in her model’s house.
The tall, very dark one with deep hazel eyes that glowed like opals stepped over Jimmy and extended his hand to her. Trancelike, she took it. Long, firm fingers wrapped securely around her hand. She shivered. “I’m Ricco, an old buddy of Reese’s.”
The other one stepped over Jimmy, accidentally kicking him in the ass, and smiled, his dimples disarming her. She knew her mouth was open but she didn’t care. He took her
other hand, hanging limply at her side, into his big warm ones and brought it to his lips. After he kissed it a tad too long, he looked up at her and flashed a wolfish grin. “I’m Jase. I used to model with Reese when he was doing underwear ads for Sears.”
Reese pushed them both away from Frankie, gifting them with an angry glare.
Ricco laughed and slapped him on the back. “C’mon, man, what happened to all for one and one for all?”
“You have your own if I remember correctly. Do you want to share?”
Ricco laughed and finished the bottle of beer in his left hand. “Nope, Alex would skin me alive.”
“Then don’t expect me to.”
Frankie coughed, disappointed far more than she wanted to admit. “Damn. I knew it.”
All three men looked at her. “You’re too damned good-looking to be straight.” She turned to Jase. “You too?”
Ricco spewed the beer in his mouth and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Alexandra is my fiancée.”
Reese and Jase laughed. Heat infused her cheeks. “Oh.”
Jase stepped closer, took her hand again, and put it over his heart. The heat of his body warmed her fingers. “I’ll gladly take this Neanderthal also known as Reese Barrett off your hands. Just give me the word and he’s history.”
Frankie played along. “I’m afraid I’m contractually obligated to him. We’d have to permanently off him.”
“No problem. I know people.”
The hair on her arms rose, and she pulled her hand away from Jase’s chest, her jovial mood darkening. “Yeah, so do I.”
The three men exchanged a look, and Jimmy screamed on the floor, the sock muffling the sound.
Frankie dropped down to her knees and took the sock out of Jimmy’s mouth. “Why are you here?”