by Robin Wells
Frannie’s pulse pounded in her throat. She glanced away, only to see Jasmine wildly blinking her eyes in a silent command. Frannie gulped, turned her gaze back to Austin and blinked rapidly.
Oh my stars—it was working! Austin was heading to her desk. Frannie frantically busied herself, gathering pieces of paper on her desk into a senseless pile.
“Good afternoon, Frannie.”
“G-good afternoon.”
“I hardly recognized you without your glasses.”
Frannie continued to collect the papers into a haphazard stack. “Sometimes I wear my contacts.”
“Well, you look very nice. Are they new?”
“No. I’ve had them for a while.”
“Oh.”
Behind Austin, Frannie saw Jasmine point to her eye. Frannie looked up at Austin and repeatedly blinked.
He frowned. “Do you have something in your eye?”
“What?”
“I notice you keep blinking.”
“Oh. No. I’m okay.” Oh, dear, just as she’d feared. The blinking made her look like a nutcase. To make matters worse, she suddenly did, indeed, have something in her eye. All that blinking seemed to have dislodged a fleck of mascara, and it hurt like the dickens. She blinked some more, trying to get it out.
“Well, good.” Austin looked her uncertainly, the way one might look at a dog suspected of having rabies. “I came by to open a savings account. Can you help me with that, or do you only handle loans?”
She closed the afflicted eye, wanting to ease the pain, only to realize in horror that it must look as if she was winking at him. “I—I do it all.” Oh, heavens, that hadn’t come out right. It sounded alarmingly suggestive. “I mean, I can handle anything. I mean, everything.”
Her eye was twitching now. This was going from bad to worse. “I—I’ll do anything you want.”
Austin studied her, his brow furrowed. To her distress, Frannie realized that now her eyes were watering. Not just watering—gushing.
Through the wet blur, she saw Austin lean across her desk. She couldn’t make out the expression on his face, but his voice was concerned. “Have I said something to upset you?”
“Of…of course not.” Frannie tried to act normal, but it was hard, what with her eye twitching and her face feeling like Niagara Falls. She could barely see him through the haze of tears. She did her best to sound nonchalant. “Why would you think a thing like that?”
She couldn’t see well enough to be sure, but she thought his lips quirked upward in a grin. “No reason. Except I’m not really used to having bankers cry when I try to open a savings account.”
It was time to cut her losses and run. Frannie rose from her chair. “I—I’m sorry. I seem to have something in my eye, after all. If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll be right back.” She rounded her desk, wobbling on her unnaturally high heels.
Austin moved to steady her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m…”
Oh, dear, she was losing it—her poise, her vision, but worst of all, her balance. She tried hard to regain it. “I’m…”
She toppled forward and grasped at Austin, pushing him into the chair. She fell hard on top of him. The next thing she knew, she was perched atop his lap. “…I’m fine,” she finished weakly.
“Fine” didn’t begin to describe it. His thighs were hard and warm beneath hers, and his chest was solid under her hand. She could feel his heartbeat through the cotton of his burgundy sports shirt. Her face was pressed to his cheek, which smelled deliciously of soap and shaving cream, and his freshly shaven skin against hers sent goose bumps skittering all over her.
One of his hands rested on her arm, the other on her hip. “Are you okay?” he asked.
Her voice didn’t seem to work. She numbly nodded.
“My goodness, Frannie—what’s going on?” asked a deep, raspy voice.
Frannie abruptly looked up. Her vision was cloudy, but she could make out the heavy jowls of the bank manager over Austin’s shoulder. She struggled to sit upright, her face burning heat. “I—I lost my balance and fell.”
“On a customer?”
Frannie nodded. Clearly nonplussed, the large man looked at Austin. “Well! I don’t know what happened here, but on behalf of the Whitehorn Savings and Loan, I’d like to apologize for—”
“No apology needed,” Austin said quickly. “I happen to like a bank with friendly, personal service.” He tightened his grip on Frannie’s hip and angled a smile down at her. “Why, the last place I opened a savings account, all I got was a toaster.”
Frannie couldn’t help it. The ridiculousness of the situation, the banker’s befuddlement and the outrageousness of the remark made her burst into laughter. Even with her tear-impaired vision, she could tell that Austin was grinning at her.
The bank manager looked from her to Austin, his lips stretched in an uncertain smile. Recognition suddenly poured over his face. “Say, you’re that race car driver, aren’t you?”
Austin nodded. “Austin Parker.” He stuck out his right hand, his left one still firmly planted on Frannie’s hip.
The banker pumped his hand. “I’m a big fan. Here, let me get Miss Hannon off your lap.”
“No hurry.” Austin’s fingers surreptitiously caressed her hip.
Heat flared through Frannie. Her face flaming, she took the bank manager’s proffered hand and rapidly struggled to her feet.
But the banker’s attention was focused on Austin. “Tell me about that car you drive. Does it have a V-8 engine?”
“Well, it’s a converted Chevy Monte Carlo, and…”
While the two men talked cars, Frannie circled back behind her desk, pulled her lens case out of her purse and quickly removed her contacts. Oh, that felt so much better! She rubbed her eyes in relief. Her near-sightedness allowed her to see things at close range, but she could no longer tell if Jasmine was still watching from across the room.
“…So now my pit crew chief is at my ranch, fine-tuning the transmission,” Austin was saying.
“He’s here in Whitehorn?”
Austin nodded. “He’s staying at the Big Sky. That’s where I met Frannie.”
“Oh, so you and Miss Hannon had previously met?”
“Oh, sure.” Austin smiled at Frannie. “We’re old friends. In fact, I decided to move my savings account to your bank because of Frannie.”
The banker’s face creased in a pleased smile. He nodded at Frannie approvingly. “Frannie is one of our finest employees. Our satellite office in Billings has been trying to hire her away from us for years, but fortunately for us, she’s too fond of Whitehorn to move. I’m sure she’ll take good care of you.”
Austin gave Frannie a slow grin. “That’s what I’m banking on.”
His eyes were warm, and Frannie felt a jolt of sexual awareness as she met his gaze. The bank manager waddled off, and Frannie looked down at her lap, nervously twining her fingers together. “That was kind of you.”
“What?”
“Telling him I’m the reason you’re opening an account here.”
“You are.”
“Oh, come on.” Frannie opened her file drawer, trying hard to hide her racing pulse. “You didn’t even know I worked here.”
“Not at first. But after you landed in my lap like that, well…” He lifted his shoulders. “Where else am I going get a dividend like that?”
The fact that he was being so nice about her clumsiness only increased her embarrassment. “I’m usually not such a klutz, but my cousin talked me into wearing her shoes today, and I’m not used to high heels, and, well…”
“What are you apologizing for? I liked it.”
Even without her contacts or glasses, she could see an unmistakable light in his eyes. He was flirting with her! Her palms began to sweat, and she suddenly felt as unsure as a twelve-year-old girl.
Which was ridiculous, she sternly told herself. A man like Austin probably flirted with every woman he met. She’d
be an idiot to think he meant anything by it. She’d treat him as if he were any other customer, she decided. In fact, she probably ought to redouble her efforts to appear professional, considering how unprofessionally she’d acted when he’d first come in. All the same, her face began to burn.
Austin watched her cheeks flame and grinned. Lord, but she was a mess! Black streaks of mascara ran from her eyes to her chin, and her eyes were ringed like a raccoon’s. And now the rest of her face was turning as red as a Stop sign.
For reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom, he felt a stir of arousal. He shifted on the chair. “Do you, uh, still need to go fix your eyes?”
She shook her head. “I took my contacts out while you were talking to my boss.”
“Oh.” He started to tell her about the condition of her makeup, then changed his mind. If she knew it looked like an eighteen-wheeler had laid rubber all over her face, she’d want to go to the rest room to clean up, and he didn’t want her to leave.
His lips curved in a grin. “You know, you look different every time I see you.”
She rummaged through her file drawer and gave a dry smile. “That’s because I don’t have egg or green stuff on my face today.”
He rubbed his chin, trying to repress his smile. She was going to die of embarrassment when she discovered what she did have on her face, but Austin wouldn’t be the one to tell her.
Frannie plucked a sheet of pink paper out of a file folder and handed it to him. “If you’re interested in opening a savings account, you’ll want to look over this form.”
I’d much rather look over yours. The thought surprised him. Racing fans and groupies were constantly throwing themselves at him, but Austin hadn’t had much interest in women lately.
Heck, he hadn’t had much interest in anything lately. The past few months, he’d been feeling burned out and restless. Which was one reason he’d bought the ranch. He used to have a passion for horses, used to dream of one day owning a ranch like the kind he’d worked on in his youth. As so many of the dreams that he’d achieved, though, the ranch hadn’t lived up to his expectations. He still felt as if something were missing, as if some essential key to satisfaction was eluding him.
“That sheet explains the different type of accounts we offer.” Frannie tapped her pen on the desk. “I’ll need you to fill out an application, once you decide what you want.”
Oh, I already know what I want.
He rubbed his jaw and frowned at the wayward thought. After a long, slumbering hiatus, why had his libido suddenly decided to return with such force? And why on earth had it settled on this unlikely woman who seemed to specialize in wearing the mess du jour?
Part of it had to do with the way she’d felt in his lap, he decided. She was hiding one heck of a shapely body under that baggy tan suit. Her bottom was firm and round, her waist was small, and the breast she’d unknowingly pressed against his arm had felt surprisingly full and lush.
He realized she was waiting for him to select an account. He pointed his finger to the top listing. “I’ll take this one.”
“Fine.” She slid a yellow paper in front of him. “Here’s the application.”
There was something about the way she acted so stiff and professional, as if she were wary of him, that turned him on, too. He was accustomed to women throwing themselves at him. At every race, there were beautiful, Barbie-doll-shaped women scheming to meet him. Some of them bluffed their way through race track security, some approached him in bars and restaurants, some even stalked him to his hotel room. He thought he’d seen it all—but he’d never seen anything quite like Frannie Hannon.
“Do you need a pen?”
He realized he was staring at her, gazing deep into her black-ringed eyes. “Yes.”
She handed him the pen in her hand. His fingers deliberately brushed hers as he took it. She pulled back, cleared her throat and spun toward her computer so abruptly that she nearly hurled herself out of her swivel chair.
Austin grinned. No, sirree. He’d never met anyone quite like Frannie.
He quickly filled out the form while she pulled a program up on the computer. When he finished, she entered the information into her computer, printed out a paper and handed it to him.
“I need you to check this over and make sure all the information is correct, then sign it.”
“All right.” He glanced over the page, scrawled his name on the line at the bottom and pushed the paper across the desk toward her.
Frannie opened a side drawer and pulled out a small packet. “That takes care of the paperwork. Here’s your account number and passbook, along with some checks and deposit slips. How much would you like to deposit?”
Austin rubbed his chin. “Oh, I don’t know. About a hundred grand, I guess.”
Frannie’s blackened eyes widened. “You want to deposit one hundred thousand dollars?”
Austin nodded. “If that’s all right.”
“Well, yes, of course. But most people would want to put that kind of money in one of our higher interest-bearing accounts.”
Shucks, honey, if my interest were much higher, I’d have a hard time walking out of here.
Austin ran a hand down his face. Good grief, what was the matter with him? Hell. He ought to just ask her out and be done with it. Once he got to know her and the newness wore off, he was sure he’d lose interest, just like always.
He opened his mouth, ready to ask what she was doing Saturday night, but she was leaning across her desk, her ridiculously streaked face frowning with seriousness.
“It’s your decision, of course.” Her eyes were earnest in that burglar’s mask of mascara. “But we have some excellent rates on our C.D.s. You really ought to consider a long-term investment.”
“I’m not much for long-term arrangements.” But I bet she is, came a wayward voice from inside his head. The thought hit him like a splash of cold water.
Hell, he had no business getting involved with a woman like Frannie. He wasn’t a long-term kind of guy, and it didn’t take a call to the Psychic Hotline to figure out that a buttoned down, serious-eyed gal like Frannie wasn’t one-night-stand material. In fact, it was a pretty sure bet that she didn’t take anything—including dating—lightly. Which was exactly the reason he needed to keep his mouth shut, leave the lady alone and haul his tail out of there.
“Long-term investments pay the highest returns,” Frannie insisted.
He shoved back his chair. “Sorry, but that’s not my style. I prefer to take my chances in the stock market. This account is just to have some money handy in case I need it.” He pulled a check book out of his pocket and rapidly filled out a check. Pushing it across the desk, he rose to his feet. “It’s been nice doing business with you. Stay out of traffic and don’t rescue any more dogs, you hear?”
And stay off of men’s laps, unless you want to deal with the consequences.
The annoying thing was, he wasn’t altogether sure she didn’t. She sure sent out a lot of mixed signals. He turned and strode out of the bank, wanting to put some distance between them before he was tempted to try to figure out exactly what her signals meant.
Five
“I looked like I’d gone six rounds with Mike Tyson,” Frannie moaned that evening after work as she sat at the kitchen table of the B & B with Summer and Jasmine. She stared down at her glass of iced tea. “When I looked in the restroom mirror, I wanted to sink right through the floor.”
“Well,” Jasmine said defensively, “I tried to signal you to wipe your face.”
“Without my contacts or glasses, I can’t see across the room. Why didn’t you come over and tell me?”
Jasmine lifted her shoulders and grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t want to interrupt you and Austin. He was staring at you as if you were the most fascinating creature he’d ever seen.”
“Creature’s the word for it,” Frannie mumbled.
Jasmine grinned. “Well, I told you about your makeup as soon as he left.”
&n
bsp; Frannie squeezed a slice of lemon into her glass. “I just wish you’d come over and told me when things first started going downhill.”
“You mean when you went downhill—into Austin’s lap?” Jasmine asked.
Summer snorted.
Jasmine grinned impishly. “Gee, I thought that was when things really started to pick up.”
Both cousins snickered and Frannie shot them a disgusted look. “I’m glad you’re both amused.”
Jasmine reached out and patted her hand. “Oh, come on, Frannie. You’ve got to admit, it was awfully funny.”
“Depends on your perspective,” Frannie replied. “I’d be a lot more inclined to laugh if I weren’t dying of embarrassment.”
Summer raised her hands in a placating gesture. “Well, it seems to me that we’re overlooking the really important thing here.”
“Oh? And what’s that?” Frannie asked.
“That the flirting technique was successful. Austin came over when you made eye contact. We just need to send you out to practice it some more.”
Frannie shook her head. “Oh, no. I’m through with making a fool of myself in public.”
Jasmine and Summer looked at each other and frowned.
“Well, then, we’ll just have to coach you in private,” Summer said decisively. “That’s how beauty contestants do it.” At Frannie’s inquisitive look, she explained, “A lot of contestants have behind-the-scene coaches who work with them on their posture and facial expressions and body language.”
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” Frannie looked from Summer to Jasmine, then back again. “You two would be my coaches?”
Summer and Jasmine both nodded.
“And as my coaches, you’d criticize everything I do, every minute that I’m awake?”
“Pretty much,” Summer admitted.
“Oh, gee. Excuse me if I’m not jumping up and down with enthusiasm.”
Jasmine laughed. “I know it sounds unpleasant, but Summer’s right. The key to sending out the right vibes to a man is body language.”