“Okay…the way I see it…You’re a lot like Logan. I’m on the far other side and Cade wanders somewhere between both. Now Frannie…I’m not even sure she’s on the line…” Mac opened the bottle of tea he bought and took a long drink. “And I’m guessing that’s the problem.”
“You’re good at guessing. She’s also decided that she should help me find someone more like me,” Donovan said through his teeth, glaring at the fogged window. He looked over at Mac who had one eye closed. “Yeah…”
“It isn’t your professional self she’s having a problem with,” Mac said thoughtfully.
“And how would you know that?”
“Because…the suit belongs to Sophie…who belongs to Nate…who listens. Frannie wanted to see if she could fit into your world,” Mac told him. “But she’s also upset that you don’t believe in her profession, which translates as…”
“Not believing in her,” Donovan said with a tired sigh. “Yeah, that one will haunt me and take a lot longer to straighten out. I have to corral her before she drives me nuts.”
“Welcome to the club. I take it she’s avoiding you?”
“Like the plague,” he agreed, tossing the cup into the bin and standing up.
“Well…make it end soon. I’m betting on you…and I’ll win the pool that’s going,” Mac told him with a chuckle at the deep groan.
Frannie carefully hung up the suit and smiled at Sophie. “It was fun. A little like a costume. But I couldn’t breathe. My skin felt…smothered. You and Sam and others…you do it so well, so perfectly.”
“Frannie…it’s okay that it isn’t you. Cass doesn’t wear suits…neither does Mia…Eve loves t-shirts and jeans. It doesn’t matter what someone thinks or says…you know that…it matters how you feel about you,” Sophie walked with her out of the restroom.
“I know…and it even sounds like my lecture, Sophie. I’m okay as me,” Frannie said with a smile. “And I’m gonna be late again…” She groaned, waved and took off at a fast little run.
****
Never a man to look a gift horse in the mouth, Donovan had to wonder what was going on when he walked to the SUV shortly after five and Frannie was standing in the wind, wrapped in her cloak and waiting for him. He chirped the vehicle and watched her scramble inside, mentally making a note to get a step put on the thing. Slender fingers held the cloak tight around her while he started the car.
“There’s a blanket in the back seat, Frannie,” Donovan turned to get it when her palm came out to stop him.
“I’m okay. Thank you,” she slid the hood down with a slight shiver.
“You cut your hair,” he said, noticing the free flowing thick curls that barely touched her shoulders now. “It’s nice,” his hand rose to touch the silky strands. “Very nice, Frannie…” He felt his body tighten when she met his eyes, leaning slightly to meet him in the middle.
Frannie closed her eyes, savoring the sensations of his mouth against hers. It was soft and warm. She returned the pressure, her fingers leaving the cloak and going to the opening of his jacket. She clung to him and never wanted the kiss to end. There was a deep, hot hunger that she’d never known before when he moved to the center a little. She felt his palms on her waist, lifting her and pulling her onto his lap, cradling her head against his arm while his other palm circled her and held her close to him.
“Oh, Donovan…this is a bad idea…” Frannie whispered when his mouth trailed hot kisses along her throat.
“Tell me why and let me fix it, Frannie…” Donovan inhaled the sweet fragrance of herbal flowers that had become part of Frannie. His palm moved along her arm, fingers spearing into the soft, short hair and pulling her mouth hungrily back to his. His mouth raised enough for him to send his tongue out, letting it trace around the bow of her lips.
“Because it’s what you do…fix things…”
“Because I don’t want anyone else. I want you,” he met the wide green eyes when she put her palms against his chest and pushed for space. “Just talk to me, Frannie. Spend time with me. I don’t know or understand what you do, but I’m willing to learn.”
“I…I think we should go home,” she said softly, uncertain just how she got on his lap as she tried to get back to her side of the car. She buckled her seat belt, holding her cloak close mostly to keep her hands from shaking. She wanted to believe him. She listened to the voice inside her head telling her he…they…deserved a chance.
“You gave up the suit?” Donovan straightened his slacks and guided them out of the parking lot and onto the streets.
“It isn’t me…it was fun…like a costume…but not me,” Frannie said softly.
“You don’t need to be anyone but you, Frannie,” Donovan said honestly. She didn’t put on her music, simply sat staring. He wasn’t sure if that was good or not, her silence.
Frannie slid from the SUV and wandered into the house a short time later, hanging her cloak up and continuing to her study. So much to think about, she mused, putting a comfortable pair of slippers on before heading to the dining room.
“So…you finally did it, eh?” Alister entered at the same time, nodding his approval at the hair cut. “Very lovely, Francine.”
“It’s so…breezy…” She said with a slightly wrinkled nose, trying not to blush at the laughter from them both. “Still enough for me to bind out of the way, but I like it…oh, we’re going to watch a movie in my study after dinner, Father, so don’t keep Donovan long with chatter, please.”
“Oh, of course not,” Alister agreed with a chuckle, immediately engaging Donovan in a discussion of the news throughout the world.
Frannie left them with their tea, her head shaking as she straightened her study and settled with her translation behind her desk.
Donovan stood quietly in the open doorway. Seeing her bent over a text with those big glasses on her nose was a sight that would never get old. She was so intent, so determined.
Fierce. She seemed so delicate and fragile. Then he had the images of her in the tent with Tansy that morning. Confident, self-assured and positive with skills that he could only begin to comprehend. She’d taken the wraps off her wrists, the discolored yellow-brown of the bruises still making a swell of anger sweep through him. He made a mental note to check with Cassidy in the morning about progress, but somehow he knew if she knew anything, he would know.
He cleared his throat softly, her attention immediately his as she looked up, removing the glasses and squeezing her eyes tightly closed for a moment.
“Still reading through it?” Donovan moved into the large room, amazed at the size and the stuff she had packed inside it. In between each set of large bookshelves, was a long oval window with an arched top, latched tightly in the center. It was a ten foot ceiling and the shelves went the distance.
“A dozen pages to go,” she said triumphantly, closing the book and setting it atop the notepad.
“What movie are we watching?” He wandered around the shelves. Topics that ranged from dreams to childbirth; from nutrition to setting broken bones. Her book collection appeared to cover everything, just like Frannie herself.
“I thought I’d let you make that choice,” Frannie came around the desk and leaned back on the edge. “Since I chose the way we spend time together…it seemed only fair.”
“Then how about just talking,” he turned to face her, nervously shoving his palms into the pockets of his jeans. “Just you and me and any topic imaginable.”
“Nothing is out of bounds?” Frannie asked very softly, keeping her eyes on his without wavering. She saw a brief moment of tension in his eyes, but he nodded. “Then let’s go upstairs,” she took his palm and shut the light off, guiding him to the stairs outside her study.
“I wondered how you got into the actual tower,” Donovan smiled at the small LED lights strung along the wide stairs that led up. He stopped in the doorway to the second floor and just stared. The entire center was open, a large open space with hardwood flooring. Half of the
area held a sewing cabinet with machine, fabric and a large table with things scattered over the surface that he had no idea what they were.
The other half had a gas fireplace that she turned on; a thick rug and quilts on the floor in front of it. There was a music player on the mantle with several CD’s on the edge. He walked over and read through the titles.
“You like country music?” He asked casually.
“Some…I love that one…have you heard it?” Frannie took the CD and slipped it in. She put it on low and moved to sit on the floor. She didn’t say anything when he stopped it and lowered himself to sit across from her on the quilts.
“I have it…”
“Funny…I didn’t picture you a country fan…” Frannie stared at him.
“I think there’s a lot we don’t know about each other, Frannie. How…” Donovan brought one palm up, rubbing his neck heavily. “How do you make the nightmares stop?”
“I can show you…and explain how I think it works…” She slid back slightly. “You sleep on your side. Lay down…like you do when you’re sleeping…” She met the dubious look on his face.
“On the floor?”
“On the floor, Donovan,” Frannie waited, watching him go to his knees and stretch out on the thick rug. “Yes…on your side. You usually have your arm up…yes, like that. When I…your dream aura is as strong as your daily one, Donovan. It breaks into my sleep like…like a burst of thunder…”
“I’m sorry, Frannie…I honestly had no idea…” He tried to turn but met with resistance in her palms.
“No apologies. Okay…so I make up the calming towel and bring it with me. I lay it over your forehead,” she took a clean towel from the side and folded it, laying it on his temple. “Then…part of ending it is getting control of your body. In your dream, you may well be standing still, but your body…it’s tense…and moving…trying to move you away from whatever it is that’s upsetting you…” She slid her left arm between his head and shoulders and circled his shoulders, holding him firmly against her.
Donovan felt her breasts against the upper part of his shoulders and realized how very strong she was inside that slender little body. She moved very close, pressing herself against him from behind. His mind groaned when he felt his body reacting to her nearness.
“Then your other arm is usually along your side…and I wrap our hands together. I put one of my feet over yours…like this…”
“And the voice I hear?”
“It’s me…I can only guess…and make generic statements…the key is a soft, calming tone that elicits trust…you have to trust my voice, if not my words,” she told him gently, laying her head against his, her lips brushing his ear.
“It’s usually the same one…the same place,” he began talking quietly, feeling her against him. He closed his eyes and let himself trust. “We’d been getting intel about a roving band killing off anyone they felt…ethnic cleansing. The more I questioned and interpreted, the more we found out we were being fed wrong information. There was an old school on the edge of the village we were in…no power…no heat…windows broken out…but several families had set up in there. We knew them. Nice people…just people wanting someplace safe. We didn’t get there in time…they’d burned some…just shot others…the smell of death…the kids…the…”
“Futility,” Frannie said softly. “You’re angry at yourself,” she said, pieces slowly fitting together. “That’s the frustration I sensed…”
“I go over and over it in my mind…something I missed in my translations…something I didn’t hear…hell, I…” He stopped, squeezed his eyes shut tight and relaxed against her, listened to her whisper in his mind. It was time to let them rest in peace. Time to let them go. He’d told them he was sorry a thousand times. Now he had to say good bye.
“Oh, Donovan…I wish I could take the memories away…” she whispered against his head, aware of the tear that slid free before she could catch it. “You didn’t argue with your parents about the military…your mother wanted to protect you from that. It’s what moms are supposed to do…”
His fingers curled tightly around hers, memories of the strength in Tansy’s hands when the baby was being born flashing through his mind. He carried her fingers to his lips.
“You make your own dresses,” he said after a quiet pause, his sigh ragged when she untangled them and climbed to her feet. She tugged on his hand, pulling him to his feet and traveling around the room and flicking light switches on as she went.
“Can you dance?” She asked abruptly, taking her little iPod and sticking it into the dock on the radio.
“Can…” Donovan laughed. “I suppose I can hold my own…”
“Good,” Frannie tuned up an older song, a light Jimmy Buffet two step. “Show me.”
“My pleasure, ma’am,” he returned, easily spinning her in his arms and around the hardwood floor. She was easy to guide, her feet light and smile incredibly addictive. The song came to an end and she stepped back out of his arms, hands above her head as she began moving to the new music. It was another soft country song and he grabbed her palm and spun her back into his arms, dipping and swaying until the music stopped.
“Wow…you can dance…” she said breathlessly, her palms tightening on his shoulders. She saw the fire in his eyes when the music came to a close and they stood close together, his palms sliding down her back and pulling her hard against him. The slow song weaving its way around them, her hands sliding over his shoulders and into the hair at the back of his head. “Careful…this is a Christmas song…” she whispered, her lips barely moving against his.
Chapter Eleven
Donovan settled his mouth over hers, the music completely forgotten. He eased them down onto the collection of quilts, guiding her body over his without breaking their kiss. Her elbows fell on either side of his head, her mouth soft and hard, sweeping in and taking him on a sensuous journey. His senses were alive, the scents and taste and touch of her small hands against his face. Her body stretched out along his, the groan she pulled from deep inside him echoing in the room when she moved her hips, stroking and pressing heavily against his erection.
He tipped her to the side, his hands up and framing her face, staring into the wide green eyes that opened slowly.
“Frannie…what have you done to me…we’re supposed to be talking…”
“Why did you take the job at the resort?” Frannie brought her tongue out, bringing moisture to her lips. She watched her sudden question bring a light of confusion to his eyes and she laughed, her fingernail tracing a line around his lower lip. “Do you believe in destiny? Or fate? Sorry you suggested talking?”
“I’d been looking for something in this area for awhile now. I like it here. I like the green…it might seem odd, but I like chopping wood for the fireplace. I like hiking. I wanted to be closer to my parents.”
“I love the water…SCUBA is a favorite…and I love beach combing, especially after a wild storm,” she saw the sparks in his eyes and leaned in to kiss him again. “I like kissing you…”
“Frannie…tell me you’re giving up this idea of me and someone else…” Donovan lifted his mouth from hers reluctantly.
“Yes…I did…it…it made me sad…I couldn’t do it…”
“Good…” He breathed in relief, their lips once more touching, caressing until they both parted breathlessly. “I don’t know if I have an answer for fate or destiny. I failed miserably at anything requiring imagination and abstract thinking. I need things I can touch and see and hear…budgets and contracts…I think it’s why mysteries appeal to me.”
“Thinking outside the box…destiny would say we were put together for balance," Frannie told him softly.
“I can understand that,” he admitted quietly. “I never thought about it until I realized a big piece of me was missing. I spent two hours the other night playing the game and just relaxed.”
“And the world continued to spin,” she teased, laughing when he growle
d and made a dive for her, only to find she was on her knees out of his reach. “You’ve forgotten how to play, Donovan…play is essential…no matter the age…” She dodged his grasp, bare feet moving lithely to the side and dancing and twirling while he watched.
“Tell me what is involved in play, Miss Kendall…” Donovan climbed to his feet. Pale lashes narrowed, blue eyes watching her movements carefully.
“You look very predatory, Mr. Banner…” she purred in sweet approval.
“I’m hunting…” He told her with a growl.
“Ohhh…I should be worried…” Frannie giggled and swerved at the last minute, watching him sweep past her as she moved toward the fireplace. He made another more calculated step, forcing her toward the open doorway. “Trying to box me in…”
Donovan watched her nibble on her lip, his gaze sweeping her deep breaths and bare feet. She held her skirts in her hands as she backed up, making a last minute move to the side that he blocked. Like the study below, there was no door on this level, just the arched opening. He lunged forward to catch her against the wall only to have her vanish into the opening. He straightened in time to see her skirts disappear above him around the curve.
Frannie knew every inch of the room, especially in the darkness. She stood silent, motionless. She could barely make out his silhouette when he moved into the doorway.
“Damn…” Donovan stood in the doorway, the only marker he had at the moment. Slowly, very slowly, his eyes adjusted, making out shapes positioned around the room. “You know I’ve been professionally trained for this…”
Frannie pursed her lips and watched.
Donovan moved carefully into the room. Lights from outside sent little flashes bouncing off the windows and showing him minute peeks of the layout of the room. To his direct right was the bed and what looked like two nightstands. He was about to turn away from that direction when he felt a pair of strong palms in the center of his back. He swore softly at the same time his foot caught on something beside the bed, sending him tumbling to the surface. He reacted quickly to roll to his back, but not quick enough.
WindSwept Narrows: #7 Francine Kendall Page 10