Frankie stepped between Nikos and his brother, putting her painted nail at Cosmos’s chest. “Look, I don’t know what I did to tweak you, but you offered to bring me to the hospital. Yet the entire way, you were a total cranky ass. If you’ve got some kind of problem with me, spit it out, Cosmos, and do it while you can still claim to have a set of balls.”
Nikos’s mouth fell open before he had to clamp it shut so his laughter wouldn’t wake Mitch. He made a face at Cosmos over Frankie’s shoulder.
She whipped around, facing Nikos, her eyes luminous with a harsh glare up at him. “That goes for you, too, Antonakas. You have some nerve offering to bring me here, then grudging about it the whole way. Very passive-aggressive, if you ask me, and totally not okay by this girl. So those sticks you two have up your asses? Be good boys and help each other by pulling them out!”
Frankie pushed past Nikos with a hand to his shoulder to gather her jacket and purse. “Now be quiet and let’s go. Juliana’s on her way over, and I need to get back to Gail before she finds out what I’m doing. And you two beasts need to get home to Voula before she has my head for killing you both. Which I will do if you don’t spit out your beef with me by the time we get in that car!”
With that, she stomped past both of them toward the elaborate front door—its etched-in-gold glass pristinely smudge-free—while two sullen, checked men followed her on heavy feet.
Nikos couldn’t stop himself from noticing how hot she was when she was riled up. She was damned sexy all seething and spouting orders.
Nikos leaned over her and said, “You’re a little hot when you’re angry.”
With a sigh of disgust, Frankie folded her hands together under her purse. “I’m glad you feel that way because that means by the time it takes to get back to Jersey, I’ll be smokin’. Now get in the car and spill the problem.”
Shit. Now he’d have to explain his irrational, knee-jerk reaction to her running to Mitch’s aid. That meant they’d have to talk feelings, and he’d have to have an explanation for his feelings, which had to have some basis. Otherwise they’d appear knuckle dragger-ish and petty.
That basis was Anita.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Nikos groaned.
He hated to talk feelings when they were his. He was a much better listener.
Though, if Frankie’s stiff spine and dour expression were any indication of what was to come, he’d probably be better off deaf.
Cosmos pressed a button on his key fob, starting the engine via remote.
Nikos held the back door for Frankie to slide in, then followed suit by climbing in beside her.
Cosmos snorted. “You’re being taken for a ride, Frankie.”
She bristled in her heated seat. “Meaning?”
“Cos thinks Mitch is lying to you because he wants something,” Nikos offered, averting his gaze once more, tight of jaw, eyes gleaming.
Now Frankie snorted. “Weren’t you there when Doogie Howser gave us the skinny?” She still couldn’t believe Mitch was actually dying.
She couldn’t believe.
Oh God. Had she just thought that? Was she doubting Mitch? Yet, she’d heard the news herself. With her own ears, she’d heard a doctor who was all of twelve if he was a day tell her Mitch had cancer and his chances of survival weren’t good—complete with stats and percentages she couldn’t remember for the attempt to process it all. He’d said it while he’d looked at the wall behind her instead of directly in the eye.
He’d said it with a tone that had been as impersonal as if he’d been ticking off grocery items on a list.
“Yeah,” Cosmos snorted, interrupting her thoughts of doubt. “I was there, and I still don’t believe it. Mitch wants something.”
Frankie snorted back. “Right, because I have so much to offer. Really, Cosmos, what is it that you think I have that Mitch wants enough to tell me he’s dying of cancer for?”
“Maybe he wants you back? He wouldn’t be the first guy to pull a desperate, stupid stunt like that.”
“And when he doesn’t die? Then what?” Frankie reached over the seat and patted Cosmos on the shoulder, ignoring that niggling fear Mitch was lying. “Good try, but I doubt Mitch wants me back, and for the record, even if he did, I don’t want him back.”
Ah, revelation. Saying those words out loud felt good, but better, they felt right. If she’d had even a small misgiving about any residual feelings for Mitch, they’d been quashed tonight. Even in light of a possible terminal illness, it didn’t change how she felt. Though, she’d be there for him when she could. What decent human being wouldn’t offer at least some solace? Yet, it didn’t change the fact that she was so over Mitch and ready to continue her life, move forward, and maybe toward Nikos, she’d barely paused.
Her words clearly changed Nikos’s attitude by the way he walked his fingers across the leather seat and reached for hers.
Frankie’s eyes warned him he’d better back off. “Oh, no,” she whispered with a fierce glance at him, flicking the back of his hand and snatching hers away. “There will be no making up until we talk about what led us to have a reason to make up. Again. So back on over there, pal. Now, your crazy theory, Cosmos? Any other nefarious conspiracies you’d like to share?”
Cosmos gave a light tap to the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “I don’t know. I just know he’s up to something and it smells. I just haven’t figured it out yet, but I will.”
Sitting back in the seat, Frankie turned to Nikos with flashing eyes. “Pearls of wisdom you’d care to share?”
Nikos’s jaw cracked before he spoke. “Look, I’m not saying the guy’s a liar, but you won’t catch me discounting the idea that he’s capable of it. He did cheat on you. That requires lying. Pearled enough for you?” He followed up his sarcasm with a grin. The one he seemed to innately know made her melt.
But all melting was on hold until she found out what bug he’d had up his ass. “That’s true. Point taken, but cheating and dying are huge leaps apart. So here’s what I think. I think I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself. There aren’t many who know Mitch the way I do. He’s been known to stretch the truth to suit his needs, definitely. But this . . . Telling me he’s dying for some unknown purpose is disgusting and cruel. If he’s not telling the truth, I guess I’ll know when he doesn’t turn up dead, but he’ll wish he was. Until I hear otherwise, as far as I’m concerned, the least I can give him is my compassion, and that’s just how it’s going to be.”
Cosmos shook his head. “So why does he need you to help him finish out the season’s shows, Frankie?”
“Because he’s sick? All he asked me to do was help him with a recipe or two so he can finish up the season before he begins treatment. It’s not a big deal. I did it all the time for him when we were married. Do you blame him for not wanting anyone to know, Cosmos? Especially his audience? Look, I don’t think I have to explain to you both that Mitch might have been a shitty husband, but don’t you think he at least deserves some kindness because he’s a sick man, not to mention a human being?”
Her gut tightened. She was torn in half by the part of her that wanted to spit in Mitch’s face for not just hurting her, but not even caring enough to see if she was all right after her media blitz. The half that wanted to tell him to go to hell—he didn’t deserve her sympathy when he’d given her not an ounce.
While the other half of her reasoned that Mitch was a man she’d once loved and he could die if the chemo he’d talked about didn’t work. There was just no way she couldn’t at least try and do something.
“Consider it fulfilling a man’s dying wish . . . or whatever. Either way, I make my own choices and if I choose to help Mitch at his request, that’s what I’m going to do. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t? So deal.”
Boom.
First single, postdivorce, “live your life the way you want to” serious decision made. Though, the doubt Cosmos’s words created niggled at her, made her sympathetic he
art twist in indecision. Would Mitch do something so awful? And why? He wasn’t exactly above some pretty low-down stunts, but that sort of lie would make him a much shittier person than she could’ve ever imagined.
“It’s a bad idea, Frankie. That’s all I’m saying.” Cosmos’s tone was lighter, but his statement held the intent of his supposition.
She pursed her lips in the dark warmth of the car. “Noted. Now let it go, and take me home. I’m tired. I’m cranky, and I haven’t eaten in twelve hours.”
“You missed that entire spread at the party? How could you possibly miss all that food?”
“Ask your brother,” Frankie offered.
Cosmos paused, then cleared his throat. “Sorry. Never mind.”
Nikos inched his fingers over her knee. “If you make up with me, I’ll cook you something back at the diner. But only if you stop giving me the evil eye.”
“You’re due evil eye, mister. You evil-eyed me the whole way here. And I’m not sure you have enough food in two diners to make that up to me.” She gave him a condescending glare, turning to look out the window.
His grin was sheepish in the passing headlights of other cars. “I can try.”
Frankie made a face at him, tightening her jacket around her.
Nikos slid over closer to her, walking his fingers up her arm until they tangled in her hair. He twirled a long piece of it. “But it’s Christmas.”
“And that means you can be an eternal shit with me? No. I don’t think so,” she whispered, turning to look at him, fighting the warm swell of emotions gathering in her belly when he grinned. “If you want to make it up to me, you’d better tell me what’s stuck up your ass, and then—and only then—can you cook for me.” She gave him a flirty smile filled with this new brand of sass she’d acquired. “You have your relationship requirements, and I have mine. Mine include no covert attacks I can’t defend myself from because I don’t know what the attack is for. I had enough of that in my last relationship.”
“That means you have to talk about your feelings, Nik,” Cosmos crowed, clearly enjoying antagonizing his brother.
Nikos flicked the back of his brother’s head. “Can it. And don’t you have headphones for your iPod, or those ear things? Put them on and mind your p’s and q’s.” He pulled her closer to him, and while she wasn’t reluctant, she wasn’t losing her footing either. “Now, where were we?”
“The part where you tell me why you acted like I’d taken away your World of Warcraft privileges.”
“Yeah . . . the feelings part.”
His tone had a distinct ring of disgust to it. A moment of concern struck her. “Is that a problem for you? Talking about your feelings?”
“What do you consider a problem?”
“A problem is when you don’t open that mouth of yours—and we both know you’re not afraid to do that—and tell me what the problem is. Instead, you clam up and become sullen and moody. You have all these requirements from me, and you definitely didn’t have any trouble spitting those out, but I can’t have any? Not happening. So I have some, and if you don’t like it, then it’s like you said—all or nothing. One of those requirements is to tell me when you’re pissed.”
Yes. That was definitely a standard she wouldn’t compromise on. No more sneaky, behind-her-back blindsiding. Bamby was enough clunked-in-the-head for one lifetime. Maybe if Mitch had shared his apparent lack of interest in her and their faltering marriage, she could have saved herself the pain of a televised near homicide.
“Okay. I don’t love sharing my feelings.”
His admission was hard-won. Frankie read that in his tone, but it wasn’t enough. Suddenly, absolute honesty was the only thing she’d settle for. Maxine was right about one thing—you definitely learned as you went.
Frankie met his eyes dead-on when she said, “Well, I don’t always love it, but I’m not too much of a chicken to do it when it has to be done. Not anymore. So enough of changing the subject, using your good looks and devilish smile to charm me into ignoring the fact that there is a problem, and hit me. Be a brave little warrior now, or I’m going home and there’ll be no more communication until you fess up. Not. A. Word.”
“You think I have a devilish smile?” He winked, tracing the line of her nose with his index finger, making her insides turn to goo.
Now there was a feeling she was all too familiar with. When Mitch had decided she was his next kill, he’d wooed her with his savvy “man on the hunt for a mate” skills. Oh. No. Her head was on straight this time. No amount of charm and good looks was winning this battle.
She leaned forward, out of Nikos’s embrace, tapping Cosmos on the shoulder. He popped the earbuds out of his ears with a question on his face as he pulled off the turnpike.
“There’s a McDonald’s open—even on Christmas Eve, right? The one just a couple of blocks up the road from the diner? Would you be an angel and stop there for me?” She gave Nikos a pointed look while she pulled a ten-dollar bill from her purse. “I have a sudden hankering for a Big Mac meal. Supersized. Oh, with a milk shake. Chocolate. Wait, no! Strawberry. Ohhhh, and maybe an apple pie, seeing as I missed the one your Aunt Dora makes. You know, the one Voula raves about all the time.”
“Sure—”
“Okay, okay. Fine. We’ll talk,” Nikos spat, his mouth a thin line of reluctance.
Her lips pursed with sour disapproval. “Without the ’tude, thank you. Funny how you can turn that smile on and off at will to schmooze me, isn’t it? But I ask one little thing and you’re a cranky pants again.”
“Look, lovebirds, it’s after midnight. Man up, Nik, or shut up. I’m tired, and you know Mama’ll have me out in the backyard on that spit, roasting the leg of lamb at the crack of dawn for Christmas dinner. So make a choice or I’m dropping you both here and going home to get into my warm bed where I’ll laugh about ditching the two of you in this frozen tundra. Oh, yes, I will. Laugh and laugh.”
Nikos grunted. “Go to the diner, knucklehead,” then to Frankie, “I said we’d talk.”
As Cosmos pulled into the diner’s parking lot, Frankie sat back, pleased with herself for not allowing him to steamroll her.
She popped open the door, wincing at the rush of frigid air when she slid to the ground. “Thanks, Cosmos, and have a Merry Christmas. I’ll see you at work in a couple of days. Oh, and apologize to Voula for me, would you, please? I’m sorry I took you and Nikos from the party to tend to Mitch.”
“Night, Frankie,” he called. “Oh, and, Nik?”
Nikos stopped before sliding out the back door. “Yeah?”
With two fingers, Cosmos plucked something spidery and black out of his thick hair. “Tell Frankie she needs more glue.”
Her hand flew to her eye. Well, if Cosmos and Co. didn’t know for sure she and Nikos had slam-bammed each other, they did now. Her face turned red at Cosmos’s chuckle, making her pivot on her heels and run to reach the safety of the warm diner.
Nikos was right behind her, jamming the key into the door, then taking her hand and pulling her inside to push her up against the counter, placing his lips on hers.
The warmth of his mouth gave her legs a reason to wobble, but not her resolve. She placed her palms on his chest in objection. “Food and icky feelings. In that order before I die of starvation or lack of emotional fulfillment.” Frankie gave him a shove toward the kitchen, pulling her jacket off and draping it on the back of a stool.
Nikos shoved his way into the kitchen, going to the fridge to dig out some of the party leftovers. Yet he remained silent.
Frankie crossed her arms over her chest, determined to clear the air. “So, how is it that we only decided like three hours ago to become involved, and already your nose is out of joint? As records go, I think we’re, hands down, the winners.”
Nikos pulled the sauté pan from the shelf below the stove and threw a square of butter in it. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t mind being labeled a winner.”
The hearty sc
ent of leftover stuffing wafted to her nose, making Frankie rethink her demand that he take her home if he wouldn’t cough it up. So she’d give this one last try. Because she really was starving. “Okay, so here goes—because you’re rusty at this. I ask you a question and you answer.”
He didn’t look up from the pan, but he nodded his dark head, his fluid hands stirring the contents of the pan. “Done.”
It’s now or never, Frankie. “Who’s Anita and what does she have to do with me?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
From the journal of ex-trophy wife Frankie Bennett: Dear Santa, you’re all kinds of awesome drenched in awesome sauce. This year’s Christmas present beats an impersonal gift certificate to the spa at the Four Seasons from Mitch, hands down. I think you even managed to beat the year I got the Barbie Dream House and not one, but two Barbies. No easy feat there, sir. Love and a lifetime supply of whateverthehell kind of cookies you like.
His shoulders stiffened, instead of turning around to face the music. Nikos opted to keep his face buried in the sauté pan. “You heard.”
“Well, I didn’t just pick her name out randomly from the universe. So yes, I heard.”
“Why do you want to know?” A stupid question meant stupidly to fend off the inevitable stupid explanation he’d have to give. Thus, making him look stupid. Something he didn’t have much love for.
“You know why I want to know, because Cosmos mentioned her name in the same breath as mine and that breath wasn’t exactly favorable. So who’s Anita and why’s she such a big deal?”
“She was my fiancée.” He heard Frankie’s breathing halt, but it didn’t thwart her quest.
“So what does she have to do with me?”
Here we go. “Her circumstances weren’t unlike yours.”
“She was an ex-trophy wife who worked for you for little more than sweatshop wages?”
Nikos picked up on her tone, teasing and light, but the subject of Anita was anything but light in his mind. “No. She was on the rebound.”
Burning Down the Spouse Page 23