The admission sent a team of butterflies fluttering in her belly, and she smiled. He’d shown up way early, which meant he was as nervous as she was. She did a little shimmy before she remembered this wasn’t a date.
“That’s Mrs. Nussbaum. She likes to know what’s going on, is all. She’ll come by tomorrow with a pie and twenty questions. Believe me, you made her day showing up. I’m basically ready anyway. Why don’t you come on in? The door’s unlocked. Have a seat on the couch, and I’ll be down in like two minutes.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She disconnected, moving to the window facing the empty driveway. Rats. She’d been hoping to get a look at him before he came in, but he must have parked on the street.
She scurried over to the bedroom door and opened it a hair. Closing one eye, she peeked through the crack. A moment later the front door swung wide and Mac stepped in. She bit back a groan. His camel sports coat hugged his magnificent shoulders, narrowing to skim his trim waist. His dark hair was still damp from the shower, and he ran a nervous hand through it. The black eye should have detracted from his allure, but it only added to his rakish good looks. He was downright edible. She glanced down at her stupid sweater set with a scowl.
“I’ll be in the living room,” Mac called down the hall before stepping out of view.
She backed away from the door.
“Okay. Be there in a minute!”
She eyed the pile of clothes again and ran over to the bed. What now? No way was she going out dressed like a soccer mom when he looked like that. Besides, he’d agreed they’d go out of town, so no one would recognize them anyway. What was the harm in dressing up a little?
She whipped the sweater off and tossed it onto the hardwood floor as other possible options scrolled through her mind. Bending low, she steadied herself on the nightstand and yanked off one boot before moving to the other. It was stubborn but finally gave with one last vicious tug.
From the corner of her eye, she spied the trailing tie of her green wrap dress in the closet. Perfect choice. She hurried across the room, when her foot tangled itself in the black sweater on the floor. One second she was sliding forward like Kristi Yamaguchi at the Winter Olympics, the next she was airborne. As if in slow motion, she windmilled, flailing to stay upright, but it was no use. She hit the ground flat on her back, hard. The wind whooshed from her lungs as she stared up at the ceiling in shock.
“Jesus, Frankie, are you okay?” Mac’s concerned voice echoed down the hallway.
She struggled for breath to respond, but her body wouldn’t comply. “Frankie?” Concern had turned to straight up fear, and footsteps thundered toward her.
She was half-naked, not to mention surrounded by the evidence of her neurosis. She rolled to her side, ignoring the twinge in her back, and bounded to her feet. Mercifully, her lungs unlocked, and she sucked in a gasp. “I’m—”
Too late. Even as the word left her lips, the door swung open. Mac barreled in, skidding to a stop when he saw her.
“What the hell happened? Are you all right?” To his credit, his worried gaze stayed locked on her eyes.
Her face burned as she folded her arms over her chest and tried not to wither up and die of embarrassment. Donning the big white bra had seemed like such a good idea at the time. It was sort of her backup plan. So, on the off chance that tonight did somehow cross the line into date territory, and even if Mac did try to charm the shirt off her, it wouldn’t go very far. She’d no doubt call things to a halt when she remembered that she was sporting not only the ugliest bra in history, but a matching pair of panties.
Hell, who was she kidding? Underwear that big couldn’t be called panties.
Those things were bloomers. Thank God she still had on her jeans.
“I’m fine. I oiled the hardwood the other day and the floors are super slippery. I took a little spill, but I’m okay.” She eyed the clothes on the bed longingly. Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink. In order to put a shirt on, she’d have to uncross her arms. There was no way in hell she was giving Mac a full frontal of the Spinster Maker 3000. It was bad enough the thick, unsightly straps were in view.
“Sorry to barge in like that, but the noise was so loud and you didn’t answer when I called.” Now that he’d established she was okay, it was his turn to look embarrassed. He turned away but paused, catching sight of the bed. His lips twitched as her face furnace cranked even higher.
“I didn’t know where we were going, so I was having a hard time choosing,” she explained hurriedly. “And then you came in the jacket, looking so nice, so I wanted to change.”
He bent to retrieve the sweater on the floor and kept his eyes averted as he held it in her direction. She pulled it on, nearly wilting with relief. Everything was going to be okay.
“How did you know I was wearing a jacket?” he asked.
Not okay. Now she had to tell him she’d been spying on him through the door like some kind of stalker.
“What am I thinking, standing here grilling you?” he said with a self- conscious chuckle, saving her from having to respond. “When I heard that crash and you didn’t answer, it shook me up a little. You go ahead, finish getting ready. I’ll be in the living room.”
She squeezed her eyes closed and waited until he was gone before she opened them again. This was fate’s way of reinforcing what she already knew.
She was better off not even attempting to socialize with men, especially ones as hot and compelling as Mac Sanders. It wasn’t even technically time for them to go yet, and already things had been a disaster. She stood in the center of the room, the seesaw of emotions rolling her one way, then the other. Maybe she should beg off.
The thought sent a bitter wash of disappointment sloshing through her. She hadn’t been this excited for something since Big Frank had bought her her first car.
What advice would Dad give her if he were still here? Probably, “Are you shittin’ me, kiddo? Great guy. Treats you with respect. Plus, you made a commitment to go. Get your ass in gear and get out there.”
“But what do I wear, Dad?” she whispered miserably. Big Frank, dead or alive, would’ve had no answer for that. That thought alone spurred her on. Life was short. If she got to have one not-date with Mac Sanders, she was going to enjoy it.
She tugged the band from her hair and ran a brush through until it hung in soft waves. Then, with a renewed sense of determination, she crossed the room to her closet and plucked the green dress off its hanger. Peering down at her bra, she briefly considered changing that too but decided against it.
Having a fun night with a great guy who was totally out of her league was one thing. Letting it progress to sex followed by certain complications was something totally different. She thought of Mac and how gorgeous he looked tonight and wondered if she should’ve invested in something more sturdy.
Like a chastity belt.
Chapter 3
Mac stared at the bedroom door down the hall, grinning like a fool. He heard a murmured voice and could only assume Frankie was talking to herself. Why that utterly charmed him, he couldn’t say. She was like two sides of a coin. Most of the time, she put up that sexy-siren front, all confidence, swagger and raw sexuality. All it took was a couple sincere compliments and she ended up tongue-tied or babbling like a teenage girl with a crush.
He never knew what he was going to get with her, and he wanted nothing more than to solve the mystery.
Was she one, the other or both?
Regardless, a huge weight had been lifted from him because no matter what she said, this was most definitely a date. Her nervousness and the sheer elevation of Clothes Mountain were proof enough of that. Now all he had to do was make sure he stayed out of the friend zone and in the date zone.
The door swung open, and Frankie stepped into the hallway. His stomach bottomed out as she made her way to the living room. The neckline of the emerald-green dress was modest and the length mid-calf, so it shouldn’t have been half
as sexy as it was. He’d seen more of her skin many times. Even her overalls were more revealing. But this dress, this woman, had his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.
The clingy fabric wrapped itself around her like a lover, skimming along the dips and curves of her body as she moved. The stilettos she wore looked like they were made of black lace, and he couldn’t help but picture them behind his neck. His heart hammered as he stood to greet her.
“Ready?” she asked, giving him a sassy wink. Confident Frankie had taken the wheel.
He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Yes. You look absolutely amazing.”
She must have sensed his sincerity because she beamed at him. “Thanks.
Back atcha.”
He helped her don a lightweight jacket then led her outside to the car. As they approached, Frankie let out a long, low whistle. “Damn. I mean, damn. She’s a beaut, Mac. Rangoon Red. My favorite. Why haven’t I seen this yet?” she demanded.
“Never needed any work,” he said with a shrug. “Plus, with the weather around here lately, I don’t get much of a chance to take her out. Figured we might as well take advantage of this warm spell. Speaking of which, I didn’t even think about the whole hair thing. Usually at the garage, you have it in a ponytail. You want me to put it up?” He motioned to the convertible top.
She shook her head and laughed. “Are you kidding me? That’s half the reason to ride in it. Feel the wind in your hair and all. It’s the perfect night for it too. I can’t believe I didn’t hear you coming.”
“It was a while ago. You were probably in the shower.”
“Let’s crank her up now, then. I’m dying to hear. I’d love to get a look inside, but I don’t want to get my dress all dirty.” She sent a wistful glance toward the hood.
That dress was painfully hot, so he was in full agreement. If she was going to get it dirty, he’d make sure they found a much more creative way to make it happen.
He opened the door for her, and she slid in. Rubbing the seats, she murmured appreciatively. “Whoever restored her did an amazing job.”
“Thanks. It was a labor of love.”
Her gaze snapped back to his. “Wait, what? You?”
He nodded. “Yep. Took me two years.” He couldn’t stop the note of pride from slipping into his voice. Of the four cars he’d restored on his own, this was his favorite.
She faced him, genuine shock plain as day. “Why do you bring your cars to the garage if you can do work like this?”
“Two reasons. First, I don’t have the time. It’s a fun hobby, but I enjoy collecting as well and could never keep up. I try to pick a project every couple years, but more than that would feel like work, and I do enough of that.”
She nodded in understanding. “I totally get that. So what’s the other reason?”
He allowed himself the pleasure of looking, really looking, at her. The gleaming dark hair, the curious sherry-colored eyes, the full lips that haunted his nights.
He turned the key and the engine fired. “I think you already know the answer to that.”
Two hours later Frankie’s stomach was full of good food and her cheeks hurt from smiling as she gazed at Mac across the table. They hadn’t stopped talking since they’d gotten in the car. It had never felt forced or weird, and the fact that he was ridiculously easy on the eyes was icing on the cake.
“Believe me when I tell you, I saw the bra. Hard to miss.” He chuckled.
She swatted him playfully, but it suddenly seemed imperative that he know she didn’t dress like that all the time. “I wore it as a deterrent,” she blurted before she could stop herself.
He threw his head back and laughed. The sound sent a thrill through her. “If you think that makes me want you even an ounce less than I did before, you’re sadly mistaken.” His grin faded as he met her gaze and held it. “They don’t make a bra that ugly.”
They’d been joking and flirting all night, and she couldn’t remember enjoying herself more. The wine made her feel like sharing secrets, and she was tired of fighting it. Fighting him. Everything felt so right, so fun, so easy with Mac. She leaned in close to whisper, “It wasn’t supposed to deter you. It was supposed to deter me.”
His pupils dilated in the low light. “Ahhh, I think I’m starting to get it. But that opens a whole new line of questioning, doesn’t it?” He mimicked her, leaning forward until their faces were only a few inches apart. “Why would you need a deterrent? This isn’t a date. Because you don’t want me, right, Frankie?”
His husky voice had dropped even lower, his words sending a bolt of need through her. She swallowed hard. “I-I don’t know what I want anymore. It’s hard to explain. I’m not good at men. In fact, I’m so bad at them it’s just easier to stay away.”
He laid his hand over hers, tracing a thumb over the sensitive skin of her wrist. “I thought you were the love-’em-and-leave-’em type? You always play like you’ve got a whole team waiting on the bench biding their time for an inning on the field.”
His clever fingers were wreaking havoc on her nerves, and she struggled to stay on topic. “Yeah, well, it’s been a rough season.” She turned away, unable to look at him anymore. Those warm, patient eyes, the genuine curiosity without an ounce of judgment. A few quiet moments later her gaze was drawn back to his.
What was he thinking now?
“It’s bullshit,” she heard herself announce, and once she started, she couldn’t stop. “An act. It’s like those lizards that puff up when predators get close. I’m all show and no go. Maybe it’s lame or whatever, but this persona has gotten me through some tough times.”
They hadn’t gone to the same school, hadn’t run with the same crowd back then, so maybe he didn’t—
“You’re going to let what a handful of jerks said in high school keep you from dating a decade later?”
She snatched her hand away and bolted upright in her chair as the warm fuzzy feelings Mac had evoked died in the face of icy dread. So he did know, at least some of it. “What did you hear?”
He drew back and scrubbed a hand over his face, wincing as he rubbed against the cut on his eyebrow. “It doesn’t matter to me. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t care about some tired, old, small-town rumors. The people around here who have nothing better to do than hang on to some pathetic, mean- spirited gossip aren’t people either one of us should care about.”
Anger made her voice quake. “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve never had to deal with anything like this. It affects my business, it affects my personal life.” She picked up her glass with a trembling hand and took a measured sip, trying to regain some control.
Mac reached for her free hand again, and she pulled it away. His mouth was set in a grim line. “I know it hurts. But you have no control over how other people behave or what they say about you. Don’t you get that? You’ve been back from college for five years, and in all that time I can’t say I’ve ever heard about you with a boyfriend. You make references to flings or whatever, but I’ve never seen you with a guy. How long has it been since you’ve had a real relationship?”
“Eight,” she whispered miserably. “Eight what?”
“Eight years since I’ve had a boyfriend. Or anything else. There are no flings. No team. No bench.”
His eyes widened before narrowing again. “You think pretending to be happy and wearing sexy clothes is proving something to the jerks who talked about you? That they can’t drag you down, or you don’t care what they think? But every day their opinions affect how you behave is a win for those haters. Don’t let the bastards take even another minute of your life from you. No matter what you do, they’re going to say what they want anyway. The only thing you can control is how it affects you.”
His words penetrated the shame, and she raised her gaze to meet his, unable to hold the truth in any longer.
“I don’t think I know how to do that.”
Chapter 4
The vulnerabil
ity in her face, the raw hurt in her voice, cut deep.
“Have you even told anyone your side of the story? Ever talk about how the rumors all started?”
She shook her head miserably.
He wanted to go back in time and strangle Nick fucking Melita with his bare hands. Mac gazed at Frankie’s pained expression and had to force himself to calm down. Getting all riled up wasn’t going to help. Maybe it was time to exorcise some really old demons.
“Sometimes getting things out in the open can make you feel better.”
She seemed to mull it over and, to his surprise, she nodded slowly. “Maybe it will. Probably it would be easier if I had another glass of wine, though.”
He chuckled and motioned to the waitress. Frankie hunkered down into her seat before expelling a long, pent-up breath. “Okay, here it is. Did you know a guy named Nicky Melita?”
“I did,” he confirmed with a nod. “We used to play pick-up games at the rec center on weekends.”
Mac had gone to a private school outside of town but had hung out with a lot of kids from Brewster High. Nick wasn’t his favorite in the bunch, but he’d seemed like an okay guy at the time.
“Well, he and I dated for about eight months, which was a pretty long time, at least by teenage standards. We spent a lot of time together, and about six months in, he started pressing the issue of sex.” She squirmed in her chair and shot him a nervous look from beneath her lashes.
The waitress chose that moment to stop by and drop off the glass of Merlot, and Frankie brightened. Mac grinned at her as she took a giant gulp, the tension gripping his gut lessening a little when she returned his smile with one of her own.
“This is where it gets embarrassing.” She leaned on her elbows, continuing. “After some hardcore petting sessions, it was getting to the point that I wanted to see what the endgame was too. I was nervous, though. I’m the type of person where, if I’m going to do something, I want to do it right. It’s my nature to research and learn and ask questions. But the one close friend I had was a virgin like me. She’d never even had a real boyfriend, and I didn’t have a mom around to talk to.”
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