“Since you won’t let me stay for breakfast, I think it’s time for me to leave, while I can still tear myself away.”
Much to her satisfaction, Eli’s breathing was as ragged as hers.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and they walked to the door.
Moments later, after he’d donned jacket and boots and they’d shared another kiss that left her feeling dazed and hot, he left.
As Frankie turned out her bedside lamp later, she vowed to have a talk with Harry and her mother. She was certain Cornelia must have been an innocent bystander to Harry’s machinations.
But Harry better be prepared to explain why he’s continuing to interfere in my love life when it’s clear Eli and I are involved, she thought with determination.
Frankie called Cornelia the following morning and, after chatting for a few moments, learned her mother was meeting Harry at his house that evening after work.
“Why don’t you join us, Frankie?” Cornelia said. “We’re going over the applications for the HuntCom college scholarship program. I’d love to have your input, and I know Harry would, too.”
“What time?” Frankie asked, listening as Cornelia gave her the details. When she hung up, she’d promised to join them for an hour.
And she planned to use most of that hour grilling Harry about his matchmaking efforts, she thought with determination.
When she pulled into Harry’s driveway that evening, Cornelia’s Volvo was parked next to a long, black town car. Frankie slotted her BMW in beside the limo and walked quickly down the walk. She glanced at the sky over the lake, thankful that the Pacific Northwest was enjoying a beautiful clear day although the sun was already low on the horizon, sinking behind the Seattle skyline.
“Good evening, Sonja,” she said as Harry’s longtime maid opened the door. “I’m meeting my mother here—is she in the library with Harry?”
“Yes, miss.” Sonja took her coat. “Will you be staying for dinner?”
Frankie shook her head. “I doubt it, not tonight.”
In fact, she thought as she left the maid and walked through the house to reach the library, she might not be staying more than a few minutes. It all depended on whether Harry agreed to cease his attempts to fix her up with Nicholas Dean.
She’d long since grown accustomed to the opulent home Harry had built with the fortune he’d made from HuntCom, the computer software corporation he’d built through sheer genius and hard work. Cornelia and her husband had grown up with Harry; the two men had been partners when HuntCom was a fledgling firm operated out of Harry’s garage. When Frankie’s father died suddenly, leaving little money for his widow and daughters, Harry had tried to convince Cornelia to let him take care of her and the girls. But Cornelia had refused, stubbornly determined to make her own way. She’d sold their big house and moved her daughters back to her family home in Queen Anne, then taken a job working at a private school to fund their education. Through sheer determination and shrewd acumen, Cornelia had managed to raise her girls with only minimal interference from Harry. She’d accepted his offer of educational traveling during school vacations, however, and reluctantly agreed when he gave them each a large sum of money upon high school graduation.
Frankie had used Harry’s graduation gift to pay her tuition while she earned two master’s degrees and a PhD.
Much as she adored her uncle Harry, however, she was determined to take a firm stand on the issue of his matchmaking. He’d simply stepped beyond what any self-respecting woman could accept, she thought as she entered the library.
“There you are, Frankie,” Cornelia greeted her with a welcoming smile. She and Harry were seated at a cherrywood library table halfway down the long room.
At the far end of the room, facing a wall of windows and French doors that led to a patio, was Harry’s massive mahogany desk. The room provided a fabulous view of Lake Washington and the Seattle skyline beyond.
Frankie’s heels tapped on the polished wooden floors, grew muffled as she crossed a deep-piled oriental carpet, then clicked on bare flooring once more.
“Hello, Mom, Harry.” Frankie set her purse on the table and took the chair on Harry’s right. He sat at the end of the table, Cornelia on his left, several stacks of papers arranged on the glossy surface. Both he and Cornelia had sheets of paper and a small group of scholarship applications on the table in front of them. A coffee-service tray took up space just beyond Cornelia.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” Cornelia said. “I’d love your input on several of the applications. We’ve narrowed down the number, as you can see.” She gestured at the smaller stacks.
“I’m happy to help, Mom,” Frankie replied, her back ramrod straight and several inches away from the back of her chair. “But first, I need to talk to you and Harry.”
“Oh?” Cornelia glanced from her to Harry, a puzzled frown pleating her brow. “What about?”
“I had a phone call last night—from Nicholas Dean.”
The brief flash of guilt that flickered across Harry’s features confirmed Frankie’s suspicions that he’d instigated the call.
“Uncle Harry, I specifically told you the night we were all here for dinner that I wasn’t interested in Nicholas,” she told him. “And yet you’re apparently trying to push the two of us together.”
“Harry!” Cornelia’s expression was appalled, her dismay echoed in her voice. “Please tell me you haven’t been meddling in Frankie’s love life.”
“Now, just a minute,” Harry blustered, his cheeks flushed. “I wouldn’t call it meddling.”
“What would you call it?” Frankie demanded.
“Well,” he grumbled. “I only mentioned that you’d been wanting to see the new musical at the Pantages, that’s all.”
“And?” Frankie prompted when he paused.
“All right,” he admitted. “I might have suggested Nicholas should phone you.”
Frankie groaned. “Why do you keep doing this?” she asked, genuinely perplexed. “First with your own sons, then with Tommi and Bobbie—and now me! You’ve got to stop interfering in our lives.”
“My sons are all happily married, and Tommi and Bobbie appear very happy, so how is that a bad thing?” Harry asked.
“You were lucky, Uncle Harry—what if your sons or my sisters had ended up brokenhearted, or divorced?”
“But they didn’t,” he insisted with stubborn logic.
“But you couldn’t have known how things would turn out when you started throwing people together,” Frankie pointed out. “And it could have been a disaster.”
“I only wanted you and your sisters to be as happy as my boys,” Harry said. “Even your mother thought Nicholas was right for you.”
Frankie’s eyes widened. “Mom, please tell me you didn’t know Harry was doing this. I assumed you were an innocent bystander when Harry cornered Nicholas and told him to phone me.” The sense of betrayal was sharp. Surely her mother wouldn’t have gone along with Harry’s crazy scheme?
“I had nothing to do with that,” Cornelia said firmly. She frowned at Harry, her eyes accusing. “I admit we discussed how much we liked Nicholas the night of the Children’s Hospital fundraiser. I may even have commented that he seemed more of a match for you than Eli, but I never told Harry to interfere and set you up with Nicholas.”
“Of course she didn’t,” Harry put in abruptly. “But there’s no ignoring the facts. You’re twenty-nine, Frankie. You need to marry soon—or you’ll miss your best childbearing years.”
“My best childbearing years?” Frankie seethed. “You make it sound as if I’m a brood mare, Harry.”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, looking harried. “I only meant having younger people in my life as I get older—my sons, you and your sisters, my granddaughter, Ava—is one of the greatest joys I know. But I wasn’t aware it would be so when I was your age.” He gestured at Cornelia. “And your mother would make a wonderful grandmother, not to
mention how much she’d love having grandchildren.”
“Harry.” Cornelia was clearly restraining herself. “I have the urge to rap you over the head with my umbrella. How on earth can you be so dense about people?”
Harry looked bewildered. “I only wanted you to know the joy of having little ones in the family again, Cornelia. At our age, it’s a wonderful thing.” His jaw firmed, and he straightened. “And you must admit, if Frankie continues as she has for the last several years, she’ll probably have earned more university degrees by the time she’s forty, but she won’t have children.”
“If you’re suggesting that I’m too bookish to have sex, Uncle Harry,” Frankie said with deadly calm, “then you don’t know me at all.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “Eli and I have been sleeping together for ages,” she declared with dramatic flair. “And if hot, sweaty, amazingly fabulous sex is a guarantee of pregnancy, then I’m probably pregnant already.” She was lying through her teeth, but Harry didn’t know that, and her rashly impulsive claim was worth the guilt she might feel later, Frankie thought as Harry’s eyes widened and his face grew even redder. She glanced at Cornelia and saw her mother’s eyebrows raise with surprise. Much to her relief, she also saw a spark of amusement as Cornelia glanced at Harry and then back at Frankie.
Frankie picked up her purse. “I’m sorry I can’t stay and help with the applications. Perhaps I can go over them later in the week at your house, Mom?”
“Of course, dear.” Cornelia smiled benignly at her.
But as Frankie turned to leave, she saw her mother turn to face Harry, her expression threatening.
“Harry, explain yourself.” Cornelia’s demand held an ominous tone even Harry couldn’t ignore, Frankie thought as she swept out of the library and then out of the house.
She hadn’t wanted to confront Harry about his matchmaking, because she was well aware he had good intentions and meant well. But sometimes, she told herself as she drove home, there was no other recourse than to be blunt and forceful.
Which pretty much described how Cornelia was probably dealing with him at the moment, she thought with a grin.
“Harry Hunt, I cannot believe you’re doing this again.”
“Now, Cornelia, you know we discussed how much Frankie and Nicholas have in common,” Harry said, trying to placate her. “And how great it would be if they got together.”
“That doesn’t mean I wanted you to blatantly suggest Nicholas should call and ask her out.” Cornelia was livid, her eyes snapping with frustration. “For heaven’s sake, Harry, how many times do you have to be told to stop interfering in our children’s lives? First your sons—and that came much too close to being disastrous,” she said. “And now my girls? You’ve got to stop this. No more!”
“My boys are all happily married,” he pointed out in an attempt to reason with her. “And if I hadn’t given them an ultimatum, God knows whether they ever would have considered marriage.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on the subject of your sons,” Cornelia told him. “But as for my daughters …” She stood, picked up her purse, and pointed her index finger at him. “Leave my girls alone, Harry. Period.”
And with that, Cornelia turned on her heel and marched regally out of the library, leaving Harry to mumble and mutter and stare morosely at the closed door.
He’d really angered Cornelia this time, he thought, and Frankie, too. Much as he hated to give in, he supposed he’d have to abandon his efforts to get Frankie and Nicholas together.
Too bad, he mused. They had so much in common.
Harry frowned, thinking about Frankie’s stunning declaration.
If Eli’s sleeping with Frankie, Harry decided grimly, he’d better have marriage in mind.
I think I’ll have a talk with him. Harry shoved away from the table and stood to stride out of the library, his steps purposeful.
Chapter Thirteen
Harry’s black limo pulled into the Wolf Construction building site near the university campus late the following afternoon. The long car bumped and rolled over the rough dirt-and-gravel surface, its tires splashing through muddy puddles left from predawn showers.
The driver slotted the big car into an area in front of the work trailer. The pickups and cars of the work crew had long since left the lot, but Eli’s work truck was still parked in front of the trailer. Harry exited the vehicle, his long, black overcoat flapping in the breeze as he climbed the wooden steps and knocked on the door. No one answered. He turned, scanning the scaffolding of the building under construction on his left.
“Harry,” Eli called as he stepped between the studs of a first-floor garage and strode across the lot toward him. “What brings you out here so late?”
“I was hoping to talk to you. Have you got a few minutes?”
“Sure. Let’s go inside.” Eli led the way into the portable office. “Have a seat, Harry. Want something to drink?” he asked over his shoulder as he took a mug off the pegs on the wall above the coffeemaker.
“I could use a cup of coffee, black,” Harry replied, hands shoved in his coat pockets as he inspected the blueprints taped on the wall next to the drafting table.
“Here you are.” Eli handed Harry a steaming mug and leaned his hips against the drafting table, muddy work boots crossed at the ankle. “So, what can I do for you, Harry?”
“Frankie came by the house last night,” Harry said. “And after what she told her mother and me, I decided to look you up and ask you point-blank …” He fixed Eli with a steely gaze. “What are your intentions toward my niece?”
Eli blinked once and set his mug down on the counter. “Exactly what did Frankie tell you?” he asked, curious.
“Nothing you don’t already know,” Harry growled.
“Humor me,” Eli said, his gaze holding Harry’s.
“She said the two of you have not only been dating—you’ve been sleeping together.”
“Did she?”
“Yes, she did,” Harry said. “In fact, I believe she said it was hot, sweaty and fabulous. Then she said she might be pregnant already, given how often the two of you have been going at it. Which is why I’m asking you—what the hell do you intend to do about Frankie?”
Stunned, Eli stared at Harry for a full minute as he tried to absorb the surprising information. Then a slow smile curved his lips. “Harry, I can guarantee you I don’t plan to do anything that would harm Frankie, nor anything she doesn’t want me to do.”
“That didn’t answer my question.” Harry’s brows lowered.
“No, it didn’t.” Eli unbuckled his tool belt and slung it on the counter behind him. “And with all due respect for your concern about Frankie, and your long relationship as her adopted uncle, I’m not going to answer it.” He shrugged out of his safety vest and hung it on the high back of the drafter’s stool.
“Wolf Construction and Dean Construction are the final two companies being considered to build the HuntCom campus,” Harry said. “Whether or not you plan to marry Frankie could make a big difference as to who’s awarded the contract.”
Eli stiffened, anger roaring through his veins.
“Harry, I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve always had the greatest respect for you.” His voice turned colder. “But if you think you can make Frankie a part of some business deal, you’re dead wrong. Give the contract to Dean Construction—I don’t want it.”
He turned on his heel and in two long strides, reached the door.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Harry’s mellow tones held amazed delight. “You love her.”
Eli froze, hand on the door latch. He looked over his shoulder, frowning at Harry. “I never said I love Frankie.”
“You don’t have to.” Harry’s grin lit his entire face. “I’ve known you since you were a kid, and over the years I’ve watched you build your father and grandfather’s company into a powerhouse. There’s no way you’d turn down a contract like HuntCom’s unless you had a powerful incenti
ve. And that’s love,” he added, beaming.
Eli shook his head at Harry’s insistence. Over the last few days, he’d privately acknowledged to himself that he was in love with Frankie. But he’d be damned if he told Harry before he bared his heart to her. “Believe what you like, Harry, but leave Frankie alone. And don’t encourage Nicholas again.” His voice was a low, threatening growl.
“Of course I won’t,” Harry replied with alacrity. “She’s obviously taken.” He rubbed his hands together, clearly relishing what he thought was a match between Eli and Frankie.
Eli could have groaned aloud. He bit off a hot retort about the older man’s interference in Frankie’s life. “Think what you like, Harry, but stop looking for men to send after Frankie.”
And with that, Eli shoved open the door and left the trailer, loping down the wooden steps to his truck. As he backed out of his parking slot and left the lot, he saw Harry exit the trailer, standing on the wooden steps with the evening breeze lifting his black hair, a satisfied smile on his face as he watched Eli depart.
Eli wanted to drive straight to Frankie’s condo and talk to her, but he knew she was having dinner with her mother tonight. Besides, he was muddy after a day spent on the job site, so he reined in his impatience and instead went home, where he showered, shaved and changed clothes before driving to Queen Anne. He made a stop at Ballard Blossom to pick up a bouquet of flowers.
It was barely seven-thirty when he knocked on her door.
“Eli.” Frankie opened the door, surprise and pleasure easily readable on her features. “I didn’t know you were coming over tonight. I thought you had a meeting.”
“I did—but I decided not to go.” Eli hadn’t given the meeting another thought after Harry told him about Frankie’s declaration. He stepped inside, closing the door as he held out the flowers.
“Oh, Eli, they’re lovely.” Frankie cradled the bouquet, dropping her head to inhale, her lashes lowering. “They smell marvelous—just like spring.” Her brown eyes were soft as she looked up at him. “How did you know I was wishing for winter to go away today?”
Beauty and the Wolf / Their Miracle Twins Page 14