Part 17 (1/2)
Considering all he'd lost, you'd figure he would have learned something.
Self-hatred burned in his gut. With Celia, he'd been careless. With Frankie, he'd been close to losing control. Neither spoke well of him as a man.
”Will you let me stay with you awhile?” she asked. ”Not to have s.e.x or anything. Just to, you know, hold you.”
”Yeah.” He'd like that.
Nate leaned back against the pillow and she curled up at his side. Her breath drifted across his bare chest and her hand rested on his waist lightly. He crossed his feet at the ankles and closed his eyes. Her presence eased him.
”Now I know how hard it is,” she said softly.
”What?”
”Wanting to help and not being able to.”
He kissed her temple. ”You are helping.”
Frankie s.h.i.+fted, felt her thigh brush against warm, male skin and came awake instantly. She looked up into Nate's face. His beard had grown in overnight, darkening the thrust of his jaw. His hair was smudged this way and that. His eyes were open, lids low.”Good morning,” he said with a gravel voice.
”Hi.”
The reserve hadn't left him. She still felt as though he was reining himself in. And as much as she still wanted to know what had happened, she wasn't about to ask him again. She hated when people did that to her.
”Guess it's time for breakfast.” She s.h.i.+fted upright, swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and felt the cool pine boards under her feet. ”It's going to be a busy week for us. We've got a whole family arriving today and...”
She chattered on, her voice sounding false to her own ears. But then that tended to be the end result when you were talking about one thing and thinking about another.
Did last night really happen? Was there actually a time they had been so close? Yeah, but only physically and that was the easiest way, wasn't it? Which was why people had one-night stands. No strings, but just enough intimacy to remind you that you could in fact relate to another human being.
”Frankie?”
She stopped mid-sentence.
”Last night ended because-” He rubbed his temples. ”It doesn't have anything to do with you.”
So he said.
”It's all right. Really. Probably for the best, too.” She walked over to the door. ”See you downstairs.”
His eyes bored into hers. ”Yeah. Downstairs.”
But they didn't spend much time together that morning. He was busy at the stove, she was working in her office. But at least on the few occasions she pa.s.sed through the kitchen, he looked up, met her eyes and nodded.
She was back at her desk, reviewing with satisfaction the way the dinner reservations were getting tight, when the phone rang.
”Is Nate there?” It was a deep male voice. Hint of an accent she couldn't quite place.
”Yes. Who may I ask is calling?” She blurted out the question on reflex, but she was really interested in the answer.
”Spike.” The man's tone suggested impatience.
And considering the guy was named after a piece of hardware, she put two and two together and decided he probably wasn't into small talk.
”Hold on.”
She called into the kitchen and Nate came right away, wiping his hands on the white ap.r.o.n he'd tied around his lean hips. She tried to keep her eyes from bouncing to his wide chest, and failed. His T-s.h.i.+rt was navy blue and had a worn logo on it, but all she could really see was the way his muscles had looked the night before, s.h.i.+fting under his skin as he'd held himself over her body while kissing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.
Frankie got to her feet, wondering if he'd want privacy. Although even if he didn't, she needed a little air.
”Stay,” he said as he picked up the phone. She sank back into her chair. ”What's up? Where? Yeah, I know the place. When are you seeing it? How much they want for it?”
A couple of uh-uh's and another yeah followed. He hung up the phone, thanked her for getting him and left.
Frankie looked out at the lake, thinking that the reminder was a good one. Nate was a short timer at White Caps. As soon as Labor Day came, he was going back to the city to find his destiny as the next Bobby Flay. And one day, a few years from now, she was going to crack open a magazine and read about the new, hit restaurant in New York City. There'd be a picture of him and she'd stare at it for a while, thinking what might have been if they'd made love.
But might have been was better than knowing exactly what she was missing. Right?
Oh, what a load of bull. She wanted him. Even if he was leaving. Even if it was going to hurt later.
”Frankie?” Nate was back, standing in the doorway of the office. ”You got a second?”
She nodded and was surprised when he closed the door. Her body tensed, but she kept her expression as neutral as possible. She wondered if he was going to quit.
”I really appreciate you giving me some s.p.a.ce.” He dragged a hand through his hair.
She laughed stiffly. ”You look like you're about to apologize for something.”
”I am.”
”Well, please don't.” She didn't really want to hear about how he regretted getting what he'd asked for.
He grew quiet. Then took a deep breath.
”Okay. But I want you to know something. I'm dying to be with you. Tonight. Now. Right now.” His eyes leveled on hers and they burned. ”Would you consider giving me a second chance?”
Good Lord, was Santa Claus a fat man in a red suit? Of course, she would.
She got up from the chair because her body suddenly needed to move. Antic.i.p.ation had replaced the dread she'd felt and the sweet rush was a h.e.l.l of an improvement.
”Well, ah, it was pretty good,” she said, trying not to come across as desperate. Although what an understatement that was.
h.e.l.l, with the door closed, she was tempted to sweep her computer off the desk just so they had a flat s.p.a.ce to get busy on.
”It was a h.e.l.l of a lot more than good for me,” he said in a low, s.e.xy tone.
Frankie looked at him, remembering the feel of him against her. ”I want more of you,” she said softly. ”G.o.d help me. But I want more.”
Nate came around the back of the desk and took her into his arms, pulling her against his body. With his hands on her hips, he drew her in close and she felt his arousal.
”So do I.” His voice was deep, husky.