LITMIR.BIZ

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bodice.

      Frankie slipped into her shoes, fastening the narrow black straps around her ankles, and rose to cross to the antique mirror standing next to the closet doors. She twisted to look at the zipper closure, checking to ensure it was fastened, then took jet black drop earrings with their matching necklace and bracelet from the jewelry case atop the high chest. It was the work of a few moments to fasten the earrings and bracelet, but the necklace clasp was difficult. After several tries, Frankie left the room with the gold-set jet beads cradled in one hand, switching on the bedside lamp as she went.

      The doorbell rang just as she entered the living room, and a quick glance out the peephole revealed Eli in the hallway outside. He wore a classic black tuxedo, the white collar of his shirt a sharp contrast against the tanned skin of his throat. He stood with casual ease, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks.

      The quick little zing of anticipation that sent her heart racing wasn’t quite as startling this time. Maybe she was simply growing accustomed to the increase in heartbeat and the adrenaline rush she felt each time she saw him, she thought. She slipped the dead bolt free and pulled the door open.

      “Hi, Eli. Come in—I’ll just be a moment.”

      “Hey,” he said lazily, his gaze slowly moving over her face, hair, and lower to her toes before returning to meet hers once again. Male appreciation heated his blue eyes. “You look great. I like the dress.”

      Frankie’s toes curled in her black stilettos, and the heat that arced between them had her lowering her eyes from his and turning away to a small oval mirror. The glass hung on the wall next to the coat closet, only feet from the door.

      “Thank you. I won’t be long—I just have to fasten my necklace.” She frowned at the clasp. It wasn’t the usual hook and eye, nor did it have a sliding lock. The mechanism was one Frankie hadn’t seen before.

      “Problems?” Eli asked, walking closer.

      “I’m not sure how to close this clasp.” She held up the necklace, narrowing her eyes over it. “It belonged to my great-aunt Francine. This is the first time I’ve worn it, and I’ve never seen a fastening quite like this.”

      “May I?” He held out his hand, and Frankie dropped the web of gold-set jet beads into his palm.

      He lifted the necklace, the delicate feminine settings dangling from his calloused fingers as he inspected the lock.

      “I think I’ve got it. Turn around and hold up your hair.”

      Frankie obeyed, waiting until he draped the necklace around her throat before she bent her head and lifted her hair up and away from her nape. The mirror on the wall allowed her to see his frown of concentration as he bent his head. The backs of his fingers brushed against her skin as he fastened the intricate clasp. Each warm touch heightened her senses, making her vividly aware of his taller, broader body only inches from hers. Her heart beat faster, her breathing shallower and more swift.

      “Done,” he said with satisfaction. He looked up, his gaze unerringly finding hers in the mirror’s reflection.

      Frankie caught her breath. For one long moment, time slowed.

      Heat flared in his eyes, the curve of his mouth suddenly sensual, fuller. Frankie’s heart fluttered wildly. She was suddenly unsure how she would react if he turned her into his arms and kissed her as he had in her dreams.

      Then his thick lashes lowered, effectively screening his eyes. He stepped back, and the spell was broken as he turned to lift her coat from the nearby chair.

      He held the black evening wrap, and, wordlessly, she slipped her arms into the sleeves. His hands rested lightly on her shoulders for a brief, electric moment before he handed her the tiny green purse from the chair’s cushion.

      “Got everything?” he asked as she turned toward the door.

      “Yes.” She smiled up at him, determined to match his cool calm.

      They left the condo, chatting about the weather as they rode downstairs in the elevator to the quiet lobby.

      A long, black limousine stood at the curb, and Frankie had barely cleared the lobby’s doorway when the driver appeared to pull open the back door.

      Eli cupped her elbow and hurried her across the sidewalk to tuck her into the backseat, sliding in behind her. The door closed smoothly, sealing them into the warm, dry, leather-scented interior.

      “How lovely to have curb service,” Frankie said with appreciation. “Especially since it’s started raining again.”

      “Not to mention the driver is the one who’ll have to negotiate the traffic downtown,” Eli added dryly.

      “Yes, that, too.” Frankie nodded. “Very wise of you not to drive tonight.”

      Eli stretched out his long legs. “I would have driven, but my Porsche is in the shop and I didn’t want to pick you up in my work truck.” He grinned, amusement in his eyes. “I’d hate to get grease on that pretty dress you’re wearing.”

      “Good call.” Her voice was dry. “You should have told me about your car. I would have been happy to pick you up.”

      He lifted an eyebrow in pretend shock. “And risk having my grandfather find out I’d made a date and had the lady drive me?” He shuddered. “I’d rather be caught running naked on Denny Way. He’d never let me forget it.”

      Frankie laughed. “Your grandfather sounds like fun.”

      “He is,” Eli answered promptly. “Don’t get me wrong—I love the old guy. If he hadn’t taken me and my brothers in after our folks were killed, we might have been split up and sent into foster homes. But he still thinks he should meddle in our lives, just like he did when we were kids.”

      “And you can’t tell him to butt out, because you love him and don’t want to hurt his feelings,” Frankie guessed aloud.

      “Exactly.” Eli looked at her, his gaze searching her face. “How did you know?”

      “Because that’s how I feel about Uncle Harry,” she replied. “I adore him, but he’s got to stop interfering in my life.” She shrugged. “Oh, I know we’re both adults and I could just tell him to stop. I could be blunt and tell him I hate knowing he’s actively trying to dragoon men into dating me, as if no guy would ever think of asking me out unless Harry strong-armed them.” She lifted her hands in frustration, then let them drop to her lap. “But I know he’d be hurt, so I don’t say the words. Which is why I came up with this scheme.” She gestured between Eli and herself. “You and me.”

      “If Harry finds out you’re trying to trick him, he’ll be hurt anyway,” Eli cautioned her.

      “I know.” Her mouth drooped. She glanced sideways and found him watching her with an oddly tender expression. “Which is why we have to be very convincing,” she said firmly.

      “Agreed.” The car slowed, and he glanced out the window. “Here’s the hotel—put on your best I’m-so-in-love acting face, honey, because the curtain is about to go up.”

       Chapter Four

      The Grand Sylvania’s portico roof shielded the car from the rain as Eli stepped out and turned to take Frankie’s hand. The well-lit area did nothing to hold the wind at bay, however, and the two hurried into the hotel lobby, joining other guests to ride an escalator to the second floor. The muted rumble of crowd laughter and conversation underlaid an orchestra’s rendition of a Broadway tune as they stepped off the moving stairs and neared an open ballroom door.

      A hotel employee greeted them, taking Frankie’s coat before passing it on to a young woman in a white evening gown, a Children’s Hospital ribbon pinned to her bodice.

      “May I have your tickets, please?”

      Frankie quickly located the lavender

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