Thigh High (7 page)

D
aniel gathered her close and swept her up into his arms. It was clear she'd been to Chicago, knew the place intimately. She'd told Daniel about favorite places to eat, play and walk with an insider's knowledge. At one point or another she'd mentioned all four seasons, too, so the likelihood of her living there seemed a sure thing.

She got a nostalgic look in her eyes when he pressed her for details. She was in hiding, and all he could think was how lucky he was that she'd chosen him to hide with.

He'd pressed her about her fear of exposure, but given the
Boondoggle
's silent, midnight appearance he figured he was lucky to have even this much time with her.

But he wanted more. He wanted her.

Here. Now.

For the rest of his life.

She must trust him to some extent to stay with him after the camera-toting man showed up on the yacht. But, still, he needed answers if this was going to continue. “The guy with the camera wasn't a cop, Frankie. You're not on the run from justice. You'd have been gone in thirty seconds after I told you about him.”

He cupped the back of her head, dug his fingers into her hair and eased her head back to read her expressions. Her eyes widened with the action.

“No, he wasn't a cop,” she vowed.

“Are you running from an ex-husband or boyfriend? A stalker?”

“I wish it were only one man.” She eased her mouth to his and kissed him with delicious intent. She'd tried once before to distract him with sex and he was more than willing to allow it this time.

Because he planned a bigger distraction.

He swept Frankie, oversized caftan and all, into his arms. Barkley danced around his ankles but soon wandered off into his doghouse for a nap. “Apparently, the pooch has figured out we don't want his company.”

She chuckled and nuzzled at his neck, nearly making him stumble.

He couldn't believe how much he wanted her. Now and always.

When she landed with a whump on the bed, he followed her down. “I want to help, Frankie. I want to be the one you turn to when you're scared. I want to keep you safe. I want to keep you, period. Marry me.”

She blinked and the smile she'd worn since she'd seen him on deck slid off her face. “I don't know what to say.” She frowned. “We hardly know each other.” She made a show of counting off on one hand the number of days and nights they'd shared. She stopped at three.

“How long does it take to make a decision when your heart's in charge?”

She smiled, tentative and shy. “Are you sure it's your heart that's leading the way here? Or is it something else?” Her clever hands cupped him and gave him a light squeeze.

She could make him ache with no more than a touch.

“Okay, you want to keep things easy for now, fine. But it's making me nuts that some flake's making you nervous. Promise me one thing, Frankie.” He slid between her thighs, cock nudging at her lips.

She closed her eyes and raised her cradle to envelop him. He pulled back.

“This isn't fair. You're using sex to extort promises.” But she grinned and settled back into the soft pillows.

“And you use sex to distract me, so it's pretty much a given that we're both lowlifes and will use whatever means necessary to get what we want.”

She laughed, but still didn't give him the “yes” he wanted. “So, will you promise?”

“What promise do you want?” Her palms bracketed his cheeks, and he knew she'd given him one more iota of herself.

“That you won't run without telling me. That if you have to leave, I'll know where you're going.”

She blinked. “I'll tell you before I go, Daniel. I promise.”

“But not where you're going?”

“I'll try if circumstances allow. It's the best I can do.”

It was all he was going to get. It wasn't enough, not by a long shot, but with her determination to keep everything to herself he was smart enough to know this was the best he would get.

He slid into her welcoming warmth as he watched her eyes slide shut with the grasping entrance of his burgeoning cock. She loved this as much as he did. They were so good together.

He stilled to enjoy the softening acceptance of her tight channel. There was a moment of deep gentle clasps that he loved, and while he felt her walls expand and contract around him he accepted he didn't want to live without her.

It would kill him if she left without understanding how he felt.

“I love you, Frankie. God help me, I love you.”

She took him inside her body while he gave her his heart.

 

He couldn't offer any more help than a place to hide if he didn't know what Frankie was running from. Trust wasn't an easy thing for a skittish woman to give, but the time they'd spent in bed had to count for something. She trusted him with her body, surely she could trust him with her troubles.

She still refused to accept money, even though he'd offered it again. The friend who owned the yacht must be taking care of her living expenses too.

He hated the idea that another man had taken responsibility for her, that another man was trusted when Daniel wasn't. That grated.

Hard.

He signed off for the night and ended his shift. Butch needed to know about the transfer. The morning drive. Shit.

Decision time. He vacated the seat in front of the microphone as the morning man arrived. Daniel put on the canned show they used for filler between four and six
A.M
. and nodded a greeting to Jace. The morning man was a good DJ, thorough and professional. A man obsessed about prepping two hours in advance, while his cohost usually sailed in just in time for the show.

“Jace, does it get to you that you and Jenna have such different styles?”

“You mean me coming in this early while she's barely in her seat on time?”

“Something like that.”

Jenna was also like a runaway train. No telling where her mouth was going to take her. But from what Daniel had heard, her career was on the fast track.

“Yeah, it does. But what bites is the offer she's got from Chicago.”

Belly rolling, Daniel pursed his lips. No wonder Butch wouldn't answer him. He knew Jenna was the kind of cohost Daniel would hate to work with. “Morning slot again?”

“Big raise, too.” While Jace was being left behind. Disappointment radiated out of his slumped posture.

“I thought she had her sights on television.”

Jace shrugged and went back to selecting his music. Without his planning, Jenna wouldn't have a clue, because music was not Jenna's thing. Banter was Jenna's thing. Daniel suppressed a shudder.

In the radio business weird shit happened every day. When stations changed formats, dedicated pros were overlooked or fired for new voices with sex appeal and a knack for hitting the right note for a new target market.

He couldn't figure out what the Chicago station saw in his style that appealed to them. Especially if they wanted to pair him with Jenna.

Daniel ambled outside to the darkness before dawn and headed to his car. No answers waited for him as he checked the sky. He loved this time. The streets were just beginning to flow with pre-dawn traffic. Early morning workers, the ones who avoided rush hour by rising earlier than everyone else, cruised the unclogged roadways.

There was a bakery he liked to stop at on his way home. Their croissants made his mouth water and the baker always put on the coffee for him.

“Where you been the last few days? I heard you sign off every morning, but you didn't come in like usual. You sick or something?” Lou was burly and hairy as a gorilla but had a touch like nobody else with the light, delicate pastry.

“Had to take my dog to the emergency clinic for an X-ray the other morning. Since then, I've been busy.”

“Yeah?” Lou put his elbows up on the display case while Daniel helped himself to a coffee on the side counter. An early morning show from a competitor squawked in the background. Something about girls in bikinis on the expressway. And banter.

God save him from banter.

Lou chuckled. “I love these guys,” he said with an amused shake of his grizzly gray head. He raised his hand. “I know it's the competition, but I hate that canned stuff you put on.”

So did he. An old British rocker rambling about his glory days forty years ago wasn't his idea of good radio.

The morning drive team on the competing station consisted of a man and woman. She, in a rare twist, was the wild one, while he was the straight man. Usually, that would be seen as the stupid girl and the wise man, but these two made it work. The woman used acerbic wit and brilliant observation while the man was smoothly calm, if a little dense.

“They're babbling about girls in bikinis on the side of the expressway,” Daniel said.

“Yeah, but they're funny.”

Funny. He thought of trying to be funny for four straight hours when he was trying like hell to keep his eyes open and wake up.

He'd hate it, especially if he got stuck in a slot with a cohost like Jenna. He wasn't as obsessive about prepping as Jace was, but he sure as hell didn't sail into work at the last minute either. He liked to pick his music with a theme in mind. A night-inspired theme. A lonely theme. A quiet theme.

Morning drive time was never about quiet.

Lou gave him an appraising stare. “You look different.” Rubbed his chin. “You gettin' some?”

“You talk to all your customers that way?” But he couldn't keep the happy out of his voice.

“Just you. Most of my customers are on the run, heading to work. You come in to sit and enjoy the quiet of the place before the rush. You like quiet, like me.”

“Yes, I do.” The quiet of the wee hours, the peace on the airwaves. The easy drive home against traffic.

He loved it.

“This woman, she good?”

“What do you mean?” His hackles rose.

“Oh, hell, not that way. That way's none of my business, but a good woman's hard to find. Especially these days. I had one once, but I screwed up bad and I lost out. Kick my ass every night when I crawl into those cold, empty sheets.”

Daniel snorted. “You're always telling me about all the ladies you've got on a string.” Most of the stories he dismissed as the ramblings of a too-hairy man's lonely mind.

Lou snorted. “There are times, my friend, when settling for second best is worse than having nothing at all.” He checked that the coffee cream jug was full and headed back behind the counter. The baker in back hollered out that more muffins were ready, and Lou disappeared through the swinging door into the back.

Lou was talking about women when he'd said second best could ruin a life.

He had not been talking about career choices. Lou had once had dreams of being an artist, but he'd inherited the bakery. Now, his creative side came out in the pastry he loved to create.

Daniel loved what he was doing on air, but he loved Frankie more. Wanted her so bad he'd give up all the other, smaller things he loved just to have her.

He scraped the chair out from the table and headed out into the fresh morning. The city was more awake fifteen minutes later than when he'd gone into the bakery.

He thought of climbing between the sheets with Frankie and grinned like a fool. He kept the vision of her front and center when he dragged out his cell phone and called Butch at home.

“I'll take the transfer,” he said when Butch answered.

“What the fuck time is it?”

“Early.” He heard rustling as if Butch was sitting up at the side of the bed. He wasn't sorry to wake him.

“No one but Daniel Martin, a tried and true blues fan, would have to think about it.”

“I know.” He refused to ask about Jenna. He'd deal with that when the time came.

“Why?”

“Sometimes life hands you beautiful things. Sometimes you have to give up stuff to keep those beautiful things. Choices are made.”

W
hen he got home, she was there, warm and welcoming and still awake. “Didn't you sleep?” he asked as he lifted the covers and slid in, already hard.

“No, I always listen. I love your show. Even before I knew it was you, your voice seduced me.”

He chuckled. “You're crazy.” But he grinned at the compliment. He wanted to finesse her this morning, make her feel like a queen. The way she made him feel like he could take on the world and win. He grinned to himself, happy with his decision.

If he could have Frankie every day, he wouldn't mind that he'd given up the late-night shift he loved.

He could learn to love banter.

He
would
learn to love banter.

“Maybe I am crazy, but I love your voice.” She bit her lip. She rolled, and the warm scent of her from beneath the sheet rose to him. “What would you say if I told you I get turned on by listening to you?”

“I'd say tell me more.” This was a new one on him. Most women wouldn't stay up late enough to listen.

“The way you talk makes me wet.”

His interest spiked. He reached for her, then ran his palm along her flat belly and into her wet heat. She opened her legs so he could flutter his fingers against her lips.

“I hear that crooning quality you use when it's deeply dark outside. You're with me here”—she pumped her hips toward his questing fingers—“your voice strokes through me, deep into me. Yes! Like that. It rumbles around the room and I touch myself.”

“Like this?” He rubbed at her clit with delicate swirls, the tips of two fingers barely inside. To tantalize her before a deep hard plunge, he wiggled them.

“Oh, Daniel! Yes! Just like that,” she murmured, and widened her legs even more. He pushed the two fingers into her, feeling her inner channel grasp and hold and need. His thumb rolled over her plump clit again and again. “Ahh. I cream and come just on the sound of your voice. So hot, so cool. I love how you talk about the music and what it means to you.”

He thought back over the show. Couldn't recall a damn thing in it that would cause this reaction. He'd talked about a thirties blues king that had died too young. The only recordings left were scratchy, almost too tinny for airing, but he figured if he let them go they'd be lost forever. He set his mouth to her neck and gently sucked some of the delicate flesh between his lips. Her blood rushed in a drumroll of heightened awareness.

“I think of your wicked tongue,” she said, with an arch into his hand, “and your wild lips, and I can hardly wait for you to come home to me.”

Heaven. This was heaven, and he'd found it with her. He shifted between her legs, then slid both palms under her ass and tilted her up to his mouth. Diving in, he stroked his tongue from her clit to her slit and deep inside. She crooned and thrashed around him, but he didn't stop. She swelled into his mouth as he felt her crest.

She jutted her pussy toward him, then rocked against his mouth in a raging orgasm. Clasping his head, she came in a wild gush that he lapped and held on his tongue. Exquisite juice burst on his taste buds.

He took the condom she had tucked under her ass and slid it on. With a roar of possession, he slid in to the hilt and held her as she rocked against him.

Quieting into a roll, he rode her to another come, then followed with a strong surge into her. He gasped her name just before he broke and shuddered against her.

“If this is crazy, then I want more.” He pulled her close, deep into his chest. “You're the best thing that's happened to me. Crazy or not.”

Her heart pounded against his as she kissed him hard. Her flavors blended in his mouth. Pussy and tongue swirled together as he tasted both.

Her color went high at the compliment. “Thank you, but you're only saying that because you've been too long without sex.” She tried to make light of his declaration, and it piqued him.

She was more than an easy, available lay, and it was time she knew it.

“That may be part of it. But the reality is, you get me. You understand why I do what I do, why I want what I want, even why I play the music I play.” He stilled, holding himself tight to her pussy, keeping their connection deep.

“Everyone loves the blues.” She wriggled under him, but he held firm. “Everyone feels the blues. Everyone loses someone at some point.” Her eyes went wide, the expression so soft he could lose himself in her gaze. Lose himself gladly.

“I guess they do.” But losing Frankie wasn't on his agenda. He slid out of her, then went to the bathroom. He stared at his reflection, gave himself a talking to. All he had to do was show her that being with him was better than running.

It meant a lot that she was still here. She'd had all night to run, but she hadn't. That meant he hadn't frightened her by saying he loved her.

All he had to do now was convince her that a move to Chicago was right for both of them.

When he climbed back into bed, she looked pensive.

She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed, her breath stirring the hair on his chest. “Have you ever been in a position where a wonderful thing happens, but there's a dark side you never considered?”

“Like a double-edged sword?”

“It's like a woman has a baby and it's ‘Great, I'm a mom.' The other side of the coin is, ‘Great, I'm a mom.'” She drawled out the words with sarcasm. “On one hand she's thrilled to be a mother and to start a wonderful adventure in parenting.”

“On the other hand,” he concluded, “she's not the young, carefree woman she was.”

“Exactly!” She looked pleased with his observation. “Maybe deep down she's afraid, or feels unprepared for the responsibility. No matter what good fortune brings, life always smacks a person back down.”

“You're right. There's rarely a time when there's no black cloud even if the silver lining's the fulfillment of all your dreams.” To put the best spin on his promotion to the morning time slot, he hadn't shared with her his disappointment at walking away from the best job he'd ever had.

“Even the most stupendous good luck can turn your life upside down,” she went on. “Not that you'd want to give up that stupendously good—luck, you'd just have to temper your reactions.” She pursed her lips. “You'd have to be realistic.”

She was dancing around something important, something big, but he'd have to be patient and let her come around to her own way of telling him everything. “All we can do is roll with the punches,” he said in a bland tone designed to keep her talking. “If we fall down, we've got to get back up.” She was going somewhere with this line of thought, he just couldn't see where yet. Bless her, though, she was at least trying to open up.

“Have you decided to accept the transfer?” she asked, which meant she'd moved on, away from talking about herself again.

“Yes. I called the program director on the way home.” No point mentioning Jenna or how much he'd hate the work. With any luck at all, Jenna would move on soon, anyway.

Frankie rose onto her elbow and looked him in the face. “You'll like Chicago,” was all she said. She blinked a couple of times, and her eyes glistened.

He pulled her to his mouth and kissed her, his thumbs on each cheek, ready to smear away whatever moisture might fall.

“I need to love you, Daniel. Right now.” With that, she disappeared under the sheets to crawl to his jutting cock.

Wet heat enveloped him in one long, slow slide, and he drifted into sexual ecstasy. Payback. He'd arrange payback as soon as he could.

Five minutes later, he twisted so she was under him. A couple more moves and he was face deep in creamy pussy, while she pumped and licked at his cock and balls.

Her succulent, pink clitoris peeped out of its hood and he zeroed in, sucking and licking as she squirmed against him.

He spread her lips wide open to see her darkest pink. Spearing his tongue, he went in deep and felt her inner walls clutch and grind as he prodded. Fingers followed his tongue to keep her guessing, while he focused on her clit again.

Juice filled her as she came.

His orgasm screamed from his root to his skull and spewed deep into her throat. Her hot mouth took all of him as he pulsed. She grabbed his ass, held him tight to her and careened off into another powerful release seconds behind him.

When he could breathe and speak again, he said, “I love you, Frankie; come with me.” He flopped to the bed and tucked her head against his shoulder.

“I just did,” she crooned as her eyes opened in silky satisfaction.

He snugged her hips close to his. “No, I mean, come with me to Chicago, Frankie. Marry me.”

She patted his shoulder, eyes wide, satisfaction flaring into fear. “I—can't go to Chicago.” She turned away, and he took the hint.

She wasn't ready to hear his plans. Not yet. But she would be soon. She was making progress in other areas, so he expected her to come around in her own time.

When he finished in the bathroom, he leaned on the door frame and considered her, covers up to her chin again, as she stared at the ceiling. “Frankie, this could work for us. I'm taking a day job for more money and normal hours so we can get married and build a life. I'm being practical as well as being head over heels in love with you.”

“Yes, I see that.”

“What
that
do you see?”

She peered at him across the miles of secrets that separated them and nodded. “I see that you're being practical by accepting the promotion. And I know you love me. In spite of my not being able to be completely open about what's happening with me.”

“Then what's the problem? You're free, I'm free. We connect on so many different levels I can hardly believe my luck in finding you.” He walked to the bed, trying hard to find a joke somewhere to ease his way into her mind, her heart. “I'm trying to find something funny to say, but I'm coming up empty. So, I'll do this instead.” He slipped her hand out from under the sheet and placed her palm on his heart. “Feel it? It's pounding out of my chest. Fear. Frankie, I'm afraid you're going to disappear on me.”

She looked at him then, eyes wide and filling. “Daniel, I can't go to Chicago with you.”

“Are you running from an abusive husband? Are you in the witness protection program?”

“No, it's nothing like that. It's smaller in so many ways, but it's huge too. Life changing, and I don't want to involve you right now.”

“But I am involved. Completely. Marry me.”

Barkley's growling bark rose to a racket on deck; his nails scrambled for purchase as he sounded a familiar alarm.

“Who the hell would be here at this time of the morning?”

Frankie didn't respond, just grabbed his shirt she'd taken to wearing and dashed into the bathroom. She slammed the door while he slipped into his jeans and headed outside. The man with the camera Barkley had caught on the
Boondoggle
stood on the dock. His jaw was set in a stubborn, defiant cut. He squared his shoulders when Daniel stepped outside.

“What do you want?” Daniel demanded. He crossed his arms over his chest and bristled.

“I'm here to see if Francesca Volpe is a guest.” The guy already had his camera up and ready. A steady clicking sound told Daniel he was already shooting.

“Never heard of her. Now get the hell out of here.”

“Daniel,” Frankie said from behind him. “It's all right. I planned to tell you anyway.”

He turned, shielding her from the camera. She gave him a grateful smile, but her eyes were wide and sad. He wanted to throttle the guy for taking her from him. That's exactly what was happening.

Whatever the hell was going on, Frankie was already gone. He read the distance between them in her eyes.

The camera man moved lightning quick, trying to climb aboard. Barkley went for his ankle and grabbed his blue jeans, snarling and growling like a ten-ton beast.

“What are you doing here, Ms. Volpe? Slumming? What are you going to do now? Where's your sister, Ms. Volpe?” The questions came thick and fast. Obviously, this guy was no journalist. All he wanted was to badger her. “What have you done with all the money?”

She ignored the questions, stepped out around Daniel and bent to pick up Barkley. The dog quieted when she gathered him close. “I'm leaving. Now that you've found me, I'm gone.”