Thigh High (8 page)

“W
hat's going on here? Who the hell are you?” Daniel demanded of the camera man. He got in the guy's face and slammed his palm over the camera lens. “And stay the fuck off my deck.”

“I'm a photo journalist, Mr. Martin, and this is Francesca Volpe, winner of one of the largest lottery jackpots in American history. She won six months ago, made a ton of promises to charities and hard-luck cases then skipped out. She and her family disappeared.”

Daniel couldn't take it all in. “She won what?”

“Sixty-five million, Mr. Carver, after taxes. More money than anyone has a right to.”

Frankie scooted back inside.

“But what stinks up the place is the way she made promises then reneged on them!” The guy called loud enough so Frankie would hear his accusation. “What have you got to say about running out on burn victims and abused women, Ms. Volpe? Huh? What have you got to say? Why not tell me your side of it? Instead of hiding here?”

Daniel twisted the camera out of the man's grip, but not for long. He grabbed it back, and Daniel let go when he saw a strap around his neck. As much as he wanted to strangle the guy, he couldn't let the altercation get out of hand. “You're not welcome aboard. Get the hell off the dock and out of the marina. If I catch you bothering Frankie again, I'll punch your lights out.”

The guy sneered. “Yeah, like I haven't heard that one a million times before.”

He turned and headed back toward the ramp. But once there he stationed himself at the top, the telephoto lens aimed directly at the float home.

Daniel swore at the guy's smarmy arrogance and headed in to find Frankie. His mind whirled with everything he'd learned, unable to make sense of any of it. It was too unbelievable.

She was on the phone, trying to get dressed one handed with Barkley yipping and whining at her feet.

“Fee! They've found me again.” She listened. “No, I don't think they know where you are.” She hopped on one foot, only to land heavily on the side of the bed.

Daniel held the leg of her jeans up so she could slide it on. She tossed him a grateful smile.

“I'll call you in a few hours, Fee. When I decide where I'm going.” She flipped the phone closed.

“And Chicago is not where you're going.” She was leaving him high and dry. His gut clenched.

“No.” She swiped a hand through her hair. “Daniel, I'm sorry. I can't go back to Chicago. Not now.” She blinked, and he could swear she was trying not to cry.

“You came from there. You won your millions in Chicago.”

She nodded.

“You didn't tell me because you didn't trust me.” She thought he'd want her for the money.

She reddened and avoided meeting his gaze.

“So, now what? You run again? Hide?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Talk to me, Frankie, we've got time. The guy's retreated to the top of the ramp.” His mind was working over what he'd learned.

Money, this was all about money.

He ran his hands through his hair. It would almost be easier if she was running from the law. He laughed at a sour thought. “You must have found it hysterically funny when I offered you cash.”

She shook her head. “No, Daniel. I thought it was generous and thoughtful. And typical of you. You've been nothing but kind to me and I felt awful about lying. I took terrible advantage of you—”

“Like the burn victims? The abuse victims you promised to help?”

She looked as if he'd struck her. Her eyes went wide as she blinked several times, her chin trembled and her lips quivered. Then in an incredible display of bravado, she tilted her chin proudly. Rose to her full height. “I don't expect you to understand.”

“Then explain.” He yanked a kitchen chair away from the table and sat. Hard.

She wrung her hands. “Money changes everything. People go crazy. They expect money to fix whatever's wrong. It doesn't.”

“It can fix a hell of a lot. Especially if you don't have any.”

“People who've never had money have the most unrealistic expectations. They're the ones who get bitter.”

“What about what that guy said?” He'd calmed down enough now to realize she was finally being open with him, and he didn't want to do anything to ruin this chance for them. This one last chance.

Pathetic, that's what he was. Blind to everything but the horrible notion that if she left, he'd never see her again.

Her eyes softened. “I'll make coffee.”

“You'll stay long enough to drink it?”

“I can't leave here knowing you'll think the worst of me.”

All he saw was Frankie, his Frankie, the woman he'd grown to love. The woman he thought needed him. For protection, support, love. She needed none of those things. She wanted for nothing.

More money than anyone has a right to.
Camera man's condemnation rang through his mind as Frankie busied herself in his tiny kitchen. She looked like she belonged there, had since he'd carried her in his arms that first night.

“I've never been good with numbers,” she said. “I even have a hard time remembering new phone numbers, so I hate having to change mine all the time.” The water began to run through the coffeemaker, hissing and sprinkling. She turned and faced him, hands behind her back as if she needed the counter to hold on to.

“When I won I took three days to come forward. I spent the whole time writing my ticket numbers down and comparing them to the winning numbers, convinced I must have it wrong.”

“What happened then?”

“I didn't plan anything until after the announcement was made. Then my life turned into a circus. My family, including long-lost second and third cousins, made demands of me and promises
for
me. They promised people things and expected me to go along, the way I always had. Before my life exploded, I was easygoing, not pushy or difficult. Mild-mannered, don't-rock-the-boat Frankie.”

He listened as she explained how her life had crashed around her. “Charities came at me,” she said, “begging for help. Most of them are legitimate, but a lot weren't. One I found out was set up the day after I came forward to claim my prize.”

“They targeted you.”

She nodded, wrapped her arms around her middle. “Because I volunteered at a women's shelter. They thought I'd just sign checks without thinking.”

“Once you found out they were a scam, you started looking twice at everything.”

She nodded. “I had to get away. I set my folks up in a beautiful home in Florida with an income to live on. My sister Fiona and her fiancé Bernie got the wedding Fee wanted but could never afford before.” Her lips twisted in a grimace. “But not until Fee went freaking
insane
buying everything and anything she could get her hands on.”

“It was her thong.” His palms broke out into a sweat. “They weren't rhinestones, were they?”

She shook her head so slightly he could barely see the movement.

“She got angry with me when I told her it had to go back. There's so much more that could be done with fifty grand.”

He swallowed and nodded, lightheaded at the idea of the rat's nest lined with diamonds.

The coffee was ready, and she poured them both mugs. Then into his she put one spoonful of sugar and a dash of cream. She already knew how he took it. She might be rotten with numbers, but she'd taken careful note of how he liked his coffee.

“It's been six months since the win. What now?”
What about us?
He wanted to ask, but couldn't. She'd had more demands made on her than he would ever know about. It was clear his marriage proposal was not one she wanted to deal with.

And he couldn't ask her again. She'd think he was like all the others who'd disappointed her with their reactions.

“I've got a law firm setting up a charity foundation. All requests will have to go through them.”

“Good idea. And your sister?”

“She's coming around. Bernie's a good influence, rock steady and blind in love with her. Has been since he was fourteen.”

“Did she really want the thong to wear on her honeymoon?”

“Yes. After she bought it, I realized how frenzied she was with the money. The shopping was manic, the splurging obscene. I sent them on Bernie's dream honeymoon. They're in Alaska at a remote hunting and fishing lodge. My sister's sweet, but she needs some time to think and calm down.”

She nodded, as if trying to convince herself she'd done the right thing. “I'm sending them to Africa next. Bernie says she needs a reality check. That should do it for her. Fee will be fine once she realizes this kind of good fortune comes with social responsibility.”

“That's something you've always known,” he said, thinking of her volunteer stint at the women's shelter.

She nodded. “I want to share the wealth, do the right thing and help people, but I'll be damned if I'll allow unscrupulous people to take advantage of me.”

“You've sacrificed a lot for this money.” He took in her sadness, her slumped shoulders. “You even led me to believe your father was dead.”

“I'm so sorry, Daniel.”

“Has everything else between us been a—”

“A lie?” She interrupted him, then tilted her head to the side. Her voice dropped to a plea. “Never the loving. What we shared was real. I gave you everything.”

She bowed her head, and the arms she'd crossed over her stomach trembled with her effort to hold herself together. She sniffed, and he saw her face crumple toward tears.

He was on her in a flash, wrapping her in his arms, holding her while she wept. “I've lost so much I loved, Daniel. Friends, family, my good name. People hate me for no reason.”

“I don't, Frankie. It seems wrong to tell you I love you now. As if I'm taking advantage, but you have to know that while you've lost a lot, you've gained too. Here, with me.”

It seemed even more trite that he'd been planning on giving up his job to take one he hated to have enough money to have her in his life. But he would have, in a heartbeat. He'd have made a morning slot work, even with a bimbo like Jenna in the booth with him.

He'd have done all of that if it meant having Frankie.

Now he'd lost her, and there was no sacrifice he could make that would keep her with him.

“I guess all we have to do is figure out how to get you out of here without that jackass following you.”

She sniffed and smeared her nose on his shirt by his collar. “Okay, but what about your shift tonight? Do you have a replacement for emergencies?”

He set her away from him. “You inviting me along?”

She nodded. “Married people hang out together, Daniel. Don't know what you were thinking, but you asked me to marry you and I said yes.”

“No, you didn't.”

“Well, I would have if we hadn't been interrupted.”

He kissed her, long and hard and deep. When he could think again, he came up for air. “I don't want to go with you.”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“I'd have given up my whole life for you, Frankie. I was willing to sacrifice a job I love to provide for us in a job I'd hate. Now I want you to think about sacrificing something.”

“What's that?” She looked happily suspicious, if that were possible.

“Stop running. No more hiding. We're thousands of miles from Chicago. Since your windfall, other people have won big jackpots. They're in the spotlight now. Stay here with me. We'll build a life together.”

She grinned. “Maybe I should track the new winners down, start a support group.”

“Wouldn't hurt, might help.” He pressed his hips against hers, slid his palms to cup her ass. “Besides, if you didn't want to be found, you would have been gone the minute I told you about that guy on the
Boondoggle
, but you stayed anyway.”

“I stayed because I was falling in love. With you. Your voice, your kindness, your sexy caramel eyes.” She glanced around the kitchen. “I love it here, Daniel, and I love you.” She kissed his nose, then his lips, quick and hard. “There's one other thing we can do.”

“That is?” he asked.

“Call that journalist back down here. We'll give him the interview he wants, then he'll leave us alone. You're right. I need to stop running. I want to stop running.”

“We'll weave your family back together, Frankie, you'll see.”

“I knew the first time I heard your voice you were the best thing this city has going for it. I'd be happy if you stayed on the air, doing what you love to do. Every night, I'll be here waiting for my midnight blues man.”