Authors: Alexa Grace
"Oww!" She waited for Lane to circle the car to get in the driver's side. "What was that for?"
"Shooting blanks? Where in the hell did that come from? Where was I when we practiced that dialog?" He shot her a glare and slipped the key in the ignition to turn on the air conditioning.
"I guess I ad-libbed a bit."
"Here's an idea — no more improvising. We're supposed to be partners. How about keeping me clued in?" He shot her his best intimidating glare and she shot one right back. That was the thing about Frankie. She was fierce. She didn't back down. He didn't understand why he liked that about her. But he did.
"Yeah, well here's a clue. You smack my butt again and you're going down."
He inhaled deeply and clenched his jaw. Then he did what he positively, absolutely shouldn't have done. He grabbed the lever beside his seat and pushed his seat back, and then he lifted her across the console until she plopped in his lap, the skirt of her dress flying upward.
"Lane, what are you..."
He kissed her hard, right there in broad daylight, in the SUV parked in front of the adoption agency clinic in a parking lot filled with people getting in and out of their cars. He didn't care who saw them. Right then, the only thing he could think about was this relentless lust and the sexual frustration that had been building up like a log jam in a raging river. It was short circuiting his brain. And in that moment of time, he didn't give a damn about personal versus professional. He wasn't waiting another freaking second. Her mouth felt hot and soft. He parted her lips so he could taste her — that sweet woman taste laced with the rich cappuccino he'd made her that morning.
"Lane, you have to stop."
"You were kissing me back. It didn't feel like you wanted me to stop." He was so aroused there were beads of moisture dotting his brow. But, there was no way he'd let her get away with painting the picture that he was the only one getting excited here.
"Right, then
we
have to stop. Like you said, we're partners. We can't let things get personal. We can't let our emotions get in the way and risk making a mistake that would help that bastard get away with killing Mandy."
Her words were like a splash of ice water to his libido so he helped her get back into the passenger seat. She was right. They were here on a job. The unbridled lust was way too inappropriate for the current circumstances. They needed their full attention on how to bring down Dr. Caine and his agency. He put the vehicle in reverse and pulled out of the parking space. They headed toward the house several miles away.
They were quiet during the ride; each at a loss for words.
"Did you know that when this job is over, I'm going to be a new mom?"
"What did you say?" He nearly ran off the road. Did she just say she was pregnant?
"I'm going to be the mom of a black Giant Schnauzer puppy whose daddy just happens to be Anne's Harley."
"Really? That puppy is going to grow up to be one big dog. Harley is the size of a pony."
"You thought I was saying I was pregnant, didn't you?"
"No, of course not."
"Bullshit. Your face drained of color and you looked like you were going to have a stroke. Don't worry, Lane. If I had gotten pregnant as a result of your one-night stand, I wouldn't have told you."
He pulled the SUV into a public park and parked in front of a small lake. "Oh, is that right?" Now he was angry. What the hell? Yes, he was a bastard for leaving that morning, but irresponsible? Hell no.
"Yeah, that's right. I don't need a man's help to raise a baby."
"When did you become a man-hater, Frankie? Before or after? Do you really think I don't regret leaving that morning?" She wouldn’t look at him, which infuriated him even more.
"Then why did you?"
"You wouldn't understand. Besides you're still so pissed about it, you wouldn't listen to what I had to say anyway."
"Who said I was pissed about it? Who said I even cared?" She challenged, and then looked away when he just stared at her.
He pulled out of the park and back onto the road. Damn it. Was she ever going to forgive him for the one-night stand? She was so wrong about that. To Lane, a one-night stand was something a man did then forgets about the woman because the pairing didn't have meaning. The night he spent making love to Frankie was one he'd never forget. Their encounter was etched in his mind and haunted his dreams.
When they arrived at the house, he bounded up the stairs for his bedroom. He pulled some running shorts, socks, and a shirt out of a drawer, and then fished his Nikes out of the closet. He had to do something to burn this damn anger and lust out of his system and he hoped going on a run would do the trick. After he changed and came out of his room, Frankie was nowhere in sight which was just as well. He bounded out the front door and down the road that ran in front of the house.
Dressed in a red tank with white shorts, Frankie poured sweet tea over ice in the kitchen. Grabbing her laptop, she headed for the rocking chairs on the front veranda. She'd heard the slam of the front door earlier. Frankie didn't know where Lane went and she didn't care. The Escalade was parked in the driveway, so he couldn't have gone far.
On the veranda, she sat on a wicker chair and opened her laptop, and logged on to read her email. Anne had sent a briefing about some computer work she'd completed for Frankie's lucrative insurance company client. She and Ted were going to Indianapolis to do surveillance on a guy who thought he was going to get away with cheating his insurance company out of thousands in disability claims. Frankie had mixed feelings about the trip. Yes, she knew Anne would enjoy it because surveillance was something new to her. Anne didn't realize the dangers like Frankie did. Luckily, Ted would be with her.
On the other hand, she didn't think Michael would think too much of the idea. He'd become even more protective of Anne since she'd gotten pregnant. Michael Brandt was another lucrative client and Frankie didn't want him annoyed enough to pull his business, not that Anne would let him.
She saw another email waiting in her inbox with a name that was unfamiliar. Vanessa Wainwright? She opened it and got a pleasant surprise. She was asked to join a group of volunteers to answer phones for the telethon benefiting Dr. Eric Caine's charity. She smiled to herself. Excellent. Here was her opportunity to get inside the good doctor's organization and she was looking forward to it. In fact, it might be a good idea to ignore the invitation and set up an appointment with Dr. Caine to discuss volunteer opportunities. It was definitely something to consider.
She got on the Internet and went to Facebook to search for Eric Caine. She discovered that he had a page and clicked on the link to visit. Most of his page was public so she didn't have to be a friend to view the content. In the photo section, she discovered a multitude of photos of Caine in various activities. There was a photo of Caine standing in front of his red Ferrari Enzo, another one of him sunbathing with a bikini-wearing blonde near his pool, and still another standing in front of his luxurious home. Each photo told a story about a man with expensive tastes living the lifestyle of the rich and famous. The guy was narcissistic if nothing else. It was obvious he thought quite highly of himself.
Running water toward the side of the house caught Frankie’s attention. Then Lane came into view wearing athletic shorts and shoes. His shirt, if he’d been wearing one, had been discarded. He held the hose over his head. The water ran rivulets down his perfectly sculpted body. She knew it would be smart for her to look away. But who said she was smart? It took only a second to take in every gorgeous detail about him — his lean, wide shouldered-build, his sandy hair, his gray eyes that darkened when he was angry or aroused. The same gray eyes that were staring right back at her right now. Their gazes locked and a spark of heat flashed between them.
"Are you checking me out, Frankie?"
"No, of course not. I heard the water. That's all."
He turned off the water, headed toward the porch, and plopped down in the rocking chair next to her.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm checking out our favorite doctor's Facebook page."
Lane leaned over to see her screen. "Find anything interesting?"
"Not really. Everything I found just affirmed what I already suspected, that Caine is a materialistic, narcissistic sociopath."
Lane grinned and nodded his head. "It's nice out here. Someday I want a house with a porch. My apartment is more or less a base for changing clothes, gulping down meals, and sleeping since I got promoted to detective. It doesn’t really feel like a home like your house."
She eyed him curiously. That was certainly an unexpected remark from a Type A detective constantly on the run chasing a case. Where were these nesting urges coming from?
Jennifer cursed her luck that the new apartment she'd share with another pregnant girl was on the second floor. She'd already made three trips to her car for boxes and was breathless from the exertion. She laid the boxes down in the living room and sat on the sofa to rest before getting the final load from her car. Although she was sure the apartment wasn't new, it had freshly painted walls in sky blue with thick ivory carpeting. The tufted sofa and chair was modern in design in a dark blue, with dark wood end tables and tall glass lamps. The living room and kitchen area blended together with a ceramic countered bar to separate the two rooms. The two bedrooms were large for an apartment with spacious walk-in closets. It seemed the Forever Home Adoption Agency had spared no expense in the quality of her new home.
The only thing missing was her roommate who had left a note saying she'd be doing errands until later. Jennifer pushed herself up from the chair to go to her car for the rest of her things.
While Lane was meeting in the next county with his boss about a case that was being assigned to another detective, Frankie had a meeting planned of her own.
Dressed in a tight, black ribbed tank top with a black linen skirt hugging her curves, she bent down to pull on her four inch heeled leopard pumps. She checked her outfit in the mirror and slipped the glittering diamond bangle bracelet she'd treated herself to after she received an especially large check from a client. She slipped her favorite silver hoop earrings on and she was good to go.
Surprised that Dr. Caine's receptionist didn’t give her a hard time for not having an appointment; Frankie entered his office and found him standing behind his glass desk, wide-eyed and obviously curious about her impromptu visit.
"You are so kind to meet with me today."
"Please sit down and tell me why you needed to see me." He scanned her body with lustful eyes, much like before, as she sat in the visitor chair across from him.
"I thought you might have some ideas on where I could do some volunteering." She paused and fanned herself with her hand. "Did you know it's nearly ninety degrees out there today? And it's only June." A wave of apprehension swept through her. What if he gave her no opportunity to do what she came to do?
"Hold that thought. I'll go get us a bottle of water."