Thigh High (2 page)

“It's a special thong. My sister needs it. She's on her honeymoon and she called to have me send it to her.” Her voice got higher and more agitated with every syllable. She sounded desperate now.

“It's not yours?” That was too bad; he liked the idea of fantasizing about her in a thong. He'd never seen the sister.

“You can buy your sister another. I'll take you to a nice lingerie store I know.” That could be fun.

She looked about to spit nails. “I've got to find that one. It's special.”

“How special?”

“Very. Look, it's got sentimental value. She bought it to celebrate her engagement and planned to take it on her honeymoon. Now she's
on
her honeymoon and she wants it.”

“I see.” He pretended to think hard when all he could really think about was the spectacular rise and fall of her breasts. He didn't want to be a pig, but he was a red-blooded male and there they were: round and pert with the nipples that pointed upward like two perfect pearls. “You could still buy her a replacement,” he suggested.

She took another deep breath, but this time he figured it was one of those looking-for-patience deep breaths that women did so well, not an out-of-breath-from-running kind of heave.

And a woman looking for patience was not likely to agree to a date. “I'm sorry, but I don't have a clue where he'd bury it. But I can help you look for it first thing in the morning. I get home from the station around five
A.M
.”

It wouldn't kill him to stay up a few extra hours after his shift to wait for her.

“You're leaving?” She looked at the beer bottle rising from his lap, condensation slipping and sliding down onto his hands. Kinda looked like his…

“Yep. I'm on the air at midnight. It takes fifteen minutes to get to the station.” He stood. “I take an hour to prep, so I'd better get moving. I can wait for you to wake up before I hit the sack for the day. But if you wait until much after seven I'll be pretty useless. So, I'll see you bright and early?” The question was all about her name, not about when he'd see her.

“Frankie. I'm Frankie Volpe. And I hate early mornings. So, if I don't find it, I'll still be searching the park when you get home. Look for me there.”

“You sure that's a good idea? That park's not the healthiest place to be after eleven or so. It's used by all the normals until then. A lot of people take their dogs for the last walk of the night along the path.”

“I'll be fine. I've been in tougher neighborhoods and survived.” Her eyes glittered and her chin came up, stubborn and cute as hell.

“What's this thing look like anyway?”

“It's sparkly. Very sparkly. Black velvet. With rhinestones all over it.”

“Sounds like it would hurt.”

She rolled her eyes. “Looks even worse,” she said, and gave Barkley a scowl before she turned and headed back down the float.

“You must love this sister a lot if you're willing to search all night,” he called after her.

She waved a hand without turning back.

“Barkley, man, I owe you big time. Frankie Volpe is definitely the catch of the day.” Then he remembered she hadn't cared to ask his name.

“Hey!” he called again, aware that everyone on this side of the marina could hear him. “I'm Daniel and I'm on CHOK radio, the blues show from midnight to four. Give me a listen tonight. Maybe I can figure out where Barkley hid it.”

She gave him a salute and took her fine ass up the ramp.

C
HOK radio. The blues show. When Frankie got to the top of the ramp, it hit her. His voice was different off the air, but still sexy and deep. His on-air voice was intimate and coaxing.

Daniel Martin. DM, the blues DJ. The man whose voice filled her master cabin with earthy sexuality.

She heated from her chest to the roots of her hair. It was one thing to let the man into her head, to use his sexy drawling voice to lead her into release. It was quite another to meet him under such mundane circumstances.

Kind of took the pop out of her whole fantasy life.

Jeeze.

 

An hour and a half later, Frankie pawed the ground around the roots of yet another tree and came up empty. The pine needle scent had long since lost its freshness. She'd been under these damn trees so long she felt like a mushroom. Sticky pine pitch clung to her palm, filled with needles that stung like thorns. Her knees were a mess.

Hard as she tried and feeling more miserable than a dog pound executioner, she couldn't figure out a way to broach the subject of cutting Daniel's doggy pal open. It wouldn't have to be a big cut, she reasoned, just from the bottom of his ribs to his little useless peter. The thong had to be wedged in there somewhere, just waiting to pass on through.

A creature with more legs than she cared to think about crawled through her hair, but she didn't even flinch this time.

She'd never felt so dirty. But she refused to let some dirt get between her and finding the treasure. Besides, real dirt in the great outdoors was healthier than digging through, say, a dumpster in an alley.

Admitting that, yes, she'd even dumpster dive to get the thong back, she returned to her search. She felt around for some freshly dug earth, but everywhere she put her hand felt compacted under the spiky, dry pine needles.

She could go back to the yacht to get a flashlight, but she didn't feel like explaining her midnight treasure hunt to the weirdos hanging around. The types of people who inhabited the park at this time of night weren't to be trusted with a dollar, never mind a thong studded with diamonds.

Which brought her back to the DJ and his dog. A dog's belly was no place for diamonds that could cut. It would be a kindness to operate. Surely Daniel would see that and agree. He struck her as a reasonable man. She'd pay for the whole thing, of course.

Maybe if she grabbed the dog off the deck of the houseboat she could dognap him and take him to an emergency vet clinic. At least for an X-ray. She felt better immediately. Yes, an X-ray would be the best option.

Her panic had discombobulated her to the point of forgetting that X-rays existed.

She could trust a vet with diamonds. They probably swore some kind of oath or something. Like doctors. If they did have to operate, maybe she could be in the room to get the thong when they retrieved it.

Her hands were scraped, and one finger still bled from a sharp piece of glass she'd tossed to the side. Her numb, dirt-encrusted knees protested as she patted the ground around her. She'd had it up to here with kneeling and crawling through and around trees.

Nerves skittered along her spine. The park was much quieter now than when she'd begun her search. When she'd first arrived the place had been full of normal folk out with their dogs, or biking and inline skating along the waterfront path, but now it was a different story. Daniel had been right. The oceanfront pathway was a haven for walkers and joggers who made the most of the evening.

But after eleven, even the stalwarts had disappeared into the trendy James Bay neighborhood and expensive condo buildings that lined the inner harbor.

Ten minutes ago a young couple disappeared under the tree next to her. The moaning and rustling had begun almost immediately. She was tired of waiting for them to finish. Polite was polite, but she was antsy to get back to the marina to get the dog.

She listened hard and heard some definite panting coming from under the huge tree. The idea of digging around under there when they were finished grossed her out. What if she squished a condom in the dark?

The sex-generated moans were kind of a turn-on, though, so she settled in with her back to the tree trunk and waited. The sounds of lovemaking arrowed to her pussy and made her wet as the couple got further into each other, letting the real world fall away.

She'd had that kind of heat once. Hot loving that filled her world. As Blaine had filled her body, he'd taken her heart, her soul. She blew out a frustrated breath and set thoughts of Blaine aside. He was gone and good riddance.

But man, could he turn her on.

Of course he could, she reasoned. With his smouldering good looks he'd been able to practice with every other woman he could find. His bad-boy attitude meant he found plenty.

“Oh baby, yeah, do that. Suck it, suck it good.”

Since it was the man's voice, Frankie was able to visualize what the woman was sucking. She sighed.

She missed sex. She liked sex. She wanted sex.

She'd left home suddenly and hadn't packed her vibrator. It was still in her nightstand in her abandoned apartment.

Which was probably rented out months ago. Her furniture would've been sold. She hadn't thought of clearing out the place, just got her ass out of there. She'd grabbed Fiona and run, scattering her family like petals on a breeze.

She'd gather them again someday. For now, she snorted, thinking of someone getting a deal on her old bedroom furniture and finding her underused battery-powered joy machine.

Ah, yes, the weight of a lover on her chest, the push–pull of a hard pair of hips fused to hers. She wanted it again.

She wanted it now. The rustling under the next tree continued, the voices low and crooning.

Sweat trickled down her neck into her bikini top. She swiped at the moisture, sure she left a dark smudge across her chest.

“Oh yes!” the young woman squealed. “This feels so good…and you're sooooo bad….” Her voice heaved with each breath, giving it that breathy quality that said she was ready. Frankie remembered saying much the same thing in much the same way.

From the sudden silence, she guessed the bad boy had found his mark and slid home. Was that the delicious sound of skin slapping skin?

Enough! She couldn't bear to hear any more, especially when her hands were too filthy to use on herself and her vibrator was long gone. Frankie rolled to her knees and crept as quickly and as silently as she could around the far side of her tree. The other couple, wrapped up in each other, would never hear her.

Pathetic, that's what she was, listening to other people making love. She wasn't sure when she'd become too uptight to look for some action, but she had. Her pitiful vigil under the tree proved it.

That damn Barkley had a lot to answer for.

Scraped knees, a cut finger and a throbbing need all lay at the feet of that perverted little beast.

She could make the dog's owner take care of some of these problems. The very scrumptious Daniel the DJ. The way his on-air voice wove through her into her deepest fantasies proved he knew his way around a woman's body. She could ask him to kiss her scraped knees, bandage her finger and take care of her deep-down throb as soon as he got home.

After all, she'd gotten off on just his voice a time or two.

A night with the appealing DJ might be just what she needed to calm her jitters after six months of crazy. His voice alone took her deeper into her sexual fantasies than her vibrator ever had. If his voice was that good, imagine how good his hands and mouth would be.

“OH! BABY!!!” One last squeal of rapacious delight caught her ears as she hurried down the path toward the lights of the marina.

 

Daniel put on Etta James's newest and got back to his daydream about Frankie Volpe. She was hotter up close than he'd thought. He'd watched her for the last two weeks and wondered why she was alone on such a big yacht. Boats that size tended to require crew, but he hadn't seen anyone else onboard.

No one else in the marina had seen anyone else either. The
Boondoggle
had been a matter of a lot of discussion on the houseboat side of the marina. All anyone knew was that the boat had docked in the middle of the night amid a shroud of secrecy and a fog of misinformation.

If the harbor master knew anything about the owners of the yacht, he wasn't saying.

All Daniel had been able to do was stare hard at the redheaded powerhouse from afar. Up close, Frankie was enough to make a man weep.

Her eyes raked a man bare. Her tongue, sharp edged and quick, could flay a man wide open. But all that served to do was make him want more of her. All of her.

He liked spitfires. And he'd bet Frankie Volpe could spit more fire than any other woman he'd ever met.

She'd been pretty upset about that thong Barkley had taken. When he got home, he would take a run through the park to see if she was still there. Not likely though. No sane woman would wander a dark park at this time of night no matter what neighborhoods she'd survived.

He doubted she would ever find the thong. Barkley must have the instincts of a politician for burying dirty laundry, because Daniel had never found anything he'd taken. The mutt had to have found the perfect hiding place for his secret stash of underwear. Like a pervert who collected panties off clotheslines, he was determined to get away with it for as long as possible.

If Barkley had actually eaten the thing he'd have to get him X-rayed. Rhinestones were sharp.

But the mutt hadn't eaten Bitsy's underwear, only stolen them, so it wasn't likely he'd eat Frankie's.

Etta's song ended on a mournful wail, and he went back to his microphone.

“Twinkle twinkle little thong, how I wonder where you belong,” he said, “wish I may, wish I might, see you twinkle in the moonlight,” he added as an afterthought. He chuckled low and intimately with the hope Frankie was tuned in.

Fire crackled under his skin at the idea of seeing her in a sparkly velvet thong, her ass cheeks high and round, divided by a silky black line that traced her from back to front.

At least now he could strike up a conversation whenever she was on the float. His schedule was so different from most people's that he hadn't found a convenient time to talk to her before. Either he was on the way to work while she was returning home or she was long gone when he woke up. His morning was afternoon for most people.

But timing wasn't an issue with Frankie. She knew his crazy shifts and would expect him to be on an odd schedule. He couldn't wait for his shift to end. If he could get her past the thong mishap, he might have a chance with her.

 

“Twinkle twinkle little thong, how I wonder where you belong,” Daniel said in a croony bluesy voice that tracked heat from her heart to her deepest belly. The man had a voice that stroked through to her vitals. The in-joke about her missing thong made her smile.

“Wish I may, wish I might, see you twinkle in the moonlight.” She laughed out loud at that one. The man was funny and hot—a potent combination. She hoped he was visualizing her in a sexy scrap of black velvet, because she'd love to show him the real thing.

She opened her laptop and searched for the radio station's phone number. Eventually she found her way through the automated answering system to the booth and talked to a person who identified himself as Daniel's producer. He told her to turn her radio volume down, then put her on hold while she waited until the next song ended.

Thirty seconds later Daniel answered.

“Hi! It's Frankie.” The shower she'd taken had cooled her, but now she was hot all over again.

“Any luck with your thong?” His voice warmed to molten lava. And she heard “I want you” under the words. She shivered with anticipation.

“No. And I'm afraid I have to ask you to help me round up your doggy pal so we can get him X-rayed.”

“I thought of that myself, although he usually doesn't eat the underwear he steals. If he does, I've never seen it come out again.” He chuckled. “I'm wincing because that didn't sound right. Not the kind of conversation I usually have with a woman I want to impress.”

“You want to impress me?” She grinned and let the smile show in her voice. Flirting was such fun. The spice of middle-of-the-night phone flirting added to the days of eye contact.

“Hell, yes, I want to impress you. As long as you're free to be impressed.”

“I'm free. You?”

“As a bird.”

With those important preliminaries out of the way, she tucked the phone close to her chin. “I like your voice. That impresses me. I love the music you play. That impresses me.” As did his shoulders, his caramel-colored eyes and the shock of sun-tipped hair that fell over his forehead. His pecs, his arms, the lazy but focused way he watched her whenever she walked up the ramp.

He must think she didn't see the way he tipped the brim of his ball cap up to watch her. It was subtle, that tip, but since she'd become aware of him, she'd caught it every time.