"Harrison," she admonished, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "You didn't return my phone call."
When had that been?
"A month ago," Cecily clarified, shaking her head at him. "Daddy is a workaholic, but you are worse."
He studied her with fresh eyes, this socialite from a family so connected she could ease the way for a presidential run in multiple eastern states. Perfectly straight hair with clever highlights, big blue eyes and a stick-thin figure that wore clothes perfectly, she did nothing for him. She would make the ideal wife for a governing official. She would never say the wrong thing, she would never counsel him to be anything he wasn't or question his intentions.
She would never make him feel as alive as Frankie did.
"Let's dance," Cecily insisted, tugging on his arm. "I've just been horsing in Montana. I have to tell you all about it. The skies were amazing."
* * *
Frankie watched Harrison escort a beautiful, petite blonde onto the dance floor set among the twinkling fairy lights. It was like a dagger to her heart watching him emerge from his political networking only to immerse himself in the blonde. Which was nuts. They didn't have anything according to Harrison. She was better off paying attention to one of the good-looking men chasing her who actually might send her roses. Who might not kick her out the morning after as if she was a piece of unwanted furniture.
She could not, however, contain her feminine curiosity. "Who is that?" she asked Coburn, posing the question with the casual air of someone who'd just spotted a nice-looking car and wondered what brand it was.
"Cecily Hargrove." Coburn made a face. "I'm surprised it took her this long. She's usually on him like paint."
If Frankie's mood could have sunk even lower, it did. The woman Harrison was supposed to marry, according to the oddsmakers. She was perfect.
Coburn's eyes went a mischievous, vibrant blue. "Want to have some fun?"
She forced a smile to her lips. "I am having fun."
"I mean some real fun." He grabbed her hand and started walking toward the dance floor, a series of flagstones set under the trees. "Play along with me."
Doing what?
Coburn took her in his arms on the dance floor, where the band was playing a Frank Sinatra classic. At least she didn't feel so barefoot watching Harrison dance with Cecily when she was in the arms of handsome Coburn. He was a great dancer, better than Harrison, his smooth lead easy to follow. It would have been lovely, enjoyable if she didn't have to watch Cecily smiling up at the man she was obviously crazy about.
She averted her eyes and focused on what Coburn was saying. Another song started. Everyone stayed on the dance floor. Coburn pulled her closer. She looked up at him, startled. "Relax," he murmured. "I'm having some fun with my brother."
The glitter in his eyes made her wince. He knew. She'd been sure he was smart enough to figure out what had happened between her and Harrison, but the verification was mortifying. Oh, lord.
She thought about denying it, then sighed. "He isn't going to care. Forget it."
"You don't think so?" Coburn's gaze was pure wickedness. "Give me five minutes."
Frankie started to protest. Then defiance kicked in. Pride. When Coburn pulled her into a closer hold, his cheek against hers, she let him. His hand moved to the small of her back, his lips to her jaw. The couple beside them gave them an interested look.
"Coburn..."
"Wait."
The band belted out the high notes of the sultry Ella Fitzgerald classic. A dark shadow fell over them. Coburn lifted his lips from her jaw as if pulled from a particularly delicious moment. "H?"
She turned her head. Harrison stood beside them, Cecily Hargrove in tow, a dark cloud on his face. "My turn, I think. We should switch."
Coburn didn't release her right away. The stare between the two brothers dragged on. Cecily bit her lip and stood there watching. "Only," Coburn murmured finally, releasing her, "if you bring her right back."
"Not bloody likely."
Frankie's head spun as Harrison took her hand and pulled her into his arms. Coburn did the same with a bewildered Cecily. Her new partner did not have the same smooth rhythm as her previous one. His steps were forced and jerky. Angry?
She looked up at him. "Harrison, what's going on?"
"I could ask you that." His voice was clipped, ruddy color striping his cheekbones. She stared at him, about to confess Coburn had been having some fun with him. The words died in her throat.
"I was simply dancing with Coburn."
"He was kissing you."
"Oh, not really," she denied. "What does it matter anyway? You've made it clear we aren't going to pursue what's between us. I'm a free agent."
"So you move from one brother to another? I thought you had better morals than that, Frankie."
He was calling her Frankie. He was also jealous. Extremely jealous. The knowledge hit her like a ten-table arrival on a busy Masserias Saturday night.
The opportunity to make him admit his feelings was too tempting to resist.
"Maybe I'm taking your advice. After all, I was a big mistake. You said it yourself."
A lethal glimmer stoked the heat in his eyes. "I was trying to be smart for the both of us."
"Fine. Take me back to Coburn. Go dance with Cecily. It's probably for the best."
The heat in his gaze overflowed. She watched it unleash itself, swirl through the air like a wisp of smoke coming off a fire. His hand tightened around hers, just short of making her yelp as he turned and headed off the dance floor, dragging her behind him. She half ran to keep up, Coburn watching the whole thing with an amused, satisfied look on his face.
"What are you doing?" She dug her heels into the grass when they'd cleared the dance floor and pulled to a halt.
He gave her a hard look. "We are going to the boathouse to talk. The only place no one will be. You want to walk or do I carry you?"
Her heart tripped over itself. She wasn't sure she wanted to be alone with him like this. And he would not do that. Not in the middle of all these people. She drank in his stormy demeanor. The deadly intent raging in his ebony eyes. Then again, maybe he would.
He started walking. She followed, conscious of more than a few curious looks following them. "You're making a scene."
"Does it look like I care?"
Uh-oh. Her heartbeat sped up into an insistent staccato as he skirted the house and took a pathway through the forest down to the water. The farther they got from the crowds milling around the property in loose-knit groups, the worse her trepidation became. Finally, they reached the boathouse, which looked more like a full-fledged house to her with its clapboard walls and big windows. An outside lamp at the front sent a swath of light spilling across the water.
"Harrison-"
He pulled to a stop on the dock and let go of her hand. "You are not interested in him. You told me that."
"No, I'm not," she fired back, trying not to be intimidated by his aggressive stance, feet spread apart. "But I thought it might be nice to have a little honesty between us. You are jealous, Harrison. You are feeling things for me you won't admit, not even to yourself."
His eyes flashed. "Oh, I've admitted them to myself. I'm way past that."
She blinked. Swallowed hard as he took the two steps between them and glared down at her with the full force of his fury. "You want honesty, Frankie? Yes, I hate the look of you with Coburn because I know you don't want him. You want me. And he is a predator."
"He is not. He was just having some fun with you."
His jaw hardened until his face took on the consistency of granite. "You think that's a good idea?"
She shook her head. "No, I-" She put her palms to her temples. "It wasn't."
"You don't want me, Frankie." He kept going as if he hadn't heard her. "Tell yourself that. You want a tidy little relationship with a nice guy who will treat you well, give you the requisite two-point-one kids and take you to church on Sunday." He shook his head. "That's not me."
"I never said that." A funny feeling unfurled inside of her. "Why don't you tell me what these feelings are you're having before I make a decision like that?"
He shook his head, a wary look in his eyes. "It won't accomplish anything. I have nothing to offer you."
Frustration burned through her. "I swear I will turn around, go back up there and find one of those eligible men and flirt like crazy if you don't start talking."
His throat convulsed. For a minute she thought he was going to walk away. Then he took the last step toward her, his gaze dark and tormented. "You make me want things I can't have."
"Like what?" She was hypnotized by the confusion in his gaze. The honesty.