Tempted by Her Billionaire Boss(7)

Her mouth twisted. Air Force One was about to acquire a whole new sex appeal.

The senator clapped Harrison on the back and moved off toward the plane  sitting behind the Grant Industries jet. Frankie pulled in a  Harrison-fortifying breath as he strode toward her. "Ready to go?'

"As ready as I'll ever be," she said brightly.

He lifted a brow at her as he stopped in front of her. "I've been that bad?"

She knew when to keep her thoughts to herself. "I meant I'm not a good flyer. I just need to get this over with."

"So I should tell the pilot to lock the doors to the cockpit?"

She made a face at the amusement twisting his lips. "We haven't had one  disaster since the coffee incident. Perhaps we can let that joke lie?"

"I'm still keeping my guard up." He pointed their luggage out to the  crew who loaded it on to the plane. "You know, statistically speaking,"  he counseled, gesturing for her to proceed him up the stairs, "flying is  safer than any other form of travel. You should be more frightened of  getting on the freeway."

"I am frightened of getting on the freeway. And fear of flying is not a rational thing," she countered, climbing the steps.

"Ah, but I thought that's what you are...rational Francesca Masseria,  who needs to figure out how things work before she fully commits."

She looked down at him from her higher position on the stairs. Who was  he really? The big bad wolf or this intuitive, sardonic version of him  who made the occasional visit? And did she dare say what she thought?

She exhaled a breath. "I perform better when I have a clear sense of the  objectives. I'm more left-brained than Tessa. I need guidance. I can  promise if you offer that to me I will give you what you need."

His gaze narrowed. The undercurrent between them that always seemed to  simmer below the surface sprang to life. A tutelage of a far different  type was filtering through that brilliant mind... She would have bet  money on it. Heat rose to her cheeks. He studied the twin spots of fire.  Then he turned it off with one of those dismissive looks.

"All right, Francesca Masseria," he drawled. "We'll give it a shot.  You've been a good sport this week. I like that about you. You have a  question-a good one-ask. I'll do my best to answer it."

He strode past her up the stairs and into the jet before she could close  her mouth. No way had the beast just thrown her a crumb. She thought  maybe they should break out the champagne, particularly when once seated  and buckled in opposite Harrison in a bank of four seats, she realized  how small the plane was. She'd never flown on a private jet before.  Coburn preferred to travel on his own and have her work from the office,  and this, this little plane didn't look hearty enough to carry them  across the Atlantic if a storm hit as it had on her last trip to Mexico.         

     



 

Her shoulders climbed to her ears in protest as the pilot revved the engines.

"Relax," Harrison ordered, pulling his laptop out of his briefcase.  "This is going to be the smoothest ride of your life, trust me."

"Now you've jinxed us," Frankie said grimly. She picked up her cell phone to turn it off. He waved a hand at her.

"Not necessary on this flight. You can use the Wi-Fi anytime."

Of course they could. Why waste one usable moment when you could be  poring through the stock market? Checking the price of precious metals?  She sighed and settled into her seat. Her hope that at some point  Harrison's battery might run out had been wishful thinking.

Her phone pinged with a text message. It was from Danny, who was managing Tomasino's party in her absence.

The cake's not here. When is it supposed to arrive?

Frankie frowned and glanced at her watch. An hour ago. Surely her brother hadn't forgotten?

Call the restaurant, she texted back. I'm sure it's on the way.

Harrison looked over at her. "Problems?"

She shook her head. "Just this thing I'm supposed to be at. He'll figure it out."

The attendant came by to check their seat belts and ask what they'd like  to drink once they were airborne. Harrison requested a scotch. Frankie  gladly followed suit and asked for a glass of wine. Anything that calmed  the anxiety clawing its way up her throat was a good thing.

Another text came in. He hasn't left yet. Dammit. Frankie sent a text to  her brother Salvatore. Get that cake there, now. You owe me.

"Men," she muttered. Why couldn't they be as buttoned-down as women?

Her boss glanced up from his laptop. "Trust me, he'll be fine. If he has  any sense he'll be waiting with an armful of flowers when you get  back."

Frankie gave him an uncomprehending look. "Oh-no, it's not that. It's my  brother. He's supposed to be delivering a birthday cake to the party I  was hosting and he's late."

His dark brows came together. "You were hosting a party?"

"At the church, yes." The engines roared. She kept talking as her pulse  skyrocketed. "I host Wednesday night bingo games for the seniors. I've  been doing it since I was eighteen. Tomasino Giardelli, whose birthday  it is, is like a grandfather to me. It's his eightieth, so we decided to  throw him a party and Mama made Tomasino her special tiramisu cake.  Which," she added darkly, "he is going to love if Salvatore gets his  behind over there with it before it's over. The seniors are wilting as  we speak."

"Salvatore?"

"My brother."

A sober look crossed his face. "I'm sorry you're missing the birthday party."

"You didn't know."

"I didn't ask."

She wasn't sure how to respond to that so she looked down at her hands  clasped together in a death lock. His gaze sat on her as the jet taxied  off to sit in line behind two others. "You really spend every Wednesday  night hosting bingo?"

She tightened her seat belt, her heart going pitter-patter as the  captain announced they were two minutes to takeoff. "It's always been  part of what we do as a family- giving back to the community is  important for my parents. It's been good to them."

"Coburn said they have a restaurant in Brooklyn?"

She nodded. ‘I'm the youngest of six procreated bus people."

He smiled at that. "Shouldn't you be out on dates instead of hosting bingo? Living the Manhattan single life?"

She made a face. "The last date I was on, the very well-mannered  stockbroker I thought I was out with accosted me in the elevator on the  way down from the restaurant. That was enough for me."

His brows rose. "Accosted?"

Frankie gave an embarrassed wave of her hand. "He kissed me. He wouldn't  stop kissing me. And frankly, he was bad at it. I mean, can you  imagine?"

The amusement in his eyes deepened. "I can. I mean I can't in that he  should never have put his hands on you without your permission but the  poor guy was probably just desperate."

Frankie crossed her arms over her chest, an image of her flashing him  with her lace pull-ups filling her head. Did he think she usually gave  men come-ons like that? She wished she could wipe that entire night from  their heads.

"You still don't do that," she said stiffly.

"No," he agreed. "You don't." He gave her a thoughtful look as the jet  revved its engines and started down the runway, the speed at which the  gray pavement flew by making Frankie light-headed. "Poor-mannered guy  aside, there must be a man in your life. You're too attractive for there  not to be."         

     



 

Her chin dipped. "I'm married to my work for the next few years."

"Or you're hung up on someone."

The inflection in his voice made her lift her chin and narrow her gaze on him. "No-just not dating."

He shrugged. "Good. Because I'd hate for you to waste your time on my  brother, Francesca. He is undoubtedly a magnetic personality and an  inspiring leader, but he is not boyfriend material by any stretch of the  imagination."

Boyfriend material? She blinked at the twin assaults being mounted on  her, one from the air as they climbed at a petrifyingly steep angle and  one from the man opposite her. "Is that what he thinks? That I have a  crush on him?" Good God. So she'd responded to a few of her boss's  flirtatious smiles lately. She was human.

"I can assure you," she said crisply, "I do not have a crush on Coburn."

He held up a hand. "Just a friendly piece of advice. I've seen it happen too many times."

The jet climbed swiftly into the clouds. Frankie gave the receding  ground an anxious look, her stomach swooping as the plane rode a current  of air. Was that why Coburn had handed her over so easily to Harrison?  Because he thought she had a crush on him? That was wrong. So wrong.

A scowl twisted her lips. Good to know the two Grant brothers both had  egos the size of their fortunes... Her resentment faded to terror as  they went through a bumpy patch of cloud, her fingers digging into the  armrests.

Harrison sighed and set his computer aside. "You really are terrified of flying."