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His arms tightened around her. She nestled into him as the fireworks came to an end. Faith required a whole lot more determination than that type of thinking.
She stood by Harrison’s side as he and Evelyn waved the guests off in the driveway. If his mother thought her presence there of interest, she didn’t show it.
When most of them had left, except for a few stragglers still partying on the dock with Coburn, Harrison clasped her hand in his and they walked toward the house.
The big mansion was silent after the noise of the crowd. They climbed the stairs to the guest rooms, but Harrison didn’t stop there; he kept going up the next flight toward his.
“Tongues are wagging,” she said quietly as they walked down the hallway toward his suite.
He twisted the knob on the door to his room, opened it and pushed it in with his palm. “Let them.”
The room was impressive and warm with its elaborately carved wood fireplace and king-size bed. Harrison came up behind her, put his lips to the nape of her neck and sent shivers down her spine. She leaned back into the heat of his mouth, into the storm they had unleashed. Because she was most certainly in love with him. And she’d been brought up to trust her heart. She only hoped she could trust Harrison with hers.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ROCKY ADJUSTED TO his former home far more easily than Frankie did. He’d resumed his habit of swimming lazy circles to show off his magnificent burnt orange color, his elegant snout pitched in her direction to make sure she was watching, as well as his more frequent naps on the enticing, mossy crystalwort that lined the bottom of the tank.
He’d also clearly taken a cue from the more relaxed demeanor of his owner. Frankie was happy to be back with Coburn where she knew exactly what was expected of her. The work was challenging and satisfying and if there was a part of her that missed the excitement of working with a man whose multiple facets posed a different challenge every minute of the day, she had more than enough of that to contend with in her burgeoning relationship with Harrison outside the office.
He was complex and intense in everything he did, including the bedroom, where he was demonstrating just how passionate and multifaceted a relationship between a man and a woman could be.
Heat drew a curtain across her cheeks. That was where she liked him the most: in bed, where he couldn’t get enough of her; where he showed how he felt without the words he couldn’t seem to find. He had awakened a side of her she hadn’t known existed. A confident, vital part of her that suggested maybe she wasn’t so ordinary as she’d always suspected; that maybe she was much more than that. And although she still wasn’t completely sure he wouldn’t break her heart, she grew more confident every day in what they had. And one day at a time was how she’d promised herself she was going to play this.
Rocky swam another lazy circle in front of her, his beady eyes staring at her. “Yes, you’re gorgeous,” she told him, shutting her computer down as Coburn put on his coat. “But now I must leave you for a glass of wine and a good book.”
“Not with my brother tonight?” Coburn came to stand by her desk.
She shook her head. “He’s having dinner with Tom Dennison.”
His mouth lifted in a wry tilt. “A full-court press, I’d say. They want him badly.”
But did Harrison want them? It was a question she kept asking herself as she got to know the enigmatic man better and better—one she hadn’t been able to answer yet. “Far more illustrious company than I,” she offered drily, pulling her bottom drawer open and reaching for her bag as the elevator chimed its arrival.
Coburn’s eyes moved past her to the elevators. “I think you underestimate your appeal.”
She turned. Registered the dark and dangerous presence of the man who was her lover striding toward them. Her pulse shifted into overdrive. Although his eyes had the bruised look of someone who had slept even less than usual of late, undoubtedly due to his showdown with Anton Markovic next week, and the frown that marred his brow made him look forbidding, he was still the most handsome, electric man she’d ever encountered.
The trace of suspicion in his ebony eyes as his gaze flicked to Coburn’s position beside her desk sent a warm, heated feeling through her. She liked him jealous. It made him just that little bit vulnerable she needed to get inside.
“H,” Coburn greeted him. “Dennison stand you up?”
“I canceled.”
Canceled?
Coburn straightened, moving away from her desk and the line of fire. “I’m taking it you aren’t here for me. In which case, I’m going to get going. I’m meeting friends.”
Harrison nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Frankie caught the flash of emotion that passed through Coburn’s eyes as he said good-night to her. He wished Harrison would confide in him. The distance between the brothers was becoming so clear to her. She waited until Coburn had stepped on the elevator and left before turning her gaze on the man who’d taken his place. “You know it hurts him when you shut him out like that.”
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and brought her to her feet. “Coburn and I are complicated. Don’t get in the middle.”
But she knew he didn’t bite now, despite his reputation. “Was it always like this?”
His ebony eyes flattened into a matte black. “No. We were close once.” He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “We took two different paths. It’s years of history. Stop digging.”
“Okay,” she murmured, suddenly feeling out of breath as he bent his head toward her. “There are security cameras here...remember?”
He kissed her anyway, the heat of his mouth burning through any resistance she had. She curled her fingers into the lapels of his jacket and kissed him back. He didn’t stop until she was fully distracted, a deep sigh pulling from her throat.
“Have dinner with me tonight,” he murmured huskily against her lips. “Unless you have plans...”
“With a pizza box and a book.” She pulled back and studied his weary face. “Why did you cancel?’
A grimace stretched his lips. “I can’t think when they’re all over me.”
Yet he’d chosen her to be with. Heat radiated from her chest, spilling into every part of her. “Yes,” she accepted, running her fingers over the taut skin of his cheek. “If you agree to order pizza.”
He produced the pizza and a bottle of Chianti, an easier battle than it might have been given it was Elisa’s night out and his food snob tendencies couldn’t take over.
“You know,” she murmured when they’d demolished the pizza on the sofa in the showpiece of a living room, “this decor doesn’t suit you at all. It doesn’t say anything about who you are.”
His lips curved. “I could tell you hated it from the minute you walked in.”
“I don’t hate it. I think it looks like an art gallery, not a home.”
“It’s supposed to be an investment.”
“Do you plan to live here for a while?”
“Unless plans change.”
Unless he ended up in Washington...
He waved an elegant hand around the space. “What would you do, then, with it?”
She gave the open-concept, stark room a critical once-over. “I would add some of that color you love, maybe a gray blue for the walls. Carpets to give it warmth, definitely. And maybe some exotic accents.”
He cradled the big wineglass in his palm. “You think that’s me?”
“I think it’s complex like you are... You aren’t cold like this, Harrison. You’re layered, you have great depth of feeling when you allow yourself to experience it.”
Suprisingly, he didn’t back away from the assessment. His face was lost in thought as he sat there in a rare still moment. “I can’t afford to be emotional right now,” he said finally, his dark lashes coming down to veil his expression. “Too many things depend on me being level-headed.”
“My father always taught me to go with my gut,” she countered. “He said the rest will come if you start with what’s in your heart.”
He lifted his ebony gaze to her. “What if your heart’s conflicted?”
Her heart squeezed at the admission. “You need to find out why.”
He rested his head against the sofa and stared over at the beautiful Chagalls, both of them in place now. Frankie swallowed hard. “Where is the push for politics coming from? Is it your dream or is it your father’s unfinished one?”
He blinked as if he couldn’t believe she’d said it. Her hands tightened around the glass, her pulse speeding up. The moment hung in the air between them like an irreversible stepping stone to an intimacy he didn’t know how to traverse. Then he sat back and swirled the wine in his glass, his eyes on the ruby-red liquid. “It’s both,” he said finally. “Politics is in my blood. In my family’s blood...My grandfather was a congressman, my father would have been governor had he not taken his own life. You talked about giving back to the community on our flight to London... I want to do that. There are so many things I want to change, things I know I can change. But am I the right man for the job? This isn’t about what I want. It’s about what this nation needs.”
