Frankie's Back in Town (13 page)

When the paramedic finally made his way into the front seat beside the driver and strapped himself in, she turned to Jack, “Did your cell phone survive?”

“I assume yours didn’t.”

“Must be with my shoes. The radio had made it, though, minus the battery pack. I must have fallen on it.” She gingerly touched her side where the radio had once hung and winced. “May I borrow your phone?”

Jack handed it to her and watched as she began keying in a number, scowling in frustration when her thawing fingers didn’t cooperate and she was forced to redial.

He guessed he was better off not offering to help.

“Hey, pup, it’s Mom.”

Jack could hear the murmur of a voice on the other end of the line.

“I know,” Frankie said. “I’ve misplaced mine. This is…a friend’s.”

She shot a glance at Jack in her periphery, and he just held her gaze. Friend was a place to start.

And Jack wanted to start.

“Listen, pup. I slipped on the ice and bumped my head. No, no. I’m completely fine. I promise. But since I fell at work, I have to go to the hospital and get checked out. Nonna’s upset, though, so I need you to come here and spend the night so she’s not alone. Okay?”

Her daughter must have agreed because Frankie went on
to say, “I appreciate it, and I need you to do something else for me. Do not eat the lasagna and don’t let Nonna eat it, either. It spent the day at the Shore unrefridgerated.”

Frankie laughed. “Definitely gross. Think you can distract her long enough to confiscate it and get it to the incinerator? Great. I know I can trust you, puppy.”

Jack slid off his coat and repositioned himself on the hard plastic stool that served as his seat.

“I promise I’ll call as soon as I see the doctor,” Frankie said. “I’ll have John drive over to get you. Be ready. Make sure everything’s off and locked up. And, remember, we’ve got a date for a
Lord of the Rings
marathon this weekend. Love you.”

She disconnected the call and placed another to the lodge, making arrangements to transport her daughter. When she finished, she handed the phone back to Jack. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” He slipped the cell back into his pocket. “Everyone taken care of?”

“I hope so.”

Jack did, too, reminded of what Concetta had said about Frankie caring for everyone else. He liked that about her, had seen hints of her nurturing with Greywacke Lodge’s residents. He liked her family, too, how they looked out for each other.

He wasn’t sure what had happened between him and Francesca, when things had changed and he’d started to care, but as he watched her sitting on the gurney, submitting to an examination though she clearly would rather be anywhere else in the world, Jack was very sure of one thing.

He wanted to be the one caring for her tonight.

F
RANCESCA HAD BEEN TRANSPORTED
by ambulance and gurney, evaluated in triage, examined in the emergency room while answering questions like: “What year is it?” and “Who is the president?” only to be pronounced in the exact state she’d claimed to be four hours ago:
fine.

“You’re not fine,” Jack argued. “The doctor would discharge you if you were. He wants you observed. Didn’t you hear him?”

“I heard.
Almost
fine then,” she conceded. “I’m not concussed. Trust me.”

There was a vast difference between concussed and humiliated in Francesca’s book. Vast. And she was gearing up to explain the differences to the doctor as soon as he returned. She would not spend the night in this hospital. Period.

“So why are you here, Jack?”

He flashed a grin that reminded her of exactly what his arms had felt like around her. “I want my socks back.”

She was not going there with Mr. Charming. She simply didn’t have the energy to talk herself out of each and every reaction to him when she could vividly remember the feel of his hard body imprinted against hers. She was disappointed because she needed to be with her daughter tonight, and instead she was yakking around in the emergency room. “I know you came to the lodge so we could talk, but
it’ll keep until another day. You’ve done your bit rescuing the damsel in distress.”

Folding his arms over his chest, he drew her gaze to the subtle suggestion of muscle beneath what was once a pristinely tailored shirt. A shirt he’d completely trashed in his rescue efforts, along with his coat, jacket, pants and shoes. She’d taken care of the socks for him.

“I had some business to discuss myself,” he said.

“Then hit me. I need something to think about besides what a mess I’ve made of my night. Yours, too.” She shot a glance at the door. “And how ready I am for that doctor to return.”

“You couldn’t have known the lasagna would make an unscheduled trip to the Shore.”

“Sad but true. I never could outthink Nonna. Thank God she’s okay, but now I’ve got to look at policy and procedure. She should never have been able to get on that bus unnoticed. Fred—he’s the driver—was about to have a heart attack.”

“Good employee?”

“Very. If I was to guess, I’ll bet Nonna slipped on after he checked his roster. Since he’s taken her on most of the Atlantic City outings since the lodge opened, he just didn’t put two and two together.”

“You’ve pinpointed another problem for your management company without any devastating consequences.”

Except for the gray hairs she’d sprouted worrying about Nonna. “Are you always so cheery?”

“A side effect of law enforcement. Too much time with the underbelly of society.” He shrugged. “Can’t get depressed.”

How refreshing for a man to be proactive about his attitude and mental health. Okay, unfair, she chided herself,
so
not fair to compare him to her ex-husband.

And why was she thinking about Jack as a man again?

“Makes sense,” she said. “So, what’s the latest update on the case?”

“Later,” he said, and as though he’d orchestrated the moment, the doctor stepped into the room so she couldn’t question Jack further.

Francesca quickly prepared a list of objections in case he wanted her to stay overnight. Not that she thought she’d get to use them. She likely wouldn’t get a word in edgewise since the doctor and Jack were good friends and her initial exam had been peppered with discussion about the merits of Arctic Cat versus Rupp.

Men and their snowmobiles. Honestly.

“Everything looks good on the X-ray, Francesca.” Dr. Reese flipped up a film of her skull and gave it a cursory glance in the overhead light. “You need to be monitored. If you don’t demonstrate any symptoms tonight, I’ll discharge you in the morning and your family can keep an eye on you through the weekend. Sound good?”

“No. I want to go home…to convalesce.” She threw in the last part so he’d know she took his diagnosis seriously.

With a frown, he slipped the X-ray film into the projector before reaching for her chart. Francesca knew what was coming next and mentally reviewed that list of objections.

“Now, Francesca—” the doctor began.

“Jay,” Jack cut him off. “If I promise to monitor her through the night, will you sign her out?”

Dr. Reese didn’t even blink. “Done. I’ll send the nurse with discharge instructions.” He made a few notations on the chart then met Francesca’s gaze. “No working out. No housework. No shopping. Take it easy over the weekend and you should be able to go to work Monday morning. Don’t give Jack a hard time.”

That statement didn’t deserve a reply.

Jack, on the other hand, couldn’t be ignored.

He was still beside her even after she’d returned his socks, replacing them with hospital booties. In his rumpled and water-stained shirt and pants, he looked suspiciously as though he meant to keep his promise of monitoring her through the night.

Francesca hadn’t decided what to do about that yet. This whole experience had been new to her. On the one hand, his concern was very thoughtful, more charming gentleman than charming rogue. He knew how much she didn’t want to spend the night here and had stepped in to rescue her again.

On the other hand, she found being poked, prodded and forced to reveal some very personal details in front of him downright unsettling.

She would have expected the gritty intimacy of this night to send him fleeing in the opposite direction. Emergency rooms were not good places to charm women, but here he was, still beside her, such a confusing mix of gentleman and rogue.

Francesca couldn’t let the fact that he’d charged in to save the day undermine her good sense. She knew better than that, had lived entirely too long stringing from one gallant moment to the next. The wild highs of romantic interludes didn’t carry her through the loneliness of the reality in between. Gallant moments were all fine and dandy, but they didn’t translate into the real world.

If and when she ever decided to get involved in a relationship again, she wanted a real man who wanted a real life complete with all the good and bad that might entail. Period.

The nurse appeared with discharge orders, giving Jack a complete rundown of what symptoms to look for in his patient, before finally calling transport. Francesca took one look at the wheelchair and swallowed back another
argument. Jack had already gone to bat for her. She wouldn’t push her luck. At least until she got out the door. So she sat with the nurse in the exit while waiting for him to bring around his car, which he’d had a patrol officer drive over from the lodge.

And the second they were driving away, she said, “Jack, I really appreciate all you’ve done tonight, but I’d like you to drop me off at the lodge. Gabrielle and Nonna can babysit me. I don’t want to be any more trouble.”

“You’re no trouble, Francesca.”

His voice was low and smooth between them, his profile lit by the warm glow of the display panel. Every morsel of common sense inside her screamed, “No, no, no! Thank him politely and send him home.” That was the only safe thing to do, the
sane
thing to do.

The very last thing in the world she needed was to cross the boundaries between professional and personal with this man any more. She simply couldn’t afford to get sucked in, not with the feel of his embrace fresh in her head. Not when all these gallant moments touched her in places that were too vulnerable.

Not when he’d been flirting with her. Besides, she reasoned
sanely,
what did she expect the chief of police to do—leave her to die on a snowy mountain? Not hardly.

“I appreciate that, Jack, but I insist. You’ve lost your whole night because of me. Take me to the lodge.”

He brought the car to a stop at a traffic light and slanted a level gaze her way. “I promised.”

She pressed a finger to her lips. “I won’t say a word.”

He released the steering wheel and spread his hand in entreaty. “I promised.”

His word must be solid gold, apparently.

The light turned green, but he didn’t accelerate. “Your place or back to the hospital, Francesca. Your call.”

She glanced over her shoulder to find the street empty, no promise of a horn-blaring driver to force Jack into motion. She scowled. “Cut me a break here.”

“Honestly, Francesca. Do you expect me to pass up the chance to spend the night with you?”

“Jack Sloan.”

His warm chuckle only underscored their nearness. A smile twitched around his mouth. He was enjoying the upper hand far too much to back down.

Arrogant, stubborn man. “Not the hospital.”

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His smile said everything as he adjusted the rearview mirror and hit the gas.

To distract herself from the dark quiet and their proximity, she snatched his cell phone from the console and checked in with Gabrielle, needing a very real reminder that the attraction between them was no-win no matter how she cut it.

Jack was an unmarried man. She was a divorced mother with a daughter who needed her, an impressionable daughter.

“Everyone okay?” Jack asked after she disconnected. “I’m surprised you called. It’s pretty late.”

Spoken like a man who’d never lived with a teen. “Barely after midnight on Friday night. Of course my daughter is awake.”

“Your grandmother?”

“Sound asleep on the couch. She had a long, eventful day. Turns out she won two-hundred dollars on the Lucky Seven slot.”

“Then she wouldn’t have wanted to miss the trip. What about the lasagna?”

“Safely disposed of, I’m happy to report. Gabrielle told Nonna she was starving and ate every last bite.”

Jack chuckled. “Slick kid.”

“
Too
slick. She can be downright scary.”

What was even scarier was how easy Francesca found it to chitchat about her life with this man even when she knew she was playing with fire.

And the instant she opened her front door, she discovered that Jack, a pounding headache, exhaustion and an assortment of bruises weren’t the only problems to contend with tonight.

“Do you normally keep the house this cold?” he asked, sidestepping her to hold the door open.

“Gabrielle would have lowered the thermostat before she left but only to sixty-eight.”

“Feels a little colder than that.”

Francesca swallowed back a groan while flipping on the lights between the foyer and the basement door. “I’m not going to catch a break today, am I?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“My hero.”

Jack flashed a pleased grin that made her heart thump hard for a few beats before she willed herself back under tight control. Leading him into a basement as cold as a meat locker, she maneuvered a path through moving boxes packed with all Nonna’s worldly possessions to reach the furnace closet.

“Damn it. It’s stone cold.” She let out a groan that made her head ache dully. Her vast sum of experience ran the gamut of central heat and air.

Jack waved her aside.

“Be my guest,” she said, a little surprised at how relieved she felt to pass on the responsibility. The feeling took her off guard. Proved nice even. He did his man thing, turned a few knobs, pressed some buttons she would have been too scared to press lest she blow up the house. Then he seconded her opinion. “Damn it.”

“I have no heat?”

“You have no heat,” he repeated with a grim expression. “I hate to admit defeat, but there’s nothing I can do tonight. This unit is on its last leg. You’re better off giving Harvey Stockton a call in the morning. He’s the only one I know who might be able to coax some life out.”

A game plan. How refreshing. She was more than happy to accept his solution to the problem. Well, tomorrow’s problem, anyway. “Looks like you’ll have to take me to the lodge, Jack. I’ve had my fill of freezing today. Haven’t you?”

“Nice try.” He smiled jovially. “Got a fireplace?”

Oh, God, this day just kept getting better and better. “If you take me to the lodge, you can go home to your nice warm house…or wherever you live.”

“Apartment,” he supplied. “I live in the square.”

“Really?” She pictured Bluestone’s quaint town square with the canopied shop fronts and picturesque balconies.

“Can’t beat the commute to work.”

“No kidding.” He could roll out of bed and be in the police station, or courthouse or mayor’s office in a heartbeat. The epitome of a bachelor pad. “Seriously, Jack. Please let’s go. Just accept this isn’t meant to be.”

He gazed at her, and even the dim light didn’t hide how his expression softened, how his gaze caressed her.

“You’re wrong, Francesca. It is meant to be.”

His voice was a throaty whisper between them, intimate, and she was galvanized by the sound, by the promise. Because he was referring to more than babysitting her tonight. A lot more.

“Will you take me to the fireplace or should I find it myself?”

She stared into those black eyes. He stared back, and she saw a battle she wouldn’t win even if she had the energy to fight. She didn’t.

“Family room.”

His smile flashed. “Then you’ll be warm soon.”

She was warm enough, thank you. Proximity, imagination and the intensity of his gaze all combined to chase off the chill in a big way. Time to flee. She started toward the stairs.

“Is this one of those situations you’re determined to find good in?” she asked, effectively rerouting their conversation to a safer topic, to place a barrier between them, even something as insubstantial as her voice.

He didn’t answer right away, just followed in her wake up the uneven stone stairs, much too close, especially when he placed a hand on her hip to steady her at the top.

She practically jumped in response to his touch, too jumpy. And his smile proved that he was aware of the effect he had on her.

What else had she expected? He was Jack Sloan. Of course he knew. Pleasure was all over his face as he pushed the door wide. She slipped through, so completely aware of the moment their bodies almost touched as she passed.

“If you hadn’t fallen and wound up at the hospital,” he finally said, “your daughter would be in this freezing house instead of at the lodge with your grandmother. She’d have tried to kick-start that antiquated furnace and would have probably blown up the whole house.”