Frankie's Back in Town (6 page)

Susanna wasn’t sure how many more she could take.

J
UST WHEN
F
RANCESCA HAD
the end of this all-important project tantalizingly in sight, she couldn’t stuff one more piece of china into the plastic storage box. Not one.

Nonna was expecting to be reunited with her china this morning, and Francesca didn’t have the heart to disappoint her again. Nonna was already having a hard enough time settling in at the lodge, which shouldn’t be coming as a surprise. Nonna had lived in her three-story Victorian since the day she had married some sixty-odd years before. A lifetime.

This china had traveled with her on a ship from Italy, a wedding gift from her parents. Nonna might not have the room to display the set in her apartment now, but she wasn’t about to part with it, either. She’d passed along the set to her own daughter-in-law as a wedding gift, but then inherited it back—along with Francesca—after the auto accident that had killed her only son and daughter-in-law. Since Nonna was a big believer in family traditions, she continued to break out the dishes on holidays, and promised to pass the set along to Francesca as a wedding gift.

If and when she married someone worthy.

Nicky Raffa hadn’t counted as far as Nonna was concerned. Not only had he convinced Francesca to leave Bluestone to see the world, but he’d also committed the ultimate sin by convincing her to elope at the courthouse, which had
meant no wedding dress. That had been incomprehensible to someone who had made a living beading wedding dresses and ladies’ formalwear.

But Nonna’s hope sprang eternal. Patience, too. She was still waiting for Francesca to find a china-worthy man. That legacy had grown in importance now that age had robbed her of the eyesight and motor skills needed to create those beaded masterpieces that had defined her life’s work. Even if Francesca did find a worthy man, she wouldn’t be wearing one of Nonna’s fantasy wedding creations as her own mother had.

Such was life. Not always fair. Rarely easy. Yet Francesca was learning that those imperfections made it possible for the good times to stand out and shine all the brighter. The love she knew for her daughter. The second chance she had with Nonna.

Besides, on the positive side, the family china hadn’t become another casualty of her errant youth. Without question she would have sold off the whole set when Gabrielle had gotten sick in Guatemala City and she and Nicky hadn’t had the money to pay for a doctor.

That had been one of those mixed blessing situations so prominent in her life. A turning point because had she not had such an awakening to the responsibility of parenthood, she might never have shaken off the rebellion of her youth and grown to functioning adulthood.

But she had, thankfully, which was why she’d awakened early today. And she would be finished with this project already, if not for being short a storage bin.

Glancing at the clock ticking methodically away on the mantel, Francesca calculated the time. Barely five. A twenty-four-hour Wal-Mart Supercenter store was practically in her backyard so she could go for her morning run, buy a bin and wrap up this project if she got a move on.

In Phoenix, she wouldn’t have considered running before the sun came up, but in Bluestone…In less than ten minutes, Francesca was telling a sleepy Gabrielle that she was leaving, locking the front door and heading outside.

Her breath burst in white clouds in the frigid air, so she wrapped her scarf around the lower half of her face. She remembered this cold from her childhood, but the cold was about the only thing recognizable about Bluestone anymore.

The town had grown so much that the sprawl had reached Francesca’s childhood home. What had once been a quiet residential street was now zoned commercial, with Nonna’s home sandwiched between an automotive repair shop and the loading docks behind the Supercenter.

Francesca took to the predawn streets and let physical exertion empty every thought from her head until she could hear nothing but blessed silence.

Five miles later, she was blinking against the fluorescent glare of the store’s interior. Fortunately, it was quiet this time of the morning, mostly employees scrubbing floors, stocking shelves or serving the few other early bird customers.

Francesca headed straight for the storage department, grabbed a plastic container, and headed to the checkout. As she cleared kitchen appliances, she nearly collided with a man who’d emerged from pet supplies in as much of a hurry as she was.

“Oh, I’m so sorry—” She came to a tottering stop, grateful for her running shoes on the freshly mopped floor. Had she been in heels, she’d be on her butt right now.

“Forgive me, Francesca.”

She glanced up in surprise. “Jack?”

“My fault entirely.” That smile. That totally
to-die-for
smile.

He appeared to be in uniform, although she couldn’t see
much more than the gold stars at his throat. The black wool duster he wore made him look big and imposing and completely out of place in this friendly neighborhood Supercenter.

She was in a waking nightmare. Her cheeks felt freezer burned, and Jack could probably smell her. Her hair, well, that wasn’t a total tragedy as it was frizz on a
good
day. “Please tell me you’re not here to bring me up to speed on the Mystery of the Reappearing Wallet.”

His smile widened. “You’ll have to call it the
Case
of the Reappearing Wallet if you want to be official.”

“Can’t be unofficial in that uniform.”

He laughed, an easy sound in that deep voice that rocked the quiet and told her he liked that she’d noticed him. He liked it very much.

Nightmare? No. Francesca was in hell. No question.

“Still shopping?”

She shook her head, afraid to open her mouth again lest more stupidity tumble out.

He nodded, and they fell into step together toward the front checkout. When she didn’t say anything, he held up a bag of rawhide bones. “For Gus-Gus.”

She did
not
want to ask, but there was simply no way around it. And no question in her mind that he’d set her up, either. He wanted to chitchat. What was with this man?

“All right. Who’s Gus-Gus?”

“My mother’s dog. He’s failing, and she’s upset. Thought I’d drop by on my way to an appointment to bring a convalescent gift. Not that I think there’s much hope of convalescing.”

“That’s really depressing, Jack.”

“Sad, yes. But not too tragic. The dog has lived a long and privileged life. My mother’s pets are official family members. Gus-Gus is the brother I never had. So what about you? What brings you here at this hour?”

“Never-ending storage needs.” She glanced down at the plastic container she held, so big he couldn’t have missed it even if it hadn’t almost taken him out when they’d collided. “Packing up my grandmother’s place.”

“The Victorian on Third.” It wasn’t a question.

“So you do know who I am.” The words were out of her mouth like a horse at the gate. Damn it. Why didn’t mouths come with padlocks? “I mean, that I’m from around here.”

“We went to school together, Francesca.”

“I know.” She forced a laugh, backpedaling. “Long time ago. I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

He came to a sudden stop and arched a dark eyebrow, looking thoroughly charming and thoroughly amused.

“Okay, not much hope of that. I was pretty memorable.” Especially since
his
girlfriend had been captain of the anti-Frankie squad. How stupid could she be?
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“That’s not why I remember you.” His voice was throaty and low, his admission oh-so personal in the quiet of this early morning. Too personal.

“Oh.” She didn’t have a clue what to say to
that,
but she wasn’t about to ask him why. She didn’t want to know.

All Francesca knew in that moment was that she wasn’t the only one noticing the chemistry between them. She’d been telling herself that Jack had been pleasant and friendly, his usual charming self, but right now, standing in front of aisles filled with tabloids and impulse buys, she knew this man
noticed
her, even though she must look like the Bride of Frankenstein.

She did the only thing she could think to do.

“My daughter and I are staying at Nonna’s house until we can pack everything and get it on the market,” she said, babbling about the first thing that came to mind. “But I’m
afraid with the way the neighborhood has gone, I’ll sell the house and they’ll bulldoze it to build a drugstore.”

Jack’s gaze never wavered, but his smile did. Damn man was so used to women tripping over themselves for him that he could spot one a mile off. He knew exactly what she was up to. Oh, he knew all right. She could see it in his face, feel it in the pit of her stomach.

“That doesn’t seem right.” His smile widened. “Seems like there should be some loophole for historical significance.”

It took a moment for his words to register, to realize he’d let them segue through the moment and ignore this awareness between them. This awareness that shouldn’t be happening.

“You know, I hadn’t thought of that,” she said in a rush. “Nonna’s was one of the first residential houses around here. I should check with the town historical society.”

“Good idea. So what happens after you sell the place? Do you and your daughter intend to buy something in the area?”

Danger. Danger. Danger.

The warning blared inside her head. She
should not
be feeling this crazy pleasure because Jack was interested in her plans. Maybe he was being polite. Or his interest was strictly professional. But she could hear that warning inside her head,
feel
it straight to her toes. So much more was happening here.

She forced herself to reply casually. “That’s the plan. Not sure where we want to live yet, though. Haven’t had much time to look between getting settled at work and school and pulling the house together.”

“That must be a job. The house looks huge, and I know you’re busy working and solving mysteries and…” Dragging his gaze down the length of her, he didn’t miss an inch in between. “You’re a runner.”

She nodded.

His smile widened. “So am I.”

Three little words that closed the distance between them in a very personal way.

Francesca was saved from having to reply as they reached the express lane. Jack took her storage container and placed it on the conveyor then stepped aside, allowing her to move ahead.

Get a grip. Get a grip. Get a grip.

She reached inside her pocket for her debit card and didn’t say another word as they made their purchases and headed outside. She didn’t trust herself to open her mouth just yet. Not with this man oozing his charm all over her. Not with her immunity to charm in desperate need of a booster shot.

The predawn cold went a long way toward diffusing the warmth that had everything to do with the handsome man beside her. Francesca set down her bin to bundle up for the walk home.

Jack watched her wrap her scarf around her neck, and the charm vanished in the blink of an eye. The smile disappeared and there wasn’t a hint of flirting in his voice when he asked, “You’re not walking, are you?”

“I’ll cut through the parking lot.”

His brow creased as he narrowed his gaze over the vast and mostly empty parking lot that suddenly seemed like a hotbed for potential crime beneath the suddenly scowling expression of the police chief. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“That’s not necessary, Jack. I’ll be home in a heartbeat.”

He held her gaze steadily and repeated, “I’ll give you a ride.”

Mr. Take-Charge wasn’t leaving her any way to decline politely. Francesca wasn’t sure what she thought of that. It was a new experience. That much was for sure.

She resisted the urge to point out that she’d just survived a five-mile run, and said, “If you insist.”

“I do.” His voice was a husky whisper between them as he slipped a hand around her elbow and led her toward an occupied space.

The next thing Francesca knew, she was being ushered inside a late model Crown Victoria that screamed unmarked car with its darkly tinted windows and nondescript design. Taking her storage bin, he held the door while she slipped inside. He settled her purchase in the backseat then slid in beside her, filling the close quarters with his presence, so completely masculine with his determined manner.

The glow from all the electronic displays cast his profile in glowing relief, and the moment became surreal, an intriguing glimpse of a Jack she hadn’t met yet. A Jack who wasn’t the thoroughly charming police chief, but a law-enforcement officer who dealt with a side of life she tried her level best to avoid.

“So this is what the inside of an unmarked car looks like,” she commented as he turned over the engine. “Not as high-tech as I would have thought.”

He gave a nod and steered the car toward her street.

“So, any new developments on the investigation?” she asked, needing to get them back on familiar footing, to help her reclaim her equilibrium around this man.

“Progressing, I’m happy to report. And you don’t have to worry about your personnel yet. So what about things on your end? Calming down?”

She shrugged. “A little maybe, but let me take this opportunity to say thanks for the way you’ve been handling the Hickmans. Their daughter appreciates it, too.”

He shifted his gaze off the road. “You mean handling their case professionally and thoroughly?”

How could she
not
smile at that? “And thoughtfully. This situation is unsettling. It’s tough enough to misplace things, but with the situation dragging on…”

Jack gave a quiet laugh. “Oh, I hear you, Francesca. I’ve got a grandfather of my own.”

That was all he needed to say and, honestly, she wasn’t surprised. Not when he’d treated the Hickmans, and the other residents they’d encountered, so easily. “Well, I wanted to say thanks. We all appreciate what you’re doing to reassure the Hickmans you have everything in hand.”

He flashed a smile that gleamed white in the dimly lit car. “That’s because we do.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, although she wanted to resist this man. With every ounce of reason, she wanted to resist. But she sat so close, lulled by the breaking dawn and the stillness broken only by the steady hum of the powerful engine. She was glimpsing sides of him that she’d never met before, and that only deepened the intimacy of the moment. He was Jack Sloan, after all, she reminded herself. And she was only human.