Secret Confessions: Down & Dusty - Frankie (Novella) (2 page)

If she’d been any other woman, he’d have been on her in a shot. But she wasn’t. She was the daughter of the man who’d been more of a father to him than his own and Mac had nothing but respect for her. Plus she was technically his stepsister.

Yeah, but not since the divorce went through, right?

Mac told his brain to shut the fuck up and went back into the lounge.

Frankie was staring into space, frowning slightly, as if she was trying to remember something. As he came back in, she started and, inexplicably, blushed.

Her awkwardness around him was adorable and always made him want to tease her. Which was a Very. Bad. Idea. In his experience teasing led to flirting, which in turn led to kissing, which then led to sex. And he could not think about Frankie in terms of sex. Nope. Never.

Speaking of, how long has it been again? Three months?

Yeah, longest drought ever, but wasn’t he
not
going to be thinking about that? Pushing the thought firmly away, Mac went over to her and handed her the bottle.

She took it in slim fingers and sat forward, an elbow on her knee as she took a sip.

Man, she was sexy in her jeans and t-shirts, and cute little purple socks. The way she was sitting revealed a small scrap of pale blue lace at her shoulder. A bra strap.

You know this has to stop, right? One way or another.

‘Mac,’ she said, lowering her bottle, those big blue eyes of hers fixing on his. ‘I’m grateful for the way you’ve been around since Dad died, helping out and … stuff. D-don’t think that I’m not. But …’ Her jaw firmed. ‘I want to buy you out. I think it’s time you m-moved on.’

***

Something flared in Mac’s amber gaze then vanished just as quickly. ‘Uh-huh,’ was all he said. And raised his beer bottle, taking a long sip.

Frankie bit her lip, her throat dry, feeling shaky and ridiculous. It had taken her three beers at the pub to get enough Dutch courage to lay out the facts like that and his response was ‘uh-huh’? Typical bloody Mac.

Resisting the urge to scrub her hands down her legs for the millionth time, she stared at him, finding herself transfixed by the long, brown column of his throat. By the movement of it, as he swallowed the beer.

Her palms itched.

What would his skin feel like? Hot? Smooth?

Heat rose in her cheeks. Yeah, this so had to stop. This being in love, obsession-thing with him simply wouldn’t go away no matter how hard she tried to make it. So many reasons why he had to go, not least of which the fact that he didn’t feel the same way about her.

How would you know?

The heat deepened. Okay, so she hadn’t exactly tested her theory. She was still a virgin at twenty-six, though that hadn’t exactly been her choice. Mil Springs was small and all the eligible guys simply viewed her as one of them, not a woman they wanted to get it on with, so why should Mac be any different?

He wasn’t different, of course. He’d never shown the slightest bit of interest.

Hurt ached deep inside her, but she ignored it. It would go away once he was out of here once and for all, she was sure.

‘That’s all you can say?’ she said, trying not to sound annoyed and failing miserably. ‘Uh-huh?’

Mac put his beer down slowly, his whisky-coloured gaze never leaving hers. ‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why do you want to buy me out?’

She clenched her hands into fists in her lap to stop yet another awkward scrub, trying to remember the speech she’d prepared, because of course he’d ask her that question. ‘Well, you know, for generations this property has been the Woodfords’ and now Dad’s gone—’

‘Oh don’t give me that family bullshit,’ Mac cut of her off, his voice hard and flat. ‘Tell me the real reason.’

Frankie blinked at him, momentarily taken aback. ‘What real reason?’

He leaned forward, arms crossed, elbows on his knees, the dark ink of the panther on his arm prowling over his tanned skin. ‘You want me.’

Shock froze her to the couch. ‘W-what?’ Shit. Since when had she started sounding like a scared little girl?

He tilted his head, something in those fascinating eyes of his making goosebumps break out all over her skin. ‘From the moment I got to Red Creek, you were always silent and surly and moody as hell. And I told myself it was because you were young, an only kid, and you didn’t want anyone muscling in on your territory. But that’s not it, is it? Because if it was, you’d have got over it by now.’ There was a strange golden glint in his eyes, slowly intensifying. ‘Yet you haven’t. Which leaves only one other reason.’

A fiery blush spread over her skin, so hot it felt like she was going to burst into flame any second. ‘Don’t be s-stupid,’ she said quickly, the words falling over themselves in their haste to leave her mouth. ‘I don’t w-want—’

‘I know when a woman wants me, Francesca.’ One side of his mouth curved in a smile that was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. ‘Believe me, I know.’

No, he didn’t. How could he? Frankie blinked again, trying not to look as embarrassed as she felt. ‘I don’t understand what you mean?’

He lifted an eyebrow and, God help her, that was even sexier than the smile. ‘Really?’

She tore her gaze away, her heart thumping, her mouth opening and words spilling out, because she had to keep talking and bury what he was saying under sound to keep herself from literally dying with embarrassment. ‘Look, this has got nothing to do with me wanting you or not, and for the record I d-don’t.’ Another stupid stutter. She hurried on. ‘The property should have been mine from the outset. I mean it’s been in our family for generations, and I think Dad was trying to be nice when he left some of it to you, but really—’

The flood of words stopped abruptly as one warm finger pressed against her mouth.

***

She’d gone the most adorable shade of red, her blue eyes wide as a doll’s. But at least all those bullshit words had been silenced.

Because they were bullshit. He’d understood that the moment she’d started telling him she wanted to buy him out and that he had to move on.

At first he’d been so fucking angry he hadn’t trusted himself to speak, settling for a simple ‘uh-huh’, which was certainly better than hurling his beer bottle at the wall. And then, when he’d finally been able to talk without saying something he’d regret, and had demanded reasons from her, all she’d given him back was more bullshit about her family.

Because it wasn’t true. He knew it wasn’t. He and Frankie worked well together and he thought they made a good team. They’d done some great things for Red Creek after the old man had died, and he’d thought Frankie was happy with the way it was going.

So he couldn’t think of one logical reason she wanted him out. Except there was one, and that wasn’t at all logical. In retrospect, it was obvious and he should have seen it, but he hadn’t because Frankie was Frankie and he wasn’t supposed to be looking for those kinds of signs.

But it had all made sense in that moment. The awkwardness that characterised some of their interactions. The way she stuttered sometimes when she talked to him. How she didn’t meet his eyes. He’d thought that was just her being Frankie. Yet she never acted that way with the other station staff, or with the lads when they all went out for beers at the pub.

No, she only acted that way with him.

Her lips were so soft beneath his fingertip and her blush had deepened even more.

Mistake, bro. Huge mistake.

It probably was, but he’d had to do something to stop her from talking, and leaning over and silencing her with his thumb had seemed the right thing to do.

No, actually, it was because he’d
wanted
to do it. He’d wanted to touch her and see if he was right. And he definitely was. There was no denying that blush. No denying the way she’d gone quite still, staring at him. He could see the pulse at her throat and it was beating very, very fast.

Then that lush little mouth firmed and she lifted her hand, knocking his away. ‘Don’t touch me.’

He held her gaze. ‘Really? You don’t want me to touch you?’

Her chin came up, temper flashing in her blue eyes. Which was interesting and intriguing and all kinds of fascinating, because Francesca Woodford never showed her temper, at least not to him. ‘Don’t take the piss, Mac. I’m not in the m-mood.’

Another stutter. God, she was making him hard. ‘I’m not taking the piss. In fact, I’m deadly serious.’

‘Yes, well, so am I.’ That would have had more weight if she hadn’t been redder than a bushfire in January. If her gaze hadn’t kept dropping to his mouth and then to the ink on his arm, then lower before jerking back up again as if catching herself.

How had he not seen this before? How had he not noticed?

You never allowed yourself to notice.

Yeah, that was true, he hadn’t. But now … Perhaps now all of this should come out into the open. Maybe it needed to.

‘Seems to me,’ he said slowly, ignoring her display of temper, ‘that there’s a very obvious solution to your little problem. One that doesn’t involve you having to waste money on buying me out, or me having to move.’

She was sitting bolt upright on the sofa now, her hands in fists on her thighs, that mouth of hers, that had felt so soft and warm beneath his fingertip, in a firm line. ‘Oh? And what’s that?’

Mac sat back in his chair, stretched out his legs, and put his hands behind his head. Keeping it casual. Except the look he levelled on her was anything but.

‘That we get all this awkwardness out of the way and fuck.’

***

The word
fuck
shot down Frankie’s spine and detonated somewhere in her pelvis. And it wasn’t even just the word itself, but the way he said it. Dirty and rough and full of heat, and somehow the epitome of every fantasy she’d ever had about him.

Wait. Does that mean … ?

She sat there, rooted to her spot on the couch, unable to tear her gaze away from his ridiculously handsome face. Unable to look away from those mesmerising golden eyes.

He’d said that word, and the way he was looking at her like … he wanted her too.

Heat broke like a wave inside her, a rushing, swelling fire that made her think of thermometers in cartoons bursting and red going everywhere.

She’d never thought, never ever in a million years, that he would want her. That he even saw her as a woman. But contrary to everything she ever knew about both herself and him, it appeared that, actually, he did.

Then again, this could be another Steve situation. He’d been one of the guys she met up with for the occasional beer after work at the pub, just about the only one she could see herself actually doing something with. After about five stubbies of Crownies one night, she’d been desperate enough to casually suggest that they might like to, you know, go out.

He’d laughed and all the other guys had too, and then there had been the pity in his eyes as he’d seen her obvious hurt. And then he’d said ‘sure’. It had been a pity date and it had been horrible.

Was Mac doing that to her now?

Does it matter why he said it? He’s not wrong.

Because he wasn’t. She could end all this unrequited longing, get rid of her awkward, stuttery behaviour, and finally act like a normal human being around him in one simple step. A way that was a lot less complicated than trying to convince him to let her buy him out.

Of course, it could mean making things
even more
complicated, especially considering that sex wasn’t exactly going to help with the whole being in love thing. Then again, if he was really bad in bed, it might.

Except she didn’t think he’d be bad in bed.

She swallowed, wanting to grab for her beer and drink the whole bloody thing dry, but stopping herself, knowing that it would give her away. And she couldn’t have that. Not with him sitting there like an arrogant son of a bitch, with those long legs stretched out and his hands behind his head, showing off his powerful biceps. With that smug look on his way-too-handsome face.

Clearly he liked that he’d shocked her and the fact that she
was
shocked annoyed her intensely. She didn’t want him to know that. She didn’t want him to know how long she’d been wanting him, longing for him. How pathetic would that be? And, most of all, she didn’t want him to know she was a virgin. That would be way too embarrassing and reveal way too much.

So with an effort, she forced out a long-suffering sigh. ‘Is that supposed to shock me?’

His mouth curved, that smile so sexy she could barely breathe. ‘I don’t know, does it?’

‘No, of course not. I hear worse from the guys on the station every day.’

He raised an eyebrow, which somehow made him even hotter. ‘What? They’re offering to fuck you too?’

And that wretched blush came on again, heating her skin, giving her away. It was starting to piss her off mightily. ‘Yeah, of course,’ she snapped. ‘I get offers all the time.’

‘Really?’ He paused. ‘And have you ever taken them up on any of these offers?’

‘Yeah, of course I bloody have. I’m not a bloody virgin.’ Her heart was racing and her palms were sweaty and she wanted to scrub them on her jeans again, but she held his gaze. Daring him to contradict her.

But he just sat there, that smug grin on his perfect face, his golden eyes watching her like a tiger watches its prey. ‘Don’t lie, Francesca,’ he said softly, rough heat in his voice. ‘Don’t you know I can see right through you?’

A flare of anger licked up inside her and before she could stop herself, the words came tumbling out. ‘I’m not lying, dickhead. In fact, I’ll even prove it to you.’

The maddening grin lingered around his sensual mouth. ‘Oh yeah? And how are you going to do that?’

Oh shit.
Bluff called.

Frankie threw back her shoulders and met his gaze. She had absolutely zero idea of what she was going to do or how, but there was no way she was going to back down now. ‘Tell me what you want then,’ she said. ‘Anything. I’ll do it.’

***

Hell. She couldn’t mean it. Could she?

Mac let his head fall back a little, gazing at her from underneath his eyelids, studying her deliciously pink face with its strong, stubborn jaw.