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Wait a minute. Her eyes narrowed with sudden insight. The only way she could convince Harry to scratch her off his list of unmarried family members in need of his matchmaking assistance was if she could make him believe she was in a serious relationship.
But she wasn’t dating anyone at the moment, let alone deeply involved. What she needed, she realized, was a man willing to conspire with her to foil Harry. A man who, like her, had something to gain from plotting against her uncle. And a man who had no interest in settling down.
Eli Wolf was exactly the kind of man she needed.
She glanced sideways at Harry, murmuring a noncommittal response as he listed the charities that Nicholas Dean had contributed to the prior year.
The question was, would Eli be willing to plot with her to trick Harry?
“… and Nicholas said his family has lived in Queen Anne for over a hundred years,” Harry’s deep voice recited.
“Interesting,” Frankie murmured, catching only the end of Harry’s comment.
“Both of his grandmothers are alive,” Harry continued, “and live within a few blocks of each other on prime pieces of real estate.”
Harry kept talking, but Frankie tuned him out as she considered Harry’s matchmaking and how to stop him. She cherished her independence, loved her job as a research assistant and substitute English-literature professor at the University of Washington, and had no interest in changing her life. She was happy, content and did not want Harry nudging her toward marriage, no matter how well-intentioned his efforts.
Once again, her gaze went across the room, unerringly zeroing in on Eli. He and Ava were now seated with Lily and Cornelia, the little girl perched on his knee as she waved her hands and chattered enthusiastically to her mother.
Eli Wolf was the only man she knew who could stop Harry’s plans. He was well liked by Harry; in fact, he was practically an adopted son. And his company would benefit by getting the contract for constructing the HuntCom campus, so he, too, would benefit from joining forces with her.
An hour later, Frankie was still mulling over the potential scheme as she drove home. It wasn’t until she was in her pajamas and in bed, a book opened and then ignored on her lap, that she faced another, potentially more important, issue.
If Eli agreed to help her, they would have to spend time together pretending to be a couple. And maybe—just maybe—she would finally get over her long-ago crush on him.
She’d known Eli since she was eleven years old and her cousin Justin had brought his best friend to a party at Harry’s house. When she was fifteen, he’d joined Justin in vetting and harassing her first boyfriends, all under the guise of being protective stand-in brothers.
At sixteen, she’d suffered through a major crush on Eli, who was then twenty-one. By the time she was nineteen, she’d believed her crush was behind her and was relieved she’d kept her feelings a secret. She hadn’t even told her three sisters, Georgie, Tommi and Bobbie, about it.
She’d thought yearning after Eli Wolf was a part of her childish, romantic past, her feelings packed away with other high school memories. She’d gone on to date college boys and, later, a fellow professor at the University of Washington, a CPA and a lawyer or two.
She frowned at the blurred lines of type in the open book, not seeing the words.
Until he’d kissed her to wish her happy birthday, she’d been so sure she was over her crush. But the kissing experiment with three other men had raised serious questions.
Surely it couldn’t be that Eli Wolf’s kisses were addictive and had resurrected her schoolgirl infatuation—but if not, why did other men’s lips taste bland and boring?
She needed an answer. She didn’t date often, preferring instead to have a mixed circle of friends who attended events in a group. But in her admittedly limited experience, she’d never yet met a man who could hold her interest longer than a few dates. Surely the same thing would happen with Eli—and she’d permanently set aside her childish adoration for him and move on to happily date other men.
But what if she fell for him, rather than growing tired of him?
That won’t happen, she scoffed silently as she closed her book, set it on the nightstand and snapped off the lamp. I’m not foolish enough to fall in love with a commitment-phobic bachelor.
But she’d have to be on guard, she thought sleepily. She liked her life just as it was. She didn’t want to fall in love and surrender her independence or change the basics of her comfortable life. Though twenty years had passed since her father’s death, she vividly remembered the following days and months and how devastated her mother had been. Watching her mother over those early years as she coped with grief, Frankie had come to believe that loving deeply carried the potential for even deeper hurt.
Because Cornelia, Frankie and her sisters had adored George Fairchild. It wasn’t until after his death that they’d learned he’d had a gambling habit that left his grieving family nearly destitute.
She’d trusted her father with all the blind faith of a child. While she hadn’t stopped loving him, as she grew older she’d sworn never to foolishly trust a man that deeply again.
She’d always been goal-oriented and focused, she thought, stifling a yawn. Surely she could be the same while dealing with Eli? She’d keep her eyes on the prize—derailing Harry’s matchmaking intentions and putting to rest forever any remnants of her teenage crush.
Satisfied she’d fully considered and understood both the upside and downside of her plan, Frankie fell asleep.
She dreamed of a tall, broad-shouldered man with black hair and smoky-blue eyes—he held out his arms and her dream self ran joyously toward him.
In her quiet bedroom, she tossed and turned, murmuring and tangling the blankets as she dreamed.
Chapter Two
Two days after dinner at Harry’s house, Frankie left her office on the University of Washington campus midmorning and drove to Ballard. The Seattle community was twenty minutes west of the UW campus and an equal distance northwest of downtown Seattle. Wolf Construction’s business office was located in the industrial section near the Ballard Locks. Except for a diesel pickup truck with a Wolf Construction logo on the door, the parking lot on the south side of the building was empty.
When she entered the outer office, the reception area was quiet and empty, the two secretarial desks vacant.
“Hello?” No one answered her call, and she frowned. Surely the office’s outer door would have been locked if no one was here?
The silence was broken by a loud thump somewhere deeper in the building, followed by a male voice muttering what sounded like swearing. Frankie peered past the desks and down the hallway beyond, where several doors stood open into offices.
“Hello?” she called again. When no one appeared, Frankie waited another moment before determinedly rounding the desk and marching down the hall.
“Damn it,” a male voice rumbled with annoyance. “Where the hell did Connor put those plans?”
Frankie followed the deep voice, stepping into an office. She halted just inside. Eli stood across the room, his back to her as he pulled open a drawer and shuffled through the papers inside. He wore heavy black work boots, jeans and a black T-shirt. He bent over the drawer, and faded denim pulled tight over his rear. Beneath the snug clothes, sculpted muscles shifted and bunched as he stretched to reach the back of the drawer. Frankie stared, riveted, her body heating as her gaze followed the movements of his powerful body.
He straightened, shoving the drawer closed and opening the next one with an impatient jerk.
The noise snapped Frankie out of the spell that held her, and she gathered her composure, taking a deep, calming breath. “Hello, Eli.”
He stiffened and quickly swung around, his eyes flaring with surprise just before his mouth curved in a grin.
“Frankie? What are you doing here?”
Now that she was actually about to propose her plan to Eli, Frankie was suddenly nervous. Her fingers gripped the leather strap of her black Coach purse a bit tighter.
“I need to talk to you about something. Do you have a few minutes?”
Clearly surprised, he cocked his head to the side, considering her for a brief moment. “Sure.” He tossed a roll of blueprints into the open drawer, pushed it closed and moved away from the cabinet. “Come on in. Have a seat.” He gestured at the two leather armchairs facing the desk. “I’d offer you something to drink, but the office staff has the day off and the coffee is probably cold sludge left over from yesterday.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine.” Frankie crossed to the chair and sat, perching on the edge of the comfortable seat.
Eli half sat on the edge of the desk facing her. The position had him much too close to her. She had to look up to meet his gaze. At eye level, the worn denim of his jeans stretched across powerful thighs. Determinedly, she kept her gaze on his face.
“So, tell me,” he prompted when she hesitated. “What brings you to Ballard this morning?”
Now that she was here, faced with explaining her plan to Eli, Frankie was reluctant to begin the conversation.
“What were you looking for when I came in?” she asked, not answering his question. “You sounded frustrated.”
Eli glanced over his shoulder at the cabinet. “Frustrated isn’t a strong enough word,” he said, his gaze swinging back to meet hers. “My brother Connor told his secretary to send the blueprints down to the job site, but she sent the wrong ones. I came back to pick them up, but I’ll be damned if I can find them.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the cabinet with its long drawers. “They’re not in the project drawer.” He sounded thoroughly disgusted.
“Can you call him on his cell and ask him?” Frankie suggested.
“I tried that,” he told her. “He’s not answering.”
“I’m sorry,” she said with sympathy. “I know how disturbing it can be to have a project stopped. I hate wasting time while I wait for someone to respond before I can move forward.”
He nodded, his blue eyes warming. “It’s bloody annoying,” he agreed.
Eli studied Frankie through narrowed eyes.
She’s nervous, he thought with surprise. Making small talk about his search for the blueprints was only a ruse to delay telling him why she was here.
When he’d swung around and saw her framed in the office doorway, he’d been slammed with the same jolt of awareness that had plagued him ever since they’d shared a kiss at her birthday party four months earlier. Though it was meant to be casual, he hadn’t been able to forget the feel and taste of Frankie’s soft, lush mouth under his.
She’d featured prominently in more than one hot, sweaty dream ever since, leaving him sleep deprived and cranky the next morning.
He raked his fingers through his hair and shifted, forcing himself to remember the beautiful blonde sitting in the chair facing him was Justin’s cousin and, therefore, off-limits. “Come on, Frankie,” he coaxed. “Tell me why you’re here.”
She shifted in her chair, slim fingers tucking a strand of hair behind one small ear. She sat primly, feet aligned on the floor, hands now resting quietly on her lap. “I’ve known you a long time, Eli,” she began. “And more importantly, you’ve known my uncle Harry since you were a teenager. I’m sure you’re aware of Harry’s scheme to force his sons to marry, and how Justin fell in love with Lily in spite of Harry’s interference.”
“Of course.” Eli nodded. “Justin told me before the wedding.”
“What you might not be aware of,” Frankie went on, “is that Harry seems to think that since his scheming to force his sons to marry turned out so well, he’s decided to become a matchmaker for the Fairchilds. All four of us—including me.”
Eli was stunned. “You’re kidding” was all he could manage to get out. He shook his head in disbelief, but Frankie’s face didn’t look as if this was a joke. “That doesn’t make any sense. He damn near ruined all four of his sons’ chances at marrying the women they wanted.”
“I know!” Frankie leaned forward. “And he almost did the same with Tommi and Bobbie! Apparently, he thinks he’s successful, however, because he’s turned his sights on me.”
“What the hell?” Eli felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. “Who does Harry want you to marry?”
“Nicholas Dean.”
Oh, hell no! Eli’s rejection of the possibility that Frankie would marry Nicholas Dean was visceral and immediate. Somehow, he kept himself from snarling aloud. “Why did he pick Dean?” he asked, aware his voice was deeper, rougher than it had been only moments before.
Frankie waved one small, graceful hand. “Who knows? I think he picked Nicholas because Dean Construction was on Harry’s radar. Harry told me he’d run the usual background check on the company when it was shortlisted for the contract to build HuntCom’s new building in south Seattle. Evidently, Harry was impressed with Nicholas’s work ethic, plus the fact that he’s single, so Harry decided he should encourage Nicholas to ask me out.”
“And you’re not on board with the plan?”
“No!” Frankie frowned at him, her brown eyes sparking with gold. “I’m not.”
“I see.” Relief flooded Eli, the corners of his mouth lifting in a grin. “And you want me to tell Harry you’re not interested in dating Nicholas?” he guessed.
“I’ve already told Uncle Harry I’m not interested,” she informed him. “It didn’t faze him, and I suspect he’s working on a scheme to push me and Nicholas together even as we speak.”
Eli’s smile disappeared.
“I’ve watched Uncle Harry interfere in Tommi’s and Bobbie’s love lives,” Frankie went on. “And I’m convinced the only way to stop his matchmaking is to convince him that I’m taken. That’s where you come in.”
Eli blinked. “That’s where I come in?” he repeated.
She nodded decisively. “I have zero interest in getting married—and the general consensus of opinion in the family is that you don’t, either. Which makes you the perfect person for my plan.”
Eli narrowed his eyes over her thoughtfully. “I’m not sure I’m following you. Maybe you should give me the abbreviated version.”
Frankie waved her hands expressively, her expression wry. “I’m sorry—let me back up. The other night at Harry’s house when he was telling me all the reasons I should want to date and perhaps marry Nicholas Dean, you were standing across the room holding Ava. I’m afraid I used you to distract Harry and asked him why he didn’t suggest you as a potential husband. He told me he doubted you would marry. He said you seemed perfectly happy with your life as it was. Well …” She shrugged. “The moment Harry said that, I realized you were the perfect person for me to date, because neither of us wants to get married. When Harry kept droning on about all of Nicholas’s good qualities, I had a brainstorm.”
“A brainstorm,” Eli repeated. He realized belatedly that he kept repeating her statements and told himself to stop.
“Yes, exactly.” She leaned forward, her brown eyes gleaming with determination. “Which brings me to the reason I came to see you today. I need to convince Harry I’m madly in love and deeply committed to someone so he’ll stop trying to pair me up with single men. But I’m not in love, and there’s no one on my horizon. So I need someone to pretend to be involved with, while you,” she continued, pointing at him, “would like Wolf Construction to win the contract for the new HuntCom building. So … my proposal is that we team up. If you’ll pretend to be involved with me, I can almost guarantee Uncle Harry will move Wolf Construction to the top of the list for the contract. He’s already narrowed it down to you and Nicholas, and he as good as admitted to me that he’s inclined to award contracts to family or close family friends.”
“You want me to date you in order to get Harry to give my company a contract?” Eli asked, his tone neutral.
“Not exactly,” she told him. “I’m only suggesting that we both have something to gain—and frankly, I need a pretend-date/boyfriend as fast as possible. Harry, my mother and sisters already know and adore you, so they won’t bat an eye if it’s you I claim to have fallen madly in love with. If I introduce someone new, they’re going to be more skeptical. I want Harry off my back. Heaven knows what trouble he can stir up for me.” She shuddered.
Eli stared at her for a long moment. He didn’t want her believing he was the kind of man who would use her to gain a lucrative construction contract. On the other hand, there was no way he’d let her be courted by Nicholas Dean.
Not that Dean was a bad guy. He was, in fact, everything Harry thought he was—smart, successful and played a mean game of pool. Just the kind of man a woman could easily fall in love with.
Which was why there was no way in hell Eli was going to let him near Frankie, not if he could help it. He knew he was being territorial, but he couldn’t seem to help it.
Probably because I want to be the one burning up the sheets with Frankie, he thought. In fact, he realized with a start, he’d felt that way for months.
And it was time he did something about it.
“Well,” she said expectantly, interrupting his thoughts. “Will you do it?”
“Yeah,” he said with a slow drawl. “I will.” He stood, bending to cup her elbow and lift her from the chair. “Let’s go get some coffee and talk about the details.”
He hustled her out of the office and down the street to Zena’s Café before she had time to change her mind.
“So,” he said when they were seated in a booth with steaming mugs in front of them, “how do you envision going forward with this campaign to fool Harry?”
“I thought we’d keep it simple,” Frankie told him. “We can work out a list of events Harry is likely to attend. Then we can appear together and pretend to be in love while Harry’s watching. Hopefully, it won’t take long to convince him. Once he accepts that, he can cross me off his matchmaking list and sign your company contract for the new HuntCom campus, and we can go back to our normal lives.”
“Harry’s pretty shrewd—I’m not sure he’s going to be as easy to convince as you seem to think,” Eli told her. “He didn’t get his reputation as a shark in the financial world by being dense.”
“But that’s business.” Frankie propped her forearms on the polished wood tabletop and leaned forward. “When it comes to personal relationships, Harry can be amazingly unaware. Look at the women he married—disasters, every one of them.”
“You’ve got a point.” Eli shrugged. “It’s hard to argue with his marital record. The only good thing about Harry’s ex-wives is that he stopped getting married after making four bad choices.”
“Exactly.” Frankie nodded decisively. “I truly anticipate he’ll accept our romantic smoke screen as fact. I don’t think he’ll look deeper.”
“Nevertheless,” Eli told her. “If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right. Remember,” he cautioned her, “it’s not just Harry we have to convince. Your mother or sisters are likely to be attending the same functions as Harry. If we’re not believable, they’ll never buy it. Cornelia’s not going to be easy to fool—especially when it comes to one of her daughters. And if Cornelia knows we’re faking, she’s likely to tell Harry.”
Frankie frowned, unconsciously winding a lock of hair around her forefinger in a gesture Eli had noticed her make before when she was deep in thought.
“You’re right,” she murmured. She looked up at Eli, her brown eyes alive with bright determination, gold flecks swimming in the chocolate-brown depths. “So we can’t let her know we’re pretending. Think you can pull it off?”
Her tone matched the challenge in the quick curve of her lips.
