Beauty and the Wolf by Lois Faye Dyer Read Free Book Online Page A

wonderful. I love champagne,” Frankie said with delight, accepting a flute from Eli. “How did you know?”
    â€œYou had champagne at your last birthday party.”
    His gaze met hers, and Frankie’s heart skipped a beat. The memory of her birthday party and the kiss they’d shared was in his eyes, and Frankie was suddenly back there, his mouth on hers, his arms warm and hard, wrapping her tight against the powerful muscles of his chest and thighs….
    â€œHow nice that you remembered.”
    Cornelia’s warm voice broke the spell that held Frankie, and she tore her gaze from Eli’s, looking down at the bubbles rising in the gold liquid filling her flute.
    Eli relaxed in his chair, a glass in one hand, the other arm stretched out along the back of Frankie’s chair. His fingers brushed the bare curve of her shoulder before closing warmly, lightly, over the nape of her neck.
    â€œI remember everything about Frankie.” His voice was deeper, huskier.
    Frankie glanced sideways, and their gazes meshed. She tried to remember he was only playing a role. But his blue eyes were darker, smokier, and the heat within seemed so real Frankie felt herself melting, her body unconsciously softening, easing toward his.
    â€œI don’t recall seeing you at Frankie’s last birthday party,” Harry said.
    Frankie glanced up, alerted by Harry’s tone, and saw his eyes narrow over Eli.
    â€œI wasn’t there long,” Eli said without missing a beat. “I’d barely recovered from a second leg surgery and stopped in for a few minutes, looking for Justin. I didn’tknow you were having a party until I got there and only stayed long enough to say hello and toast the birthday girl before leaving.”
    â€œAh, that must be why I don’t remember—I probably didn’t see you in the crowd,” Harry mused.
    â€œThere were a lot of people at the house,” Eli agreed.
    His fingertips absently stroked the curve of Frankie’s shoulder, almost as if he was savoring the tactile pleasure of her skin against his. Despite knowing he was only touching her because Harry and Cornelia were watching, Frankie still shivered inwardly, her skin heating beneath his touch.
    â€œOh, Jonathon,” Marcia exclaimed, her eyes lighting as the orchestra played the opening notes of a classic Burt Bacharach tune. “I love this song—come dance with me.” She held out her hand to her husband.
    â€œExcuse us, folks,” Jonathon said as he rose and took his wife’s hand.
    Eli leaned closer, his lips brushing Frankie’s ear-lobe.
    â€œLet’s dance.”
    She nodded silently, and he stood, pulling back her chair.
    â€œHarry, you should dance with Mom,” she said as Eli took her hand, threading her fingers through his.
    â€œI think we’ll sit this one out and finish our champagne,” Harry replied.
    Frankie thought she caught a fleeting frown crossher mother’s features before Eli tugged her gently out onto the gleaming floor.
    He turned her into his arms, tucking her close. Her temple rested against his cheek, and each breath she took drew in the subtle scent of his aftershave, warmed by body heat. She loved that smell, she thought, leaning closer.
    â€œDid you see Harry’s face?” Eli’s voice was a low rumble. He chuckled, his breath ghosting against her ear.
    â€œHe can’t decide whether to demand we tell him why we’re here together or pretend it’s not happening.”
    Frankie laughed. “I’d give anything to hear what he’s saying to Mom right now.”
    Eli’s arms tightened around Frankie. “Heads up,” he whispered in her ear. “Harry and your mom are heading this way.”
    Frankie tilted her head back and looked up at him.
    â€œDo we have a plan?” she asked, even as she reveled in the muscled strength of his arm at her waist, his warm fingers threaded through