chocolate, warm and soothing, rich and sweet, coaxing her to believe him. How she wanted to.
“It’s against the rules, wacko! People will stare, they won’t seat us and we’ll look like fools! You can’t seriously want to go through that.” Nervously, she glanced around at the finely dressed restaurant patrons entering the building. She used to dine at places like this all the time, a lifetime ago. She did not belong here, not dressed like this. Glancing down at her jeans and plain jacket, her ex-husband’s words leapt to her mind.
“God, Frannie, is it impossible for you to buy a dress that makes you look like anything but a ‘before’ picture? I realize you aren’t working with much but couldn’t you at least try?”
Once again, she was out of her element. And it was all Jinx’s fault. Snow began to fall in earnest and topped his ebony hair like fairy dust.
“No, I don’t want to go in. And I’m cold. Let’s just leave, okay?”
“Lighten up, will you, Frannie?” Having lost the feeling in her lips, she simply glared at him. “Frannie.” Her name was a sing-song in the air. His one arched brow mocked her, calling her a coward. Her tightly controlled patience snapped.
“What is it with you and those damn eyebrows? Do you practice those moves in the mirror or something?”
A loud laugh split the night as he pecked her cold cheek and asked, “Are you coming in or do I carry you?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Before the last syllable faded to silence, he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Put me down, you Neanderthal!”
“Keep yelling, Frannie. That’ll just draw more attention to your sunny-side-up but incredibly adorable backside.”
He patted the aforementioned body part and stepped into the bustling lobby with a jolly whistle. Frannie drew on all her willpower not to scream, wishing the floor would open up and swallow them both. She contented herself with burying her face in the small of Jinx’s back and sinking her nails as deeply as she could into his side. He never flinched.
“Table for two.” Jinx’s voice rumbled against her upside-down ear. Every pair of eyes in the elegant dining room followed the odd denim-clad couple, one of whom only had her rounded rump visible. She squeezed her eyes shut but could feel the astonishment and speculation from everyone zeroing in on her ass like a laser beam. When they reached a secluded booth, he put her down and she scrambled as far back into the seat as she could.
Hunching her shoulders, her eyes darted around the softly light ballroom. “I hate you. Everyone’s staring.”
“You’re imagining things.” His smile was sly and amused and thoroughly maddening. Fuming, she tried to make the old phrase “killing with a look” a reality.
“Would you care for menus, Mr. Sullivan?” The crisp-looking waiter seemed to find nothing odd about their dramatic entrance and behaved as professionally as if they were dripping with diamonds rather than melting snow.
“No, I don’t think so. Just bring the dessert cart and a bottle of champagne. Do you want anything else, Frannie?”
“A gun. Or a noose. Even poison darts.”
“Coffee will have to do.” With a wave, Jinx dismissed the stoic waiter and turned to her, a satisfied look on his face.
Thawing on the outside from the heat and on the inside from the mouth-watering aromas, Frannie shed her thin coat before she crossed her arms and shot daggers at him with her eyes. “Well, they certainly know you around here. Bring all your girlfriends in here caveman style, do you?”
“Jealous?” he teased, leaning closer to her.
“Of course not. Mortified is more like it. Jinx, no one waltzes into a restaurant like this in street clothes, carrying a woman on his shoulder and orders champagne.”
“I just did.”
“Yeah, well, lunatics don’t count.”
The single candle bathed the snowy white tablecloth in a soft glow. Frannie watched
“It’s against the rules, wacko! People will stare, they won’t seat us and we’ll look like fools! You can’t seriously want to go through that.” Nervously, she glanced around at the finely dressed restaurant patrons entering the building. She used to dine at places like this all the time, a lifetime ago. She did not belong here, not dressed like this. Glancing down at her jeans and plain jacket, her ex-husband’s words leapt to her mind.
“God, Frannie, is it impossible for you to buy a dress that makes you look like anything but a ‘before’ picture? I realize you aren’t working with much but couldn’t you at least try?”
Once again, she was out of her element. And it was all Jinx’s fault. Snow began to fall in earnest and topped his ebony hair like fairy dust.
“No, I don’t want to go in. And I’m cold. Let’s just leave, okay?”
“Lighten up, will you, Frannie?” Having lost the feeling in her lips, she simply glared at him. “Frannie.” Her name was a sing-song in the air. His one arched brow mocked her, calling her a coward. Her tightly controlled patience snapped.
“What is it with you and those damn eyebrows? Do you practice those moves in the mirror or something?”
A loud laugh split the night as he pecked her cold cheek and asked, “Are you coming in or do I carry you?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Before the last syllable faded to silence, he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Put me down, you Neanderthal!”
“Keep yelling, Frannie. That’ll just draw more attention to your sunny-side-up but incredibly adorable backside.”
He patted the aforementioned body part and stepped into the bustling lobby with a jolly whistle. Frannie drew on all her willpower not to scream, wishing the floor would open up and swallow them both. She contented herself with burying her face in the small of Jinx’s back and sinking her nails as deeply as she could into his side. He never flinched.
“Table for two.” Jinx’s voice rumbled against her upside-down ear. Every pair of eyes in the elegant dining room followed the odd denim-clad couple, one of whom only had her rounded rump visible. She squeezed her eyes shut but could feel the astonishment and speculation from everyone zeroing in on her ass like a laser beam. When they reached a secluded booth, he put her down and she scrambled as far back into the seat as she could.
Hunching her shoulders, her eyes darted around the softly light ballroom. “I hate you. Everyone’s staring.”
“You’re imagining things.” His smile was sly and amused and thoroughly maddening. Fuming, she tried to make the old phrase “killing with a look” a reality.
“Would you care for menus, Mr. Sullivan?” The crisp-looking waiter seemed to find nothing odd about their dramatic entrance and behaved as professionally as if they were dripping with diamonds rather than melting snow.
“No, I don’t think so. Just bring the dessert cart and a bottle of champagne. Do you want anything else, Frannie?”
“A gun. Or a noose. Even poison darts.”
“Coffee will have to do.” With a wave, Jinx dismissed the stoic waiter and turned to her, a satisfied look on his face.
Thawing on the outside from the heat and on the inside from the mouth-watering aromas, Frannie shed her thin coat before she crossed her arms and shot daggers at him with her eyes. “Well, they certainly know you around here. Bring all your girlfriends in here caveman style, do you?”
“Jealous?” he teased, leaning closer to her.
“Of course not. Mortified is more like it. Jinx, no one waltzes into a restaurant like this in street clothes, carrying a woman on his shoulder and orders champagne.”
“I just did.”
“Yeah, well, lunatics don’t count.”
The single candle bathed the snowy white tablecloth in a soft glow. Frannie watched
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