In Rides Trouble (Black Knights Inc. #2)(28)

“I’ll go search through his gear and find a pair,” Angel offered, sliding her a look that clearly stated she should stay exactly where she was. It was obvious he wasn’t comfortable leaving Frank alone with the doctor given his current level of incoherence.

She had to agree.

“I’ll stay with Mr. Smith until you get back,” she offered just as the telephone over in the corner rang.

The doctor absently handed her the extra blanket, which she immediately tucked around Frank’s bare feet, before scurrying to answer it.

“Just try to keep him from saying or doing anything stupid,” Angel whispered, keeping a wary eye on the doctor. “I’ll tell the others we’ll take bedside shifts until these pain medications wear off and we’re assured he’s not going to open a can of worms or spill the beans or whatever other quaint little phrase you Americans like to use.”

“I’ve never seen him like this before.” Even to her own ears her voice sounded tight with concern.

“He’ll be fine just as soon as—”

“I’ll go out with you,” the doctor interrupted Angel, snatching a first-aid kit. “I’ve got a midshipman with his finger caught in a gear shaft.”

Angel nodded and followed the doctor toward the door. And after they disappeared down the corridor, Becky blew out a shaky breath and turned toward the man of her dreams.





Chapter Seven


“Frank?” She moved to the edge of the hospital bed and smoothed a lock of soft dark hair away from his bandaged brow.

He sucked in a ragged breath, and Becky jerked her hand back. “Sorry. Sorry, geez, I didn’t think that’d hurt.”

“It didn’t.” He opened his eyes again, his expression warm and bemused.

“It didn’t?”

“No.” He shook his head, smiling drunkenly. “I just like th’sound of that.”

“Of what?”

“My name.”

She fought a grin, relaxing now that the doctor was no longer in the room avidly listening to Frank’s confused ramblings. “You like the sound of your own name? Man, Frank, that’s a bit egomaniacal, even for you.”

“No.” He shook his head on the pillow. The action caused his thick hair to fill with static and stand on end. That combined with the softness of his expression made him appear almost boyish. Okay, not boyish, but perhaps a bit more…approachable. “I like the sound of my name when you say it.”

She swallowed and blinked down at him, shakily smoothing his hair back into place—God, it was so cool and silky she figured she could run her fingers through it for days and never tire of the sensation.

Don’t get your hopes up, girl. He’s delusional.

Of course, not getting her hopes up was easier said than done. Her heart was suddenly a ninety-pound weight throbbing in her chest.

“You don’t like it when I call you Boss?” she asked, holding her breath, knowing she probably shouldn’t be having this conversation with him now, while his faculties were compromised. But having his faculties compromised might just be the only way she’d ever really get the truth out of him.

He was always so guarded around her…

“Hmm-mmm,” he closed his eyes, grabbing the hand she was using on his hair, threading his thick fingers through her thin ones. He pulled her palm down to his chest, flattening it firmly over his beating heart. “You should always call me Frank.”

The tingling in her hand, clasped so warm and tight between his calloused palm and hard chest, spread up her arm and branched across her chest until her nipples pebbled.

“I don’t know,” she gulped and tried to ignore the storm of strange sensations flashing across her nerve endings. “Are you going to stop calling me Rebecca and start calling me Becky?”

Besides her father, Frank was the only one to refer to her as Rebecca, and it always made her feel like a child awaiting admonishment. Initially, she thought he’d done so to drive home the difference in their ages because, okay, so…she’d sort of suffered from a case of hero worship from the very beginning. But later she’d come to realize he called her Rebecca because he didn’t care to encourage her familiarity. He called her Rebecca because he was her boss and she was nothing more than the irritating woman whose company he was forced to endure since she happened to supply his cover…

Or was she? The way he was acting now she wasn’t so sure.

“What’s wrong with Rebecca?” he asked, rubbing his rough thumb along the back of her hand until she thought she’d go crazy. The way her body was reacting, you’d think he was rubbing something far more intimate. “It suits you.”

“It does not,” she rasped, trying with all her might to focus on the conversation instead of letting her eyes cross in pleasure. “It makes me sound like I should be Angel’s grandmother.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rolling and strangely…intimate. Her insides turned to mush. “It really sticks in your craw to be called Rebecca, doesn’t it?”

She swallowed again and tried to moderate her breathing. Her whole body was on fire. “If I—” she licked her suddenly dry lips, “if I say yes, will that just encourage you to keep doing it?”

“Maybe.” He chuckled again, and her knees started wobbling.