Driven By Fate(48)

“Wait here. I’ll go check us in.”

Her smile was far more absent than before and it drilled a hole in his gut. Fix this. He’d fix this. As he stood at the front desk waiting for their keys, Porter vowed he wouldn’t ruin his first night with her.

First or last? Could he keep her, knowing every second in her presence pulled him deeper? Jesus, did he have a choice? Twelve hours without her last night and he’d been climbing the bloody walls.

The desk clerk placed the room keys on the desk and broke past his thoughts. He thanked the smiling woman and turned to find Francesca.

She was talking to a man. A man who stood. Entirely. Too. Close. Visibly uncomfortable, she backed away and the man followed.

Porter’s vision flickered, ugliness forming a funnel cloud inside him.

He started across the lobby.





Chapter Sixteen


Beat it, creeper.

Frankie ground her teeth as the man planted his hand on the end of her lounge chair, bringing her face to face with his wedding ring. In her everyday life, she didn’t dress to attract the opposite sex, but working in a facility full of men, she took her share of attempted pick-ups, usually by newer drivers who hadn’t yet tangled with her uncle and given a stern warning. Her polite nods and glances toward Porter didn’t appear to be breaching this man’s thick skull, though.

She stood, intending to pick up their bags and join Porter at the front desk. The man chose that opportunity to step into her space. The tequila on his breath almost sent her back down onto the lounge chair, but pride kept her standing. She’d dealt with worse inebriation in the back of her cab, often having to call the police to haul a passed-out passenger to the hospital. But she hadn’t expected to deal with an advance in a hotel lobby that screamed expensive. Apparently losers came with all sizes of bank account. This one thought he could get away with his behavior because he happened to be reasonably attractive.

He was in for a disappointment.

“You here for business or pleasure, darlin’?” he asked in a voice that oozed the South.

“Business, actually. I’m waiting for my boss.” She arched an eyebrow. “You mind backing up?”

He breathed a laugh that made her eyes tear. “What is that accent? Boston?”

Oh, boy. Wrong thing to say to a Yankees fan. “Queens. Which should come as a warning that I’ll knee you in the nuts if you ask me another dumb question instead of stepping back.”

To his credit, he increased the space between them. But he ruined the gesture with a blatant perusal of her body. Frankie’s arms came up of their own accord, folding over her stomach. She stole a look at the front desk, relieved when she saw Porter thundering toward them.

Scratch that. She wasn’t relieved. More like, nervous. Breathless. Even a little feverish. The determination in his eyes, the rigidity in his frame—all of it would be unleashed on her soon. So soon.

“Aw, hell, you’re a live wire, ain’t you?”

The stranger drawled the words just in time for Porter to arrive. Having grown up around hot-tempered males, particularly ones carrying big sticks, she knew a split second was all she had to react or, based on the violent glint in Porter’s eye, they wouldn’t be staying in that hotel that night. She’d be looking for the closest bail bonds location.

She lunged in between Porter and the southerner, throwing her arms around Porter’s neck. “Hey. Hey. There you are.” The tension in her eased when she heard the man’s footsteps heading in the opposite direction as he muttered under his breath.

Porter’s focus was on the retreating man. “Move out of my way.”

“I can’t,” she murmured into the underside of his chin. “You’re mad for no reason, and—”

“You told him to back up—I saw you—and he did not back up.” His chest swelled against her. “I was gone for two minutes, Francesca. Two.”

“I know.” She pressed a kiss to his neck. “He’s a lurker. Popped right out from behind a potted plant and everything. I was distracted by the sparkly chandelier and he got the drop on me.”

His sigh blew her hair back. “You’re making jokes. I want to hurt him.”

“You would, too. Hurt him. He’s not a match for you on his best day.”

Finally, he looked down at her, a frown lowering his brow. “Do you honestly believe that I don’t know when I’m being patronized?”

“Is it working?”

“No.” His gaze narrowed. “Only slightly.”

“I can work with that.” Hoping to seal the deal, she slid her curves against his hard planes, going up on her toes to speak at his ear. “Can you put me on my back now, my lord?”

A growl rumbled in his chest. “You know damn well you’ll be getting it from behind after this. I need to claim. Do you understand?” His hand settled at her waist, thumb pressing to her hipbone. “When I can blink without seeing another man lusting after you, standing so damn close, we’ll see about getting your pretty legs in the air.”

Frankie felt unsteady on her feet in the wake of his speech, but managed to walk beside Porter to the elevator bank. An attendant rang them a car, two stainless steel doors rolling open right away. They stepped inside onto plush red carpet, and rode to the eighteenth floor. Excitement fluttered her pulse, making it jump inside her neck and wrists, tickling every single nerve ending inside her body. The hand Porter had placed on her hip slid down onto her bottom, rubbing circles into the denim material, sliding it over her sensitive skin, making promises.