Club Cupid. Stephanie Bond

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СКАЧАТЬ and Frankie had never felt so aroused fully clothed. For a few seconds, Cincinnati and her pressing job seemed like an uncomfortable recollection. She bought into the illusion, trying to prolong the feeling.

      They slowed for a stop sign and he put down his feet, supporting their weight and the bike’s. Frankie eased her hold around his waist, feeling self-conscious, but when she inched back he reached down and patted her knee.

      “Better stay close.”

      Before she had time to register the unsettling intimacy of his touch, they were off again.

      Careful to keep her head low and her hat safe, Frankie peeked over Randy’s shoulder to take advantage of the brief tour. Key West seemed dressed for company. Tall and narrow, the buildings resembled colorful shoe boxes. Every house looked freshly outfitted in soothing yellows, greens and blues. Many were bed-and-breakfast inns, some were retail stores. Fanciful black iron adorned the structures like onyx jewelry, highlighting gates, porches and doors. Climbing vines, hanging baskets and exotic trees with multicolored blooms framed tiny lush yards. The chamber of commerce was to be commended. In a word, Key West was inviting.

      If one had time to indulge in idleness, she reminded herself as Randy signaled left and slowed. He turned his head to the right, grazing his cheek against her nose. “We’re here.”

      She looked up to see the unremarkable entrance of the police department, and sat erect while he pulled the motorcycle in front at an angle, then shut off the engine. Appalled at her reluctance to pull away from her Good Samaritan, Frankie did so nonetheless and pinched herself hard on the back of her hand as she dismounted. He was, after all, a perfect stranger.

      Randy pushed down the kickstand, then reached up to remove his sunglasses, the swirl tattoo rippling on his bronze arm.

      Correction—an imperfect stranger.

      3

      RANDY TOOK HIS TIME climbing off the bike. It was a good thing Red had been riding on the back instead of the other way around, else she would’ve probably noticed how her groping hands and yielding body had affected him on their ten-minute trip.

      He scratched his temple. Hell, had it been that long since he’d had breakfast with a woman?

      “You don’t have to stay—I’ll be fine from here.” She adjusted the absurd hat she’d managed to somehow hold on to so that it sat more crooked than ever.

      She was right, he decided. This little episode could mushroom into something messy. He’d simply find another tourist to scratch the itch she’d provoked. Besides, Red had given him an out.

      He opened his mouth to say “so long” when he noticed the slight furrow of her eyebrows and the tight set of her mouth. She was worried and scared and on unfamiliar terrain. How could he leave her? Those unbidden protective feelings sprouted in his chest again. Damn. “I’ll stick around for a little while,” he offered, much to his chagrin.

      The corners of her mouth lifted just a whisper. “If you insist.” Then she turned and marched through the front door.

      Randy sighed as he followed, cursing himself under his breath. What a softie he was today.

      Officer Ulrich wasn’t around, but she’d radioed in that the purse snatcher had eluded her. On her way back, she’d been summoned to apprehend a shoplifter. Red nearly hyperventilated at the bleak news, but recovered enough to fill out a report, giving a pretty detailed description of the thief. Then she mumbled something about being fired as she signed the paper with a shaky pen.

      “Relax,” a young officer said in his molasses-slow dialect. “Your purse might turn up somewhere.”

      But she looked terrified. As she called to cancel her credit cards and traveler’s checks, Randy watched and listened with growing dread. Complications…involvement…

      Next, she called someone named Oscar and asked him to wire her money immediately, all the while assuring the man that she was unharmed and would fax a copy of some design sheet as soon as things settled down.

      Difficulties…strings…

      The dispatcher wired her cruise ship and arranged a pickup in two days on another ship. Frankie agreed, saying she couldn’t extend her trip much longer, regardless of whether or not her bag was recovered.

      Problems…responsibility—

      Randy’s head snapped up. Two days? Hmm. The officer was probably right about her purse turning up, and then…He scanned Red’s dusty bod with renewed appreciation.

      Long legs…tangled sheets…

      Things were looking up.

      THINGS COULDN’T GET much worse.

      Frankie’s mind moved sluggishly, slowed by the waves of fear consuming her. Oscar needed one of the early design sheets, which was stored on a compact disc, which was in the portfolio in her stolen bag, which was God only knew where. Her fingers twitched for a cigarette.

      “Where can we reach you, Miss Jensen?” the young officer asked, his habit of pausing between each drawled word grating on Frankie’s nerves.

      Randy’s arm appeared next to hers. He stood behind her, leaning into the counter that supported her weak-kneed frame. “My couch is a little lumpy, but available,” he murmured, for her ears only.

      She jerked back and narrowed her eyes at him, but he appeared innocent of wicked thoughts.

      He raised his hands in defense. “It’s just a friendly offer.”

      “Thanks anyway,” Frankie said warily. “Officer, can you suggest a hotel?”

      The young policeman shook his head, expressing obvious concern. “You’ll be lucky to find a vacancy this time of year, ma’am.”

      Her hopes sank—much like her purse, she noted dejectedly, which was probably at this moment sinking into the depths of either of the two bodies of water surrounding the island.

      Looking back to the bartender, Frankie asked, “A cancellation, perhaps?”

      Randy’s wink was so comforting, she could have believed that he invented the gesture. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I have a couple of friends who own B&B’s.” He scribbled a number on a piece of paper and handed it to the officer. “Page me, Rick, if the bag turns up.”

      Rick scoffed. “You never answer that thing, Randy.”

      “I will today.”

      Frankie wanted to protest because she didn’t plan to spend the rest of the day with him, but as much as she hated to admit it, she needed his help, and, for once, it was good to have someone to turn to in a crisis. “Do you know everyone on the island?” she asked as he held the door open for her.

      He shrugged. “I suppose I’ve served most everyone on the island a drink at one time or another.”

      Disgruntled, she said, “Everyone here seems to move in slow motion.”

      Randy’s laugh was low and suggestive as he leaned toward her. “I can СКАЧАТЬ