“Well.” Frankie didn’t know what else to say, but she didn’t particularly want Cameron in the house. Miles’s sweater was lying on the back of the couch. If he thought it was strange that she didn’t invite him in, he said nothing.
“Sorry about that. I wondered if he was keeping his identity on the down low purposely,” Cameron said, at ease on her front stoop. What identity? Frankie stared after Ryan but he was no longer outside.
Cameron followed her gaze. “You do know who he is?”
“Uh—Ryan? Walker?”
Cameron laughed but it didn’t have the same effect on her belly as Ryan’s did. Not that she was comparing them. But if she was, Cameron didn’t make her want to add fantasizing to her list.
“He is that. He looked familiar and I couldn’t figure out why. He played baseball for the Dodgers and the Padres,” Cameron said.
Frankie got the impression she was supposed to be wowed by this fact. She wasn’t much of a sports person and couldn’t recall ever watching a baseball game. None of the men in her life followed anything other than golf. Cameron smiled, his eyes happy when she didn’t react with awe. Stepping closer, she caught the oaky smell of his cologne, but it didn’t make her stomach dip like her other neighbor’s. She glanced again at Miles’s sweater. It was generic. Cameron wasn’t going to see it and say, “Hey, do you happen to have three boys hiding in here?” Was it illegal? It couldn’t be. They didn’t belong to anyone. Including her. The thought tightened Frankie’s chest.
“I don’t watch sports. Or play them,” she said. She kept her breathing even and urged her pulse to settle. Cameron nodded, like that was expected.
“I’m more of a football fan. But be careful. He’s known for more than just baseball.”
Frankie crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw clenching.
“Oh?” She tilted her head.
“Yeah. I don’t mean to gossip, but it’s all over the internet anyway. Lots of philandering, wild parties, drugs,” Cameron said, leaning in a little like they were sharing state secrets. Did people still say philandering?
“He seems…harmless enough,” Frankie said, almost choking on the words. Thinking of Ryan’s mouth on hers, the heat of his body, the feel of his chest under her hands, harmless might have been the wrong word choice. Hot. Intense. Moody. Sexy. She wouldn’t have pegged him as a drug user—but what did she know? Maybe instead of getting caught up in the sight of him, she should do a little research.
“Well, just watch out for yourself. You can’t be too careful.” The words were good-natured in tone, but Frankie suspected the warning was not. “Anyway, I came to invite you to a neighborhood gathering I’m hosting next week. Nothing formal.” Unclenching her jaw, Frankie relaxed her shoulders. Safe ground.
“Oh. Okay. That’s nice of you. What can I bring?”
His smile was polished, like he’d practiced in the mirror. “Just you.”
She’d been around enough men, dated enough, to see the look of interest in Cameron’s eyes. It certainly would be easier to get tingles for a man who wanted to be interested. But she couldn’t ignore the fact that Ryan, whether he wanted to or not, had her attention. She’d just have to be careful about giving him her heart. She needed to be clear with Cameron about her feelings without offending him. Leading someone on wasn’t her style, but neither was just blurting out, nope, sorry, not interested.
“Okay,” she replied, ignoring his intent gaze.
“And maybe some other time, we could grab dinner. There are a couple great restaurants downtown,” he finally said.
She nodded. “Sure. It’s great to make new friends. Plus, with you being the mayor, I’d love to learn more about what you support and the things that matter to you.” Frankie checked her watch. She still had to write.
He glanced at his own watch. “I’d be happy to discuss my vision for our town with you. Of course, one of the main ones is getting all of these houses up to the new community standards. We can talk about that as well, but for now, I should get going. I have a meeting. Now that the weather is getting colder, we’re having more problems with our homeless population.”
Frankie’s throat went dry but she spoke anyway. “But there’s a shelter, right?”
“There is but, honestly, there’s not a lot of money or time spent keeping it running,” he said.
“Are you working to change that?”
“I’m working to keep our communities safe. The meeting I’m headed to is to see what we can do about getting them off the street. If you’re ever interested in helping out, we have an all-town meeting once a month.” He stepped onto the walkway, checking his watch once more. With a soft, approachable smile, he pulled out his keys and panic burst in her chest. This could be the opening she needed. Before she could blurt out her secret, he winked and turned to head to his car, and the moment was gone.
Shutting the door behind him, she let her head fall against the wood.
She went back to her article after a moment of deep breathing. She knew she was getting herself in deeper with the boys. And with Ryan. Just thinking about him made her face flush. What was wrong with her? She needed to work. She needed to make some more calls about the boys. Maybe talk to the shelter. The point was, she had plenty to occupy her mind. And still, the only thing she saw when she closed her eyes was Ryan’s face. She could still feel his lips against hers, his hands gripping her tightly as he fought his own desire and then smoothing out when he surrendered.
Unsurprisingly, writing a fun, sensual piece was easier to do with the feel of Ryan’s body pressed up against hers burning in her memory. If she wasn’t careful, she could get lost in that memory, in thoughts of him. He’d said wasn’t a good bet and even though she’d glimpsed enough to see that wasn’t true, she didn’t need a man she had to convince.
Might be time for some company, she thought. Perhaps she could invite Chloe for a visit. The idea settled the restlessness inside of her head and her fingers flew over the keyboard. She promised herself the reward of phoning Chloe when the article was finished and sent off to her editor. She had another to finish before the boys got back. She didn’t need any of them wondering why she was writing about dry spells, how to tighten stomach muscles, or get the best cleavage. They could discover these secrets on their own one day.