Free Skin by Karin Tabke Page A

buying it.”
    He shrugged. “I’m not selling it.”
    She eyed him suspiciously. There was more to Mr. Skin than a six-pack and a killer smile.
    She let out a long breath, not realizing she was holding it. She needed a glass of Grandpa Donatello’s Chianti and a hot bath.
    Reese hustled Frankie up the steps to his brand-new condo, compliments of the task force.
    “What has you spooked?” she asked.
    He pulled her closer into the alcove that shielded his front door from the parking lot. Her body heat wrapped around him like a warm blanket. He could very easily find a reason to get her in his bed. In fact, he had a reason. A good one. Women were vulnerable in the afterglow of sex, and pillow talk took on a whole new meaning to him.
    He dipped his head toward the top of her hair and inhaled her cinnamon scent.
    “Considering what happened to your father and almost happened to you, let’s just say I’m being careful.”
    Her spine stiffened, the gesture causing her breasts to press against his chest. Reese didn’t retreat. Snapping her head back, Frankie’s eyes flashed angrily. “What do you know about my father?”
    “I know he was a mob boss and someone wanted his job enough to kill him. Now it looks like they want your uncle’s and are willing to put you into the collateral damage category.”
    She tossed her long hair over her shoulder and put her hands on her hips. She moved into him, the gesture meant to push him back. He didn’t move. “Don’t believe everything you read in the paper or see on the five o’ clock news.”
    Unable to resist, Reese swept a stray lock of hair from her face, his knuckles caressing the smooth skin of her cheek. He watched her eyes close for the briefest of seconds, as if she just wanted to melt into him. “Don’t be so naive, Frankie.”
    Her quick flash of vulnerability didn’t last. Her eyes, angry again, flashed open, and she stepped back. “Believe me, I lost my naïveté a long time ago.”
    Reese touched her shoulder. “You don’t trust easy, do you?”
    She yanked her head back. “I don’t trust at all.”
    “You can trust me.”
    She laughed low, not amused. “I don’t even know you.”
    “Sometimes you just have to go with your gut.”
    She smiled. “My gut tells me you’re up to no good.”
    He traced a finger along her cheekbone, swerving upward toward her eye. “You have beautiful eyes.”
    “You have beautiful lines. Do they always work?”
    He lowered his lips to hers. “Most of the time.”
    Frankie turned her head and laughed as his lips brushed her cheek. “Not this time, cowboy. What part of ‘I don’t do my employees’ don’t you understand?”
    “It’s just a kiss.”
    “That would be trading body fluids.”
    Apparently, those drugs she took hadn’t loosened her up enough. Reese knew when he was beat. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping back and allowing her to go in. He watched Frankie’s eyes scan the Spartan apartment. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
    “Just move in?”
    He shrugged and tossed his keys on the small table just inside the condo door. “It works for me. For now.”
    “I’m surprised all of your women haven’t femmed it up.”
    He headed for the kitchen without answering, flicked on the light, and opened the fridge. “Want a beer?”
    Frankie shook her head and yawned.
    “I want to go to bed.” The minute she said it, he popped his head up from inside the fridge, the light illuminating his handsome face. “Alone.”
    He groaned, twisted off the bottle top, and took a long swig. “I only have one bed.”
    She walked out of the kitchen and said over her shoulder, “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
    She dropped her purse and camera bag on the cushion. “I plan on taking shots at my leisure.”
    Reese walked out of the kitchen and leaned a broad shoulder against the jamb. His blue eyes danced, and Frankie knew that in a different place and time she wouldn’t hesitate to slip between the sheets