Comfortable now, she tucked her legs under her and shimmied back to look at him. That was no hardship. His dark gaze was right on her, every word hitting his heart, she could tell.
“And that was a problem,” she added. “Enough of a problem that my Aunt Jenny swooped down from New York, went to war with the courts, and got me to go live with her in Roslyn Heights, Long Island, also known as living hell for me.”
Which was actually the understatement of all time. “My cousins were entitled, obnoxious, partying bitches, and my aunt and uncle were as money-obsessed as my parents. I don’t know how I survived there, but I did.”
“Then you came back here?” he guessed.
“I went to Florida State and got a degree in animal science and, of course, I stayed with Nonno on every break and in the summer. The more I learned, the more I had ideas for this place. It has so much potential to be a real money-making operation if he had only brought it into the twenty-first century. But Nonno didn’t like…the twenty-first century. He had a rotary phone here until the day he died.”
“So that’s what you want to do now? Make it a twenty-first-century goat farm?”
“No.” She pulled her legs up again, wrapping her arms around her jeans, not liking this part of her story any more than the part about her parents. “I made him a promise that I wouldn’t and, honestly, I lost interest in high-tech farming.”
“Why?”
“After college I…we…” She closed her eyes against the tears that welled. “We had a bad fight about modernizing this place. I’m telling you, there is no creature on earth as pigheaded and close-minded and obstinate as an old Italian man. I wanted to expand and install a whole milking and dairy system, and he just wanted to make soap and cheese and maybe have a little petting farm and retail storefront when he rebuilt the house. I was on fire with youth and ambition, and he was mellow with age and the simple joys in life. We fought pretty badly.” She managed a wry smile. “I may have inherited that stubborn streak.”
“Ya think?” Laughing softly, he brushed a strand of her hair off her face, the gesture so intimate it sent an unwanted rush through her, but also encouraging, so she kept talking.
“Anyway, after our big argument, I went to DC and got a really important job at the Department of Agriculture and Nonno…” Her voice hitched, and he reached for her hand, swallowing it in his much more sizable ones. “He had a stroke.”
“And you weren’t here.”
She looked at him, touched for some reason that he would understand just how horrible that was. “No, I wasn’t. And if I had been…”
“He still would have had a stroke.”
She shook her head vehemently. “But I might have gotten him to the hospital sooner or maybe I would have seen an early symptom.” Guilt wracked her voice and pinched her heart. “But I was in Washington…and…” She swallowed but forced herself to make the admission. “I was no better than my parents in being somewhere other than where I should have been, chasing success and big dreams and—”
“Big dreams? In the Department of Agriculture?” He couldn’t hide the incredulity in his voice.
“I was on a fast track to a directorship,” she countered. “But that’s all over now, thankfully.”
“Because you promised him you’d run the farm the way he wanted you to?”
“I promised him...” She wasn’t really sure if he’d heard that promise, so what did it matter? Damn it, her voice truly cracked then.
“Tell me, Frankie.” With a little pressure from his hand, it felt natural to let go of her grip on her legs and allow them to drop, removing the protective barrier she’d created as she told her story. Automatically, Elliott took up the space by getting closer.
She closed her eyes and reminded herself that the promise did matter. “He was in a coma when I arrived from DC,” she whispered, letting herself be transported back to that night. “I sat with him in the ICU and apologized and promised and begged him to stay alive. But he just stayed completely still and asleep.”
Elliott stroked her knuckles, as if to gently coax the story out of her.
“One night, after about two weeks, he woke up, and we talked for hours.”
Hadn’t they?
“What did you talk about?” Elliott asked, leaning forward, fully invested in the story.
“He wanted me to know he’d forgiven me for leaving and he loved me...” She swallowed so her voice didn’t hitch, but the way Elliott caressed her hand nearly did her in. “He wanted this farm to be a perfect slice of heaven with a herd sired by the buck he’d brought over from his home country. So I promised him I’d do exactly that, and I also promised him that I would never, ever let this land be owned by anyone who wasn’t in the Cardinale family. And I’m keeping those promises.” She closed her eyes. “He died...that night. In fact...”
Her voice faded out, a sob threatening. “Shhh. That’s all. You don’t have to tell me any more.”
But she did. He had to know why this mattered so much to her. “I promised him I’d keep the land and do exactly what he’d wanted to do with it. Then I moved in here for what was going to be a week or two while I figured things out and sifted through his belongings and figured out someone to take care of the farm when I went back to DC.”
“How were you going to run the farm from DC?”
“I didn’t know,” she answered honestly. “But I stayed here a week, then two, then three...” She smiled. “Then I quit my job and decided to stay...for a while.”
He lifted a brow. “You just quit this job that was on the fast track?”
She shrugged. “I have, you know, some money from my parents, and I never expected to like it so much here. To feel so...at home.” Lonely, but at home.
Something flickered in his expression. A little hurt maybe? A little fear? Perhaps he’d just realized how crappy it would be to try to buy her home. He lifted their joined hands to his mouth, breathing a soft kiss on her knuckles. Goose bumps flowered up her arms, and chills trickled down her spine, but she managed to stay still.
A centimeter of space closed between them, but she wasn’t sure who leaned closer to whom...it was like a magnetic force pulling them toward each other for a kiss.
His lips were warm, soft, sweet, and Frankie didn’t even bother to fight, opening her mouth just enough to taste his tongue and hope that this wasn’t fake and neither was this very sweet man.
“Let me go with you today,” he said, his voice surprisingly gruff. “You don’t want to be alone.”
No, she didn’t. Not today, and not...tonight. “Yeah, cowboy. You can come.”
* * *
Morning sun bounced off the massive glass building that took up a city block when Frankie and Elliott reached the entrance to the County Clerk’s offices on the mainland. Despite the brightness, Frankie knew a maze of lines and cubicles lay behind those shiny walls, populated by frustrated people and overworked clerks and wrapped in red tape.
If only she could find Liza, the amazing clerk who’d helped her last time.
“I can’t believe I have to go in there again,” she sighed. The last time, when she confirmed that the property was hers despite the lack of official paperwork, she’d lost nearly six hours in the place.
Elliott kept a light hand on her back and squinted up at the place, and glanced around the campus of Collier County government buildings. “Nice real estate, though.”
“Not if you’re stuck inside.” At least today, she’d have him next to her, and for some reason she didn’t want to examine too closely, she was happy about that. Maybe it was his steady presence or close attention, but she liked having him here.
And she’d liked kissing him back home. A lot.
Just as they stepped under the entrance awning, Elliott paused and reached into his pocket, glancing at his cell. “I have to take this call. Why don’t you get started without me? Who are you meeting with, so I can find you?”
“Just call me. Take down my cell.
”
He looked at the phone with a face that said he had no time for that now.
“Okay, best bet would be in Official Land Records,” Frankie said. “The lady who helped me last time was Liza...” She dug into her memory for the woman’s last name. “Lemanski! Liza Lemanski.”
“Got it.” He gave her an impulsive kiss on the forehead and stepped away with the phone to his ear. “This is Becker.”
Becker. Even the way he said his last name was sexy. He didn’t even look back to say goodbye as he walked away, obviously seeking privacy. Trying not to be disappointed—hell, how had she gotten so used to him already?—she went inside to start the long process of waiting in lines, filling out forms, taking a number, and waiting some more.
About fifteen minutes later, Elliott came up behind her in line.
“I have an emergency,” he said softly. “It could take an hour or two. You can handle this on your own?”
“Of course I can,” she said quickly, fighting irritation that he would even imply she couldn’t. Or maybe it was irritation because he kept disappearing. Or these bureaucrats kept giving her a runaround. Truth was, everything had her irritated right then. She closed her eyes. “This is just frustrating.”
“I know.” He stepped closer and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “When we’re done, we’ll stop by my place at the resort and...” He let his voice fade and, damn it all, didn’t her imagination and hormones go wild. “Maybe take a walk on the beach. Have a drink. Relax.”
And fall into his bed.
She inched back, not sure where the thought came from, but it sure wasn’t the first time she’d had it. With a quick and unexpected peck on her lips, he was gone.
She shifted to her other foot and checked her number again, furious at the way he’d left her so electrified. And disappointed to be alone. Why in God’s name would his leaving affect her like that? He was a billionaire, for crying out loud, and it was Monday morning. Of course, he had more important things to worry about than her little property problem.
Just like her parents.
She shoved that thought out of her mind, scrunching her eyes shut to mentally erase the words. Over the course of the next two hours, she met with ineffective clerk after ineffective clerk. Keyboards were pounded, file drawers were opened, then she was sent to another department, then another.
It all reminded her so much of her old job that her stomach clenched. She’d never go back to that, never. She really did just want her farm and her goats and...
Becker’s face flashed in her mind. And his body. And the whole cycle of thoughts started all over again.
Finally, she got to Land Records where she was greeted by a familiar face, and the first one smiling all day.
“Liza!” Frankie reached out to shake her hand, not surprised when the other woman added a friendly hug. They’d gotten pretty darn friendly the last time Frankie had been here, and Liza had been an absolute treasure helping her navigate a maze of red tape and brick walls.
“What are you doing back here?” Liza asked, her stunning turquoise-colored eyes dancing with warmth. “The ninety-day wait period hasn’t passed yet.”
“I know, but I’ve been informed that someone has tried to file an illegal will in my grandfather’s name.”
Liza frowned and gestured to the hall. “I’ve been digging around since I got the message that you were worming your way through the processing system from hell. C’mon, let’s go in my office and talk.”
In the windowless room, Frankie took the guest chair, remembering the hominess of the little office, despite its lack of windows and abundance of government-issued ugly furniture. Frankie had seen her share of these four walls, but Liza made hers welcoming, with a lamp on the table instead of fluorescent light and a few pictures of a darling little brown-eyed boy she assumed was Liza’s son.
“It’s very puzzling,” Liza finally said as she slipped into her chair behind the desk. “I found that will a few hours ago when I first got the notification from documents pending that you were looking for it.”
Frankie shot forward. “And it’s fake, right?”
She blew out a breath. “I don’t know. It’s disappeared right out of the system not twenty minutes ago.”
“What?”
“It’s the strangest thing,” she said, turning to tap on her computer keyboard as if she hoped it might magically appear again. “I wouldn’t have even looked, but a notice came that you were in the process office and would eventually make your way here, and, of course, I remembered you and how there was no will and no deed for your No... What did you call him again?”
“Nonno,” she supplied. “It’s Italian for grandfather.”
Liza smiled. “Yes, I liked that and your story about your farm. It sounds so dreamy, you know?”
“It is,” Frankie said, understanding the longing to escape bureaucracy. “You should bring your son to my farm sometime. He’d love the goats.”
Liza’s smile faltered, and her gaze shifted to the framed picture next to her computer. “Oh, he’s not my...” Liza gave a tight smile. “Sure. I’d love to bring him over, thank you.” A box flashed on the screen, taking her attention back to the computer. “Ugh, still says ‘file not found,’ but...”
“But what?” Frankie leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the screen.
“Well, when I saw that notice that you were trying to track down a will and I found it, I had a chance to see the document scan.” Her pretty mouth drew down. “I hate to tell you, it looked legit.”
“It did?” Worry clamped her chest.
Liza’s gaze softened and grew sympathetic, like a doctor about to deliver very bad news. “Frankie, we do see this kind of thing from time to time.”
“What kind of thing?”
“Older folks do get scammed like that. These con artists and developers comb old-age homes and even some neighborhoods looking for elderly citizens who haven’t written a will, then they persuade the person, who is oftentimes not completely, you know...” She tapped her temple and gave a sympathetic tilt to her head.
“Nonno was pretty alert,” Frankie said. But then, she’d been gone awhile. How did she know how alert he was? She didn’t know he was sick enough to have a stroke, either.
“I’m sure he was, but in some cases, these people don’t know what they’re signing because they don’t have family to advise them.”
And neither had Nonno, because she was in Washington, DC. Tamping down guilt, she leaned forward. “Can you fight that?”
“Oh, absolutely, with the right attorney. Unless, of course, the land gets sold before you get a hold of it. Then you’re in trouble.”
Frankie pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing against the frustration headache that had started hours earlier. “So, what happened to the document?”
Liza whooshed out a breath that fluttered her bangs. “I do not know, and I tell you, I’m freaking Sherlock Holmes when it comes to investigating things like this. I’ve dug through every file I can find, but it’s gone.”
“Then, that’s good, right?”
She shook her head. “It’s just weird. It could mean that it was flagged by someone, somewhere, and pulled from the system, or it could mean that someone made an offer on the land and a Realtor has the will.”
Frankie sucked in a breath. “No!”
“Don’t panic yet. I’m going to make this a top priority, and I promise to call you when I find it. Is this still your cell number?” She read from the open file, and Frankie confirmed.
Liza walked out with her, still chatting as they went down the hall, but when she opened the door, she went stone silent. Then she turned to Frankie. “Brace yourself. Hottie in the office.”
Frankie laughed, remembering how a handsome man could send a reaction fluttering through the otherwise dull halls of a government building. She inched around to take a peek, her whole body tightening at what she saw. Not a hottie...her hottie.
“T
here you are,” Elliott said, coming toward her with outstretched hands. “I thought you got lost in the maze.”
Instead, she was lost in an unexpected embrace.
She turned to say goodbye to Liza, who was staring hard at Elliott, a frown tugging as if she was trying to place him.
“Liza, this is Elliott Becker. Elliott, Liza Lemanski, the most helpful person in this building.”
Elliott nodded hello. “Helpful, as in you straightened everything out?”
“Not exactly,” Frankie said. “But thanks for trying, Liza.”
She gave a wave, and another scrutinizing look at Elliott, which Frankie imagined he was used to, though Liza wasn’t exactly salivating; she was more curious than anything. “Nice to meet, you Elliott Becker.” She said his name slowly, as if trying to place it or remember it for later.
With a final nod, he gave Frankie a nudge forward. “Let’s go celebrate.”
She eyed him. “Celebrate what? The brick wall I just ran into?”
He shrugged quickly. “Well, my business situation went well.”
“I guess one of us should be happy.” The weird thing was, despite the frustrations of the last few hours, she felt oddly happy right here on his arm.
That was weird, wasn’t it?
Chapter Seven
“I don’t believe it.” Frankie stood with her hands perched on her hips, turning once to survey the plush, high-end villa, called Rockrose. Tucked into a garden and looking out over the aquamarine waters and pure white sands of Barefoot Bay, this one-bedroom vacation home was private, expensive, and perfectly appointed.
“You don’t believe what?” Elliott asked as he joined her.
“That you would willingly choose to sleep on hay in a goat shelter when you are paying God knows what for this place.”
He laughed. “I told you I’m eccentric.”
“Or nuts.”
“A little of both. Wait here, I’m going to get some stuff.” He headed to the back, presumably the bedroom, giving her a moment to inspect the luxurious furnishings and finishings. Light, tropical fabrics accented the dramatic Moroccan-style architecture of the whole resort, with rich wood floors leading to a pool and patio. But it was the front veranda and the water view that captivated Frankie, so she stepped back outside to lean against the rail and drink in nature’s finest work.