Beauty and the Wolf by Lois Faye Dyer Page A

sidewalk and ducked into the waiting limo. Then the car pulled away from the curb and disappeared around the corner at the end of her street.
    She left the window and moved slowly into herbedroom, stripping off her coat and hanging it away in the closet before unzipping her gown and stepping out of it.
    She couldn’t stop thinking about Eli as she finished undressing, removing her bracelet. To her relief, the necklace clasp opened easily, and she tucked it and the bracelet into her jewelry box. But when she took off the matching earrings, she discovered one of them was missing. Despite searching the carpet and shaking out the green gown and evening coat, she didn’t find the one-of-a-kind heirloom. With sinking heart, she added the single earring to the lacquered jewelry box and closed the lid.
    I can’t imagine how I’ll find a jeweler to create a matching earring, she thought as she slipped into pink flannel pajama bottoms and a cotton tank top.
    The troubling loss of her earring was soon set aside as she returned to thoughts of Eli. So far, her plan to erase unrealistic romantic notions left over from her teenage years was failing miserably. Eli Wolf was even more charming than she’d expected.
    And kissing him could prove to be addictive, she thought as she settled under the comforter and turned out the lamp.
    She still believed her plan to make Harry cease his matchmaking by convincing him she was madly in love with Eli would work.
    But she wasn’t nearly as positive that spending more time with Eli would cure her of her high school crush. In fact, she suspected it just might do the opposite.

Chapter Five
    O n Sunday afternoon following the fundraiser for the Children’s Hospital, Frankie drove to her mother’s house. She was sure Cornelia would question her about Eli, but her mother didn’t raise the subject as they chatted about the success of the event while brewing a pot of tea in the kitchen. While Frankie loaded a tray with the Wedgwood teapot and cups, Cornelia carried napkins and a plate of shortbread biscuits out to the front porch just as a white pickup with a Wolf Construction logo on the doors pulled to a stop at the curb.
    â€œFrankie,” Cornelia called, peering out a tall window as the driver stepped out of the pickup. “Isn’t that Eli? Were you expecting him?”
    Frankie stepped out onto the porch, carrying the teatray. She set the heavy silver tray on the low table in front of her mother and looked out the window.
    There was no mistaking the tall, broad-shouldered man strolling up the walk—and no denying the swift surge of pleased surprise the sight of him elicited in Frankie.
    â€œIt is Eli—but I have no idea why he’s here.”
    Cornelia had renovated the porch of her beautifully restored Queen Anne home and enclosed the wide space with waist-high windows. Now it was an extension of the living room, a wide glassed-in entry room that ran the length of the front of the house. Lazily turning wooden fans were suspended from the high ceiling; the floor was painted a glossy gray, and area rugs dotted the gleaming wood boards. Chairs and sofas of white wicker with colorful pillows were grouped in comfortable seating areas down the length of the room. At the moment, Cornelia sat in an armchair, its soft cushions covered in bright cotton with a coral and green floral pattern. Frankie took a seat on the padded white wooden swing, within reach of the low wicker table where she’d set the tea tray.
    Eli glanced up as he neared, his gaze meeting Frankie’s through the glass. He smiled, his stride quickening as he loped up the three shallow steps to the door.
    â€œCome in, Eli,” Cornelia called.
    â€œHello, ladies.”
    Frankie felt the room shrink as he stepped inside and closed the door, his presence seeming to suck up the oxygen. He wore faded jeans, black boots, and apale blue polo shirt under a worn brown bomber jacket.