Beauty and the Wolf / Their Miracle Twins. Nikki Logan

blueprints held flat by a large rock sitting on each corner.

      “You’re not keeping us from work,” Eli told her.

      “Not at all,” Ethan added, his voice a slow, deep drawl.

      “We were all tired of looking at these damn blueprints,” Connor added.

      “Nevertheless, I’d better get back to campus.” Frankie turned, and Eli was there before her, opening the door and holding it for her. “It was nice to meet you,” she told the four Wolf men.

      They echoed a chorus of goodbyes, and Frankie stepped outside, followed by Eli, who pulled the door shut.

      “Where are you parked?” He frowned at the wet ground.

      “Just over there.” Frankie pointed at her car, just beyond the big dual-wheeled white pickup.

      Eli took her elbow, scanning the ground between the steps and her car before walking beside her. “You’re not wearing the right kind of boots for this weather. I’ll get you a pair of rubber mud boots to keep in your car.”

      Frankie felt inordinately pleased that he seemed to expect her to visit again. “That would be nice,” she murmured.

      They reached her BMW, and he pulled open the door.

      “How long do you think you’ll have to stay at the cocktail party tonight?” he asked, leaning on the open door to look down at her as she turned the ignition key.

      “Not too long, I hope,” she told him. “I’m planning to slip out as soon as possible and head home. It’s been a long week—I think I’ll curl up in front of the TV and watch something mindless.”

      He chuckled. “Sounds like a good plan. Drive carefully.” He stood back, closing the door with a quiet thunk.

      As Frankie negotiated the bumps and puddles of the lot and turned onto the smoothly paved street, she could see Eli in the rearview mirror. He stood, hands thrust in jeans pockets, the sun glinting off his black hair, watching her drive away.

      She’d been looking forward to seeing him this evening, and having to cancel their dinner date made the prospect of the boring cocktail party seem even more dull.

      She turned a corner and could no longer see Eli nor the construction site.

      No doubt about it, she thought with a sigh. She was much more interested in spending an evening with Eli than schmoozing at a cocktail party with her boss and coworkers.

      Apparently, she wasn’t immune to the lure of a tall, dark and handsome man. Especially not when the man was Eli.

      Eli watched Frankie’s car disappear into traffic before he turned and reentered the work trailer.

      “Pretty woman, Eli. Where’d you meet her?” Connor asked.

      “Does she have a sister?” Matt asked, grinning when Eli shot him a quick glare as he crossed to the kitchenette and poured a mug of coffee.

      “Yes, she has sisters, and no, I’m not going to introduce you,” Eli said as Matt’s eyes lit with interest. “And I’ve known her since she was just a kid.”

      “Yeah?” Ethan frowned at him. “I don’t remember a girl named Frankie.”

      “Francesca Fairchild—she’s Justin’s cousin.”

      “I still don’t remember her,” Connor said.

      “She must be Cornelia Fairchild’s daughter,” Jack said with a decisive nod. “Cornelia’s the widow of Harry Hunt’s original partner—I heard the families stayed close after Cornelia’s husband died, and the girls consider Harry their uncle and his boys their cousins.”

      “That’s right.” Eli carried his mug to the drafting table and set it on the ledge above the blueprints. “Frankie’s closer to Justin than any of his brothers. I met her through Justin when she was still in grade school.”

      “Was she gorgeous in grade school, too?” Matt asked.

      “She’s always been pretty,” Eli answered shortly. He leveled a lethal glare at Matt. “And she’s off-limits.”

      “Whoa.” Matt took a step back, lifting his hands in mock defense, palms out. “Sorry, big brother. Didn’t know you’d already staked a claim.”

      Ethan laughed, Jack’s chuckle joining him.

      “You must be blind, Matt,” Connor said. “Nobody could have missed that whole she’s-mine-touch-her-you-die thing Eli had going on a few minutes ago.”

      Matt’s deep laugh joined the other three, and Eli threw them a disgusted glare.

      “Can we move past this and get back to work?”

      “Sure,” Matt said, his eyes twinkling as he clapped Eli on the shoulder. “It’s nice to see you getting irritated with us over a woman, Eli. Must mean you’re finally recovered from the accident and back to normal.”

      Eli growled a noncommittal response, and the conversation returned to finding a solution for a glitch in the design of the second-floor balcony supports.

      Later, when his brothers and Jack left the trailer and he was alone, Eli’s thoughts returned to Frankie.

      Where the hell had that surge of possessiveness come from when she’d stepped into the trailer and met his brothers? The Wolf men had hammered out an unwritten rule while in their teens—none of them ever poached each other’s dates. He had no reason to worry that Matt, Ethan or Connor would do more than flirt harmlessly with Frankie as long as he was dating her.

      He’d never before felt the urge to threaten his brothers over a woman. So, why now—and why Frankie?

      “The protective thing must be left over from Justin and me vetting her boyfriends when she was a teenager,” he muttered aloud, frowning unseeingly at the drawings taped on the wall.

      Of course that was it, he thought with relief. He’d known Frankie a long time—it was only natural he’d feel protective. No doubt if he’d had a sister, he’d feel the same way.

      A small voice in his head uttered a loud hah!

      Eli ignored it, grabbed his hardhat and left the trailer to purposely stay busy so he wouldn’t have time to ponder all the reasons why he might feel so strongly about Frankie and other men.

      Even if the other men were his brothers.

      Even if he knew she was perfectly safe with them.

      It was going to be a long afternoon, he thought with resignation.

      It was nearly seven o’clock before Frankie reached home that evening. The afternoon sunshine had given way to dark skies and sheets of rain that drenched her as she ran from her car. She shrugged out of her raincoat, hanging it on a hook beside the door, then toed off her wet pumps the moment she closed and locked the condo door behind her. Bending to pick them up, she walked in damp-stockinged feet into her bedroom. She dropped her purse and leather briefcase onto the bed, set her shoes next to the floor heat vent and stripped off her jacket, blouse, skirt and hose.

      She flipped on lights as she went, turning on the shower and letting it run to heat up the space while she shed bra and panties, dropping them into the hamper before she stepped into the shower.

      The water pulsed against her skin, and she turned her face into the spray, relishing its heat for several moments before she shampooed and scrubbed.

      She felt a thousand times better when she left the bathroom. She’d towel-dried her hair then run a brush through the tangles until it lay sleek and smooth before donning a clean black bra, panties and gray University of Washington sweatpants. She drew on a matching gray UW hoodie, zipping the front closed to a few inches below her collarbones.

      Her stomach growled as she walked barefoot into the living room, pausing to switch on the television to a cable twenty-four-hour