Jeanie London - Frankie's Back in Town

Francesca was at peace with that decision. For the time being she was reveling in motherhood, making up for lost time as a granddaughter, too.

A sharp knock signaled the opening door, and Jack appeared.

“Hello again.” He motioned her to remain seated as he sank into a chair before her desk.

He raked his gaze over her, those black eyes taking in everything in a fast glance, and Francesca, idiot that she was, could suddenly feel the heat of the climate-controlled air through the sheer silk of her blouse.

“I received a message to pick up the Hickmans’ list.”

It took Francesca a moment to wrap her brain around that. “Their daughter mentioned she was coming by to help them get it together.”

He was so tall that she could still meet his gaze above the file folders that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on her desk. Edging a pile to the side as nonchalantly as possible, she cleared space between them.

“So what else can I do for you today, Jack?” she asked.

“I’m wondering if you’re having the same problem I am.”

“What’s that?”

“Too much discussion about what happened to Hickman’s wallet.”

“One of the reasons for the meeting you caught me and Susanna leaving.” She gave a dismissive wave. “It’s not really surprising considering the collective nature of our community. Who’s talking on your end?”

“The friends and relatives of your residents. Any attempts at damage control?”

“I believe wholeheartedly that a strong offense is the best defense. We’ve been reassuring residents that we’re doing our part to protect their personal information and offering them tools to protect themselves.”

“Like what?”

She motioned to a folder on top of a stack. “We feature an ongoing lecture series here on Thursdays, so Rachel, my activities director, is putting together talks about today’s electronic climate. Tips to protect against credit card fraud and identify telephone hoaxes. Stuff like that. We’re hoping to get someone in to address phishing scams, too, since a surprising number of our residents are computer literate.” She paused and took a deep breath, not sure why she sounded so breathless. “She’s working with the Identity Theft Resource Center to schedule speakers who’ll gear topics toward seniors.”

“Excellent. I can put in a mention with our crime prevention task leader. He could get someone out here.”

“Wow. That would be great. I’ll tell Rachel. Thanks.”

“No problem. Now before I go see the Hickmans, I’m hoping to get your authorization for a walk-through of your common areas. I have a list of items and I’d like to see if any turn up around here. It would save me from going to a judge for a subpoena.”

Francesca frowned, concern finally managing to wipe away every shred of her ridiculous reaction to this man. “You promised I’d be the first to know if I needed to worry about my staff. Is it time to start?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. This is just a formality.”

“Then take your walk-through. Would you like an escort?”

“If you’ll do the honors.”

She was surprised when she really shouldn’t have been. Once charming Jack Sloan, always charming Jack Sloan. “Of course.”

She didn’t waste a second, but hopped up and led him from the office, eager to escape his dark gaze. Even if only for the time it took her to get to the door.

She didn’t make it. Jack stood and withdrew a long envelope from an inside jacket pocket.

“I understand you have a vault on the property.” He unfolded the papers and closed the distance between them. “Any possibility of finding out if any of these items are in it?”

Francesca stood her ground until he was close enough for her to read his list. And inhale his aftershave. The same fresh scent she’d noticed before. But the effect dispelled fast when she saw the items on his list. “Whoa.”

“Recognize anything?”

“Can’t say I’ve noticed the captain wearing a Rolex that cost more than my Jeep.” She took a discreet step back, found a few inches between her and this man made it easier to think.

“Jack, our residents don’t normally walk around wearing their Sunday best. I can check the log but anything more won’t be possible without a subpoena, I’m afraid.”

“Good enough.”

Francesca led Jack the short distance down the hall to the vault’s anteroom. He surveyed the small room, no bigger than a standard walk-in closet with the wall vault on the far end.

“Who has access?” he asked.

“Myself. My assistant director. Susanna. Head of Security. Human Resources. That’s it.”

“What about assistants? Do you or any of your managers ever authorize support staff to handle the deposits and withdrawals?”

“Only the paperwork. Otherwise, I’d have to turn over the key and security codes. The vault runs its own security log, so I can always check who accesses.”

Moving in front of the computer, she brought up the program and entered her password. “My staff is well-versed on the protocol, Jack. We can’t offer security if we’re not willing to provide it. And, honestly, it’s not as if overseeing this vault is a full-time job. It’s only a courtesy for residents who haven’t made personal arrangements for security in their own apartments.”

“Some of the residents have their own vaults?”

“All apartment designs offer the personal security feature. Some opt for it before they move in, but it’s available as an add-on afterward, as well.”

Jack nodded and held up the list for her to read. The program had a search function, where Francesca inputted brand names of watches and descriptions of various pieces of jewelry.

No matches.

“Doesn’t look like anyone has us hanging on to any six-carat pink diamonds, either,” she said to break the silence.

Jack looked amused but didn’t get a chance to reply before his cell phone vibrated audibly.

Glancing at the display, he smiled apologetically. “I need to take this.”

Francesca only nodded, relieved for a break from him standing on top of her.

Get a grip, Francesca! Back in high school, she’d prided herself on being different from the rest of the female student body who drooled every time Jack walked down the hall. She’d thought he was drop-dead gorgeous like the rest of them, true, but as far as she was concerned, something had to be wrong with any guy who dated Karan Kowalski.

Now she had to wonder. Even if she was interested in dating—which she was not at this time of her life, thank you very much—Jack was exactly the sort of man she’d vowed to steer clear of. A charmer. And after thirteen years of marriage to a man who could make the polar ice cap melt with one smile, Francesca could spot a charmer a mile away.

Forcing her fingers to fly, she typed descriptions into the search function even faster, racing against the clock—or his phone conversation as it was.

No matches.

She wanted out of this tiny room, where Jack seemed to steal all the air.

No matches.

Finally, she entered the last one…

“I’m sorry about that, Francesca,” Jack said, flipping his phone shut and stepping back into the room.

No matches.

She smiled and hit Print. “No apology necessary.”

“Any luck?”

“Depends on your interpretation of luck. No matches, so I’d say my luck is holding. Not sure about yours.” Still not meeting his gaze, she willed the printer to produce quickly, then whisked the report off the tray before the ink was dry. “So, where are we off to next?”

“Housekeeping.” He scanned the document, not appearing in any hurry to move his broad-shouldered self out of her way. “I need to know how you work things here. Do the same staff members regularly service apartments?”