Frankly, My Dear...

By Flame Arden

In Frankly, My Dear, Book Three of Flame Arden's Atlanta Burning series, readers discover why only certain men cause Atlanta Hampton to burn.
A sexy successful Realtor, Atlanta has longed to again share a bed with Rob Count since their brief but heated clash and cling at her sister Virginia's wedding almost two years ago. His deep voice, tactile touch and loving way of pushing all her buttons makes Atlanta burn for him, but Rob never called her for a repeat performance, and this hurts.

Then luck gives Atlanta a hand. On a short trip to appraise a cabin soon to be listed for sale, Atlanta's SUV breaks down on the highway and Rob Count, Gabe's older brother, happens along and offers to help. The same man she put down when she met him for having motor oil stains under his fingernails. While her vehicle is in Rob's shop being repaired he lends Atlanta his SUV to complete her journey, then shows up at the cabin and they resume their hot affair.

At the end of their weekend escape, Atlanta retrieves her repaired SUV and returns to her home in Buckhead, Georgia. Unable to stay away this time, Rob shows up at her office on Friday and invites her to spend the day with him visiting the local historic sites neither has visited since their childhood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Flame Arden
• Release date: Dec 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9780989494526

Flame Arden

Desert Breeze Publishing has released nine romance novels written by Toni Noel, among them a time travel, two romantic suspenses and a dark romance. http://www.desertbreezepublishing.com/noel-toni/ Writing as Flame Arden she has written and published three erotic novels.

Book preview

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all those couples who set off sparks every time they share the same room. If you can't live with him, and can't live without him you know exactly how the heroine feels.

Acknowledgements

This novel is a work of fiction. Most of the places mentioned in this novel do not exist, so don't go in search of them. You're not likely to find them, and it's a waste of your time to look.

Stay home and read another book instead.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

About the Author

The Atlanta Burning Series

Chapter One

Atlanta Hampton leaned across the table and asked Virginia Count, her middle, married sister, Do you and Gabe ever see Rob?

Virginia shoved her dessert plate away. Gabe and Rob talk on the phone, but something has always come up to prevent Rob from attending our family gatherings. Still fretting because my husband's brother got away?

Yes, I am. He's the first man I ever burned for who failed to come back for more.

You really like Rob, don't you?

Atlanta huffed. No, I despise the man, but for some unexplained reason I can't get your brother-in-law out of my mind. I thought sure he'd come to Buckhead once your baby was born. Marietta, Georgia isn't that far away.

So Rob is the fish who got away. He did come visit us in the hospital the morning after Kristy was born.

"It's good to know you can count on him to sometimes do what's expected of him. I just can't understand it. I had Rob eating out of my hand from the moment we met, but he failed to take me up on my offer of a return engagement. Didn't call. Didn't send flowers. It is as if I no longer exist and it hurts, especially when I still have the hots for him."

You've never before had a problem getting any man you wanted.

Atlanta sighed. Rob wanted me as much as I wanted him, but apparently only for that one unforgettable night. He never even called, the primary reason I despise him. I still wake up burning for him.

Virginia stirred her tea. Maybe that's the problem. You do come on strong sometimes.

Rob's a big boy. I couldn't possibly have frightened him.

Virginia gazed at her over the rim of her tea glass, then returned it to the table. Maybe he prefers one night stands. Some men do. You never told me what happened between you two.

Atlanta frowned. The night of your after-rehearsal dinner? How did you know?

On the way back to our room we saw you entering Rob's. By invitation?

Atlanta smiled wistfully, remembering. He slipped me his key, but from the moment I first laid eyes on him, I knew we'd wind up in bed.

His key? Hmm.

Yes, what started out as a flirtation turned heated and within minutes--

Atlanta was burning. Virginia laughed. You're forgetting, I've seen you incinerate before. Maybe Rob wasn't ready for--

Oh, he was ready all right. Able, too. No man has ever-- Atlanta paused, choosing her words carefully. I simply can't forget him, no matter how hard I try.

Because he never called you?

Her wistful smile returned. Because he is such a fantastic lover. Thoughtful and extremely thorough, yet sensual and gentle. He took me places I long to go again, but in the twenty-three months since your wedding, no other man has taken his place in my thoughts or in my bed. Hooking up with Rob was mind-blowing. I won't soon forget him.

Virginia beamed. Exactly the way I feel about Gabe. I'm sorry his brother is no longer doing it for you.

Me, too. The memory of his deep voice still gives me goose bumps.

Virginia's words brought back other memories, memories best not recalled -- of strong arms enfolding her, and broad hands stroking her back with a tenderness Atlanta longed to experience again.

She squirmed and suddenly gathered her purse, preparing to leave the restaurant. Dammit, all this talk about Rob has me in heat again.

Virginia stood, too. I'll walk you out. Too bad Paris had to rush off. Win keeps her so busy we're lucky she still makes our monthly lunches.

Yes, but I'm so proud of the job she is doing for him. In my opinion he's the most quoted elected official on the City Council. I really admire him.

Virginia held the door open for Atlanta and both stepped out into the bright sun. This well-earned mini-vacation sounds like fun. Where is it you're going?

To a weekend home north of Vinings, about an hour away on Paces Ferry Road. From the highest point on the property there's a view of the Chattahoochee River across the road. My sorority sister is contemplating selling the property they no longer use because of her husband's declining health. She needs to know if anything needs repair or painting before it is listed, and invited me to stay on for a few days once I inspect the property. I'll be back in town on Wednesday night, and I'll call you then.

Have a relaxing stay. I hope you packed a good book.

Atlanta grimaced. Me? Read? I'm not that bored.

Pausing beside her Bimmer, Virginia kissed Atlanta's cheek and got in. Drive carefully.

I will. Atlanta waved as her sister drove away. Then she hurried to her SUV and climbed in.

She glanced again at the directions to the cabin, then exited the parking lot.

Within minutes she was barreling toward Paces Ferry Road. She'd only had to slow a few times for heavy traffic on I-75.

Thinking happy thoughts, she caressed the leather seat next to her. I should take more road trips. My SUV rides like a luxury automobile of the eighties. Too bad those manufacturers no longer make big cars.

I bought the next best thing. This luxury SUV with its elegant interior makes exactly the impression I want made when I drive prospective home buyers around Atlanta and Buckhead.

She caressed the steering wheel, then slowed to exit the freeway.

The SUV's motor coughed.

Atlanta straighter in her seat.

The vehicle slowed even more, then the motor coughed again and the SUV picked up speed.

Atlanta relaxed. I worried for nothing. I must have imagined a funny noise under the hood.

She started a CD, shoved the noise right out of her mind and relished her view of lush green fields stretching as far as she could see on either side of the road.

Farther down, a For Sale sign hanging on a barbed wire fence caught and held her gaze.

Hmm. Some forward thinking developer will snatch up these forty acres to build condos or a Wal-Mart.

This close to the city limits of Atlanta, Georgia, it's surprising this area isn't more built up.

Available acreage doesn't stay on the market long.

I could--

The motor coughed again, but this time, it stopped. So did her music, while all the dashboard lights lit up and stayed on.

Uh, oh, she said into the deadly quiet, and pumped the accelerator.

No response.

With exasperating slowness her vehicle coasted onto the shoulder. The wheels on the driver's side were barely off the road when it came to a complete stop.

Now what?

She dug the owner's manual out of the glove compartment to find the location of the hazard light switch. After a hasty search of the manual, she found it and turned on the warning lights.

What next?

The insistent words of her Driver's Ed instructor came back to her. Raising the hood is the universal signal of a driver in distress, so raise the hood first, then call Triple A.

She hadn't needed to open the hood since she first bought her SUV, and fumbled around beneath the dash for the release, then again referred to the owner's manual for the location of the hood release.

Once she saw how, releasing the hood didn't cause her further problems, but she'd have to wade through knee-high grass growing along the shoulder of the road wearing her favorite Jimmy Choo sandals to reach the hood.

I'd sooner part with my now useless SUV than these darling yellow shoes.

Taking one careful step at a time, she made her way to the front of the vehicle.

Damn, it's hot for October.

She worked her index finger beneath the shiny metal hood and broke a fingernail.

"Double damn," she said out loud, then glanced back when she heard a vehicle crunch to a stop behind hers.

She gave the driver of the massive pickup a big smile, then did a double take.

Rob? Why now?

Her stomach bottomed out while her heart raced.

This is not the way I dreamed of seeing Rob again.

Striding toward her with his confident swagger, he looked like the king of the hill. Master of all he surveyed.

Including me.

Her heart rate spiked. She turned away from him.

Need help, Atlanta? he asked in his deep southern drawl, making help into a two-syllable word that slowly warmed her insides.

She almost melted into his strong arms.

The hint of a knowing smile played about his full lips.

He's enjoying this!

She clenched her fists. The motor stopped. I was about to call Triple A.

Want me to take a look?

At me? Yes.

"If you have time."

For a thoughtful moment he met and held her gaze with one she couldn't decipher, and gave her a quick nod.

Atlanta stroked a manicured nail down her hip, then realized Rob had ducked his head under her hood without seeing her slender hand sliding sensually over her trim hip.

Do you invade my territory often? he asked, sounding as if he was grinding his teeth.

Why?

No, this is my first time.

What sounded like Gumph, came from under the hood.

He might have said Good, but she wasn't sure.

Would you mind repeating that? The hood muffled your reply, she said, stepping closer.

Her second mistake. Rob's woodsy aftershave acted as an aphrodisiac. Her nipples hardened and her eager pussy wept.

She stepped back, wondering if she had made a mistake buying her SUV.

A screwdriver appeared in Rob's soiled hands and manlike, he tapped various necessary-looking parts in the engine compartment, making his muscular shoulders flex beneath his soiled coveralls. Then he backed away, yanked a greasy rag out of his hip pocket, and straightened.

He wiped his hands before slamming the hood. Hop in my truck and I'll give you a ride to the shop. Yours is toast.

She bristled.

Who put you in charge? 'Hop in my truck.' 'Come to my room later.' 'Don't call me, I'll call you.'

Is a tow my only recourse? Triple A promises to get a stranded motorist back on the road.

Not when the electronics are fried.

Damn. She hated being beholden to anyone.

Especially Rob.

She fisted her hands, but tempered her reply. Do you do this often?

His thick eyebrows lifted. Do what?

Pluck women in distress off the side of the road.

He scowled. No. Most women know to have their car serviced before starting a road trip.

Ouch. Even for a thirty mile trip?

When the woman is planning to drive unfamiliar roads alone, yes.

She huffed. How far is it to your shop?

It's in Marietta.

That's the other side of Vinings isn't it?

Yes, but you won't find a foreign car repair place in Vinings. Folks living in small towns stick with American made. Rob's know-it-all expression set her teeth on edge.

She squared her shoulders and sucked in an angry breath. I love my SUV. It never once has let me down.

Until today. Look, I don't have time to stand here and argue with you. Get whatever you want to bring, and lock your doors.

She retrieved her purse, glanced longingly in the back where she'd stored her food for the next four days. Hoping the ice in her new ice chest would last, she locked the vehicle and threaded her yellow clad feet through the weeds to Rob's monstrous truck and opened the passenger side door.

Awed, she stepped back. How do I--?

Get in? Rob asked from behind her. Placing a strong hand on either side of her waist, he unceremoniously tossed her up onto the seat.

Well. I never--

No, I don't imagine you have, he said laconically. Buckle up.

She didn't dare look, but felt certain her yellow silk dress now had greasy smudges on the hips.

He started the truck, signaled, then moved onto the highway with the same confident motions he'd employed to make love while she clasped and unclasped her hands.

Relax, Atlanta. I don't have time to rip off your sexy dress and have my way with you.

Too bad. I wish you had.

How long have you been a mechanic? she asked, her voice steadier than she expected.

He studied her so long she'd decided he was not going to answer before he murmured, Most of my life.

Oh.

After they cleared Vinings Rob asked, Where were you headed?

To a weekend home near the Chattahoochee River. It belongs to a friend of mine who hopes to sell it and needs it appraised.

He scowled at her a moment. Right, you're the big real estate tycoon.

Ouch. What have I done to put his boxers in a bunch?

What's wrong with me selling real estate? I have to make a living somehow.

He had the audacity to laugh. And keep your fingernails clean by raking in dough hand over fist.

She fisted her hands in her lap and counted to ten. At least my hands stay clean. It's not my fault I'm good at what I do. Are you good at repairing cars?

He grinned at her. Having second thoughts about me working on your precious SUV?

Yes. Third thoughts, too.

I have a perfectly good mechanic in Buckhead.

"A perfectly good mechanic wouldn't allow a beautiful woman to get stranded on the side of the road.

Pleased by his compliment, she smiled. It wasn't his fault.

When was your last service?

It's overdue, but it's not the service department's fault. I got a postcard reminder a while back, but I have been too busy to make an appointment.

Rob grinned smugly. So, the seductress finally accepts responsibility for her actions.

She whirled around to face him. "Seduc-- Damn you. I resent that. You wanted it