Falling For Her Boss (11 page)

But it was Francie sitting in the yard, rocking slowly on an old wooden swing hanging from a sturdy sycamore. 

Recognizing her, Noah took a deep breath of night air cold enough to burn his lungs.  But the pain didn't matter.  Suddenly nothing mattered but Francie, sitting on the swing, looking serious enough to blot out the blink of white stars, the buttery glow of a three-quarter moon.

He took a few steps forward and the swing went still.

"It's Noah," he called softly in case she thought a stranger had entered the yard.

The light from the back porch reached her face.  She didn't look happy to see him.

"It's a cold night for swinging," he said.

She pushed at the ground with her toes, rocking back and forth once more.  "I couldn't relax in the house.  Mama kept asking me questions."

He didn't think twice.  "About?"

"Brent.  The trip.  What I'm going to do while I'm there."

Noah had plenty of questions himself but could see Francie needed space and privacy, not badgering.  He went around to the back of the swing and took hold of the ropes.

"I'll push you," he offered.

She looked over her shoulder at him and saw he was serious.  Lifting her feet, she relaxed her hold on the ropes.

Noah pushed the ropes the first time.  On her second pass, he pushed the small of her back.  He couldn't feel her through her down jacket.

"Higher," Francie insisted.

He used more force.

"Higher," she repeated as she pointed her toes at the sky.

"Do you plan to reach the moon?" he teased.

"I wish," floated back to him.

She swung as if she were trying to escape gravity's hold, trying to escape the decisions she had to make.  He pushed harder, wanting to help her soar above her problems.  The clear night, the velvet sky, the refreshing cold, suddenly became gifts that made the moment more precious than tomorrow.

After awhile, Francie's weight shifted on the swing, her legs lowering slightly, and Noah sensed she was ready to stop.  His pushes became slower, less powerful, until Francie dragged her feet and the swing slowed to a halt.

"Did you know you can own a star?" she asked, gazing at the heavens.

"Seriously?"

She stood, still holding on to the swing's rope with one hand.  "Gina showed me an ad online a few years ago.  There's a celestial governing board that discovers new stars.  If you e-mail them, they'll tell you where the star is and, for a fee, they'll give it your name."

"You'd like a star?"

She glanced at him and then looked up at the sky again.  "After Gina told me about it, I thought it was a nice idea.  When I traveled so much, I'd look up at the sky and think about my family looking at the same moon, the same stars.  Somehow I felt closer to them."

Her words touched Noah's heart in places that had never been touched before.  She had such a strong sense of belonging—something he'd never had.  But more important, he knew she realized how precious that sense of belonging was, how lucky she was to have it.

Her beautiful long hair flowed along her cheek and down her back.  With her face lifted to the sky, her profile became the perfect cameo.  He ached to touch her delicate nose, her determined chin, her sensually curved lips.  Instead he clasped her shoulder and she looked from the stars to him.  Strands of hair teased his hand.  He'd wanted to run his fingers through it from the first moment he'd laid eyes on it.  Lifting his hand, he took a lock of black silk between his fingers.  He'd never felt anything so soft, so sensual.  One handful wasn't enough.

With both hands, he brushed her hair back from her face.  Francie let go of the rope and closed her eyes as he ran his fingers through her hair again, and then again.  She swayed toward him, placing her hands on his shoulders for balance.   With gentle fingers, he traced the classic lines of her face, memorizing the softness, the texture, the beauty.  He caressed her brows, stroked her cheeks, teasingly grazed the point of her chin.  But he didn't touch her lips; he was saving them for last.

"I regret not kissing you last night.  I'm not going to have those same regrets tonight," he murmured.

As he leaned toward her, her fingers curled on his shoulders.  He gave her time to back away.  She didn't.  She raised her head and met him.

The first touch of his lips on hers aroused him.  He savored the sensations, just as he savored Francie.  He wasn't about to hurry this; it was already turning into a once-in-a-lifetime experience.  Splaying his fingers through her hair, he cradled her head in his hands.

She was softness and sweetness and passion—everything he could want or need.  Lightly rubbing his lips across hers, he teased them both.  Francie parted her lips.  But still Noah didn't enter.  He took her lower lip between his teeth, laving it with his tongue.  Francie caught her breath and gave a small erotic moan, fueling Noah's desire.

He let go of her head and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her body closer.  His leather jacket, her down one, created inhibiting barriers, leaving the kiss to become their only means of contact.  With the tip of his tongue, Noah touched Francie's.  She was still for a moment, then shyly stroked against him.  Desire rushed through him and throbbed in his lower body until he almost hurt from the need.  When had he needed so much?  When had passion left him so breathless?  When had a simple kiss brought him to such full, immediate arousal?  Never before.

The wintry air emphasized the burning heat of their kiss.  The night silence created a bubble of intimacy he didn't want to burst before he could get his fill of Francie.  She tasted as warm and sweet and natural as honey on a summer afternoon.

His tongue chased hers.  She tagged him back.  Their play became tantalizing, quicker, feverish.  Noah knew he should break away.  He knew he couldn't go any further with her.  The knowing sharpened his control but made the wanting and needing that much more unbearable.  He wanted so much more than a kiss.  He needed more than a padded embrace.

Francie sought Noah's heat, wanting his warmth under her hands.  His leather jacket was as cold as the night.  She abandoned it in favor of the warm skin of his neck.  She caressed with her thumbs, ruffling the hair at his nape.  Thick and healthy, it felt like rich fur over her fingers.  The scent of wood burning in a neighbor's fireplace wrapped around them and mingled with Noah's manly scent.  Not cologne, but soap and Noah, an intoxicating combination.

One that made her forget kissing Noah could be a mistake, made her forget she wasn't ready to give her heart to anyone, made her forget Noah would be leaving in a couple of weeks, made her forget he was her boss.

Each time he stroked her tongue, caressed her back, or pulled her even closer, her excitement escalated and she wanted more.  The passion between them became a palpable need.  Her shivering had nothing to do with the winter night, everything to do with being in Noah's arms.

When he pressed his lower body against hers, his powerful arousal astonished her.  Was it possible he wanted her that much?  Or would he need any woman that much?  When Brent had been making love to her, he'd been thinking about someone else.  What was Noah thinking about?  Was this pure physical need, or did he feel more?

The questions floated away as Noah's kiss created a hurricane of sensations and emotions in her mind, in her body, in her heart.  Kissing Noah was as exhilarating as flying through the air, as satisfying as landing a double axel, as dangerous as the death spiral, as dizzying as a prolonged spin.  It drew from her all her energy; it gave her excitement and pleasure and a keening need only Noah could fill.  It was confusing and thrilling, and she wanted it to go on forever.

She also knew it wouldn't.  She knew Noah was going to break away.  Even as the thought came, he loosened his hold, slowed down the kiss until his lips only whispered against hers, then put a few inches between them—though he still held her.  She opened her eyes to study his face, to see if she could find out what he was thinking and feeling.  No such luck.

Tenderly, he kissed her forehead, then dropped his arms.  "Was that a going-away gesture?"  Her voice was as shaky as she felt.

"No, I've wanted to do that from the moment you opened your door.  I thought once I kissed you, I could forget about it.  I was wrong."

His thoughts mirrored her own.  But said aloud, she wondered why they'd both been so foolish as to think this attraction would go away with a kiss.

Noah's next words confirmed it.  "Now that I've kissed you once, I want to do it again."

"Noah..."

He put his finger over her lips.  "Let's not rehash it, okay?  I want to wish you luck."  He dropped his hand and took a step back.  "When you're in New York, think about your happiness, not what Brent wants, not what your family wants.  Decide what you want."

Without another kiss, without another touch, Noah left her standing in the yard.  Her knees still felt weak from the kiss.  She collapsed on the swing and wondered how Noah could walk away so easily.  Maybe he'd had plenty of practice.  The thought did nothing to ease her troubled mind.

****

Francie veritably flew across the ice, skimming the surface, still getting the feel of the rink and her patch.  It was 2:30 A.M., but the rink was filled with skaters who took ice time whenever they could get it.  Brent wanted to try a lift next.  After a few days of practice and training at a gym, she felt she was ready.

Brent joined her on the ice.  He smiled, and she could remember a time when that smile had turned her inside out.  Not anymore.  Now Noah's kiss haunted her every moment, even when she was skating.  She knew she was in trouble.  Nothing usually interfered with her focus when she was skating.

"Should we try it?" Brent asked.

She brought herself to full concentration and told herself she was ready.  A simple lift.  That's all it would be.  Nothing complicated.  Nothing risky.

Brent put his arms around her.  They pushed off and glided, picking up speed.  Brent lifted her, held her with both hands.  For a moment she felt stark fear.  What if he dropped her again?  What if...?  She didn't have time to finish the thought.  He lowered her, balanced her with both hands, and set her on the ice.

Brent punched his fist into the air as they came to a stop.  "All right!  That was perfect, Francie.  When my coach sees us tomorrow, he'll know we can win the gold."

"That was one lift, Brent, an easy one at that.  We'd have a long way to go."

"But it's a start.  We belong together again.  Can't you see it?"

Francie wasn't so sure.  The simple lift had created a dangerous anxiety in her.  If she couldn't get rid of it, she couldn't focus.

At 5:30 A.M., she returned to the rooming house where Brent stayed, stretched her muscles, and showered.  But there was no way she could go to bed.  She was too tense, too wired.  The practices, Brent, the decisions she had to make clicked through her mind.  She took her cell phone from her duffel.  Would Noah still be in Gettysburg?  Or on the road?  Or maybe back in Richmond?  She hoped Noah was an early riser no matter where he was.

He answered, his voice morning-rough, leading her to think of rumpled sheets and his bare chest.  "Noah, it's Francie."

If he was surprised, she couldn't tell.  "How's it going?"

"I'm not sure."

"Francie, what's wrong?"

Even three hundred miles away, he could read her like a book.  "I need some perspective.  I thought talking to you might give it to me.  I'm sorry if I got you up– Are you still in Gettysburg?"

"I am.  And you didn't get me up.  What's bothering you?"

To tell him that, she'd have to go into the whole story of what had happened between her and Brent.  She didn't want to do that over the phone.  "I'm not sure."

"Do you need moral support?  Is that why you called?"

"Not exactly."

"Francie, if you don't talk to me, I can't help you."

"I shouldn't have called."  Impulses always got her into trouble.

"But you did.  Do you want me to drive up?  I can rent a car, leave it in New York, and drive back with you."

Tears pricked in her eyes.  "You'd do that?"

"If it will help.  Will it?"

She remembered his lips on hers, the excitement but also the safety of being held in his arms.  "I think it would."

"Are you really ready to come home?"

She was.  "Brent and I are meeting with his coach this afternoon, then we have practice again tonight.  The hockey team's out of town, so we don't have to practice in the middle of the night.  But after that..."

"Have you been up all night?"

"Yes, but I'll sleep now and be ready for this afternoon."

"So if I drive up today and stay over, you'll be ready to come home tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Are you staying at McIntosh's apartment?"

She noted the gruffness in his tone.  Is that what he'd been thinking all week?  That she and Brent were sharing accommodations?  "Brent doesn't have an apartment.  He's staying in a rooming house.  One of the rooms here was vacant, so I've been staying here, too."

"Can you make me a reservation for someplace nearby?"

"Sure."

"Will you need directions?"

"No.  My car has a navigation system"

"Thank you, Noah.  I appreciate this more than you know."

"I'm used to traveling.  Remember?  It's my life."

After a final thank-you and good-bye, Francie sat on the edge of the bed and felt like smiling for the first time since she'd arrived in New York.  She crawled between the sheets and turned off the light.  When she closed her eyes, she saw Noah's face and she smiled again.

****

"But you don't have to leave tomorrow," Brent insisted as he stood at the door to Francie's room later that evening.

"I have to get back to the rink."  She felt as if she'd been away for years, out of touch with the real world.  And she missed Noah more than she ever thought she would.

Brent propped his hand on the doorjamb above her head.  "Do you believe what the coach said?  That we belong together?"

"Those weren't his exact words.  He said we skate well together and we have a chance at the Olympics."