Falling For Her Boss (12 page)

"Same thing."

"No, it isn't, Brent.  I don't know if I want to disrupt my life again."

He leaned closer.  "Not even for me?  For us?"

She felt closed in, and she snapped, "There is no 'us.'  You took care of that."

He took his hand from the door frame and leaned away.  "Look, Francie.  I never said I was sorry, but I am.  I made a mistake.  Haven't you made mistakes you regret?"

Even now, she wasn't sure of Brent's sincerity.  She wasn't sure she could trust him, definitely not personally, maybe not professionally.  "Yes, I've made mistakes.  If I skate with you again, we'd be involved in a professional relationship only."

He took her hand.  "You know as well as I do that we were so good on the ice because we were good off the ice."

Part of her knew Brent was right.  And that was another reason why she had doubts.  She didn't love Brent anymore.  In fact, during the past few days, she'd learned she didn't even like him.  She'd been young, immature, impressed by his good looks, his talent...

Francie heard footfalls on the steps.  She pulled her hand away from Brent's, but not before she saw Noah and he saw her.  She couldn't help staring.  She'd wondered what Noah would look like in jeans.  Now she knew.

The well-washed denim fit snugly, hinting at the hardness of his thighs.  She knew just how hard they were because she'd felt their strength when Noah had kissed her.  His lean waist and narrow hips emphasized the breadth of his shoulders in the pale blue turtleneck.  Her heartbeat quickened.  She wanted to explain why Brent had taken her hand and that the gesture meant nothing.  It was simply a persuasive tactic to sway her in the direction he wanted her to go.

Noah's gaze swept over her and Brent standing close together.

"We were just on our way to the rink," she explained with a tentative smile.  She was glad she'd called Noah, but now that he was here, she didn't know what to say to him.

"What are you doing here?" Brent asked almost belligerently.

"Francie called me.  I'm going to drive home with her tomorrow."

Brent's face was a study of frustration as he dismissed Noah and said to Francie, "But I thought after practice we could go out somewhere together, catch up on what's been happening.  Make some decisions."

"We've had all week for catching up, Brent.  And I'm not ready to make a decision."

Brent again glanced at Noah.  "I suppose you're going to ride with him to the rink?"

Francie recognized that spoiled-little-boy tone.  But before she could answer, Noah offered, "We can all drive over together."

Brent hesitated a moment.  "I have a few calls to make before I go.  You two go on.  I'll be there shortly."

After Brent started down the hall to his room, Noah turned to Francie.  She was dressed in pink tights and white leg warmers.  Her skirt and sweater were a pink and white floral pattern.  He seemed to take it all in in one swift scorching appraisal.

Francie shifted her duffel bag from her right hand to her left.  "If you'd rather not go to the rink, you could relax in my room."

"I'd rather go along and watch you if that doesn't make you uncomfortable."

She closed her door and locked it.  "I don't mind.  Just don't expect perfection.  A week of practice doesn't begin to replace my time away from the ice."

"I don't have any expectations," he said, taking her duffel bag from her.

The gentlemanly gesture took her by surprise and she let go of the handle automatically.  When he waited for her at the steps, then opened the door of his rental car for her and closed it after she was settled in, she realized his manners and chivalry felt good.  It made her feel special.

But the feeling evaporated as he closed his car door, made no motion to put the key in the ignition, and stared straight ahead.  "If you want to go out with McIntosh after practice, I can go back to the motel."  Turning to her, in the same controlled voice but with turbulent eyes, he asked, "Isn't that what you'd rather do?"

CHAPTER SEVEN

"I don't want to go out with Brent," Francie answered without hesitating, wondering how Noah could possibly think she wanted to be with Brent after she'd called him.

Noah's suddenly questioning gaze seemed to surround her, engulf her, until she knew exactly what she wanted.  "I'd rather spend the time with you."  Realizing how that sounded, she hastily added, "I mean, you were right.  I need to sort this out with someone objective."

He gave her a slow, lazy smile that hurried her heartbeat.  And then he did what she most wanted.  He touched her.  As his hand stroked her cheek, she held her breath.

"I'm becoming less and less objective," he murmured.  He dropped his hand, didn't explain his remark, and with a last long look, turned the key in the ignition.

****

Despite Francie's leave of absence from the ice, Noah thought she looked fantastic on it.  She and McIntosh were good together.  But something was missing.  Something Noah had seen when he watched her on the DVD.  He didn't have a trained eye for figure skating, but he bet the difference had to do with Francie's personal relationship with McIntosh.  Could they reclaim the magic?  Did Francie want to?

As Noah watched from the bench, Francie's expression changed.  Before, her face had manifested concentration.  Now she looked tense...anxious.

McIntosh's hands tightened around her waist.  He lifted her above him.  Despite himself, Noah tensed.

On the DVD, Francie's face had shown exuberance and joy in the soaring position above her partner.  Here, her mouth was straight and tight.  She didn't want to be high above McIntosh.  When she was back on the ice, Noah saw only relief, not triumph.  Once again he wondered why she'd quit figure skating and what had happened between her and McIntosh.

He also thought about the men who had come to look at the Gettysburg rink.  They wanted the property, not the rink.  Should he tell Francie?  Should he prepare her?  Would it affect what she decided about skating with McIntosh again?

Nothing was certain.  No contract had been offered.  Why give her something else to worry about?  Noble, Gordon.  You have your own reason for not wanting her to be angry at you.

Did he?

When the practice was over, Francie looked relieved and McIntosh looked expectant.  But after a few words from Francie, he shrugged, skated to the bench, exchanged his skates for sneakers, and left.

Francie skimmed the ice for a few more minutes.  When she saw Brent had gone, she came over to the bench and asked Noah, "Are you bored?"

He could never be bored watching Francie, on or off the ice.  "No.  How about you?  How does it feel to be skating again?"

She sat on the bench and ducked her head as she unlaced her skates.  "I've been on the ice since I quit.  Once in awhile I go to the rink in Hershey and practice for old times' sake.  Or else I skate on my uncle's pond.  But being back in a training situation again feels strange."

"You've missed it?"

She left her sneakers untied, sat up, and looked at him.  "Like an adult misses the joy he had riding a carousel or eating cotton candy for the first time."

Noah suspected she'd been trying to catch that feeling the night before she left.  "Or swinging?"

She gave a small shrug and her ponytail bobbed.  "Or swinging.  As much as I want to enjoy it as an adult, it will never be the same as when I was a child."

He wanted to ask that single question that would open a door between them.  It would let him into her life.  If she answered the "why," she'd be confiding in him.  Did he want to get closer?  Why else had he made this trip?

Still, he didn't ask.  If Francie wanted to confide in him, she'd have to do it in her own time.

As Francie stuffed her belongings into her bag, her stomach growled.  She smiled sheepishly.  "I don't eat before I practice."

"Supper was a long time back.  Where can we go?"

Francie gave Noah directions to a restaurant she'd frequented.  After they ordered, an awkward silence fell across the table as Francie unfolded her napkin on her lap, took a sip of water, and straightened her knife before meeting his gaze.  "I suppose you're wondering why I left figure skating."

His heart tripped.  "Don't feel you have to tell me anything just because I'm here," he said.  Francie owed him nothing; he didn't want her thinking otherwise.

"It might help me to tell you about it."

"Then I'm listening."

Francie wrapped her hand around her coffee mug and took a sip.  Setting it down, she hesitated a moment before beginning.  "Brent and I placed fifth in the Olympics.  I was ecstatic.  He wasn't.  He wanted a medal.  That drove him.  The year after that, we came in fourth at the Nationals instead of first or second.  And then we came in tenth at the Worlds.  I think we were both trying too hard.  We made stupid mistakes.  Brent was disappointed, to say the least.  Everything changed between us."

"In what way?"

"Before we qualified for the Olympics, our time on the ice was special, something I thought brought us together.  But Brent became a slave driver.  Nothing we did was good enough.  We were practicing more, definitely enjoying it less.  When I questioned him, he said he wanted to win a gold medal.  Nothing else was bothering him."

The clarity of her brown eyes and the set of her small chin told Noah what she hadn't.  "You knew better?"

She nodded.  "I knew better and denied it.  Suddenly our ice time coincided with Bridgit Jones time."

Noah suspected what direction this was headed but sensed that Francie needed to say it.

"Brent and I spent less time together off the ice.  The time on the ice was tense."

"Not an atmosphere conducive to champion skating."

"Exactly.  We argued with each other.  We argued with the coach.  I was miserable and didn't know what to do.  I felt isolated, alone, far away from everyone who cared about me.  So when Mama called to plead with me to come home for Christmas, I thought the time away would do everyone good."

"I take it McIntosh didn't want you to leave?"

"The opposite.  He encouraged me to go.  That should have been one very large red flag."

Noah reached across the table and covered her hand with his.  "What happened?"

"When I got back, I found Brent had been practicing with Bridgit.  Another skater told me they'd been spending quite a bit of off-ice time together, too.  Before practice, I confronted Brent about it.  He wouldn't deny it or confirm it."

Noah's hand tightened around hers.

"He was distracted during practice.  I knew it and I should have called a halt.  But I was hoping it was my imagination, that everything would be all right."  She shook her head.  "Denial at its finest."

"When we want to believe in someone, it's hard to let go of that faith."

Francie's eyes widened as if she was surprised he would understand.  "I had always trusted Brent.  I didn't know how not to trust.  But I should have realized how unfocused he was that day.  We did a complicated twist-lift and I fell."

"He didn't catch you."

"It was a slip of the hand..."

"It was his fault."

"Yes," she finally admitted.  "I badly pulled my groin muscle, strained my back and twisted my ankle.  The doctor said I would need physical therapy.  I'd be off the ice for a few weeks, maybe longer.  We could miss the National Championships and most likely the Worlds."

"What happened?"

"Two days after the accident, Brent came to see me to tell me he and Bridgit would be skating together.  He was sorry, but he had to think of his career first.  Some skaters never come back from injuries and he couldn't take that chance with me."

"The bastard."  The word was more a growl than a curse.

Francie's hand curled under his.  "The irony is that I could understand his professional need to choose a new partner.  What I couldn't understand was that he and Bridgit were involved personally, too.  He said it happened while I was home for Christmas, but I knew he was lying.  I found out later he and Bridgit had been seeing each other since before Thanksgiving.  I don't know how I could have missed it, how I could have been so blind—"

Noah thought of Craig.  "We see what we want to see.  Reality's often hard to take."

Francie sat back in her chair and her fingers relaxed under his.  "That was two years ago.  Since then, I've tried not to live under any illusions."

"Did you heal?"

"Yes.  I could have been back on skates full-tilt in three months."

"You didn't think about getting another partner?"

"I was hurt by Brent and what had happened.  I just wanted to spend time with my family and forget about competition."

"And how did you feel this past week?"

She studied the depths of her coffee.  "I could skate with Brent again.  And maybe in a few months the anxiety on lifts would fade and I could begin to trust him again.  But the question is—do I want to?"

"How much does a medal mean to you?"

She brought her gaze back to his.  "Just going to the Olympics, if we'd make it, could bring in money from the hype and promotion.  But I never skated for that reason.  I skated because I loved to skate.  My grandmother knew that.  That's why she bequeathed me a sum of money to support my career.  Even so, my family has made sacrifices.  Yet, I know I can't let a sense of guilt decide my future."

"You have a rough decision to make."

"I know.  And I have to make it within the next few weeks.  I won't be coerced or pushed into it.  You've helped me see that this has to be my decision."

Noah wondered if Francie would have chosen a career in skating without the sense of responsibility her grandmother's inheritance brought with it, without Francie's desire to live up to her family's expectations.  "Wise men tell us we control our own destiny.  But I'm not so sure."

The waitress brought their orders, and Noah had to release Francie's hand.  He didn't want to.  The desire to hold on to the understanding between them was so strong, it unsettled him.  Why should he care if they understood each other?  Why should he seek to hold on to something that couldn't last?