Falling For Her Boss (2 page)

Noah wanted to wrap his arms around her and keep her warm.  Irritated by the thought, he cut in, "That's all fine and good, but when I check the balance sheets, good spirit doesn't enter into it.  I have to do what's best for the future of my company."

She dropped her arms to her sides, though her fingers were still curled inward.  "And what about my future, the future of the employees at the rink?"

There were fourteen employees besides Francie at the rink, many part-time.  "That depends on the buyer."

"If he wants to keep us?" she asked hopefully.

He could see she didn't realize the full implications of what he was telling her.  "Francie, I'm not sure I can find a buyer who wants to own a roller-skating rink."

Realization dawned in her brown eyes.  Instead of surprise and worry, they radiated golden sparks of anger.  "You might sell it to someone who might make it something else?  Are you out of your mind?  That rink was built in 1921.  It has a history, just like this town.  That wooden floor under the epoxy has seen generations of this town's skaters.  It's almost a landmark.  How can you even think of selling it to someone who won't consider that?"

"A developer could offer the best deal.  And frankly, my time is limited.  I want to get the rink off the books."

"So you're not only going to sell, you're going to sell soon and to the highest bidder!"

She made it sound like a federal crime.  "That's good business."

"Business?  Don't you see this involves more than business?  It involves people's lives.  I've finally found something other than figure skating I'm good at.  And what about Charlie?"  She held Noah's gaze, and he was surprised by the determination he saw there.

"Who's Charlie?"

She gestured with her hands as her voice rose and fell.  "He's been working at the rink for twenty years.  He reconditions the skates, drills them, fixes the plumbing, the sound system when it's down...Julie's working to put her son through college, Theresa's retired and needs the little bit she makes to—"

He didn't come here for a guilt trip or to be persuaded to change his mind.  "Look, Francie.  I can't take on the responsibility of the world.  This is a business decision I had to make.  I have a whole company of employees to consider.  I'm sorry if it causes upheaval, but that's the way it has to be."

"The bottom line is the only one that counts?"  Impatiently, she brushed her hair away from her cheek. "Maybe in your world, Mr. Gordon.  Not mine.  I've never been sorry when Mama's hospitality brought someone new to our table.  Tonight, I am."

He understood her concern for the employees at the rink.  But he didn't understand her anger.  "I'm sorry you feel that way.  Because we will have to work together.  I'd like to keep our relationship...friendly."

She arched her brows.  "I think your idea of friendship and mine are different.  And if you expect me to try to help you sell the rink, you're crazy."

"I expect you to cooperate to the best of your ability.  You're my employee."

Her chin came up and she looked him straight in the eye.  "I might be your employee, but since that doesn't seem to mean much to you, my ability to cooperate might be quite limited."  Without a good-night or a good-bye, Francie turned her back on him, went up the steps into the kitchen, and closed the door behind her.

Noah scowled at the closed door.  What had he expected?  That she'd be overjoyed she might lose her job?

Of course not.  But he'd never expected that much anger.  That much passion.  For a roller-skating rink?  She was right—he didn't understand.  He'd give her the night to cool off. 

And if she didn't cool off?

He'd do what he'd come to do anyway...with or without Francesca Piccard's cooperation.

****

Francie heard the outside door close and she breathed a sigh of relief.  She shouldn't have lost her temper like that.  It was the first time in years.  But put her French and Italian heritage together...

Another man who believed in the bottom line, who gave no merit to loyalty, friendship...love.  If Brent had truly loved her, his professional life wouldn't have been more important than their relationship, their history, their future.  If he'd loved her, she would be beside him at his second Olympics in February, she would be putting the artistic strength into their performance, she would...still be involved with him?  Thank goodness she'd realized that the qualities she valued most he valued least.

Everything had turned out for the best.  She belonged back home with her family.  She was happy here.

At least she had been until Noah Gordon had tipped her world tonight.  Well, she wouldn't let another man pull the rug out from under her.  This time she was going to fight.

CHAPTER TWO

Noah was surprised when he found the door to the rink open Saturday morning.  It wasn't even 8 A.M.  The large foyer led to a glass door situated next to a ticket window.  Glancing around, he saw the exit door opened from another wall.  That kept the public honest.  The employee at the ticket window could watch both doors to make sure everyone paid.

Noah pushed open the door and silence met him.  The carpeted area to the fore of the rink was well lit.  The rink itself was dark.  Noah walked along the low, round, hassock-like furniture dotting the reception area to a light beaming from an open door.

When he saw Francie bent over the desk, her concentration focused on a catalog in front of her, he paused.  Her skin was perfect, her complexion a healthy pink that looked as soft as satin.  And when she smiled, the tiny dimple in her left cheek created the inclination in him to stroke it.  The fringe of her lashes was as dark as her hair.  She looked as if she wore no makeup except a hint of lipstick.  Was that possible?  It had been a long time since he'd seen natural beauty this close up.

"Good morning," he said.

Startled, she looked up and said curtly, "Good morning."

She was going to be all business.  He could be too--that's why he was here.  "Before I examine the books, I'd like to take a look around.  Is there anything I should know before I do?"

Her manner was matter-of-fact, perfunctory.  "The rink's in good condition.  It was remodeled about ten years ago.  When I took over, the carpet was threadbare so I replaced it.  I also had to have some of the seats in the foyer re-upholstered."

He wanted to keep her talking.  "How much have you expended on interior modifications this past year?"  That information was in his file, but he wanted to hear it from her.

She named an approximate figure, then added, "But that includes a strobe light, two new pool tables.  I'd like to add a ping pong table, but...we'll see what happens."

He wished she'd smile at him as she had last night.  He usually didn't pay attention to what was happening inside the rinks.  As long as everything ran without a hitch and the numbers were good, he left the rest to his managers.  He stepped in only when a problem arose, and that was usually a major monetary outlay--like a new air-conditioning or sound system.

Francie had plenty of space if she wanted to add table games.  "Do you have a lot of kids who come to socialize rather than skate?"

She gave him a guarded look.  "Mostly teenagers.  But if they hang around long enough, eventually they try the rink."  She stood.  "I'll unlock the doors to the music room and pro shop.  They have a different key than the main locks."  She stood and came out from behind the desk.

Noah knew he was staring.  She wore sneakers.  But her curvy long legs were encased in nylon tights.  Her violet sweater topped a matching short full skirt that landed a few inches down her thighs.  A surge of heat urged him to shed his suit coat.  He tugged his tie down a few centimeters instead.  "How many classes do you have today?"

"Four children's classes--two beginners, an intermediate and an advanced.  So I'll be out of the office all morning.  Craig had my passwords for the computer.  Do you?"

He could smell her perfume.  It was an old-fashioned scent.  Roses, maybe?  "Yes."

"I might want to upload new programs to make this easier for me.  Do you have any objections?"

She swung around, her short skirt rippling across her thighs.  "Would objecting do any good?"  She must have seen his determined look because she added, "Mr. Gordon, you have your reasons for being here and I'll cooperate with you because I have no choice.  But don't expect me to be happy about it."

Noah kept silent, knowing he couldn't ask for more than that under the circumstances.  Part of him wished the circumstances were different, part of him wished...what?  That he and Francie could relate on an intimate basis?  Hardly.  He could already tell from her family and her commitment to the rink that she wasn't a one-night-stand kind of woman.  And with his lifestyle, he couldn't give more than that.  So...

Noah closed the door on his thoughts and checked out the rink.  He found all of it in well-kept condition, which didn't surprise him.  Francie took obvious pride in everything about the rink.  He was concerned about the storeroom.  Whoever had remodeled the rink had passed over that area, probably to cut costs.  Noah wondered about the wiring in the small room and whether or not it had been checked recently.

Stopping in the snack bar, Noah found a slow cooker switched on.  When he lifted the lid, the spicy-sweet smell of barbecued hamburger teased him.  Had Francie made it this morning?  No one else had been around.  He knew managing took many shapes and forms, but cooking for the snack bar fell way beyond the line of duty.  Then again, Francie didn't act as if she managed the rink merely out of duty.

Several four, five and six-year-olds laughed and chattered in the reception area as Noah ended his tour.  Francie sat in the midst of them, lacing her skates.  Her eyes sparkled, her smile was playful, her hands moved agilely as she laughed and spoke to the children.  She looked like a teenager and he wondered just how old she was.

Noah stopped where she was sitting.  "How many in the class?"

She turned her face up to him.  "Twenty to twenty-five on a good day."

Another group of children spilled through the door.  Noah smiled to try to coax one from her.  "It looks like a good day."

One of the children sitting by Francie pulled on Noah's pants leg.  "Mister, can you help me tie this?"

Francie's fingers moved faster on her laces.  "Joey, I'll do it as soon as..."

Noah crouched down.  "Sure.  I bet pretty soon you'll be able to do this yourself."

The little boy with curly red hair and freckles grinned.  "Francie says I hafta practice tying like I practice skating."

Noah made sure the skates were laced properly before he tied the laces in a double bow and tucked them into the boot of the boy's skate.  "She's right.  You have to practice anything you want to be good at."

The child forgot about the skates and pointed to Noah's tie.  "Why are you dressed up?  Aren't you gonna skate?"

Noah glanced at Francie.  She looked as if she was waiting for the answer, too.  "These are my working clothes."

The boy's eyes widened.  "You work here?"

"For a little while."

"And you're not gonna skate?"

Noah chuckled.  "Not today.  Maybe another time."  He stood and capped the little boy's shoulder.  "You have fun."

Noah glanced a last time at Francie.  Her gaze met his and his heart beat erratically--until she ducked her head to listen to the child beside her.

Telling himself he was forgetting his purpose for being here, Noah went to the office to settle in for the morning.  He'd like to watch Francie, just to see what kind of instructor she was, of course, but he didn't want to make her nervous.  He shrugged.  Why would she be nervous?  She was used to hundreds of people watching her...thousands.  But so far, what he'd seen of Francie was very unassuming.  He wondered if she'd liked being a star.

Noah sat at the computer and began with the most recent numbers.  As he adjusted to the chair he had to smile at the  a tall jar of lollipops that sat on the credenza.  A squatty round dish on the other end held caramels.  Apparently Francie had a sweet tooth.  At least six pictures of her family stood in between the candy jars.

Such a big family, and a noisy one.  While he'd been having dinner with them, catching bits and pieces of conversations, he realized the connection between all of them--a connection he'd never had.  He'd thought he'd stopped mulling it over long ago--the life his mother had led, the years when he'd had to grow up too fast.  But being with Francie and her family had brought back the wrenching emptiness he'd always filled with achievements and goals.  The last few years, especially this past few months, seeing what had happened to Craig, Noah realized business achievements weren't lasting, weren't what could fill the emptiness.  What could?  At a loss for an answer, Noah turned to the computer once more.

Awhile later, he checked his watch.  He'd been at it for almost two hours.  Raising his arms above his head, he stretched, then stood.

The low drone of skates on the floor had diminished.  He saw Francie standing on the inside ridge of the rink with a little girl.  Their voices drew him closer.

The child looked to be about seven.  She was holding on to the railing around the edge of the rink.

He heard Francie say, "Take my hand and we'll skate around once.  Real slow."

The child's voice was plaintive.  "But what if I fall?  What if I--?"

Francie took the child's hands and faced her squarely.  "Honey, if you want to learn to skate, you have to let go of the rail.  You missed out on most of the session because you wouldn't let go."

The little girl dropped her eyes to the floor.  "I'm afraid."

Francie's voice was soft.  "Of what?"

"Falling."

"Are you afraid you'll get hurt?"

The little girl shook her head.

"What are you afraid of?" Francie asked gently.

"That everyone will laugh."

"Everyone else is gone now."

The child looked up at Noah.  "Except him."

Francie cast him a concerned look.  She didn't have to say anything.  "Do you want me to leave?" Noah asked.