Falling For Her Boss (6 page)

The wooden dinette set in the kitchen was the same light blue as the cabinets.  Navy and white cafe curtains hung at the window.  The surroundings were pleasant, cheerful.

"I'm glad you like it.  Sometimes in winter it gets a little chilly up here..."

"Your mother brought me an extra blanket."

Francie would bet a week's pay that Noah slept in the nude.  She wished she could keep her gaze away from his chest, ignore the urge to run her fingers across it, through the hair.  Blast it!  What was the matter with her?

She nodded to the dish in his hand and stuffed her hands into her jeans pockets.  "If you're not going to eat that now, you should refrigerate it."

In a few steps, he'd opened the refrigerator and poked the dessert inside.  It was the only thing on the shelves.  "Tomorrow I'll have to go grocery shopping.  Where's the closest store?"

Francie gave him directions.  Then curiosity got the better of her.  "You really cook?"

He gave her a mock frown.  "I'm thirty-six years old.  How do you think I survived all these years?"

"Fast-food restaurants?" she teased.

He chuckled.  "Your brothers know how to cook, why shouldn't I?"

It was a fair question, requiring a fair answer.  "You just don't seem like the type."

His expression sobered.  "I was on my own a lot growing up.  I either cooked or didn't eat."

"No brothers or sisters?"

"Nope."

More than curiosity made her ask, "Do you have much family?"

He pushed the toaster closer to the small microwave oven.  "None."

Her heart hurt for him.  Family meant so much--support, comfort, love.  She couldn't imagine doing without hers.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to pry--"

The cell phone on a side table chirped, startling Francie.

Noah looked relieved.  "I'd better get that."

Glad for the interruption into a conversation he didn't want to have, Noah listened to one of his managers.  However his gaze was on Francie as she roamed around the room and stopped to examine the skiing machine.  Something was bugging her.  And she was bugging him.  Those damn big brown eyes that had widened so innocently at the sight of his bare chest.  He couldn't help but feel a few moments of male satisfaction, but other feelings and urges had quickly taken over.  There was passion in Francie.  He could feel it.  Deep, wild passion she restrained.  He'd had a glimpse of it concerning the rink.  And when her eyes had fallen to his loosened belt buckle, he'd seen it again.

A man.  A woman.  Attracted to each other.  How simple it could be.  How complicated.  He sighed and repeated to himself, No involvement with Francie.  She deserved more than he could give.  Her questions about family had brought home more than anything how different they were.  They came from two different worlds.

Noah concentrated on his manager's problem.  "Call the insurance company and make sure about liability coverage.  But I don't see any reason to increase it now or to switch companies.  City Mutual is competent and easy to work with.  Let me know if you have any more questions."

When he hung up, Francie said, "I'd never think of calling you after hours."

"Apparently you don't call much at all, or you would have known Craig had left."

She picked up one of the round five-pound weights, balanced it on her hand, then set it back on the floor.  "I try to handle problems myself."

"Craig told me that."

Her gaze locked to Noah's.  "He's really all right?"

"Yes.  He went back to accounting."

"Accounting?"

"He and I had an accounting firm before we bought the rinks."

"Why did he sell out?  He never talked as if he was considering it."

"He had some personal problems, Francie.  That's all I can say."  Craig was the one person with whom Noah had a bond.  He wouldn't discuss his friend's problems with anyone, not even Francie.

A strange look came over Francie's face.  What was going on in that pretty head of hers?  He couldn't tell.  But he was becoming more and more sure it wasn't good for them to be alone up here.

She moved away from the skiing machine and stood at the edge of the kitchen counter.  "Noah, I have a proposition for you."

He almost laughed.  But he didn't.  She was dead serious.  "Go on."

She clasped her hands together in front of her.  "I want to buy a share of the Gettysburg Roller-Fun."

CHAPTER FOUR

"Do you know what kind of money you're talking about?" Noah asked.

"I have some saved," Francie said defensively.  "I just hadn't decided how I wanted to invest it.  Now I know.  It would give you some liquidity."  She smiled beguilingly.  "And we'd both be happy."

"So what you're saying is I should keep the rink, take the money you offer to pour into the business, and forget about selling."

"Sounds good to me."

"It doesn't sound good to me.  What you could offer doesn't create the amount of cash flow I want.  I need more than that to replace..."  He caught himself.  "I need more than that to revamp a few of the rinks."

She gazed at him speculatively and he felt uncomfortable.  He couldn't tell her Craig had embezzled more than the cost of the rink, enough to make Noah have to cut costs as much as he could and scrutinize his cash flow and profit margin carefully.  That was made more difficult by the fact he now had Craig's territory to cover and less time to spend on everything else.   Craig was basically an honest, decent man who'd found himself in a situation he couldn't handle.  And Noah felt responsible.  He wouldn't take on a partner again.  He'd learned the hard way he should only depend on himself.

"What's the real reason you won't accept my offer?" Francie pressed as she pushed her hair over her shoulder.

"Cash flow is the real reason."

"Can't you be honest with me, Noah?"

When she frowned, the same dimple appeared as when she smiled.  He switched his attention from her face to the matter at hand.  He could be honest, but she wasn't going to like his honesty.  "The truth is I don't want another partner."

"Why not?"

He shrugged, hoping a simple explanation would do.  "I work better solo."

"Your partnership with Craig wasn't a success?"

He should have known that Francie wouldn't accept simple.  "My partnership with Craig is none of your business."  It came out sharper than he intended, but Craig's dishonesty and betrayal still hurt.  Noah wouldn't set himself up like that again.  Put someone in the position to hurt you and chances were they would.  You'd think he would have learned that too by now.

Her eyes widened and emotion blazed there.  She stepped closer to him and pointed her finger at his chest.  "You don't know a good thing when you see it."

The tip of her finger grazed his skin and a jolt of desire shot through him.  Reflexively his arms went around her.

Her sweater was as soft as it looked, her shoulders delicate but small, her hair glossy and thick as it fell down her back and teased his hands.  She was a mixture of softness and fiery determination.  He'd taken her by surprise, and for a moment she was uncharacteristically still.  Her lips were a breath from his.  He could smell her scent of roses made more exotic by her feminine sweetness.  Her brown eyes were alive with surprise and he wondered if he saw a flare of passion.

Francie in his arms was the stirring experience he'd expected it to be.  As he imagined his lips touching hers, caressing hers, devouring hers...

The warning system he'd developed over the years kicked in and the alarm was so loud it reverberated in his head.  Kissing Francie would only lead to complications he didn't want or need.

Instead of kissing her, he brought his hand to her face and slowly traced her lips with his forefinger.  "I do know a good thing when I see it.  Believe me."

She seemed mesmerized, and he felt her tremble.  She was as responsive as she was sensual.

Then she blinked and backed away.  Avoiding his gaze, she went to the door and put her hand on the knob.  As she opened it, she said, "It was a good idea."

"For you, Francie.  Not for me."

She left then, closing the door with a forceful plunk.

Logically, Noah knew he'd done what was best as far as his business was concerned, as far as Francie was concerned.  But that was small comfort as the emptiness that had always been a part of his life yawned deeper and wider than before.

****

The last person Francie expected to see after she brushed her teeth and combed her hair Monday morning was Noah Gordon.  And the last place she expected to see him was sitting at the kitchen table with her father!

The rink was closed on Monday and she usually slept later, ran errands, went to dance class, then read to children at the elementary school.  After last night, she'd decided if Noah wanted her, he could come find her.

Wanted her.  Come find her.  She'd seen the desire in his eyes last night and recalled all too well her response to being held in his arms, touched by his hands.  She'd never experienced that kind of excitement before.  When Brent had touched her, it had felt nice.  Never that explosive.

Noah saw her standing in the doorway and smiled.  Her pulse raced and she dropped her eyes to the lap-top computer on the table and her father's receipts spread across the Formica.

"What's going on, Pop?"

Her dad clapped Noah on the shoulder.  "Noah here came over to borrow a couple of eggs.  He saw what I was doing and told me he might be able to make it easier for me."

"Trading eggs for a computer doesn't seem equal to me."

Her father laughed.  "I might have to get one of these, honey.  He's got a program that's more intelligent than mine. More comprehensive.  Do you realize how much time this could save me?"

"You understand it already?" she asked wistfully.

Noah answered.  "We've been at it about an hour.  Your dad picked it up quickly."

"Not like me," she muttered.

Noah looked surprised.  "You did just fine.  It takes some people longer to get into the rhythm of it."

His praise felt good but it didn't eliminate the worry and anxiety she still felt about going back to school.  If Noah wouldn't accept her investment in the rink, she needed to consider further education seriously.  Especially if, God forbid, the rink closed.

Her stomach growled and she glanced at the clean frying pan on the stove.  "Where's Mama?"

"She had an early appointment in York.  Decorating some office building.  Gina just grabbed a cannoli.  It's a good thing Angela didn't see her."

Gina's eating habits and Angela's idea of what they should be constantly clashed.  "So neither of you had breakfast?"

Noah motioned to his mug.  "Coffee."

Paul's grin was sly.  "Would you care to make us some?"

Francie realized she was getting sucked in.  Angela catered to her husband whenever she could.  But Francie knew he could flip an egg as well as anyone.  She smiled at him.  "I could be persuaded.  If the price is right."

"Uh-oh.  You got to watch these daughters, Noah.  They're more conniving than any son."

Francie laughed.  "Are we gonna deal?"

Paul rolled his eyes.  "What's the price tag for breakfast?"

"You fix the drip in the upstairs sink.  I had enough trouble getting to sleep last night without—"

Noah's gaze buckled to hers and she knew her eyes betrayed her.  Now he knew the scene in the garage apartment had shaken her.  He certainly didn't look as if it had shaken him.  All neat and precise with his hair combed perfectly, his oxford shirt open at the neck, his slacks perfectly creased.

"Francie?"

Her dad's voice made her realize she'd been staring at Noah much too long.

"You were saying?" he asked with raised brows.

What had she been saying?  Oh, the drip.  "I'll make breakfast if you fix the drip."

"And what does Noah have to do?" her father asked innocently.

"Pardon me?"

"Does he get off scot-free?  Doesn't seem fair."

Noah grinned rakishly.  "Yeah.  It doesn't seem fair.  What can I do?"

"Are you finished showing Pop what he needs to know?"

Noah looked at Paul.  "I suppose so."

"Good."  She took a bowl from the cupboard, opened the refrigerator, snatched a box of eggs from the door, and handed them to Noah.  "Crack ten of these into that bowl."

"And what are you going to do?"

She glanced at the cluttered table.  "Set up TV tables in the living room so we can eat, then fry the bacon and stand guard over the eggs."

As Francie pulled dishes from the cupboard, she surreptitiously watched Noah.  He cracked an egg expertly with one hand and tossed the shell into the drainer in the sink.  He did another, then turned and caught her watching him.

He winked.  "Thought I'd make a mess, didn't you?"

She felt the heat flash to her cheeks.  "No, of course not."

He cocked his head.  "Don't underestimate me, Francie.  That would be a mistake."

Had she underestimated him?  Had she thought she could outmaneuver him?  She didn't know how to play games; she didn't know how to manipulate.  She only knew how to work hard for what she wanted and hope that was enough.  The problem was that Noah had the power in his hands to make all her hard work count for nothing.  She couldn't let that happen.  No, she wouldn't underestimate him, but she wouldn't let him sell the rink out from under her, either.

Making breakfast was not a difficult task.  Francie had certainly done it often enough.  But working next to Noah, she was all thumbs and two left feet.

She stood at the stove watching the bacon.  Noah dumped the eggs into the skillet and reached around her for the salt and pepper, his arm grazing her back.  She dropped her fork.  He bent to pick it up at the same time she did.  Their noses almost touched; their fingers did.  She plucked the fork from the floor, straightened, and dropped the utensil in the sink.  Apparently he'd learned his way around the kitchen, because when she turned back to the bacon, he presented her with another fork.

"Know what we forgot?" he asked with a serious expression.

She was almost afraid to ask.  "What?"