Waking Sleeping Beauty (18 page)

“My, how the tide turns,” she muttered, shaking her head. She glanced at the bed again, thinking how far she’d come in just a few short weeks.

“I’ll say,” Peg agreed. “Hey!” She smacked herself on the forehead. “Geez, Louise, I almost forgot why I’m tracking you down in the first place.”

“There’s more?”

“Is there! I got calls flooding in all day about you. At one point, we had to shut down the phones just to regroup.”

“Me?” she squeaked. “The press?” What had she created?

“Them, too. But mostly modeling agencies, corporations— honey, you name it, from all over the world. Even those entertainment shows want you. They want to know if you’re exclusive at King’s or can they snatch you up. Being tall with blonde hair and with them gorgeous blue eyes, and your presence on camera, why, they just fell in love with you. I’m not just talking thousands of dollars either. Sugar pie, you won’t have to scrimp and save any more. You can call your own shots, how ’bout that?”

Francie gulped. They wanted to hire her? To model, of all things? Finally, she could take care of herself and Priscilla. Francie could put her through school and take care of all the expenses. It may just be the answer to her problems. An ache, wide and deep, shot through her at the thought of leaving behind all the people she loved. Especially Marcus.

***

“Mayday, mayday,” Rico cried out the moment she walked back into the boutique.

“Now what?” she muttered, still reeling from the pile of offers Peg had shoved at her. Now she gripped the messages from renowned companies to her chest.
Could she?

“Urgent,” he mouthed, holding out the phone receiver to her.

“Who is it?”

“Marcus’ mother.” He lifted an eyebrow.

With her heart in her throat, Francie answered, “Mrs. Reed, is everything all right? You haven’t fallen again, have you?”

“It’s so good to hear your voice. No, dear, no more falls, but I’m in a bad way, though. Could you please come see me?” Her voice broke.

“Of course—”

“Oh, wonderful. I’ll see you in a few minutes. Do you have my new address?” She rattled it off and Francie grabbed for a pen. Thankfully, the older woman repeated it so Francie could jot it down. “Do you have it, dear?”

“Yes, but now? Can’t this wait until after I get out of work in a few hours?”

“No, absolutely not.” This time Francie was certain the woman would break down and cry.

“All right. I’ll come see you. But, I won’t be able to stay long. I have to pick up some samples.”

“See you in a little while.” The click of the phone, followed by the dial tone, signaled she’d hung up.

“What could that be all about?” she wondered as she shoved the stack of messages at Rico, ripped off the sheet of paper with the directions on it, and then rushed for her purse.

“Don’t worry, I’ll close up,” Rico called out, his voice laced with sarcasm. “What are all these?” he asked, flicking through the messages. “Girl, are you kidding me?” he shrieked.

“Love you, Rico. Gotta run,” she threw over her shoulder as she dashed out of the store.

But his cries still rang in her throbbing head all the way to Mrs. Reed’s nursing home. She couldn’t believe it herself. How could a sheltered shop girl ever dream of being given the world on a silver platter?

With her heart tripping over itself, Francie raced into the nursing home, only to stop in her tracks at the sight that greeted her. Mrs. Reed and a gentleman friend sat in the high backed lobby chairs, smiling and gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Mrs. Reed?”

She jerked her attention away from the elderly man and to Francie. “Oh, dear, you look as lovely as ever.”

Where was the urgency? The desperate need to see her?

She watched in delight as the older woman rose from the chair, leaning on a new cane. Her male friend stood, holding out a hand to steady her. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek.

“You go on, sweetie pie. I’ll keep an eye out—”

She held up her hand to stop him. “Mum’s the word, remember?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” He smiled, nodding at Francine as she drew near the couple. He stuck out his hand, introducing himself. “Isaac Washington.”

Taking his offered hand, she liked him instantly. The twinkle in his eyes and the way he treated Mrs. Reed eased her mind. This one wouldn’t be letting go of the older woman anytime soon. “Francine King.”

“I know. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Francie glanced at Marcus’ mother. What had she told him?

“But we’ll have plenty of time to catch up. You two go now.” He urged them in the direction of the small room across the hallway.

In just a few minutes, Francie and Marcus’ mother were sitting in the little parlor, seated near each other at a round table. The older woman poured the tea into the floral china cups.

Confused, Francie asked, “I thought you were in trouble.”

“Oh, not me, dear, you.”

“Me?”

She smiled sweetly and patted her hand. “You’re in love with my son.”

Her middle dropped.
Was it that obvious? Was there a cure?

“I saw the news. You were magnificent, I must say. My, how you defended my Marcus.” She giggled. “And you were spot on about your mother, too.”

“Ah…I’m not sure why you wanted to see me.”
How could she escape?

“Dear, dear, all in good time,” she cooed, pushing a plate of cookies to her. “Try some. They’re not half bad. Marcus makes much better, though,” she whispered conspiratorially.

There it was. She’d said his name again. Could she make this short and sweet? “Why am I here?”

There was a noise at the door.

Francine turned sharply. Her heart stopped at the sight. “Marcus?”

“Mother?” he asked, glancing from the older woman to Francie. “And to answer your question, Francie, I think my dear old mother arranged this. Isn’t that correct, Mother?”

Francie couldn’t tell if he was angry or not.

Mr. Washington nudged Marcus all the way into the room and held out his hand for Mrs. Reed. “Come along, sweetie pie. We’ll leave them alone now.”

As she limped out of the room, his mother halted when she drew close to her son and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “It’s for your own good, Marcus.”

The door closed behind the couple. The room grew thick with tension.

Francie held her breath, taking him in. Since departing the impromptu press conference at the door of King’s this morning, this was the first time she faced Marcus. She drank him in. His presence seemed to dominate the room. The air pulsed between them.

Tall, powerful, sexy
.

He held her gaze as he walked toward her and took a nearby chair.

She longed to reach over and touch him, feel the warmth of his hand. Feel the heat of his skin brushing hers again. His gaze drifted to her mouth, and then back up into her eyes.

Her lips tingled as if he’d kissed her.

She sucked in a breath. His scent filled her nostrils, making her dizzy. “Marcus,” she whispered. “What are you doing to me?”

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you did this morning.” His equally low voice trailed along her nerves, tickling her.

“You were the brunt of my mother’s retaliation against me.” Sadness echoed in her voice. “I didn’t heel when she wanted me to.”

He grimaced.

“The truth hurts.” She shrugged, trying to ease the pain in her chest, not just for the mother she had, but for the knowledge Marcus Goode and she would never be anything more than what they’d already been to each other.

His gaze trailed over her face as if he were memorizing it. “I wish things were different.”

“Wish
we
were both different, isn’t that more like it?”

That lop-sided grin melted her heart. It always would. “I can’t give you what you want or need.”

“Me, neither.” She ducked her head, saying, “Although, for all intents and purposes, we did have a one-night stand.”

“Not my style,” he said, short and to the point. “I don’t use women.”

From everything she’d read about him over the years, he spoke the truth. He may be a confirmed bachelor, but he stuck with one woman until it was over, and then moved on. Looking at him now, she noted the hurt clouding his eyes. “I know that, Marcus,” she said gently. “And I…want the wedding.”

Saying it didn’t ease any of her growing anxiety. Lately, she’d questioned the logic in all of it. Funny how her wedding consultant position forced her to tally all the extravagant expenses and wonder at some of the absurd requests, realizing what a waste of time, energy, and mostly money went into just one day.

“What will you do now?” he asked. “Peg told me about all the calls. Modeling?” He raised one of his eyebrows, but underneath she heard regret.

She chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve never imagined anything like that.” It sounded so extravagant, so out of her realm, the complete opposite of her.

“I guess I’m reluctant to have the world discover you. And for you to become jaded.”

“Loss of innocence?” How would she cope in a lifestyle that was eons ahead of her?

His silence stretched. She peeked at him from under her eyelashes. He studied her again. Hot and intense, it engulfed her. “Everything in me wants to order you not to, stop before it’s too late. But, then, you’ve had someone controlling your every move for nearly your entire life already. It’s not my place. And you would resent someone else telling you what to do.”

The air whooshed out of her. She leaned back in the chair, trying to breathe. He knew, knew this little taste of freedom had opened up so many closed avenues for her. She could never go back to the invisible prison she’d grown up in. She nodded sadly.

“If I may make a suggestion,” he waited for her to say yes, and then went on, “get a good agent and lawyer. I’m sure Charlie can help you with that, since she has so many contacts in the business.”

“Thank you.” Her voice barely made it above a whisper. She blinked away the sting of tears. “So this is it. Goodbye.”

“Yes, after this morning, we’re being scrutinized. It’s not fair for me to ruin your reputation.”

She jerked her head back as if slapped. “You would never.”

“No, but they will. The press. Your mother’s insinuations. The looks. The gossip. I won’t be a part of doing that to you.”

She let out a gusty sigh. The threat of tears returned.

“From the customer’s reactions, this turned out well. The website sales jumped twenty-five percent today. Most of it, I may add, has to do with the mystery wedding. It seems as if online customers search for the wedding boutique page, and click on the different images and products your team posted, guiding them to each item. All your tie-ins with the other departments have paid off. You’ve done an amazing job.”

“King’s may be saved after all,” she mused. “At least something good has come out of all this.”

“We did,” he said, his rich voice sinking in and around her. His gaze held hers. She couldn’t break contact.

“Marcus?”

“Yes?”

She leaned in close. “May I…” She bit her bottom lip, “Have one more kiss?”

He didn’t answer right away. Maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he’d refuse her. He broke eye contact, and then got to his feet. Her middle dipped.

But then she saw him hold out his hand to her. She took it. How could he have such big hands, yet such a gentle touch? Shaking, she stood.

Marcus tugged her to him. Francie groaned as she leaned into his solid, powerful body. Her head came to just below his chin. She breathed in deeply, longing to allow everything about him seep into her conscious. The way he felt, smelled, the sight of his chest rising and falling and the breadth of his shoulders, his light, but firm touch at her waist… She gathered little pieces to hold dear and take with her.

His fingertips brushed back her hair and he tilted up her face. “Francie,” he whispered, and then softly kissed her lips.

Francie gasped at his tenderness. He didn’t stop at her lips. He feathered kisses over her forehead, eyelids, cheeks, nose, even her chin.

“Open your eyes, honey. I want to look at you.”

Bravely, she did, gazing into the depths of his startling green eyes. Desire flared, but something else lay there. She wasn’t sure what, but, raw and intense, it sucked the breath out of her.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. Her eyes fluttered shut as he increased the kiss, his tongue finding hers in a slow dance of longing. She matched him, thrilled by his groan.

She could have stood there in his arms forever. However, she came back to earth as he slowly disengaged, finally putting some distance between them.

Breathing hard, he ran his hand through his hair. His green eyes glittered.

Blood pounded in her veins. A shiver racked her body.

She memorized his face, every beautiful inch of it; she knew this would be her last chance to ever be this close to him, to ever see this passion he had for her ever again.

Her heart ached at the loss already.

Days and nights of nonstop work still hadn’t shaken his last encounter with Francine. Everywhere Marcus went, thoughts of her crept in. She haunted his dreams and remained on the fringes of every waking thought. He ached all over for her.

On top of that, the press speculated on the mystery wedding. Francine as the bride seemed the foregone conclusion due to that first ad and her subsequent modeling stints in the continuing series of ads. But the groom… That question echoed wherever he went. Names of the most prominent single men in the city surfaced out of nowhere. Most wallowed in the attention, preening on camera and baiting the easily led.

The doctor slipped in a promo for his office, offering female clientele a discount if they made an appointment by the wedding. Others followed suit, easily stringing along interest and indulging in the spotlight.

And with each new introduction, Marcus’ gut twisted. The thought of any one of them with Francine made him sick.