Falling For Her Boss (20 page)

"Hold on a minute," he said, his voice warm and comforting but also arousing as his breath brushed across her cheek.

Sliding his arm around her, he pulled her onto his lap in a protective, enveloping hold.  She took a breath, feeling Noah in back of her, to the side of her, around her.  She could smell the faint scent of his cologne.  His sweater was thick, its ribbing cushiony as she fought the urge to burrow into him, not only for warmth but for the intimacy.  But Noah didn't want that.  She stiffened, trying to hold herself away.

"Relax, Francie.  I'm going to hold you.  We're just going to keep warm."

Throwing her coat over them first, he tucked it in along her window.  He wasn't covered.  She slid the down jacket closer to him.

"My coat's larger.  I'll be fine."  He tucked her jacket around her a second time, then spread his long overcoat across them both.

When she moved,  he said in a husky voice, "This will be easier if you can sit still."

"I'm trying to get settled."  She was trying to keep her mind on the warmth, not Noah himself.

"You're trying not to get too close.  That's impossible.  Don't fight it.  Relax into me and you'll get warm quicker."

She did as he said and lounged into his body.

After a few moments, he rested his cheek against her hair.  "Your hair smells like flowers."

"That's the shampoo," she whispered. 

"You're like a summer flower, Francie.  Vibrant and glowing, not afraid to open yourself to the sun."

His words brought tears to her eyes.  He sounded so...lonely.  More than anything she wanted to ease that loneliness, give him a family...Is that truly what she wanted?  If so, she didn't want either of them to go on the road.  Children needed parents who were there for them, not a mother or father who was never home.

What kind of dream was she weaving?  Her, Noah, children.  He wanted no part of it.  She blinked back tears.

Noah's arms tightened around her as he rubbed his chin against her temple.  "Do you know how difficult it is for me to hold you and not want more?"

"I want more."

"You want the impossible," he murmured as he brushed her nose with his.  His lips caressed her cheek then found her mouth.

His tongue was velvet warmth as it teased and then curled around hers.  Turning his body for better access, he played his fingers down her neck.  They were warm under her hair.  His palm cupped her breast with  reverence, and suddenly she hoped the cinder truck was far, far away.  She wanted this to last forever.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The fast sweep of Noah's tongue expressed his hunger.  The slow teasing of Francie's transformed escalating desire to steamy passion.  The tactile delight of Noah's lips and his hand on her breast created enough heat to make Francie forget ice and snow and the cold, blustery weather outside their wintry haven.  Glittering tingles lit her body until she felt only Noah's tongue, tasted the chocolate lingering there, tested the strength of his desire by arching into his hand.

Searching for the hem of her sweater, he sought her breasts.  He gently held one in his palm, and she heard him mutter, "Lace."

She felt his smile against her cheek and wondered what he was thinking.  "I wanted to feel feminine today."

"You're feminine every day.  It's in the way you move, the way you smile, the way you drink your hot chocolate.  It drives me crazy."

She put her hands on his chest and slowly dragged them to his waist.  Wanting to drive him more than crazy, she intended to show him she loved him, that they had a chance for more than friendship and desire.  He didn't stop her when she pulled up his sweater and slipped his shirt from his waistband.  She could see only shadows, but she could feel his gaze on her, burning through any inhibitions she might have.  She felt free with Noah, free to be whatever she wanted, free to love him, free to express herself with more than words.

As if she were blind and wanted to savor each and every sensation, she slowly slid her fingers across his stomach.  He shuddered.  Opening her fingers, closing them again, she let his chest hair slip through and under.  Taut heat.  Silky hair. Strength that was tough yet gentle at the same time.  His warmth seeped through her hand and melted through her body until even her nose was warm.  He pushed her hair away from her face and kissed her again, this time with a fierce demanding need that left her breathless.  When she hung on to his belt for stability, when her hand went lower to his thigh, when she searched for his arousal to pleasure him, his kiss almost devoured her.  She played with his tongue, she stroked his mouth, she let him discover the intimate territory of hers, then she cupped him in her hand.

Groaning, he pushed against her.  She stroked him and he pushed against her again.  He broke off the kiss as a shudder forked through him.  "We've got to stop."  His voice was coarse and rough in the dark silence.

"Stop?"  She was totally lost in him and her feelings for him.

She felt his chest heave before he said, "We're distracting each other, remember?"

His words bothered her.  "Distracting each other?  Is that what you call it?  Noah, I was showing you how I feel."  She tried to pull away from him–feeling hurt and sorry and as young and naive as Gina.  Was she wrong about Noah?  Did he only want physical pleasure?  It didn't add up.  He could have taken it the other night.  But then maybe the fear of being responsible for a child had curtailed that, rather than his concern about her career, rather than his concern about her.  His body snug against hers was unbearable because it felt so right.  She tried to move sideways to get away from his physical proximity.

"Don't push away from me, Francie.  We still have to stay warm."  The edge in his rough voice grated across her already sensitive nerve endings.

"Kissing and touching mean more to me than staying warm," she shot back.

Instead of responding in anger, he said sadly, "I know.  I wish..."

Her anger vanished.  "What do you wish?"

"Never mind.  It's not important."

His overcoat had slipped and he tucked it in around her again.  She slumped against him.

"Pretend I'm a big brother," he muttered as his arm tightened around her.

"But you're not a brother, Noah, and we both know it."

Her words echoed in the silent interior.  A few minutes later the cinder truck's lights flashed behind them.

****

Francie worked off her frustration at her dance class late Monday morning.  By Monday afternoon, she'd almost forgotten about Noah as she read to the kindergarten class.  But the warmth of his protective nature, the heat of his kisses, the yearning to be his even for just a little while, soon pushed into the forefront of her thoughts again.  If he could simply accept the idea of their being together, however briefly, maybe they could consider a life together. 

When she returned home, her mother announced that their uncle had invited the family to his pond for an evening of skating.  Vince and Frank would help her uncle Dom build the traditional bonfire.  Francie hadn't seen Noah since they'd returned from the harrowing drive from Hershey.  But she knew she wanted to spend the evening with him under the stars.  Nothing was as beautiful as the frozen pond on a clear winter night.  She didn't have much time left with Noah.  Valentine's Day was only three days away.

She pressed in his number, wondering how to play this, serious or light.  Then again, he might be at the rink or somewhere else.

He answered and her heart pounded.  "Okay, Gordon.  How about some real exercise?"

He laughed.  "What do you call real?"

"Ice-skating on my uncle's pond."

"I've heard it's cold enough to freeze your buns off."

"Do you think I'd take a chance on endangering my buns?"

"I hope not.  They're much too cute to lose."

She blushed, not knowing what to say to that.  "If you keep moving, you keep warm.  The bonfire helps.  And afterward, uncle Dom lights the fireplace in the farmhouse.  He makes a great cup of espresso."

"You're making it hard to resist."

"Don't resist."

His pause was telling.

"Come along, Noah.  We'll have fun."  She didn't think he made much time for fun in his life.

"I can't skate without skates."

"We'll fix you up with an old pair of Vince's or Frank's."

"Not giving me an out are you?"

"Do you want one?"

That pause again.

"Noah, I like being with you."

"And I like being with you."

"Come skating?"

"Do you want to ride to the farm with me?" he asked.

"Sure.  We can take the scenic route along the battlefield.  Have you seen it yet?"

"No."

"We can climb up to Devil's Den if you're game.  The sun's melted the snow."

"That sounds good."

"See you in a half hour?"

"A half hour."

"Francie?"

"Yes?"

"Don't forget your scarf."

She heard the smile in his voice and she smiled too.  "I won't."

****

Noah stared into the bonfire that Francie's brothers and uncle had lit as it reflected on the silvery surface of the pond.  He and Francie had toured the Gettysburg Battlefield for over an hour, stopping at some of the state monuments, climbing up to Devil's Den, a natural rock formation from which the Confederate soldiers had routed Union troups.  He and Francie had climbed up the natural stone steps, scrambled over rocks, then come to the farm for a light supper and renewed warmth before going out onto the pond.

Francie's family skated as if they'd been doing it all of their lives.  He supposed they had.  Paul had found a pair of Vince's old skates for Noah.  He hadn't skated since the winter he'd lived in Philadelphia.  He'd scrounged money wherever he could find it for an afternoon on the ice at one of the hotels with an indoor rink.  He'd never been proficient, but he'd stayed on his feet.  Back then.

Francie flew by him as she skimmed across the center of the pond.  Yesterday evening in his car had almost been his downfall.  One kiss had led to another and then another until the windows steamed and his blood had run like hot lava in his veins.

Tearing away from Francie—removing himself from her warmth, reminding himself loving her kisses and needing her body under him weren't the basis of commitment and he didn't know what was—had been difficult, if almost impossible.  But moving to the driver's seat where he was in control, not his needs, not the allure of Francie's sweetness, had been the necessary and responsible thing to do.  Watching her now, even all bundled up in jeans and her down jacket with a scarf wrapped around her neck, the aching for her returned, an aching that went deeper than needing sexual release.

Angela came over to him at the small boat dock and sat next to him on a double layer of blankets.  "I haven't seen you on the ice."

He smiled.  "I'm waiting for the right moment."

She turned toward Francie as her daughter spun in a circle, her arms raised above her head.  "Isn't she beautiful?"

"She is."

"It will be a loss if she doesn't go back to skating," Angela mused.

"Whose loss?"

"The family's.  Hers."

"Even if skating isn't what she wants?"

"Look at her!  How can she not want it?"

"Right now she's skating with sheer delight, the utmost pleasure.  But I saw her practicing with Brent.  The joy wasn't there."

"It'll come back."

Noah debated with himself for a moment, then responded, "You've been kind to me, Angela.  And I'm not treating that kindness lightly.  I hope you'll understand I mean no disrespect when I say that it's not fair for you to push Francie into what you want, rather than what she wants."

"And what do you want, Noah Gordon?  Can you offer my daughter better?"

Angela's attitude had changed toward him recently, becoming more cautious.  She could probably sense the vibrations between him and her daughter.  "I'm not making any offers."  And he was suddenly fiercely jealous of any man who could.  A man who could offer Francie stability, a house with a picket fence, the whole package.

"If you can't ask Francie to share your life, maybe you shouldn't try to influence hers, either," Angela retorted.

Score one for Mrs. Piccard.  As Francie had said once, everyone had their own agenda.  Noah couldn't claim to be impartial anymore.  "I want Francie to be happy."

"So do I, Noah," Angela assured him with a sincerity he believed.  "We just disagree on what will make her happy."

They watched Francie as she picked up speed and executed a double toe loop.

"Have you ever watched her work with children?" Noah asked.  "She thinks she might want to be a teacher."

Angela spared him a quick glance, then looked back at Francie.  "She told you this?"

"Yes.  She's wonderful with the children at the rink."  And she'd be wonderful with children of her own.

"I didn't know she was considering teaching.  She'd have to go back to school."

"She's weighing all her options, Angela.  Whatever decision she makes will affect the rest of her life."

Angela let out a breath that puffed white in front of her.  "Sometimes I wonder if I know either of my girls.  Gina... Francie.  The boys were easier to raise."

Francie skated over to Noah, spraying snow shards when she stopped in front of him.  "Are you ready?"

When she tilted her head, the moonlight flickered in her hair, giving her a silver halo.  The scent of flowers from her perfume brushing him with the slight breeze, along with her huge brown eyes and feminine appeal, wove a spell around him.  He responded as vehemently as if she'd undressed in front of him.

"As ready as I'm going to be."

Francie grabbed his hand like a youngster eager to show a friend something special, and he felt as if the starlight had touched his soul.  "Then let's go," she said.

To steady the pounding beat of his heart, he quipped, "You know, I could be working out on the skiing machine, rather than risking life and limb on the ice."

"You risked life and limb yesterday.  This'll be a cinch compared to driving home from Hershey."