Falling For Her Boss (8 page)

"I shouldn't have said that," Francie mumbled to herself.

"I would have said more than that.  You were more tactful than I could have been."

It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Francie to turn to Noah and say, "I'm worried about her."

"With good reason.  I didn't hear much, but I overheard enough to know he's not good for her."

Francie smiled because Noah sounded just like a disapproving father.  "Maybe we formed a judgment too soon."

"She races with him in one of those cars and you'll wish we'd formed it even sooner."

"She has too much sense.  She'd never--"

"She's seventeen and trying her wings."

Francie shook her head.  "I know Gina.  She's too level-headed to do something that stupid."

"She's under his influence.  You could see she didn't know about his plans for tonight.  If she thinks she's in love, if she thinks he can do no wrong, anything can happen."

Noah's words held truth.  At one time Francie thought Brent could do no wrong.  "We like to think the people we love are perfect."

"Experience teaches us differently.  Gina's not old enough to realize that yet."  Noah examined Francie closely.  "I didn't mean to upset you.  Are you going to talk to your parents about him?"

"Not yet.  I want Gina to know she can come to me if she needs to.  As long as she's in by her curfew, I'll know she's not racing on a deserted highway.  I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't say anything, either."

Noah's tone became distant, removed.  "It's your business, not mine.  I'm on the outside looking in.  I'm not about to meddle."

Francie wondered why he'd suddenly backed off.  He had been concerned.  But as he said, Gina was her business.  He'd be leaving in a few weeks.  Maybe he'd remembered that, too.

Noah stopped in the program room while Francie went to the office.  The little red light on the answering machine blinked.  Francie pressed the button for it to play.

"Francie, it's Brent. You didn't give me your cell number.  The old one didn't work.  And I know your mom doesn't think the best of me right now.  I hope you're thinking about my offer, about that gold medal that would look so beautiful around your neck.  We can capture the dream.  I know we can.  I've missed you over the past year, and together I know we can win.  Call me soon."

The machine clicked off.

Francie could remember a time when Brent's voice was the only voice she'd wanted to hear.  She'd looked to him for guidance and approval.  But now...

Noah appeared in the doorway.

"You could have told me what Brent wanted."

Noah shrugged.  "It sounded private to me."

"Brent's wanting to win a gold medal is not private."

"His missing you might be."

Noah's voice had a husky timbre that melted through her like a hot toddy.  The questions in Noah's eyes demanded answers.  But he didn't ask the questions.  She felt compelled to give him the answers anyway.  "That part of it is over, Noah."

He took a few steps into the room.  "I wonder.  If you skate with him again, if you get the magic back, wouldn't your relationship revive?"

"No. I'm a different person now.  I'm not young, idealistic, or blinded by pretty words and charm."

Noah looked somewhat relieved but still a bit skeptical.  "You owe it to yourself to find out for certain or you'll always wonder what could have been."

She ran her fingers over the answering machine, thinking about gliding across the ice, the sound of her blades, Brent lifting her.  "You think I should go to New York."

"I know you want to make your own decision, but for what it's worth, I think you should go."

"That would solve your problem, wouldn't it?" she asked, annoyed because he thought he could give her advice.

"What problem?"

"My job managing the rink.  If I go back to skating, I won't be in your way."

"You're not in my way now, Francie."

His low voice made goose bumps break out on her arms.  "Why did you really decide to stay?"

"I needed a breather, time to work on profit analysis.  I can work here as well as anywhere else."

"So nothing I say or do is going to convince you not to sell the rink."

"Probably not.  I'm going to list with the agent I spoke to on Monday."

His decision created a squall of anger.  "You can list the rink, but that doesn't mean you'll sell it."

"Maybe not in two months, maybe not in six.  But it will sell eventually.  Everything does."

She came around the desk and stood before him.  "And everything has a price.  Is that the way it is, Noah?"

His face hardened.  His jaw set.  "Most things do."

She pushed by him, ignoring the woodsy scent that lingered even at the end of the day.  But now there was more male than woods.  She needed to get away from his presence, away from her attraction toward him, away from the temptation of feeling more than she should.

CHAPTER FIVE

"Has the roof leaked since you've been here?"  Noah asked Francie Friday afternoon as he sat at the desk in the rink's office, filling out a disclosure form for the real estate agent.  The problem was he couldn't keep his mind on the form.  Every time he looked at Francie, he could remember the feel of her in his arms.

And it wasn't just Francie who was distracting him.  It was her whole family.  They treated him as if they'd known him all their lives.  Paul treated him like a...son.  Paul had taken his advice about a laptop and they'd gotten a great deal.  Noah had helped Francie's father set up the laptop.  The experience had brought back memories of another man who'd treated Noah like a son.  Noah had been eight.  And for a few months, he'd hoped he'd have a dad like most other kids.

But then his mother's agent had booked her a job in Detroit.  The man Noah had hoped would become his stepfather hadn't gone with them.  And Noah had never seen or heard from him again.

"The roof has never leaked as far as I know," Francie answered him, bringing his attention to her again.

She frowned and Noah knew what she was thinking.  She thought he only cared about money.  That wasn't true.  He cared about the future of his company.  He did believe anyone could be bought.  He believed money could ease people's woes, if not bring them happiness.  If he could have helped his mother sooner financially, maybe she would have stopped drinking, maybe she would have settled in one place, maybe she'd still be alive.

"What's next?" Francie asked almost impatiently.

"Plumbing," he answered.  "Have you had any problems with the bathrooms or kitchen?"

"No," Francie sighed as she restlessly crossed her legs. 

When Noah looked up from the form, her eyes met his.  A stream of excitement shot through her as she remembered his arms around her in the garage apartment.  His eyes darkened to deep jade, and she knew he was remembering, too.  The tension between them was making her jumpy.

She tore her gaze from his and looked down at the disclosure paper.  But instead of the form, her eyes fell on Noah's hand as it lay across the top corner.  He had long fingers.  The middle one on the left hand looked as if it might have been broken at one time.  It was slightly crooked.

"I caught it in a car door."

She looked up, embarrassed.  "Don't you miss anything?"

He smiled.  "I try not to.  If I'm on top of everything that goes on around me, I can be prepared for what happens next."

When his lips curved like that she wanted to touch them. "Always?"

His brows drew together and the line of his jaw became sharper.  "No, not always.  Sometimes I miss what's right under my nose."

She tried to draw her attention away from his lips by staring into his eyes, but they were just as intriguing.  They were deep green and secretive.  "You have something specific in mind?"

"Yes, I do."

"But you're not going to tell me what."

"No."

It annoyed her that, though she had confided so easily in him, he was so guarded with her.  "Do you share your personal life with anyone?"

"Maybe I don't have a personal life."

"Surely you have friends, people you care about."

He picked up the pen, clicked it open and shut.  "A few.  But you have to remember my life is on the road.  I might be at my home base in Richmond a month at the longest, three or four times a year.  During the rest, I just stop in for a weekend or a few days."

Francie shook her head.  "I don't see how you can live like that.  I never got used to traveling for competitions, living out of a suitcase.  Brent seemed to thrive on it.  I...I missed my family."

Noah settled back in his chair, his elbows on the arms.  "When did you first leave home?"

"When I was thirteen.  A coach saw me at a regional competition and told my parents she could take me further than my present coach.  So I moved to Boston to train with her."

He laid the pen on the desk and focused his full attention on her.  "That must have been hard for your parents."

She shifted in her chair; his compelling green eyes seemed to see through her.  "It was.  But they wanted me to succeed.  Sometimes I think Mama wanted it more than I did.  I simply wanted to skate.  She wanted to see me at the Olympics."

"When did McIntosh come into the picture?"

Noah's voice was neutral, but there was a quality there that made her wonder what he was thinking.  "When I was eighteen.  It's hard to believe we skated together for almost six years."

"He took the place of your family."

Noah's intuition was at work again.  She shouldn't be surprised.  "I guess he did.  I depended on him too much.  I'll never make that mistake again."

"Depending on people is hard for me, too," Noah admitted, leaning forward.  "If you depend on someone, they can let you down."

"Exactly."  A bond of understanding surrounded her and Noah.  Brent had let her down.  But who had hurt Noah?  His mother?  Craig?  A woman?  Francie's heard pounded.  She didn't like the idea of another woman with Noah.  "Have you ever been married?"

Noah looked surprised by her question.  "No.  With my lifestyle it wouldn't be feasible or fair."

"You don't see that changing?"

"Not in the near future."

Well, that was plain enough.  Settling down was definitely not in Noah's plans.  Why had she even entertained the possibility?  Because she was thinking about becoming involved?  No.  She knew better.  Maybe after she decided what she was going to do with her life, she'd think about loving someone again.

"I think someone wants to see you," Noah said.

Francie looked over her shoulder and recognized the eight-year-old with the tousled brown hair.  He came to the rink after school and on Saturday afternoons.  But he hung around the lobby with his friends.  He didn't skate.

She beckoned to him.  "Come on in, Drew.  How can I help you?"

Drew took no mind of Noah sitting behind the desk and came right over to Francie.  "I want to skate."

Francie smiled.  "I think we can arrange that.  You can rent a pair of skates--"

"No, I mean I wanna skate, but my dad won't let me.  He thinks I'll get hurt.  Ever since my sister was in that car wreck, he won't let me go anywhere by myself.  He won't let me do anything!"

Francie had heard about Drew's sister.  She'd been in the hospital for a while last year.  "I can see why your dad is worried.  And I can't let you skate without his permission."

Drew chewed on his bottom lip.  "Yeah.  I know.  But maybe if you tell him I'll be okay, he'll believe you.  Please?"

How could she say no?  "This means a lot to you."

Drew jammed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his sneakers.  "All my friends skate and I want to be out there with them.  Will you talk to him?  I'm going home with Rick today, but Dad will bring us tomorrow."

"I'll talk to him.  But I can't make any promises.  It's still his decision."

"You'll change his mind.  I know you will."

After Drew had dashed out of the office, Noah asked, "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Talking to Drew's father?  It can't hurt."

Noah's gaze was steady and serious.  "It can if you change his mind and something happens.  I don't think it's advisable to get personally involved with the customers."

She raised her hand in an I-don't-believe-this gesture.  "I'm not going to date him.  I'm going to talk to him."

Noah's intensity didn't diminish one iota.  "Do you do this often?"

She sighed loudly.  "Noah, I talk to my customers all the time.  I know many of them from growing up in Gettysburg.  It's good business."

Noah rubbed his hand across his forehead.  "Public relations is one thing.  Getting involved in their lives is something else.  Business and personal relationships don't mix."

"Why?"

"Because there's no line separating them."

Witnessing his resolve, she took a stab in the dark.  "You and Craig were friends."

"Yes, we were.  And we could have lost the friendship because of the partnership."

"You didn't?"

"No, but it'll never be the same."

Hearing the sadness but also hearing the door clang shut because he wouldn't say more, she sat up straight and faced him squarely.  "I do get involved with my customers, Noah, and I can't believe your other managers don't.  We announce birthdays, anniversaries, babies' births.  How can I not be involved in my customers' lives?"

Noah rolled his chair back, stood, and came around the front of the desk.  "Most of my managers manage.  They don't mingle or make barbecued hamburger for the snack bar."

When Noah was behind the desk, she felt she could keep her reactions to him under control.  With him right in front of her, her temperature fluctuated and her pulse beat erratically.  "I must be doing something right, since we're operating in the black."

He sat on the edge of the desk.  His pants leg brushed her knee.  "It seems as if you're doing everything right."

"Then why do I feel you're criticizing my methods?"

"I'm just wondering about the amount of energy you're investing.  Do you have a personal life?"

"Of course I do."