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."
His gaze pinned her to her chair. "When? You're at the rink six days a week."
She shrugged and brushed an imaginary piece of lint from her skirt. "I take off. I do things with my family. My sisters-in-law and I often go on shopping sprees."
"Do you date?"
Her head came up. "Do you?" That question had been taking up a good portion of her thoughts lately.
He gave her a wry grin. "Once in awhile."
She wondered what those dates entailed. Rather she didn't want to wonder. Noah was the most masculine, sensual man she'd ever met. Did he take women out simply to get his needs met?
He studied her. "What are you thinking?"
She felt heat in her cheeks. "Just wondering what you do on a date."
"Dinner, theater, symphony. But that isn't what you want to know, is it?"
The heat spread through the rest of her body.
"I'm very selective, Francie. Everyone should be."
She couldn't find her voice.
"What about you? What do you do on a date?"
She cleared her throat and moved her leg so she had no physical contact with him. "I haven't been on a date in a long while."
"What would you do?"
"If I was with the right person, it wouldn't matter. In the summer I like picnics and wading in the creek. In the winter, I like eating by a fire, listening to music, maybe skating on a pond."
"You're easy to please."
"I try to enjoy myself no matter what I'm doing."
"And that's why skating became a trap. Because you weren't enjoying yourself anymore?"
Her eyes met his for a moment, then she looked away. "Yes."
"But you didn't come back to Gettysburg because of that, did you?"
She studied the tips of her fingers. "No."
"Why did you come back?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It must matter, or you wouldn't be thinking about returning to skating. Was it because of McIntosh?"
Francie fell silent, but she realized Noah wasn't going to move on to something else until she answered him. "Let's drop it, Noah. Okay?"
"You don't want to talk about it, or you don't want to think about it?"
She felt uncomfortable and vulnerable sitting under his compelling regard. "For the moment, neither."
"Running away from it won't solve it."
"Neither will discussing it with you. Can we get back to the form?"
Noah didn't know why he was pushing so hard. When he wanted Francie to back off, she did. Why couldn't he? Because he wanted to know exactly how much McIntosh meant to her? If he'd hurt her? If the possibility was strong that she'd go back to figure skating? Why should he care?
He didn't know. He just did. But getting involved with Francie spelled trouble for both of them. He stood and returned to the other side of the desk.
****
Over the supper break, Noah was in the pro shop listening to Charlie tell him the pros and cons of the newer skates when he heard a baby crying. "Do you hear that?" Noah asked the bald man who had more creases on his face than pairs of skates in the shop.
"Yep. But I don't know who'd bring a baby to the rink. Next thing you know, Francie will want to put in baby sitting services."
Noah had to smile. He could see Francie doing just that. He winked at the old man. "I'll go check it out before she gets the idea."
He followed the sound of the child's cry to a room adjacent to the snack bar. Puffed fabric balloons in primary colors decorated the yellow walls. Francie had described it as the all-purpose room where they celebrated birthdays with ice cream and cake and held staff meetings. It also acted as an employee lounge for breaks. The door stood open so Noah peeked in.
Francie, Gina, and their brothers sat around the cafeteria-style table. One of the men, Noah thought it was Vince, tried to soothe a crying child. The little girl had been in the high chair next to Gina at her birthday dinner.
Francie opened her arms to the toddler and took her from Vince, but she kept crying. Francie crooned to her, rocked her, and kissed the top of her head, but nothing soothed her.
Vince shook his head. "When she doesn't have a nap, this is what happens."
Noah stepped into the room. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Not unless you have a magic wand that will get her to pipe down," Gina grumbled, pulling her sweatshirt sleeves down to her wrists.
"Gina!" Francie scolded. "She's tired, bored, and unhappy."
Although the baby was crying, she looked right at home in Francie's arms.
"How are we going to finish planning Mama and Pop's anniversary with all the racket?" Gina insisted.
Noah crossed to Francie's chair. "How old is she?"
"Eighteen months."
"What's her name?"
"Marie."
Noah held out his arms to the child. "Marie, how about some ice cream?"
Marie stared at Noah for a moment, then leaned toward him away from Francie's hold.
Vince chuckled. "She knows a good deal when she hears it."
Noah took Marie and hiked her up to his shoulder. "Is ice cream okay?"
"It's fine," Vince responded. "Vanilla not chocolate though. Caffeine makes her cranky."
Noah smiled. "Vanilla it is."
Francie took a tissue from her pocket, stood, and wiped away Marie's tears. "You don't have to do this, Noah. We can distract her with something."
"Are you worried about her or me?"
"I didn't know if you were used to being around kids."
"I watched Craig's two grow. Don't worry. I won't drop her."
Francie gave him an odd look, then said, "I'm not worried."
Noah took Marie to the snack bar and got a cup of vanilla ice cream. Then he set Marie on one of the tables and helped her scoop it into her mouth.
She was cute. Black wavy hair--like Francie's, big brown eyes--like Francie's. He could imagine Francie pregnant, glowing... He cut off that picture. If Francie went back to figure skating, she wouldn't be getting pregnant for a long time. His stomach tightened when he thought of her and McIntosh together again. So why had he advised her to go to New York?
Because logically, that's what she should do to make a decision. The only problem was that Noah wasn't feeling logical. Every time he got close to Francie, he wanted to take her
in his arms, run his fingers through her hair, taste her sweetly curved lips.
Marie sent him a gooey smile and offered him a spoonful of her ice cream.
Grinning, he murmured, "No, you eat it."
He needed more than a dip of ice cream to cool off. Marie finished her treat then patted Noah's face with sticky fingers. He laughed, dipped a napkin into a cup of water, and wiped her hands and face while she almost squirmed off the table.
What else would occupy her for a while?
Noah took her to the pro shop. Small pom-poms to tie onto skates caught the toddler's attention immediately. Noah tickled her nose with one of them and she giggled. Her laughter washed through him, teasing him with warm joy, a joy he suddenly needed.
To have a child like this. To love a woman enough to want to raise children with her. Get real, Gordon. You wouldn't know where to start.
Charlie gave Noah a broad grin. "I see a baby-sitting service ain't so far away."
Jiggling Marie in his arms, he took her back to the meeting room. Everyone was talking at once.
"They need a silver tray like they need more kids."
"Flowers wilt and die."
"Dad would never accept a new TV."
"C'mon guys. We have to make up our minds. We've only got a few weeks and time's running out."
Noah sat down next to Francie. Marie tickled his cheek with the pom-pom. He tickled her tummy. She giggled and curled up against his shoulder, her thumb in her mouth. When Francie looked at him, he wanted to take a picture of her smile and store it in his back pocket for a rainy day.
She brushed Marie's hair from her brow. "Was the ice cream good?"
The child nodded but kept her head pillowed against Noah's shoulder.
Francie said softly, "I think you've made a friend."
"Your brother's a lucky man." Noah couldn't keep the husky note from his voice. To steer away from the emotion that tightened his throat, he nodded to the brothers and sister still debating. "What's the problem?"
"We can't decide what to get Mama and Pop for their anniversary."
He tried to keep his mind on the conversation rather than on Francie's long legs encased in lavender tights. "How many years have they been married?"
"Thirty-five."
Noah shook his head. "Amazing. I didn't know marriages like theirs still survived."
"They love each other."
"They have more than love to stick together that long," he murmured.
"Respect, commitment, the same values. I hope to have their kind of marriage someday."
Francie's eyes were sparkling and bright, filled with idealism and dreams. Noah felt such a tug toward her, such an ungodly pull. But marriage wasn't in his plans. He didn't know the first thing about it. More men had been in and out of his mother's life than he could count. Noah knew nothing about having and sustaining a relationship. Besides, his lifestyle would make it impossible. Look what had happened to Craig.
"Your parents are rare," he said more to himself than to Francie.
She tilted her head and one of her silky waves curled against her cheek. "I know. That's why we want to have this party and get them something special."
Noah wanted to brush the hair away or caress her cheek. Both were tempting. "Does the gift have to be tangible?"
"What do you mean?"
Noah shifted Marie deep into the curve of his arm. "I'd imagine with a family like yours, your mom and dad never had much time alone. Would they enjoy a weekend away? All expenses paid?"
Francie's face lit up and she gave his arm a quick thankful squeeze. "That's a great idea. Hey, guys. Listen up!"
Gina and her brothers gave Francie their attention.
"Why don't we send Mama and Pop away for a few days? If we have the party on a Sunday, we can make reservations for them somewhere for that night and the next couple."
Vince suggested, "What about the Poconos? It's only a couple of hours away. It's an easy drive. And most hotels shouldn't be booked for the beginning of the week."
Frank wiggled his brows. "We could get them one of those rooms with a heart-shaped tub."
Gina made a face. "They're too old for that."
Francie grinned. "You're never too old for that."
"And who are you to say?" Gina snapped.
Vince cut in, breaking the sudden tension. "We'll settle for a whirlpool tub. Who wants to make the arrangements?"
Gina crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips.
Vince and Frank looked toward Francie.
She lifted her hands in surrender. "Okay, I'll do it. But you'll have to trust my judgment."
"No problem," Vince said as he stood and crossed to Noah. He held out his arms to his daughter, but her eyes were closed and she was napping against Noah's shoulder.
Vince smiled. "We'll have to hire you to baby-sit." He took Marie from Noah's arms. "Come on, babe. Let's get your coat on and go home."
"Home," she mumbled. "Mommy."
"Yep. Mommy and Stevie and Carol should be home from the grocery store by now."
With a flurry of arms and coats, the Piccard family dressed for the winter night, hugged one another, said good-bye to Francie and Noah, and left.
Francie approached Noah slowly and smiled.
If he opened his arms, would she walk into them? What was wrong with him? This was reality, not dreamland. "What?" he asked, annoyed that dreams now spilled over into daytime.
She rubbed at a spot on the placket of his shirt. "Marie left her mark. I think that's ice cream."
He chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised. She had it all over her fingers." He looked at Francie's fingers resting on his shirt. He could feel their heat as red-hot as a branding iron.
He covered her hand with his. "Your family's like a whirlwind. Did you get anything accomplished?"
She looked down at his hand on top of hers. When she lifted her gaze to his, her eyes were a deep chocolate brown. He could get lost in them and not care. Her soft skin teased him. He wanted to touch more than her fingers.
They stood there that way for what seemed like years, studying each other, touching each other, waiting--neither knowing what for or why.
Francie broke the spell. "We...uh, we planned the menu for the party, who's making what, that sort of stuff. My uncle Dom told Vince we could have the party at his place. He and Aunt Rita have an old farmhouse with a huge living room."
Noah loosened his hold on her hand and she pulled hers away. He could still feel its heat and knew he would for a long time. "I hope they didn't heap all the work on you."
She smiled. "They tried. But I didn't fall for it. Vince and Frank will do their share. They might grumble, but they'll do it."
"And Gina?"
Francie's smile faded. "I don't know what to do about Gina. She was almost hostile tonight. But when I ask her what's wrong, she says nothing. Maybe she's still angry because I mentioned her curfew in front of Jake."
"Maybe it's hormones."
"I wish. But she's been cool ever since I came back to Gettysburg. I thought by now she'd be used to having me around."
Francie looked worried, vulnerable, and he wanted to ease her mind. "She's the youngest. She must have had all your parents' attention when you were gone."
"She did." Francie sighed. "I wish she'd talk to me."
"She will."
Noah's reassurance helped, and Francie realized she'd confided in him once again. She didn't know why. She was used to keeping her own counsel. Maybe because he'd been so comfortable with Marie. His gentleness and his caring had squeezed Francie's heart. He'd make a great father. But then again, he'd said marriage wasn't in his plans.
Francie glanced at her watch. "I'd better get my skates. The seniors will be pouring in any minute." She avoided looking at Noah and crossed to the door.
"Francie?"
The way he said her name made it sound so feminine, so lovely. She stopped and met his gaze.
"You're lucky."
&
nbsp; She knew what he meant. She tried not to take her family for granted because she'd missed them so much. But sometimes she did. "I am lucky," she agreed and with a last lingering look went to the rink to forget about Noah and do what she was paid to do.
****
The senior citizens took the floor with as much enthusiasm, if not as much speed, as the children. Noah stood at the ticket window and watched Francie greet many of her customers by name. One of the women who looked old enough to be Francie's grandmother put her arm around Francie's shoulders and gave her a hug. When the music started, Francie skated around the rink, smiling and talking with the skaters.
Suddenly Noah needed to be out there with her. He went to the rental booth and found a pair of skates his size. He laced up, tucking the ends into the black boots.
Sometimes he skated when he was visiting a rink. Not often, though. And never in public. He usually rolled the laps for exercise when everyone had gone home. But now he wanted to get out there for the simple pleasure of skating with the crowd.
He rolled onto the floor with the flow of the skaters. The first time he rolled past Francie, her jaw dropped open in surprise. The second time, she smiled at him. That smile of hers lit up his dreams. The third time around, he came up beside her and said, "Skate with me."
Before she could answer, he took her in a promenade position, both of them facing forward. They glided without breaking rhythm. If Francie leaned into him, her head would nestle into his neck. She would fit perfectly against his body. He had no doubt about it.
He held her left hand in his right. Her arm surrounded his waist loosely; he held hers a little tighter. Feeling her warmth, smelling her scent of roses, seeing her hair sway like a silky curtain across his chest created a swell of excitement within him that could easily turn into powerful arousal.
The motion, the music, the colored lights flickering across the floor swirled pleasure around and through all his senses. He felt alive in a way he'd never experienced. Because of Francie.
She was as pretty as a sunny spring day, as independent as a wildflower, as vibrant as a fireworks display. And he could enjoy her only for the length of the song. Longer than that and he'd want more.
She tipped up her head. "You really can skate."
"You had doubts?"
She blushed as the air from their movement ruffled her bangs.
Because of Francie Page 7
