He’d tried for years to cure her of it; however, he’d failed miserably.
But he’d held fast in his own life. He’d have nothing to do with love. It was a curse.
“Look, Marcus, it’s great to see you, and I wanted to fill you in before the manager’s meeting tomorrow morning. But I’m expecting an important phone call and can’t miss it. So why don’t you explore the store and see all the changes? I’ll catch up with you after my call and we can go over some things. How’s that sound?”
“Great,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. Maybe being here, reliving the past, wasn’t such a good idea after all. He’d made it a point to never look back and now he was being forced to face the demons of his past.
Raking up the ashes would only get him burnt again. He was already feeling the heat. How much more could he take?
Chapter 2
Francie stuck her head out of the wedding department. The dim lights in the store didn’t reveal anyone.
“Coast is clear,” she whispered. Carefully, she made her way through each department. “Rico, where are you?” she asked in a low voice. No response.
Her heart sank at the thought of having to go downstairs to the jewelry department. Someone was sure to see her in the big, white wedding dress. It wasn’t something she could easily explain away. Not this time.
Her body ached from carrying the heavy, crystal embossed, one-of-a-kind designer gown. “It weighs a ton,” she muttered, now realizing why brides often selected another dress to dance in at the reception.
“Note to self, when selecting your wedding dress consider the weight of it when trying to dance at your reception.” Under her breath, she muttered, “At least I didn’t try on the shoes yet.” The three-inch sparkly ones were still nestled in their box in the dressing room. “With my clothes. Ugh!”
Growing weary, Francie turned a corner and found herself in the linen department. The demo bed, piled with an assortment of pillows and the matching plush lilac duvet, looked enticing.
“I’ll just sit for a minute. Get my breath back. Find my bearings. Make a plan,” she promised herself. As she sank down, a sigh escaped her lips.
She hadn’t realized how tired she was. She’d been up since six in the morning and it was after nine at night. Her long double shifts were getting the best of her. If only Priscilla would come to work instead of go out and play, she thought, then she could cut back on some hours. But someone needed to pay the bills.
Another sigh escaped. Her feet throbbed. Gingerly, she shifted her position and swung her feet up to rest on the bed. “Think,” she begged her foggy brain, “how can I get out of this dress and stay out of hot water?”
The pillows were right there. She eased her head onto one. “Ah, nice, soft,” she murmured. The knotted stays stuck into her spine. She turned on her left side, slipping her clasped hands under her cheek.
In the back of her mind, Francie knew Rico wasn’t coming back for her. Had she even told him to? She didn’t remember now. Her concern focused on getting the earrings back in the vault without anyone discovering they’d been missing in the first place.
As her mind continued to whirl with thoughts, her tired body relaxed into the lush softness surrounding her. “Just another minute and I’ll get up,” she promised.
How would she get out of the expensive dress without damaging it or letting anyone else know? Maybe she could sleep there all night long and wait for Charlie. Her stepsister came in before seven. After all, the bed was much more comfortable than the couch she’d been sleeping on the last few weeks.
Then a disturbing thought rushed through her busy mind. There was a new temporary man taking over tomorrow. Would her stepsister be so involved with meetings with him that she wouldn’t walk the floor before the store opened as she usually did?
Francie could go to the guard station and get help. But they would tell.
Her cheeks grew warm. The things they’d say about her then. Everyone would know her secret. She’d never be able to sneak into the wedding dress department and try on the new arrivals again.
How could she ever find the perfect wedding dress then?
***
Marcus quietly walked through each department, noting the dramatic changes on the first floor and seeing the much-needed updates on the second. He lingered in the housewares department. The shiny, copper bottomed pots and pans caused him to smile as he recalled his early restaurant days, loving how he could create something out of a few ingredients.
One thing he’d gotten from his mother was her love of cooking. He picked up fast at her elbow and cooked her full meals by the age of seven. His father, a traveling salesman, was on the road so often it seemed like it was always Marcus and his mother while he grew up.
At the thought of his now deceased father and his betrayal, Marcus frowned and turned away from the housewares.
But it nagged at him, how his father scoffed at his interest in cooking. Marcus played in every sport imaginable and loved the competition and camaraderie. He loved football the most, but after blowing out his knee in college, Marcus had to find a career he was just as passionate about. The restaurant business was the perfect fit for him. He could cook, use his people and business skills, and make money at the same time.
And he did. The long hours he dedicated to his business brought him more recognition than he’d ever considered. He branched out to being a guest chef, with no formal training, to hotels, and then resorts. He’d find little gems, risk buying them, redo each one from top to bottom, and make them sparkle even more. It worked.
He smiled. Pride surged through him. He loved the process of taking something and building it up to its potential. Most times, even going beyond its potential.
Now he focused on the store. He’d done it before. He could do it here.
With more confidence than he’d felt since agreeing to the temporary position, Marcus strode down the wide store aisles. In his mind, he made mental notes on the changes he thought would bring King’s back into the limelight.
Going by the linens, he glanced at the displays. His eyes caught something odd. Turning back sharply, he stopped at the bed. “I’m seeing things,” he murmured. Blinking a few times, he realized the image stayed the same.
The woman slept soundly. He took in every detail of her, from her honey blonde hair to her bare shoulders on to the swell of her cleavage. The expensive wedding dress clung to her small waist and the slight curve of her hip. Her bare toes, the nails painted a delicate pink, peeked out from the bottom folds of fluffy fabric at the hem.
Marcus drew nearer. She was even more beautiful up close. The pale pink flush sweeping her cheeks and her perfect bow lips caused his heart to beat a little quicker. He swallowed hard.
She was saying something in her sleep. He couldn’t hear. Bending down on one knee beside her, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and brushing the soft blonde tendrils off her cheek.
“Tickles.” She giggled.
He chuckled, fascinated by this lovely creature.
Her perfume rose to him, subtle, yet alluring. He breathed in deeply. Heat rushed through his body.
Her rose-colored lips curved into a gentle smile. He focused on them, the full bottom one and the perfectly shaped bow of the top one. “What would it feel like to kiss you?” he whispered.
She mumbled something. He dipped his head closer to understand. “How do I get out of this dress?”
Marcus laughed. “I’ll help,” he offered as he leaned in to touch his lips against hers. The softness shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. He lingered, tasting the sweet innocence he’d never experienced before. But it was her unexpected gasp and response that caused the blood to pulse in his veins.
She kissed him back, seeking and searching like a starving lover. He felt her hand flutter to his face. Her soft fingertips trailed over his jaw. Heat scorched his flesh where she touched. A coil knotted deep inside of him.
He wanted
her. He wanted a strange woman dressed in a wedding dress and sleeping in the middle of King’s Department Store.
She stilled, drawing back. Coming awake, she asked, “You’re real?”
Marcus stared into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Her bewilderment shone. “Should I call you Sleeping Beauty?”
Before he knew what was happening, she shrieked and shoved him away. Not expecting it, he toppled to his side. She bolted from the bed and ran off into the dimly lit recesses of the store. The white ghost-like image burned in his mind.
Trying to steady his heartbeat, he wondered out loud, “What in the world just happened to me?”
Chapter 3
“Thanks, Peg.” Marcus ran his fingers through his hair, pacing the conference room.
“Sure thing, Boss.” She stopped at the doorway. “Nervous? Don’t be. Their bark is worse than their bite. You know what most managers are like. It’s like babysitting adults. Nod, look concerned, and tell them you’ll look into it. All they want is someone to listen.”
He stilled, taking in her advice. “You’re brilliant,” he said with a smile.
“Of course I am,” she said cheekily, and then exited the room.
That made him chuckle. His days at King’s would not be dull, he figured, especially with Peg as his assistant. He liked her sunny disposition and take-charge style already. But, she’d been wrong about the nerves. He was confident his first managers’ meeting about a meddlesome employee would go well. No, it was the memory of the mystery woman that had kept him up all night with questions swimming in his head. Who was she? Was she even real?
The kiss, that was real, he noted, still feeling the soft sweetness of her lips. Something stirred inside his chest. He tried brushing it away, like a pesky fly. But it stayed and heat swirled whenever he re-lived that moment, which he’d had on replay all night long.
Hearing the growing voices just outside the conference room door, Marcus mentally shook himself out of the dreamlike state he’d fallen into again. He smiled at the thought, remembering how he’d asked her if she was Sleeping Beauty.
“There you go again, thinking about her,” he muttered under his breath as the first of the managers came through the door.
Within ten minutes, the room was filled. A quiet buzz of conversation and anticipation charged the atmosphere. Marcus had greeted each one at the door and now was in a friendly exchange with the men’s department manager about how football season was going.
He looked at his watch, frowning. It was two minutes to nine and Charlie hadn’t shown up yet. That was not like her at all. If she was handing over the reins today, then she would have come in and briefed him sooner. And last night, she’d sent Bruno, the guard, to track him down and let him know something had come up and she couldn’t meet with Marcus after all.
She did leave him the reports and her notes, which he studied for hours, something to take his mind off the mystery lady.
Ah, there I go again. Everything comes back to thoughts of her. He shook his head, wondering how a brief encounter could have rattled him so deeply.
***
Francie’s jaw dropped. She closed her mouth, and then gulped hard. “Charlie, are you telling me the managers are meeting to discuss me?”
Her stepsister, pale and shaky, nodded solemnly.
“Me?” she squeaked. “They didn’t find out about last night, did they?” Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead.
Charlie shook her head. “No. I didn’t tell anyone I found you.”
She groaned, feeling the sting of heat on her cheeks. “I’m sorry.” Thank goodness she’d run away from that gorgeous man who’d kissed her and finally ran into Charlie, who didn’t probe too much into the reason she was wearing a fifteen thousand dollar wedding dress, running through the store. It was Charlie who’d helped her out of the stays and returned the exquisite garment to its proper place.
“Francie…” She seemed to gasp for breath. “I think I’m going to be sick again.” She rushed out of the room and Francie dashed after her into the executive bathroom.
“Morning sickness again,” Charlie said hoarsely when she finally came out of the stall.
Francine grabbed a bunch of paper towels, gave some to her stepsister and wet the others to hold against the back of Charlie’s neck as she rinsed out her mouth. “Poor thing,” she murmured, a stab of guilt slicing through her at how selfish she’d been, not realizing Charlie was ill.
“Francie, I didn’t tell you, but last night I fainted.”
“You never faint…oh, the baby. When? Here?”
Straightened from the sink, she shook her head. “Home. Alex barely caught me in time. Of course, he called the doctor right away. He ordered me to bed rest for the next two weeks at the very least. No work.”
“Of course. That’s the best thing for you. You hired someone to come in and take over temporarily.” Dawning hit. “Well, for crying out loud, what are you doing here now? You should be home.”
“I had to warn you.”
Francie brushed back a few stray hairs from her stepsister’s cool, pale face. “Thanks. I’ll be fine.” She didn’t believe it, but she had to reassure Charlie.
“It’s just not you. Priscilla, too, is in danger of being fired.”
Her stepsister’s eyes were filled with worry. Francie knew Charlie felt responsible for them, trying to teach them to be independent since they left the sheltered life of rich daughters to the scary world of self-sufficiency.
“We’re big girls. We’ll figure it out.” In the back of her mind, Francie had no clue on how she could do that for herself, never mind her younger sister. “I know you’ve covered for us these last few weeks and I’m grateful.” Did she sound calm enough? Her insides were churning. How in the world would she find another job when she had no experience?
“They don’t hate you, honey, but—”
“I’m my mother’s daughter, so I’m branded, for life.” She sighed, recalling the suspicious looks other employees shot her way; their distance, the way they stopped talking when she approached them, knowing they were most likely talking about her or Prissy; the cool, almost frigid, atmosphere when she went to the break room for lunch. All but Peg and Rico. At least she had them.
“Just be yourself. You love helping people. The employees might not like you now, but the customers love you. Do you know how many times I’ve heard you were a lifesaver when it came to some bridezilla or momzilla of the bride? You just didn’t make a sale, you saved dozens, and you were more like a wedding personal shopper for them.”
“I’m sure it was more of a complaint than a compliment.” Francie chewed on her bottom lip.
“’Fraid so,” Charlie admitted. “You’re in jewelry, so the employees in the other departments didn’t like when you found exactly what was needed in their departments and they didn’t.”
“I’m infringing on their territory? Is that it?”
She nodded.
“Like my mother made them feel?”
“Exactly. Now you understand.”
“I’ve been stepping on toes,” she said, wincing. “And Priscilla is testing their patience.” It wasn’t a question; her younger sister was testing hers, also. How many times could Francie cover her shift? How many times could Priscilla blow off work and go have fun without a care in the world? “But they like her,” she acknowledged with a sting of envy.
“She doesn’t challenge their power.”
“And I do.” She sighed heavily.
Charlie swayed. Francie reached out to steady her. “I was hoping I could stay for the meeting at least.”
“No, don’t you dare risk it. Come on, I’ll help you gather your things and get you home.”
She winced as they made it into her office to find Alex waiting there. “I think Dolly called the brigades.”
“Thankfully she did,” he commented drily about Charlie’s longtime confidante and the family’s cook.
Francie greeted her brother
-in-law, chuckling inwardly that her mother had wanted her to marry this man. He was all the things in a man a mother would want for her daughter, but not her. His charm and worldly powerful air just intimidated Francie. But he and Charlie were the perfect pair for each other. Her stepsister had softened some of his hard edges.
“She’s stubborn. Just like Daddy,” Francie said.
“So I’ve been warned,” he muttered, helping Charlie with her coat and handing her her purse.
“Not that you ever saw it for yourself,” Charlie said with a smile in her voice.
He grinned. “Not at all, wife.”
Before she and Alex departed, Charlie halted in front of Francie. Her eyes were filled with dread. “I tried. I don’t know if it did any good.”
“It has this far. Thank you for that.”
“Francie,” she said with a stern edge in her voice, “you’re a King—”
She shook her head. “Not really.”
“The heck you aren’t. Our daddy loved you. When he adopted you, he made you his daughter. You are a King. Fight for what you want. Fight like a King.”
Tears stung the backs of Francie’s eyes. She hugged her stepsister close. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Letting her go was difficult. Her ally. Her champion. But Francie treasured the fierce declaration. You are a King. “And darn it, I’m going to fight like a King.”
Now if only she could convince her shaky legs, sweaty palms, and flip-flopping heart.
***
After fifteen minutes of waiting, Marcus started the meeting. “Welcome everyone. I apologize for the delay. We’re still waiting on an employee—”
”Francine King,” the chic, older woman to his left, the wedding dress department manager, said with obvious disapproval.
“Yes,” he agreed, noting the looks exchanged among the managers, some with a trace of disdain they quickly covered up when they realized he’d seen them. He continued, “Also, I’ve just been informed that Charlie won’t be able to attend. Due to her condition, her doctor has put her on bed rest.” He nodded to Peg seated to his right for relaying the information.
Waking Sleeping Beauty (Book 2, Once Upon A Romance Series) Page 2
