Waking Sleeping Beauty (Book 2, Once Upon A Romance Series)

by leclair, laurie

  “Marcus Goode, what do you have to say about the Daily’s gossip column printed this morning?” the young man asked as he was jostled about.

  He reached out, steadying him. “You can’t always believe what you read, can you?”

  “Which part are you referring to?”

  “All of it.”

  Peg bustled him through the crowd. “Come on, fellas, give us some room here.”

  “So, Marcus, are you saying the column is completely false, all lies?” A well-known local entertainment reporter pressed her mic at him.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he held up his hands, “when have you ever taken Mrs. King at her word? The woman’s track record is suspect, to put it kindly. I’m sure she’s feeling a little out of sorts lately and bored to tears with nothing to do all day. Poor woman can’t stand to be out of the spotlight. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you all the gory details with the way she dumped the store and ran off with all the money. Oh, by all the money, I mean the King daughters’ trust funds, too.”

  There, he thought, let her spin on that one.

  Several more reporters lunged forward. One called out, “Are you saying she left them with nothing?”

  “Not a penny,” Peg chimed in. “And you can quote me, Peg Newbury.” She spelled it at their insistence.

  With grit and determination, Marcus edged through the crowd, polite, yet firmly pushing his way to the door. But what he discovered there shocked him to his core.

  ***

  Francine drew in a long, slow breath. The moment Marcus spotted her, she lifted up her chin. Looking at the press, she steeled herself. “Excuse me.” No one paused. “Excuse me,” she called out. They must have finally heard her; they stopped badgering Marcus and glanced over their shoulders. “If anyone is interested, I’m Francine King, the oldest stepdaughter of the late Charles King.”

  “Huh?” The reporter closest to her shoved his camera in her face. “This is gonna be good,” he said.

  “Hey, honey, what do you have to say about your mother’s comments?” Another one rushed her, sticking the mic near her mouth.

  Before she realized it, Marcus shouldered his way toward her, leading Peg. When they reached her, they turned in unison to face the crowd with her. His assistant stood between her and Marcus, hooking her elbows with them. One solid line of defense.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Marcus said.

  “Oh, yes I do,” she retorted, never looking his way. Addressing the curious men and women gawking at her and the flashbulbs going off in her face, she smiled tightly, saying, “Thank you all for coming. I appreciate your thoughtfulness in wanting to hear the truth.”

  “Which is?” A young woman with glasses and a scowl poked her mic closer.

  “Unfortunately, my mother is delusional.”

  The gasps that rent the air blasted her from every side.

  “I’m afraid she has become fixated on the demise of King’s Department Store for far too long. Ever since her retirement a few months ago, she has longed for the bottom to fall out. It’s just my opinion, mind you; however, I feel she cannot handle someone else making King’s the success she could never achieve.”

  “Good one,” Peg whispered loudly, gripping her arm tighter and absorbing Francie’s sudden shivering.

  “If my mother can’t control it, she will try to destroy it.”

  She held their rapt attention now.

  Waving her hand to one of the large windows, she said, “As you can clearly see, our mystery wedding has piqued a great deal of interest, along with a great deal of sales.” Secretly, she loved the display window her stepsister, Charlie, had dreamed up. Each week another piece of the wedding puzzle was revealed on a pedestal in the window while the earlier items surrounded it. Marcus had graciously donated the latest gift: a ten-day honeymoon to his most popular resort. The unveilings generated high anticipation and subsequent business for the store.

  “Makes sense, but what about Marcus Goode? Is it true he’s sleeping his way through the women here?”

  Francie gulped hard. Silence stretched.

  “I’ll answer that one,” Marcus said.

  “No, let me,” Francie insisted, briefly turning to acknowledge his presence. She couldn’t bear to meet his gaze; she surely would let her true feelings be known. Looking down, she asked the woman in front of her, “May I?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but took the mic from her hand and held it even closer. “Please.” She forced a chuckle. “Even the Marcus Goode isn’t that good!”

  Many of them laughed.

  The tense atmosphere seemed to ease. “I’m not quite sure when he’d have the time, do you? From all accounts, he’s one of the busiest men in Dallas at the moment. He runs a multi-million dollar corporation and has temporarily taken over the huge task of dragging King’s Department Store out of the past and leading it into the future.”

  “Hear, hear,” Peg cheered. “And doing a bang up job of it, too!”

  “Francine, you’re the wedding consultant in the ads, right?” a female reporter asked. “So, aren’t you the bride? I heard your mother’s trying to hunt down a groom for you.”

  Francine’s face froze as she focused on the infamous woman who’d written the scathing gossip column. “Really?”

  “Didn’t you just have dinner with a doctor?”

  Her mother had definitely blabbed. What else had she’d said about her long, drawn-out search for grooms for her daughters? Doctor, lawyer, Indian chief—the rhyme ran through her mind.

  “I was there,” Marcus intervened. “Lovely evening.”

  “She invited you?!” the woman asked, clearly not knowing that part.

  “Her delight can’t be measured.” Marcus’ tongue-in-cheek answer caused Francie to giggle.

  Cameras flashed.

  “So, Marcus, are you saying you’re in contention?”

  “Contention?” Francie and Marcus asked in unison.

  “To be the mystery groom at King’s mystery wedding?”

  Francine’s middle dropped. She’d meant to protect him from the gossip her mother had purposely generated. But now, the tables had turned. She’d drawn unnecessary attention to him and to herself. What had she done?

  Chapter 17

  Pain shot through Francine’s temples. Her head swam at all the phone calls, all the employees’ buzzing, and the white spots she still saw from all the cameras’ flashes hours ago. Clutching the stacks of phone messages in her portfolio, she’d escaped to the housewares department to check on new linens for the mystery bride and groom.

  She skirted the kitchen demo area that remained dark at this hour; however, each Wednesday afternoon, it came to life with a new guest chef Marcus snagged from his circle of restaurant friends. It served as a respite for tired shoppers, a midafternoon snack, a chance to see King’s housewares in use, and to trigger gift sales. It worked beyond anyone’s imagination.

  But the memory of that first cooking demo, when she was called up to assist Marcus, caused her to suck in a sharp breath. Only a few hours before she’d been in his bed. Being so close to him heightened her senses.

  Even now she felt the tingles rushing through her body. Heat curled low and deep in her belly at the thought of his touch, his hot stare.

  Francie picked up her pace, focusing on the linens. But once she got to the bed with the pink satins sheets and black comforter, she came to a crawl. It wasn’t just the black embroidery on each pillow case reading, Mr. and Mrs., it was the fact that this was the bed she’d fallen asleep in and Marcus had kissed her awake.

  Her throat went dry.

  “Francie, holy cow, you’re a fast one. Don’t move a muscle,” Peg said, sliding to her side. She huffed a few times, trying to catch her breath. “I’ve been trying to chase you down for the last forty minutes.”

  She reached out and grabbed Peg, who clutched her middle and bent over. “What’s the rush?” Then her heart tripped. “It’s not Marcus, is it?”

 
After the fiasco this morning, Francie prepared for the worst.

  Peg shook her head. “Nah, he’s super. And so are you for what you did for him and the store. But Marcus and Charlie got their heads together. Released a damage control statement. Smooth things over.” She gasped. “Guess what? Marcus banned the Barracuda from the store. For life.”

  “What?! My mother can’t come in the store? Ever?” A rush of relief flooded through her. She wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder any longer for fear she’d run into her at the store again.

  “My word, the employees are dancing in the aisles at the news—” She cut herself off. “Oh, sorry, she is your mother.”

  Francie winced. The truth hurt. “Charlie agreed?”

  “No other choice. Your mama’s a big distraction. Causes an uproar.” She shrugged. “So, ibso, facto.” She brushed her hands together. “Finito.”

  “King’s may still be vulnerable, though. She drew the first blood today. But I don’t think it will be the last.”

  “No sirree, it won’t be. Not for you, I’m afraid.” She patted Francie on the shoulder. “Holy moly, you socked it to her. I wish I coulda been a fly on the wall when she saw it. Don’t you worry, though; everyone’s singing your praises with your counterattack.”

  She hadn’t noticed. A stream of women had come into the wedding boutique throughout the day, sizing her up. Most of them turned out to be curiosity seekers with only a few real customers. With juggling them and the upcoming weddings on the books, Francie hadn’t gotten a fresh breath of air until now. She had no idea what the employees thought other than Rico squeezing her in a giant bear hug and Evelyn joining in and dancing Francie all around before they’d opened up the store.

  “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.

  Chapter 18

  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.”