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

by leclair, laurie

  “But you don’t believe in love or marriage.”

  “I believe in you, Francine King. I believe in us.” His declaration rang out, causing a ripple of gasps to echo all around her and her heart to tug.

  “I knew it. I just knew it,” Ms. Shepard repeated with glee. “You weren’t faking it, were you?”

  “The boss and the wedding consultant?” The man from the accounting department’s shocked voice led the pack in disbelief.

  “No pretend attraction?” one of the salesgirls in the women’s department asked, her tone disappointed.

  “You mean the two of them?” Ophelia cried out. “Oh, I need a drink. Hard liquor for this one.”

  “Marcus, what are you saying?” Francie’s breath caught. She searched his face.

  His gaze locked with hers. “I never knew I wanted a home, a place to belong, a person to belong to. Not until I met you.” He stepped within three feet of her, still staring into her eyes. “What do you want?”

  “You,” she said without thinking.

  The employees gasped again.

  Heat crawled into her cheeks. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

  He grinned, that lop-sided, sexy smile that made her knees buckle. “Is that all?” Even from here, she could see the teasing light in his gorgeous green eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you want to live in sin? Or would you prefer marriage?”

  Her heart thumped in her chest. “Do you want the truth?”

  “Always.”

  “I want to marry you, Marcus Goode.”

  The men chuckled and the ladies clapped. His mother cried out in joy.

  “Is that a proposal?” His grin widened.

  “Only if you say yes.”

  He laughed now, taking the last few steps to stand directly in front of her. “I don’t have a ring, but I hope this will do for now.” He tugged off the gold watch he always wore, her gift to her stepfather years ago, and gently placed it around her wrist. “Love forever,” he whispered the engraved inscription on the back. Cupping her face in his hands, he said, “Yes. I’ll marry you right here and right now.”

  ***

  Less than an hour later, in the changing area she’d set up earlier, Francie stood before the mirror, wearing the custom wedding dress. “It’s gorgeous,” she said in awe. Her suggestions, Charlie’s design, and Dolly’s skillful sewing had come to life. The delicate beading covering the fitted bodice, slight flare of the skirt, and intricate beaded design of the King’s Department Store crown logo along the hem were more than she’d ever imagined.

  “No, you are, girl,” Rico cried, fluffing up the fabric near the hem. “To die for!”

  “He’s right,” Charlie said. She wore one of the bridesmaid’s dresses now. Speaking low, she said, “If I thought you were only doing this for the store, I’d nix this. But, I could see you falling in love with him right before my eyes.”

  “Pretty obvious, wasn’t I?” Francie shrugged.

  “The most amazing part was I saw Marcus falling in love with you, too. It just took him a little longer to realize he couldn’t live without you.”

  It still amazed Francie that Marcus had put his heart on the line. His confession touched the most tender place in her. She’d treasure the moment and his love for the rest of her life.

  “I’m so happy for you, honey,” Dolly cooed. “Why, I just knew the minute I saw you two together you had eyes for each other. It’s so romantic.”

  Priscilla sniffed. She wore another bridesmaid’s dress. “I’m crying. I never cry.”

  “You look divine, dear,” Marcus’ mother chimed in.

  Francie turned to the older woman. Taking a few steps, she came closer and reached for her hand. Holding it tenderly, she said, “Mrs. Reed,” tears gathered and she blinked to keep them at bay, “you were the guiding force, the loving light that somehow kept Marcus going through all the dark days while he was growing up. He’s such a wonderful man because of you.”

  “Oh, it does my heart good to hear those lovely words. And I’m so delighted you will be my daughter.” She smiled. “This doesn’t mean we have to stop talking weddings, does it? I do love our little talks.”

  “I love them, too. But, Marcus and Isaac may get sick of it.”

  “Then we’ll have a girls’ day every now and then. They can do whatever men do while we chat or have our nails done.”

  Her heart warmed. “I can’t wait.”

  “Shake a leg, will ya?” Peg poked her head into the room, and then she stopped and came all the way in. “Holy, all that is good and great, Francie. You look like a princess!”

  Warmth dotted her cheeks as Francie turned to her friend. “I feel like one, too.”

  “Don’t forget the veil!” Evelyn cried, rushing to her with the long wisp of fabric trimmed with beads.

  A few minutes later, with her family and friends fussing over her, Francie nodded. “I’m ready to become Marcus’ wife.”

  ***

  The employees’ standing ovation shocked her as she walked down the makeshift aisle. Their applause nearly drowned out her escort’s words. “Girl, you got it going on.”

  “Thanks, Rico.”

  “I wish I’d known I’d be giving you away. You could tell a friend, ya know,” Rico said. “Then I coulda borrowed the two-carat, tear-drop diamond earrings from the vault again.”

  “I’m good. You saw Charlie let me borrow her diamond studs. Smaller diamonds are better with this dress.”

  “Not for you, honey. For me.”

  She chuckled. The photographer snapped another shot. Beyond him, she spotted Marcus. Tall, broad shoulders, and sexier than ever, he stood waiting for her. “Talk about divine,” she whispered.

  “And how,” Rico agreed. They both giggled. “Is his friend single?” he asked, eyeing Stuart standing beside Marcus as his best man.

  “Check out the ring on his left hand.”

  He sighed. “Not fair. All the good ones are taken.”

  With only a few steps to go, Rico nudged her toward her groom. “Save a dance for me, big guy,” he said loud enough for the nearby attendees to hear. Laughter rang out.

  Francie watched as Marcus’ gaze traveled the length of her, and then back up, meeting her stare.

  “Stunning,” he murmured, “and I don’t mean just the dress.” His warm voice poured over her like honey. His gorgeous green eyes made her insides melt. “You’re beautiful. My Sleeping Beauty.”

  Her heart tugged as she drew near him. Neither one of them would ever forget the moment they met, she in the designer wedding dress and the kiss they’d shared. “Coincidence or fate?” she asked the same question he’d asked about his mother and her beau.

  “Fate, my love, fate.”

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  “Even your mother and Isaac?” She giggled as she nodded to her future mother-in-law and her soon-to-be husband beside them at the altar. In front of them, the justice of the peace thumbed through his paperwork, waiting to begin the proceedings. “You realize she’ll be Martha Washington now, right?”

  He grinned. “Believe me, this will be my one and only wedding and my mother’s last.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “Me, too,” his mother chimed in.

  “Ditto that, sweetie pie,” Isaac said, tapping his foot to a rhythm only he could hear.

  “Ready to make this the happiest day of your life?” Marcus asked Francie.

  Time seemed to stand still as she gazed into his eyes. He’d been more than she’d ever imagined, more than she’d dreamt of. “It already is, with or without the wedding.”

  Real life was even better than any of her dreams ever were, she realized.

  Now, if only she could help Priscilla find someone…

  The End

  Laurie LeClair writes contemporary romance and women’s fiction. La
urie’s habit of daydreaming has gotten her into a few scrapes and launched her to take up her dream of writing. Finally, she can put all those stories in her head to rest as she brings them to life on the page. Laurie considers herself a New Texan (New England born and raised and now living in Texas.)

  Contact me at:

  twitter.com/LeClairbooks

  facebook.com/laurieleclair

  Other books by Laurie LeClair

  Once Upon A Romance Series:

  If The Shoes Fits – Book 1

  Taming McGruff – Book 3

  Here’s an excerpt from book 3 in the Once Upon A Romance Series.

  Taming McGruff

  Chapter 1

  The bell over the salon door tinkled, breaking the silence. Someone in Priscilla King’s peripheral vision entered.

  “Hey, you forget something, Rico?” she asked, walking to the front of King’s Department Store beauty salon. Shuffling through the file folder she carried, full of glossy pictures and detailed printouts for the upcoming remodel, her heart tugged. She longed to make her own unique stamp on the store. She realized even though she helped manage the salon now, this remodel wouldn’t be hers; it was a continuation of the recent Charmings theme in the store and wedding boutique.

  If only she could find something she could soar at, prove she was worthy to work there. But, more importantly, she dreamed of proving she was worthy of the iconic King name her late stepfather had bestowed on her and her older sister when he adopted them years ago.

  Shaking her head, Priscilla shut the file and glanced up. A tall, dark-haired, broad shouldered man stood beside the reception counter. Intensity rolled off him. His gaze penetrated. Sexy. She sucked in a sharp breath. Her steps faltered. “You’re not Rico.”

  “Good deduction,” he drawled.

  That voice, deep and low, shot a bolt of heat straight to her center. “We’re closed.” She drew within three feet of him. Up close, he was even more daunting. Strong solid features, lips that barely smiled, and eyes the color of smoke, she noted. A shiver sliced through her at the hot, bold interest lying there.

  “I’m here for a meeting.” Still he refused to break eye contact.

  Priscilla broke the unnerving stare, glancing at the rest of him. Expensive navy blue business suit, crisp white shirt, silk baby blue tie, top of the line shoes… She grinned. “Well, I don’t think you’re here to apply for the hairdresser position, or the nail tech, are you?”

  Ah, the corner of his lip did move, slightly. He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I’d get the job?”

  She giggled, trying to imagine this super masculine man fluffing someone’s hair.

  He drew in a swift breath.

  “I doubt it.” Inside, her middle tumbled at his reaction to her.

  Reaching out, he brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. Warmth trailed a blaze where he touched her flesh. The gentle gesture betrayed the man’s gruff demeanor. “Smudge.”

  “Thanks,” she said softly.

  “I’m here to see Charlotte King,” he said in a brisk, no-nonsense manner, pulling away. Clearly, he’d put up a wall, a very high one at that.

  “Charlie?” What would he want to meet with her stepsister for? At nine o’clock and on a Friday night?

  “If you can just point me in the right direction, I’ll be on my way.”

  “I can do better than that. I’ll escort you there myself.”

  “No need,” he said curtly.

  Something made her tease him. “No problem. I’m going that way myself. Unless, of course, you’re afraid of me. I don’t bite.” She shrugged. “Much. But I did skip dinner, so you never know.”

  His brows drew together in a frown, obviously trying to gauge her.

  Prissy grabbed for her pink tote bag, stuffed the file inside, and then snatched up the keys she’d left on the desk. Leading him to the door, she said, “Come on, I promise I’ll behave.”

  He seemed to relax a little, following her.

  She reached around him and shut off the lights. Her arm brushed against his. Tingles raced along her nerve endings. His warm breath feathered across her cheek. “You call that behaving?”

  His scent filled her senses: fresh, clean, and all male. “Wow,” she murmured, unable to meet his stare. “Me? You are lethal.” She didn’t censor her words, a serious issue that brought trouble on occasion.

  He chuckled. It came out raw and ragged. “I’ve never been called that before.”

  Darting out of the door and causing the bell to ring again, she waited for him to exit. “Always a first time for everything, right?” She swallowed hard, locked the door, and then dropped the keys in her tote bag. Was she flirting? Was he? “Follow me.”

  “Gladly,” he murmured.

  She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, trying to stay upright on her new over-the-knee, high heel black suede boots as she guided him across the marble floor in the nearly empty store. His big commanding presence at her side made it difficult for her to focus on anything but him.

  “Yo,” Bruno, the night guard, called out, rushing past nearly twenty feet away.

  “Go. I got this. Trouble?” Priscilla asked.

  “Somebody forgot to lock up somewhere. Usual Friday night,” he said. “Thanks for showing him upstairs. I owe you, baby girl.”

  “Baby girl?” the man at her side inquired.

  Warmth crawled up her neck. She shrugged. Bruno had adopted the nickname her stepfather had given her years ago. It made her feel cared for and a part of a family.

  At the executive elevator now, she went to the panel. She shot him a look over her shoulder. “No peeking,” she teased, and then shielded the pad as she punched in the secret code. The doors opened. “Here you are. Your chariot awaits.”

  He grunted and waited for her to precede him inside.

  “Are you always this grumpy?” she asked, pushing the button for the fifth floor.

  “Grumpy?”

  Uh oh, she’d offended him. “Yeah, shut down, buttoned up, scowl between your brows—you know, grumpy.” She couldn’t help herself. At least this kept her from admiring his powerful body just inches away. She had to distract herself somehow.

  “You mistake being serious for a bad mood.”

  She folded her arms across her chest, held her arms, and then shivered. “Brrrr! Did I mention cold, too?”

  He moved swiftly, pinning her against the elevator wall. His hands landed on the wall inches from her body, enveloping her in his essence. Yet he didn’t touch her anywhere.

  Instinctively, she shoved at his chest. She met solid, unyielding muscle. Heat burned her palms. Her heart thumped.

  “And did I tell you, whatever your name is, with your short, tousled strawberry blonde hair, those incredible cat-green eyes that dance with mischief, and that smoking body of yours that you remind me of a very hot, very sexy fairy?”

  The breath sailed out of her. Gazing up into his smoky gray eyes, she gulped hard; there sat desire, intense and raw. It shook her to her core.

  Priscilla King, in her few short months of independence from her controlling mother, had never faced this before, never witnessed a man’s passion for her.

  He eased away from her when the door dinged open. “After you,” he said, gazing at her long and hard.

  She exited, still shaken by his intensity and, more so, by her response.

  He reached around her to open one of the glass doors to the executive offices. His other hand landed on the small of her back, guiding her forward.

  Heat seared her where he touched. She gasped.

  Now standing in the empty reception area, she faced him. “Who are you?”

  “Who are you?” he countered.

  “Why won’t you tell me?” She refused to reveal her family name; most people judged her unfavorably once they discovered who her mother was and tarnished her with the same calculating, cut-throat reputation.

  “You first. Or should I just call you fairy, or pix
ie?”

  “Funny,” she said, not meaning it. Pointing down the hall, she said, “Charlie’s office. Just keep going. It’s the last one, corner office.”

  He bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

  She watched him walk away, irritated at him. Why did he make her feel this way, hot and prickly all over? She did the only thing she could at the moment. Prissy put her hands on her hips and stuck out her tongue at his retreating back.

  Swiftly, he turned, catching her. He chuckled. “You planning on using that?”

  “Drat!” she cursed.

  “Pixie,” he said with a smile in his voice.

  Something low and deep tugged in her middle. Who was he and why did she melt into a puddle when he looked at her?

  ***

  Griffin James strolled down the hallway, feeling the burn of her stare on his back and the imprint of her palms on his chest where she’d touched him in the elevator. Branded. Outwardly, he grinned at catching her sticking her tongue out at him. Inwardly, he wondered why that little pixie had gotten to him.

  A buzz hummed through his body. No woman had ever had that effect on him. Ever.

  From the moment she walked toward him in the salon, his attraction for her kicked him in the gut. She barely came up to his chin. The pink knit dress she wore fit her petite body like a glove, emphasizing her curves in all the right places. He recalled the feel of her soft porcelain skin when he brushed the smudge from her cheek. Her perfume, a subtle blend of floral and citrus, tickled his senses. He moaned now.

  And the way she’d gotten under his skin, calling him grumpy and cold, stunned him. He didn’t allow anyone to breach the protective barrier he surrounded himself with, his line of defense.

  “Focus,” he reminded himself under his breath. “You have a job to do.”

  His momentary lapse of his mission concerned him. Distractions were costly. He couldn’t afford to lose. Not when he was so close. He waited nearly all his life for this. Griff wouldn’t cave now, wouldn’t stop until he got what he dreamed of all the long, lonely nights growing up in foster care.