There were murmurs of concern and he addressed them. “The doctor’s taking precautions. I’m sure you all realize how much hard work and time she’s put into the store over the last few weeks. She wants it to be successful and she hired me to help carry on her vision until she can find a permanent replacement. I know that you and I can make King’s even more of a success and sustain that success for Charlie and for the late Charles King.”
There was a smattering of applause.
“Now then—”
The door burst open.
Marcus jerked his head up to find himself staring at the mystery lady. His heart stopped, and then it beat in overdrive.
Gasping for breath, she swept her honey blonde hair away from her forehead. “Sorry I’m late.” Her smile was forced and he could see the corner of her lip tremble with the effort. Her gaze encompassed the stony room and landed on him. “You!” she cried.
Her cornflower blue eyes made him swallow hard. “You’re Francine King?”
Chapter 4
Marcus sat back in his chair, eyeing the woman who’d kept him up all last night. It didn’t help that she showed up in a pencil-thin charcoal gray skirt and a blue silk blouse that matched the color of her eyes, her honey blonde hair with its side-swept bang, and eyes piercing through him. She was tall and slender, perfect in every way. The glimpse he had of her last night wasn’t nearly as good as the real Ms. Francine King before him now. His chest tightened. Blood pulsated through his veins.
Sitting primly at the opposite end of the conference table, she listened as the managers, one after the other, went down their litany of items they held her accountable for.
“Francie’s stolen sales from my people,” the housewares manager began, smoothing the lapel of her crisp white business jacket.
“Butted in, is more like it,” the shoe department manager chimed in, her red hair piled as high as the heels she was wearing.
“Interfered,” harrumphed the women’s department representative. “I spend hours selecting the perfect assemble and in minutes,” she pointed at Francine, “she ruins it, suggesting of all things, it’s too old-fashioned for the bride, or makes her hips stick out. Well, that one’s hips are already out and never going to get back in, if you know what I mean.” She sighed wearily.
He watched Francine take it all, one hit after another. Her heart-shaped face stayed neutral, but he noticed her chin going up with each verbal punch. And her eyes, he realized, were filled with hurt. She remained tight-lipped, a pasted-on barely there smile.
Her gaze encountered his. Heat sliced through him, hot and sharp. His middle coiled in a tight knot. When she licked her lips to moisten them, his gaze fixated on that gesture, wishing he’d dared kiss her deeply, fully, sliding his tongue with hers.
Marcus cleared his throat. “I’m sure you could go on,” he spoke to the managers, “however, I believe it’s time to hear from Ms. King herself.” He turned back to her. “Francie, is it?” He tested her nickname out, liking how intimate it felt on his lips. “Please, state your case.” He nodded to her, hoping she could defend the accusations.
“Thank you, all of you, for your time.” Her voice was low, yet perfectly steady. He gave her that. “Your concerns are just, I’m afraid.”
He jerked his full attention to her words. Just? Where was she going with this? Digging herself in a hole she couldn’t get out of?
Even from here, he could see her swallow hard, and then she continued, “I have done those things, unintentionally, I assure you. I never meant to take over. I just wanted to help the customer.”
The tense, frustrated air seemed to slowly siphon out of the room. He smiled in admiration for the gentle, skillful handling of what could have been a firing squad.
She addressed the complaint directly to the housewares manager. “Ms. Shepard, I apologize. The bride came to get her engagement ring resized and burst into tears, having spent nearly two hours with her mother arguing over china patterns. I was certain the poor girl would call it all off, so I offered my help. Once I showed the bride some of the options, incorporating one or two of the mother’s ideas, they both seemed to be pleased with the selection.” She lifted her right shoulder slightly. “I do have some practice in handling difficult mothers.”
The managers broke into laughter. Marcus chuckled and Peg nearly snorted, whispering to him, “Ain’t that the truth. Old battle-ax.”
His regard for Francie grew. She cleverly handled a sticky situation and poked fun at herself. Nicely done.
She wasn’t finished. In a tone that spoke of confidence and determination, she addressed each manager’s concerns. “Miss Hillary, I am sorry for stepping on your toes, or should I say, your shoes.”
Another round of laughter echoed through the room. Peg said under her breath, “Francie’s got them eating out of her hands now.”
It was only a few minutes later that Francie had skillfully redirected the managers’ anger and convinced them of her honest intentions.
“And the wedding dresses, Ms. King?” Ophelia asked, breaking through the laughter and essentially putting a wet blanket over everyone.
Francine jerked her head to Marcus. He witnessed a wave of panic cross her features and her silently asked question if he had told anyone.
“Yes, um, what exactly have I done?” This time her voice shook slightly. She bit the corner of her bottom lip. He zeroed in on that gesture; he wanted to be the one tugging at her lip, nibbling it.
“Hah! You have some nerve feigning innocence,” the older woman retorted, the scowl between her eyes deepening. “You do butt in, you take over. Why, my girls are nearly in tears after you’re in our department.”
He watched as the blush stained her high cheekbones. It just brought her to life even more.
“I…you’re right, of course. About being in your department.” She glanced quickly at him and looked away. “I’m guilty of trying to create the best wedding a bride could ever dream of. It’s essential to get the perfect wedding dress. It’s the centerpiece of her day. She must feel beautiful. Her wedding is the one day in her life that she should have everything her way, especially the dress. It’s the beginning of her new life and we…I want to make certain she will always look back on that day and treasure the feeling she had, how beautiful she was, and how loved she felt. It’s the one thing she can hold onto for the rest of her life, through bad times…” She trailed off, suddenly turning red all over and nervously looking around at the others.
Quiet descended.
Peg clapped. “Hear, hear.” She stopped abruptly and under her breath she said, “Sorry, Boss, got carried away.”
He captured Francie’s gaze and held it. Passion and fire sparked. His heart jumped, beating a rapid tempo. If only he could capture that in a bottle, drink it any time. But, he realized, it was her that he wanted. Her fire. Her passion.
Groaning inwardly, he caught himself; she was his employee, by all accounts. He must not cross that line.
“What about the earrings that are missing?” her manager, Bertha Cogsdale, demanded.
“Missing earrings?” Francie asked, fear now shining in her eyes.
“You closed last night. They were not there this morning when I came in to pull from the vault.”
“Not in the vault?” Bewilderment colored her tone. “But…but…”
“Mr. Goode, I told you earlier that she has become an increasing problem. Not just for my department, but for others as well.”
His mind drifted to their meeting last night. Yes, she’d had on the expensive wedding dress, but, as he recalled, she wasn’t wearing any earrings.
“Enough.” He held up his hand. “Francine.” He captured her gaze, watching the panic cloud them. “One question, for now. Did you take the earrings?”
“No.” She shook her head.
Sincere, he thought. But there was something else lurking in her eyes. He just couldn’t put a finger on it now.
“All right, Ms. King.�
� He shuffled through some papers and found what he was looking for. “You are a new employee, still on your ninety-day probationary period. You have a number of infractions that you’ve admitted to.”
“Are you going to fire me?” Her question jerked his head up to look directly at her. Her hands, clasped together, lay on the table in a white-knuckled grip.
In a slight second, he knew his answer. “No.”
The managers murmured in disagreement.
“You still have the full ninety days.” He held up his hand. “Unless, of course, we find evidence you did steal the earrings. That will change the outcome. We’ll have security pull the tapes and review them.” He cleared his throat. “Ms. King, could you please wait for me in my office? I should be no more than fifteen minutes at the most.”
On unsteady legs, she stood and walked to the door. Before she exited, she turned to the group who’d been staring at her ramrod straight back. “Thank you all again, for your patience and your time. I may not have the experience yet, but I do have the determination and drive to give the customers the highest quality product they can buy and the best service they have come to expect from the store. That much I did inherit from my father, Charles King.”
***
Francie paced the sterile black and chrome room with glass tables and desk. Her mother’s former office was now erased of her stamp, yet remained just as intimidating. Her thoughts whirled in her head.
The Marcus Goode, who was temporarily taking over the reins of King’s Department Store and now her official boss, was the same man who’d kissed her last night. She groaned. She’d made a fool of herself in the wedding dress. Her cheeks burned.
Just moments ago, she’d gathered as much of her composure to redirect the attack on her character. “The earrings. What did Rico—” She stopped in her tracks and rushed to the phone on Marcus’desk. Quickly, she dialed the salon’s number. It rang four times before someone picked it up. “Is Rico there?”
“It’s his day off,” the chirpy voice of the new hire filled her ear. A giggle followed. “He’s on a hot date. Wanna leave a message?”
“No, no thanks,” she murmured absently, recalling he told her he was going on a blind date today. Where, he didn’t even know. Too bad he didn’t have a cell phone, either. He hated them as much as she did. Well, that’s what she told herself since she couldn’t afford one and everyone around her seemed transfixed by them.
“Excuse me, can I help you?” Marcus, standing in the doorway, asked her.
A whoosh of heat flashed over her face at getting caught. Hurriedly, she hung up, hoping she didn’t offend the girl on the other end. Straightening, she came around the desk, gingerly wiping her damp palms over her hips. “You asked me to wait here.”
He pushed himself away from the door-frame, entered, and slowly closed the door. The loud click in the silent room rattled her nerves. He moved to her, extending his hand. “Marcus Goode.”
“Francine King,” she murmured as she offered her hand. His swallowed hers up, big and warm. She gasped at the touch. She pulled back. He held on until she met his gaze. He had the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. Mesmerizing. Funny, she hadn’t had time to dwell on them last night nor during the brutal meeting a few minutes ago. But now she took them in and everything about him.
Finally, he released her hand. Rubbing her skin where he touched it, she wished she could stop the tingling. He directed her to a chair across from his desk.
Glancing at him settle in the chair behind his glass topped desk, she took in her fill of him. Tall; blond hair; square jaw; strong, handsome features. His lips curved into a smile now. Firm, masterful lips, she recalled, quickly darting her glance away as her insides began to melt.
“Francine,” he said, “we have a dilemma.” He nodded to the door. “The wolves want you fired.”
“My probation isn’t up yet,” she said, straightening her spine. In the back of her mind, she kept telling herself she couldn’t lose this job.
“Technically, yes. There’s also the matter of your transgressions.”
They’d gone over all this already. It had to be one thing and one thing only. “The wedding dress. Last night.” She gulped. “I can explain.” Can I?
He sat back in his chair, spreading his hands. “Explain away.”
She hoped he didn’t mean the kiss. That she had no idea what had come over her, responding to a complete stranger like that. A very handsome, very sexy stranger who just happened to be sitting across from her at this very moment. “Yes, the dress.” She couldn’t tell him the whole truth. That would be humiliating. “As you know, I come in contact with many brides-to-be while I’m working at the jewelry counter. It’s just a matter of time before we start discussing the wedding arrangements—”
“And the dress,” he inserted.
He did understand. “Exactly. I…” She stopped, ducking her head. “I seem to have a knack at finding the right dress for the right bride. They give me their numbers to call whenever a new dress arrives. To see if it’s the one for them,” she hastened to add, pushing away the stab of guilt at the half-truth.
“You try them on yourself.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” Flustered, she shrugged. “Of course, the size varies, but the idea, shape, design, material is there.”
Suddenly, he sat upright, startling her at the abruptness. “Francine, you’re fired.”
“What! But…you said…you can’t…”
He held up a hand. “Yes, from the jewelry department.”
Frowning, she asked, shaking her head, “I don’t understand. Am I fired fired?” Her voice went up an octave and she cringed. It was almost as bad as her piano playing.
He grinned and it sucked the breath out of her. How could she be attracted to him when he’d just ruined her life? “Just fired. Once. And it’s up to you if I rehire you.”
She blanched at that. “What kind of job are we talking about?” She eyed him suspiciously.
This time, he seemed to be the one who was surprised. Then he chuckled. “Nothing untoward. Bottom line, you don’t fit King’s Department Store system. There’s a tried and true way things are done around here. You go off course and it creates chaos for everyone.”
“I don’t mean to,” she said.
“Have you ever heard of the phrase, don’t reinvent the wheel? Well, that’s what happens in this type of system. It works, for the most part, and why tear it all down and try to rebuild from the ground up if most of it is in working order already? Keep what works; change what doesn’t.”
“And I don’t work.”
“In this system,” he added gently. She could see the concern in his eyes. She felt another tug of attraction.
“So what are you suggesting?” Francie winced at the question.
His smile played over his lips and his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Ah…loaded question.” He seemed to shake that thought off and his features grew somber. “I will give you twenty-four hours to come up with a plan.” He rubbed his thumb over his clean-shaven jaw, making her highly aware of touching his warm flesh only a few hours ago. She gulped hard, almost missing his next words. “It seems to me, from what you’ve said and what I’ve heard, you have a knack at putting pieces of weddings together.”
“Weddings?” Her voice held a dreamy quality.
“Hmm…yes,” he seemed to be making this up as he went, “a new position, let’s say. Wedding consultant? How’s that title?” His smile came slow and lasted so long she could barely concentrate on his words. “I’ll give you two assistants. Your choice, but I’ll have the final approval. Twenty-four hours from now, we meet again and you present me with the outline for your new position, time frame for getting it done—say just shy of the end of your initial probation—and your plan on how you’re going to get it accomplished.”
”Like a test? To see if I’ve earned the right to stay?” She longed to dab at the perspiration dotting her hairline.
“Good id
ea.”
Francie moaned. “Why did I have to say that?” she asked under her breath.
His chuckle stirred something in her.
“Mr. Goode…” She gulped.
“Marcus,” he corrected.
“Marcus,” she half whispered his name, liking the sound of it, “why do you care?” At his startled look, she explained, “About whether or not I stay. You could have easily fired me. The managers, the complaints, the earrings…” She trailed off.
“Ah, the earrings. They’ve been found, by the way, stuck in the back of the jewelry case. The tapes show the culprit. It seems innocent enough, but we’ll have to question him.”
“Rico,” she muttered.
“You knew, as I suspected.”
She asked him again, “So why do you care if I stay?”
“Everyone deserves a chance, Francie. Your father thought so,” he said softly. “A second chance at proving yourself. Can you live up to it? You tell me.”
His words echoed in her mind long after she left his office. But it was the look, hot and searing, that her body would never forget.
How in the world could she pull this off? She’d never worked a day in her life until a few weeks ago. She didn’t know anything. Obviously, she’d done more things wrong than right to get herself in this spot. And how in the world could she be professional, on all levels, when all she could do was think of kissing him again?
Chapter 5
Marcus mentally kicked himself a thousand times already and still he couldn’t figure out what had possessed him to make Francie that offer. The managers’ cries of action blared in his head as he sat across from the enthusiastic, free-spirited employee. Fire her, they’d cornered him after she’d left.
Waking Sleeping Beauty (Book 2, Once Upon A Romance Series) Page 3