Purposely, he’d avoided her the last few days, or at least being alone with her. He’d practically ignored her during meetings or enlisted Charlie to intervene on occasion now that she was back to working two days a week. But, it was while on the floor he suffered the most when he found her head close to another man’s deep in conversation, or the way the guy would laugh at something she’d said, or mother after mother brought their single sons in to meet her.
“When you stare at me like that, I feel like I’m going to melt,” she said softly, with her profile to him.
Marcus cursed, taking a step closer. Gently, he turned her to face him. She cooperated. But she refused to look up.
He brushed the sweep of her silky hair away, and then, with his hand, he lifted her chin so now she gazed into his eyes.
Deep, endless blue eyes searched his face as if trying to commit it to memory. “I’ve missed you, Marcus, missed this.”
Me, too. “This is so wrong,” he said, shaking his head but focusing on her lips. He longed to kiss her.
“I know. I shouldn’t want you, shouldn’t get you mixed up with my mother’s manipulations. I’m sorry about that.”
He witnessed the regret flashing through her eyes. He let out a heavy sigh. “I couldn’t be sure…”
“That I was a part of it?” She shook her head. “Not my style.”
“You mean like a bull in a china shop?”
She chuckled. It hit him somewhere in his solar plexus.
The elevator bumped to a halt. The door dinged open. Before he knew it, they had an audience again. Three women from their advertising department oohed and ahhed. Marcus pulled away, but not before the damage was already done.
“So nice to see you, Marcus, Francine,” the oldest of the three spoke as he ushered Francine out of the elevator and past the women. “Maybe you’ll both be free for an upcoming ad for the boutique. The numbers don’t lie—sales are up and you two are a hit.”
Pure hell!
Hours later, pacing his living room, Marcus kicked himself for adding more fuel to the fire. He’d parted ways with Francie at the boutique, but not before getting too many curious looks from the employees.
Now, he looked around his home. Nowhere was he safe from the memory of her. He could barely sleep in his bed anymore; the thoughts of her beside him ran rampant. If he did happen to fall asleep, she was there in his dreams, haunting him, just out of reach.
He stared at the sports channel blaring in the background. Marching over to the coffee table, he grabbed the remote and shut the TV off, silencing the mocking. Damn, he couldn’t even watch a game anymore without thinking about her.
Tossing the controller to the couch, he stalked off. “Maybe I can get some work done.”
At his desk, he shuffled papers back and forth, not even seeing the words. Reaching for the phone, he thought he could call someone, anyone. The names blurred. He frowned, not recalling half the women listed. Without a second thought, he deleted them, one after the other.
He realized he didn’t even have a number for Francie, except for the boutique extension. A shaft of disappointment slashed through him. The one person he would have longed to talk to tonight, he couldn’t even get a hold of.
Strange how connected he felt to her, even when she wanted completely different things than he did.
Dropping the phone down, he stared at the top drawer. “No, don’t do it,” he warned himself. He ignored his own advice and slid it open. Gingerly, he took out the photo he’d tucked away there after she’d found it in his dressing area. He’d promised himself it was a temporary move until he could sneak it back into the store’s storage room. But, there it still sat. “Francie,” he said, gazing long and hard at her picture.
He studied her, every inch of her heart-shaped face, honey blonde hair, perfect bow lips. But it was her eyes that captivated him. Blue so deep and so revealing that it took his breath away. There was truth there, purity, goodness, and most of all hope.
She believed in fairy tales. She believed in love.
His heart turned over.
“Sweet Jesus,” he cried out, “I am not, repeat not, falling in love with her.”
***
He needed air, fresh and chilling, to sweep away the cobwebs. Marcus drove for an hour, windows down, radio up and wandering the nearly empty streets. Somehow he found himself back where he first began, outside his first pub and grill.
They were closing, the chairs already flipped over on top of the tables. But the back lights were still on. He decided to stop; he could pass on word that he wanted to see the owner. With his brand new SUV’s windows up and doors locked, Marcus dashed through the freshly falling snow and, once at the pub, yanked open the door.
The bell rung overhead.
He smiled at the familiar place, noting the improvements. The shiny, wood bar had been extended, more stools added. The tables and chairs were new. Even with the modern updates, it still felt warm and inviting.
“Yo, we’re closing, but—” The man stopped in mid-sentence. His smile widened.
Marcus came face to face with his old buddy. “Stu, how have you been?” He shook his friend’s hand and patted him on the back.
“Good to see you in the flesh. I thought you might be too high and mighty to come around here after that gossip column said you were engaged to one of the King daughters.”
Shaking his head, he said, “Don’t believe everything you read.” Even here he couldn’t escape Francie.
“Daddy, Daddy.” Two little curly brown-haired boys raced to them, wrapping themselves around Stuart’s legs. They pointed at Marcus. “Who’s that?”
“Twins? Man, Stu, you sold out,” Marcus ribbed him, looking from the tiny replicas of Stuart and then back to his buddy.
“Hey guys, this is my friend, Marcus. Go ahead and shake his hand. He’s the one who helped Daddy get this place.” He nodded to Marcus. “Bought into the dream, is more like it. I wised up and married Geena.”
The little guys shook his hand and scurried away again. Marcus said, “I remember her, the ER nurse. How’s she doing?”
“Keeping me on the straight and narrow. She’s picking up the baby from the sitter’s. She’ll be here soon. That’s if the buses are running on time.”
“No more Vette for you, huh?”
Shaking his head, he said, “No, man, traded it in for a four-door.” He held up his hand. “Don’t laugh.” He shrugged. “All right, laugh; it’s in the shop again. No wheels for a week.”
Marcus began to add it up. “Things slow?”
A loud crash of metal hitting the floor stopped them both. Marcus followed his friend to the kitchen. “Yo, Joey and Paulie, easy now. Come on, pick up the pots.” He glanced at Marcus. “They prefer those to toys.” As he watched them, he said, “The economy’s hitting everyone hard. I’m no different.”
Marcus glanced around, sizing it up. He made a quick, heartfelt decision. “Need a partner?”
“What, you? Serious?” Relief and surprise washed over his face.
In the back of his mind, Marcus consoled himself with having a reason to stay put in Dallas. His mother wasn’t getting any younger. He needed to be there, physically there, for her, even if it was just to hold her hand after another heartbreak.
Charlie was still searching for a permanent replacement to steer the helm at King’s, hoping to keep the ship afloat a little longer. His corporation was holding little appeal for him lately. Long-distance meetings and being hands-off had woken him up to a few hard truths. He was bored with his life. His involvement with King’s had shone a light on what was missing: his connection to people. He’d missed that, the daily brainstorming, the creative ideas, quick decision making and seeing it through. There was something to be said about small-scale operations.
Plus he should sell and put an end to his hectic traveling schedule once and for all. He convinced himself it had absolutely nothing to do with being close to Francie.
“We
can work out something.” He fished out a business card and jotted down his cell phone number. “Call tomorrow and we’ll set up a meeting to go over the numbers.”
“Wow, this is my lucky day.”
Marcus dug in his coat pocket and pulled off a key from the key chain. He dangled it in front of his friend. “Go pick up your wife and kid.” He nodded to the street. “White Range Rover at the curb. She shouldn’t have to ride the bus, not with a kid and in this weather.”
He looked to the twins and back at him. “You’ll watch them, right?” He must have seen Marcus’ grimace. “By the time I get their car seats loaded in, she’ll have gotten the bus.” He nodded his head to the corner where three car seats lay stacked.
Somehow he agreed. A few minutes later, he stood as four little eyes in round faces gawked at him. “We’re hungry.”
“Now that I can do,” he said, thankful he could feed them at least. He marched to the large refrigerator and pulled the door open. “What would you like?” They were there, leaning on his legs and gazing into the vast array of food items.
“Pizza.”
“Meatballs.”
Scratching his head, he figured it would take too long for even one of their choices. He grabbed the milk and cheese. “Tell you what, I’ll surprise you.”
“I don’t like s’prises.”
“Me, neither.”
“Okay, mac and cheese,” Marcus conceded.
“Yummy, mac an’ cheese,” they said in unison.
Marcus sighed in relief. At least they weren’t fussy eaters. In a few minutes, he had them on stools seated at the island, a mug in front of each of them.
“What’s this for?”
“You’re going to help.”
Both of them looked up at him with wrinkled brows. “Huh? Silly, we don’t know how to cook.”
Chuckling, Marcus shook his head. “I’ll teach you. This is the easy mug mac and cheese.”
“Muggy mac?” The one to his right giggled.
He taught them how to measure out the water and pasta, cook it, and then add the milk and cheese to the top and toss it all together to cook some more. In a few minutes, he withdrew the steaming mugs from the microwave. “It needs to cool down, and then you can eat.”
“It’s got bubbles.”
“No, it’s just gas,” the second one said. They both laughed and slapped their hands on the counter.
Marcus chuckled.
It was nearly an hour later when Marcus sent the entire family away in his Range Rover Peg had selected for him only a few days ago. He stood at the backdoor and waved them off, promising he’d close up and get Stu’s spare key back to him the next day.
“Thanks, man, I owe you,” his friend called out the driver’s side window as they eased out into the ice-covered road.
“No, I think I owe you,” Marcus said, smiling from ear to ear.
He hummed as he put away the clean pots and pans, mugs tucked back in the cupboards, and stools where they belonged, and then shut off the lights.
It had started at the mention of the cooking demo. Something poked at him, needling him. Coming back here tonight, he knew what had been missing. It had shown him just how much he missed being hands-on.
Being at the top was nice, but it kept him too far removed from what he loved to do most: cook and spend time with the customers.
He didn’t dare admit to himself that he wished he could tell Francie, wished she could be a part of it all. No, that would mean his feelings ran deep. Too deep for him to admit.
She loved the fairy tale.
He wasn’t the marrying kind.
Chapter 14
Francine rushed into Charlie’s office. “Charlie, I got your message, but what are you doing here on a Saturday?” Her voice petered out when she spotted Marcus rising from one of the chairs in front of the big, oak desk. Looking from her stepsister to him, Francie pasted on a smile. She nodded. “Marcus.”
“Francine,” he said, sending a quiver down her spine. Even his voice made her weak.
“Come in,” Charlie insisted, waving a hand to the other seat next to Marcus’. “I’m glad you were both here today.”
“You want to discuss sales?” Francie avoided his stare as she walked the last few steps, feeling as if she walked the plank on a sinking ship.
Glimpsing at him under her lashes, she slipped into the chair. More casual than normal, he wore charcoal gray dress pants with a dove gray shirt, no suit jacket, no tie and his sleeves rolled up. She yanked her glance away from the gleaming gold watch circling his wrist.
He settled back into his seat. He was so close. If she just reached out, she could touch his knee. The memory of her kissing the long white scar there surged through her now. His heady scent drifted to her. She swallowed hard.
Silence stretched.
Charlie searched Francie’s face, stared at Marcus, and then returned her gaze to her stepsister. “Is there something I should know?”
Francie held her breath, but felt the heat crawl over her cheeks. What had she found out? “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” Her voice squeaked and she longed to slink out the door.
Marcus cut in, “Charlie, if it’s the ad, you know neither one of us were a party to it.”
“The ad, the visit at my house, the chummier than usual cooking demo, Stepmother’s public insinuation.” She tapped a finger against her lips. “Hmmm, let’s see, the whispers amongst the staff. Oh, did I mention that Maude from advertising thinks we should shine the spotlight on the two of you, say for an upcoming ad, just like the position she found you two in on the elevator?” She raised an eyebrow and pinned him with a sharp gaze.
Groaning, Francie caught herself from burying her face in her hands.
“Point taken. I’ll submit my formal resignation immediately,” he said calmly.
She jerked her head toward him. A muscle along his clenched jaw jumped. Turning to Charlie, she pleaded, “No, you can’t do that. Don’t listen to him.” Why was he being so noble?
“I’m the boss,” he pointed out. “I take full responsibility.” He admitted nothing, yet took the blame for everything.
“It’s me you should fire, Charlie. Not him. I’m expendable. I’ve had more than my share of infractions. Nor should you accept his resignation. For the good of the store, you can’t possibly entertain that idea.”
Francie refused to look at him; however, his stare burned into her. “Francie, you deserve to be here. You’ve earned the right.” His fierceness made her heart leap.
“Oh, Francie.” Charlie heaved out a breath and tossed the pen she held onto the desk. “Marcus, she’s right. I can’t afford to lose you. You are too valuable to King’s right now.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes like it normally did. “Unfortunately, finding a permanent replacement to head up King’s is proving more difficult than I thought. The headhunters are working night and day, but have only found a few unimpressive candidates. The search continues.” She eyed them both. “And so does my dilemma.”
“You can’t afford to lose Francie, either,” he said, nodding toward the papers on the desk. “The numbers don’t lie. The mystery wedding is a huge hit, drawing in more sales than we imagined. She’s the heart and soul of the wedding boutique.”
“Thank you,” Francie said huskily, not able to look his way. She lifted her chin a little higher. I can do this. “While I’m flattered at the praise, I believe the interest lies in the mystery wedding itself.” She sucked in a breath before she continued, “Charlie, I suggest we ease Rico out of the salon and into a more permanent position at the boutique. Evelyn is a gem; however, she needs some more fashion and perhaps design experience before she takes on any weddings on her own. But, I believe, since she’s a quick study, she’ll have no problem catching up. We’ve been able to borrow employees from other departments to fill in when we’re busy. I think they’re ready to come on board at the boutique.”
“It sounds all well and good…”
She held up a hand, halting her stepsister. “I think we take the focus off of me at the boutique and put it on me at the mystery wedding.”
“What?” Marcus asked, turning to her. He was whisper close, his thigh nearly grazing hers. “You hate the spotlight.”
Agreeing with his assessment, she cringed at the concept, hating the thought of drawing more public attention to herself. “I have an idea.”
He groaned. “Not another one.”
She chuckled at that. Looking at Charlie, she asked, “Do you remember Dolly’s old board game, My Mystery Date?”
Her stepsister frowned. “Yes, you loved that old, worn-out game.”
Her cheeks burned. She’d played it for hours, opening the door to reveal a different man each time for her mystery date. “Why not put a twist on the old game and use different male models for the possible mystery groom in our ads with me?”
“Are you going to have the customers vote on a groom, too?” Marcus’ sarcasm cut. Tension rolled off him.
“It’s an illusion,” she countered. “It gets them caught up in the ‘game’ and,” she swallowed hard, “off their misconception about Marcus and myself. Also, it calms the employees’ growing concerns about a relationship between…us.”
“You want to do this?” he demanded.
“No,” she said in all honesty, “but the customers are invested in our family. They long for a happy ending for another King daughter. Right now, I’m all they have.”
Marcus cursed under his breath. “And tell me what happens if you can’t deliver, Francie?”
Her heart sank; she hadn’t thought that far ahead. She could have her dream wedding, with King’s footing the bill; however, there was no one else she wanted standing beside her but him. And he didn’t want any part of her or her wedding, perfect or otherwise.
***
Francine smiled weakly as the florist rambled on. Even with the sun shining into the little alcove at his shop, she felt chilled.
Waking Sleeping Beauty (Book 2, Once Upon A Romance Series) Page 11