Falling For Her Boss

by Karen Rose Smith

  When he pressed his lower body against hers, his powerful arousal astonished her. Was it possible he wanted her that much? Or would he need any woman that much? When Brent had been making love to her, he'd been thinking about someone else. What was Noah thinking about? Was this pure physical need, or did he feel more?

  The questions floated away as Noah's kiss created a hurricane of sensations and emotions in her mind, in her body, in her heart. Kissing Noah was as exhilarating as flying through the air, as satisfying as landing a double axel, as dangerous as the death spiral, as dizzying as a prolonged spin. It drew from her all her energy; it gave her excitement and pleasure and a keening need only Noah could fill. It was confusing and thrilling, and she wanted it to go on forever.

  She also knew it wouldn't. She knew Noah was going to break away. Even as the thought came, he loosened his hold, slowed down the kiss until his lips only whispered against hers, then put a few inches between them—though he still held her. She opened her eyes to study his face, to see if she could find out what he was thinking and feeling. No such luck.

  Tenderly, he kissed her forehead, then dropped his arms. "Was that a going-away gesture?" Her voice was as shaky as she felt.

  "No, I've wanted to do that from the moment you opened your door. I thought once I kissed you, I could forget about it. I was wrong."

  His thoughts mirrored her own. But said aloud, she wondered why they'd both been so foolish as to think this attraction would go away with a kiss.

  Noah's next words confirmed it. "Now that I've kissed you once, I want to do it again."

  "Noah..."

  He put his finger over her lips. "Let's not rehash it, okay? I want to wish you luck." He dropped his hand and took a step back. "When you're in New York, think about your happiness, not what Brent wants, not what your family wants. Decide what you want."

  Without another kiss, without another touch, Noah left her standing in the yard. Her knees still felt weak from the kiss. She collapsed on the swing and wondered how Noah could walk away so easily. Maybe he'd had plenty of practice. The thought did nothing to ease her troubled mind.

  ****

  Francie veritably flew across the ice, skimming the surface, still getting the feel of the rink and her patch. It was 2:30 A.M., but the rink was filled with skaters who took ice time whenever they could get it. Brent wanted to try a lift next. After a few days of practice and training at a gym, she felt she was ready.

  Brent joined her on the ice. He smiled, and she could remember a time when that smile had turned her inside out. Not anymore. Now Noah's kiss haunted her every moment, even when she was skating. She knew she was in trouble. Nothing usually interfered with her focus when she was skating.

  "Should we try it?" Brent asked.

  She brought herself to full concentration and told herself she was ready. A simple lift. That's all it would be. Nothing complicated. Nothing risky.

  Brent put his arms around her. They pushed off and glided, picking up speed. Brent lifted her, held her with both hands. For a moment she felt stark fear. What if he dropped her again? What if...? She didn't have time to finish the thought. He lowered her, balanced her with both hands, and set her on the ice.

  Brent punched his fist into the air as they came to a stop. "All right! That was perfect, Francie. When my coach sees us tomorrow, he'll know we can win the gold."

  "That was one lift, Brent, an easy one at that. We'd have a long way to go."

  "But it's a start. We belong together again. Can't you see it?"

  Francie wasn't so sure. The simple lift had created a dangerous anxiety in her. If she couldn't get rid of it, she couldn't focus.

  At 5:30 A.M., she returned to the rooming house where Brent stayed, stretched her muscles, and showered. But there was no way she could go to bed. She was too tense, too wired. The practices, Brent, the decisions she had to make clicked through her mind. She took her cell phone from her duffel. Would Noah still be in Gettysburg? Or on the road? Or maybe back in Richmond? She hoped Noah was an early riser no matter where he was.

  He answered, his voice morning-rough, leading her to think of rumpled sheets and his bare chest. "Noah, it's Francie."

  If he was surprised, she couldn't tell. "How's it going?"

  "I'm not sure."

  "Francie, what's wrong?"

  Even three hundred miles away, he could read her like a book. "I need some perspective. I thought talking to you might give it to me. I'm sorry if I got you up– Are you still in Gettysburg?"

  "I am. And you didn't get me up. What's bothering you?"

  To tell him that, she'd have to go into the whole story of what had happened between her and Brent. She didn't want to do that over the phone. "I'm not sure."

  "Do you need moral support? Is that why you called?"

  "Not exactly."

  "Francie, if you don't talk to me, I can't help you."

  "I shouldn't have called." Impulses always got her into trouble.

  "But you did. Do you want me to drive up? I can rent a car, leave it in New York, and drive back with you."

  Tears pricked in her eyes. "You'd do that?"

  "If it will help. Will it?"

  She remembered his lips on hers, the excitement but also the safety of being held in his arms. "I think it would."

  "Are you really ready to come home?"

  She was. "Brent and I are meeting with his coach this afternoon, then we have practice again tonight. The hockey team's out of town, so we don't have to practice in the middle of the night. But after that..."

  "Have you been up all night?"

  "Yes, but I'll sleep now and be ready for this afternoon."

  "So if I drive up today and stay over, you'll be ready to come home tomorrow?"

  "Yes."

  "Are you staying at McIntosh's apartment?"

  She noted the gruffness in his tone. Is that what he'd been thinking all week? That she and Brent were sharing accommodations? "Brent doesn't have an apartment. He's staying in a rooming house. One of the rooms here was vacant, so I've been staying here, too."

  "Can you make me a reservation for someplace nearby?"

  "Sure."

  "Will you need directions?"

  "No. My car has a navigation system"

  "Thank you, Noah. I appreciate this more than you know."

  "I'm used to traveling. Remember? It's my life."

  After a final thank-you and good-bye, Francie sat on the edge of the bed and felt like smiling for the first time since she'd arrived in New York. She crawled between the sheets and turned off the light. When she closed her eyes, she saw Noah's face and she smiled again.

  ****

  "But you don't have to leave tomorrow," Brent insisted as he stood at the door to Francie's room later that evening.

  "I have to get back to the rink." She felt as if she'd been away for years, out of touch with the real world. And she missed Noah more than she ever thought she would.

  Brent propped his hand on the doorjamb above her head. "Do you believe what the coach said? That we belong together?"

  "Those weren't his exact words. He said we skate well together and we have a chance at the Olympics."

  "Same thing."

  "No, it isn't, Brent. I don't know if I want to disrupt my life again."

  He leaned closer. "Not even for me? For us?"

  She felt closed in, and she snapped, "There is no 'us.' You took care of that."

  He took his hand from the door frame and leaned away. "Look, Francie. I never said I was sorry, but I am. I made a mistake. Haven't you made mistakes you regret?"

  Even now, she wasn't sure of Brent's sincerity. She wasn't sure she could trust him, definitely not personally, maybe not professionally. "Yes, I've made mistakes. If I skate with you again, we'd be involved in a professional relationship only."

  He took her hand. "You know as well as I do that we were so good on the ice because we were good off the ice."

  Part of her knew Brent was right
. And that was another reason why she had doubts. She didn't love Brent anymore. In fact, during the past few days, she'd learned she didn't even like him. She'd been young, immature, impressed by his good looks, his talent...

  Francie heard footfalls on the steps. She pulled her hand away from Brent's, but not before she saw Noah and he saw her. She couldn't help staring. She'd wondered what Noah would look like in jeans. Now she knew.

  The well-washed denim fit snugly, hinting at the hardness of his thighs. She knew just how hard they were because she'd felt their strength when Noah had kissed her. His lean waist and narrow hips emphasized the breadth of his shoulders in the pale blue turtleneck. Her heartbeat quickened. She wanted to explain why Brent had taken her hand and that the gesture meant nothing. It was simply a persuasive tactic to sway her in the direction he wanted her to go.

  Noah's gaze swept over her and Brent standing close together.

  "We were just on our way to the rink," she explained with a tentative smile. She was glad she'd called Noah, but now that he was here, she didn't know what to say to him.

  "What are you doing here?" Brent asked almost belligerently.

  "Francie called me. I'm going to drive home with her tomorrow."

  Brent's face was a study of frustration as he dismissed Noah and said to Francie, "But I thought after practice we could go out somewhere together, catch up on what's been happening. Make some decisions."

  "We've had all week for catching up, Brent. And I'm not ready to make a decision."

  Brent again glanced at Noah. "I suppose you're going to ride with him to the rink?"

  Francie recognized that spoiled-little-boy tone. But before she could answer, Noah offered, "We can all drive over together."

  Brent hesitated a moment. "I have a few calls to make before I go. You two go on. I'll be there shortly."

  After Brent started down the hall to his room, Noah turned to Francie. She was dressed in pink tights and white leg warmers. Her skirt and sweater were a pink and white floral pattern. He seemed to take it all in in one swift scorching appraisal.

  Francie shifted her duffel bag from her right hand to her left. "If you'd rather not go to the rink, you could relax in my room."

  "I'd rather go along and watch you if that doesn't make you uncomfortable."

  She closed her door and locked it. "I don't mind. Just don't expect perfection. A week of practice doesn't begin to replace my time away from the ice."

  "I don't have any expectations," he said, taking her duffel bag from her.

  The gentlemanly gesture took her by surprise and she let go of the handle automatically. When he waited for her at the steps, then opened the door of his rental car for her and closed it after she was settled in, she realized his manners and chivalry felt good. It made her feel special.

  But the feeling evaporated as he closed his car door, made no motion to put the key in the ignition, and stared straight ahead. "If you want to go out with McIntosh after practice, I can go back to the motel." Turning to her, in the same controlled voice but with turbulent eyes, he asked, "Isn't that what you'd rather do?"

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  "I don't want to go out with Brent," Francie answered without hesitating, wondering how Noah could possibly think she wanted to be with Brent after she'd called him.

  Noah's suddenly questioning gaze seemed to surround her, engulf her, until she knew exactly what she wanted. "I'd rather spend the time with you." Realizing how that sounded, she hastily added, "I mean, you were right. I need to sort this out with someone objective."

  He gave her a slow, lazy smile that hurried her heartbeat. And then he did what she most wanted. He touched her. As his hand stroked her cheek, she held her breath.

  "I'm becoming less and less objective," he murmured. He dropped his hand, didn't explain his remark, and with a last long look, turned the key in the ignition.

  ****

  Despite Francie's leave of absence from the ice, Noah thought she looked fantastic on it. She and McIntosh were good together. But something was missing. Something Noah had seen when he watched her on the DVD. He didn't have a trained eye for figure skating, but he bet the difference had to do with Francie's personal relationship with McIntosh. Could they reclaim the magic? Did Francie want to?

  As Noah watched from the bench, Francie's expression changed. Before, her face had manifested concentration. Now she looked tense...anxious.

  McIntosh's hands tightened around her waist. He lifted her above him. Despite himself, Noah tensed.

  On the DVD, Francie's face had shown exuberance and joy in the soaring position above her partner. Here, her mouth was straight and tight. She didn't want to be high above McIntosh. When she was back on the ice, Noah saw only relief, not triumph. Once again he wondered why she'd quit figure skating and what had happened between her and McIntosh.

  He also thought about the men who had come to look at the Gettysburg rink. They wanted the property, not the rink. Should he tell Francie? Should he prepare her? Would it affect what she decided about skating with McIntosh again?

  Nothing was certain. No contract had been offered. Why give her something else to worry about? Noble, Gordon. You have your own reason for not wanting her to be angry at you.

  Did he?

  When the practice was over, Francie looked relieved and McIntosh looked expectant. But after a few words from Francie, he shrugged, skated to the bench, exchanged his skates for sneakers, and left.

  Francie skimmed the ice for a few more minutes. When she saw Brent had gone, she came over to the bench and asked Noah, "Are you bored?"

  He could never be bored watching Francie, on or off the ice. "No. How about you? How does it feel to be skating again?"

  She sat on the bench and ducked her head as she unlaced her skates. "I've been on the ice since I quit. Once in awhile I go to the rink in Hershey and practice for old times' sake. Or else I skate on my uncle's pond. But being back in a training situation again feels strange."

  "You've missed it?"

  She left her sneakers untied, sat up, and looked at him. "Like an adult misses the joy he had riding a carousel or eating cotton candy for the first time."

  Noah suspected she'd been trying to catch that feeling the night before she left. "Or swinging?"

  She gave a small shrug and her ponytail bobbed. "Or swinging. As much as I want to enjoy it as an adult, it will never be the same as when I was a child."

  He wanted to ask that single question that would open a door between them. It would let him into her life. If she answered the "why," she'd be confiding in him. Did he want to get closer? Why else had he made this trip?

  Still, he didn't ask. If Francie wanted to confide in him, she'd have to do it in her own time.

  As Francie stuffed her belongings into her bag, her stomach growled. She smiled sheepishly. "I don't eat before I practice."

  "Supper was a long time back. Where can we go?"

  Francie gave Noah directions to a restaurant she'd frequented. After they ordered, an awkward silence fell across the table as Francie unfolded her napkin on her lap, took a sip of water, and straightened her knife before meeting his gaze. "I suppose you're wondering why I left figure skating."

  His heart tripped. "Don't feel you have to tell me anything just because I'm here," he said. Francie owed him nothing; he didn't want her thinking otherwise.

  "It might help me to tell you about it."

  "Then I'm listening."

  Francie wrapped her hand around her coffee mug and took a sip. Setting it down, she hesitated a moment before beginning. "Brent and I placed fifth in the Olympics. I was ecstatic. He wasn't. He wanted a medal. That drove him. The year after that, we came in fourth at the Nationals instead of first or second. And then we came in tenth at the Worlds. I think we were both trying too hard. We made stupid mistakes. Brent was disappointed, to say the least. Everything changed between us."

  "In what way?"

  "Before we qualified for the Olympics, our tim
e on the ice was special, something I thought brought us together. But Brent became a slave driver. Nothing we did was good enough. We were practicing more, definitely enjoying it less. When I questioned him, he said he wanted to win a gold medal. Nothing else was bothering him."

  The clarity of her brown eyes and the set of her small chin told Noah what she hadn't. "You knew better?"

  She nodded. "I knew better and denied it. Suddenly our ice time coincided with Bridgit Jones time."

  Noah suspected what direction this was headed but sensed that Francie needed to say it.

  "Brent and I spent less time together off the ice. The time on the ice was tense."

  "Not an atmosphere conducive to champion skating."

  "Exactly. We argued with each other. We argued with the coach. I was miserable and didn't know what to do. I felt isolated, alone, far away from everyone who cared about me. So when Mama called to plead with me to come home for Christmas, I thought the time away would do everyone good."

  "I take it McIntosh didn't want you to leave?"

  "The opposite. He encouraged me to go. That should have been one very large red flag."

  Noah reached across the table and covered her hand with his. "What happened?"

  "When I got back, I found Brent had been practicing with Bridgit. Another skater told me they'd been spending quite a bit of off-ice time together, too. Before practice, I confronted Brent about it. He wouldn't deny it or confirm it."

  Noah's hand tightened around hers.

  "He was distracted during practice. I knew it and I should have called a halt. But I was hoping it was my imagination, that everything would be all right." She shook her head. "Denial at its finest."

  "When we want to believe in someone, it's hard to let go of that faith."

  Francie's eyes widened as if she was surprised he would understand. "I had always trusted Brent. I didn't know how not to trust. But I should have realized how unfocused he was that day. We did a complicated twist-lift and I fell."

  "He didn't catch you."

  "It was a slip of the hand..."