Falling For Her Boss

by Karen Rose Smith

  He waited to hear it.

  But he never had the chance. Brent stood at the entrance to the rink, motioning to Francie. She saw Brent and looked up at Noah.

  "Your mother told me he called. I didn't know when he'd get here, if he'd get here."

  She smiled. "Protecting me again?"

  "It's becoming a habit."

  Francie batted his balloon. "Hold on to this. I won't be long." As she skated over to the entrance, Noah held on to the balloon and watched it bob toward the ceiling.

  Francie took a deep breath and rolled toward Brent. As she came to a stop next to him, she didn't beat around the bush. "You came for my decision."

  "I need to know, Francie. We need to know so we can get back into training together."

  She took a long look at Noah standing in the rink, at her family, her friends and neighbors smiling and enjoying themselves. She let the happiness of being here fill her heart. Then she led Brent to the office, leaving the door open.

  He glanced at it, but then turned all his attention toward Francie. His gaze swept from her roller skates to her face. "Well?"

  She had to ask him something she should have asked before. "Tell me something first, Brent. Why do you want to change partners again?"

  He shifted impatiently and jammed one hand into the pocket of his corduroy slacks. "Because Bridgit and I aren't cutting it."

  "Hard work, the intensive training you intended to have with me..."

  "I want you back, Francie."

  "And what will Bridgit do?"

  He erupted then, letting the volatility she knew so well burst loose. "I don't care what Bridgit does. I care about you."

  Therein lay the deciding factor for Francie. Brent didn't care about Bridgit and he didn't care about her. He cared about himself. So different from Noah. "I'm not going back to figure skating."

  Brent stepped closer to her, his face drawn. "Why not? What can I say to change your mind?"

  "There's nothing you can say. I want a life. I don't want to train from morning to night, so exhausted when I fall into bed I won't even dream. And that's what we'd have to do to get ready, starting tomorrow if it's not too late already. We can't pick up where we left off, and you know it. Besides, I don't trust you, Brent."

  "Because I dropped you?"

  "Because you don't care about my welfare. You care about winning a medal. Period."

  Brent jerked his head toward the rink. "It's him, isn't it? I watched you skate together. I watched you in New York. He's the reason you won't come back."

  "It's more than that. The yearning's not there, Brent. Or the love I once had for the sport. I don't want to be on the ice more than any place else on earth. Noah's part of the reason, but not the way you mean. He's--"

  "Don't give me that. I saw him kissing you, and I think you just need to be reminded how I kiss."

  Before she could turn her head, step out of the way, or even protest, Brent had taken hold of her tightly and covered her mouth with his. Everything inside her recoiled. She pushed against his chest and thought she'd pushed him away. When she rolled backward on her skates and realized she was free, she saw the reason why.

  Noah had Brent by the front of his sweater, pushed back against the wall. Both men were tall and fit, but Noah had the element of surprise on his side and a fierce anger inscribed into every line on his face, evident in every muscle of his body.

  His nose almost met Brent's. "You ever touch her again without her permission and you'll be off the ice for a long time. Do you understand?"

  Brent nodded and Noah slowly released him and stepped back.

  Brent straightened his shirt and sweater, smoothing out Noah's handhold in the center. He directed his words to Francie. "Since we can't seem to have a private conversation here, maybe we should go somewhere else."

  "We're finished speaking, Brent. We're finished with everything. Go back to Bridgit, do the intensive training with her, and win your medal. Maybe then you'll have what you want."

  "You're making a mistake."

  "I don't think so. Good luck, Brent."

  It was a firm dismissal and each of them knew it. A dark flush crept up Brent's face. With a last piercing look at Francie and then Noah, he left.

  "Are you all right?" Noah asked curtly. His gaze was sharp like the deepest green emeralds, reflecting the light but giving her no inkling as to what was going on inside the man.

  "He was trying to prove a point, Noah, not hurt me," she explained softly.

  "What point was that?"

  "That I still had feelings for him, rather than you. Mistakenly, he thought the skill of a kiss could determine how I feel."

  "It can't?" Noah's voice was even and controlled.

  He was hiding behind that cautious face again, the one that revealed little emotion. It was time she was as honest with him as she was with herself. "No, it can't. I love your kisses because I love you."

  Noah stared at her, the caution forgotten, his face a study in complete shock.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  "Say something," Francie said softly.

  Noah raked his hand through his hair. "You can't mean that. You're confusing--"

  "I'm not confused, Noah. I love you."

  "Francie..."

  Veronica rushed into the office. "The deejay wants you at the mike, Francie. He said he's ready for you to broadcast upcoming events."

  The last thing Francie wanted was to leave the office before she and Noah could talk, before she could find out what he felt. But tonight, with the crowd in the rink and Veronica at the door, business had to take precedence.

  Noah didn't try to detain her, and Francie reluctantly left him and went through the motions during the rest of the evening. She talked to customers, made announcements over the public address system, delivered balloons, and felt Noah's gaze on her wherever she moved. It was like waiting for a volcano to blow. She kept telling herself the worst that could happen would be that Noah felt nothing, would go back to Richmond, and she'd never see him again. Unless she stayed on as manager. But she was making one decision at a time.

  An hour later, she'd said good-bye to her customers, her family, and most of her employees. She exchanged her skates for sneakers and took the few remaining balloons from the lounge to the supply room, letting them bob up in a corner. Thinking she smelled something unusual, she was about to investigate when Noah walked in. There was an intensity in his eyes that made her heart race.

  She stepped away from the corner of the room--toward Noah.

  "Veronica just left. I told her we could take care of the rest of the decorations in the morning," he said, his voice gruffly sexy.

  Francie's throat went dry as Noah came closer. "Is everyone else gone?"

  "Yes."

  "Noah, I changed my mind. You don't have to say anything. I didn't mean to put you on the spot. My feelings, well, are mine and yours are yours and private so..." She was rambling and not making much sense.

  "Francie."

  Her name said with such tenderness almost undid her.

  Noah held her at her waist, never taking his gaze from hers. "I don't know what I feel. I've never met a woman like you before. And I've never let anyone get as close. Maybe I don't even know what love is. I see you with your family and I know I've never experienced what you have. But I want you, Francie. I want you so much my hands tremble when I touch you. And when I kiss you, it seems nothing will ever be the same again. When you're around I feel as if I've been touched by spring and everything's new." His gaze was potent, filled with desire and need.

  "I love you, Noah. I've never loved anyone like this. I don't think I've ever loved before, if this is how it feels. If we can't have tomorrow, I want today."

  He covered her lips with his fingers. "Then no more words, Francie. I want to touch you and hold you and call you mine."

  When Noah's hands went to her banner, she realized he meant right here, right now. Could she satisfy him? Could she give him what he needed? Hi
s palm brushed her breast, and the desperate desire that had been building since the moment they met exploded inside her and she didn't care where they made love, just so they made love. His hands shook as he slipped off her banner, and Francie knew he was trying to control his desire.

  The banner fell to the floor. Noah reached behind her and ran the leotard's zipper down its track. Her body quivered from the slight touch of his fingers on her bare skin. She would satisfy him, she would give him what he needed--her love. Her gaze met Noah's and she reached out, taking hold of the band of his sweater to pull it over his head.

  He smiled and looked pleased, so she yanked out his shirt. "No undershirt," she murmured as she hurriedly unfastened the buttons. Made bold by his smile and the love surging through her, she bent and kissed one of his nipples.

  He took a breath and his voice was a husky rasp as he said, "I get too hot with an undershirt."

  She smiled against his skin. "You're hot now."

  He ran his hands around her breasts. "So are you."

  Emotion and feeling took over. Both washed over Francie as she looked up at Noah, the man she loved, and let passion guide her. As he kissed her again, her hands curled around his upper arms and dug into the muscles. His scorching tongue weakened her knees. His lips made her hotter, made steam gather around their bodies as their clothes littered the floor.

  When the kiss stopped, she gasped for air. But the gasp became a moan as Noah's open mouth teased her neck. Hanging on to him, she tilted her head. He took advantage of the movement and explored further, nibbling his way to her shoulder. Her knees buckled and he took them down to the floor.

  It was wood and hard, but she barely noticed. Noah tongued her earlobe, moved lower to fasten his lips to her breast, and sent such a wave of longing through her that only Noah and their passion mattered.

  Somehow, she unbuckled his belt. Somehow, he kicked off his jeans.

  Somehow, he stripped off her tights. Somehow, she pushed off his briefs.

  When he reached for his slacks, he pulled a condom from his pocket. After he slid it on, he lifted her on top of him so that she gazed into his eyes. Then he held her hips. "Come to me."

  She bent forward until her nipples brushed his chest hair. Moaning, she dipped lower. His large hands moved to her waist as he brought her head down for a feverish, tongue-thrusting kiss. She needed more than the kiss. She needed him. She squeezed her eyes closed and dug her nails into his arms to prolong the tension coiling tighter inside her.

  But she couldn't prolong her body's rush to ache for union, to burn for completion. Lifting her hips, she found him, and he murmured her name. Opening her eyes, she watched pleasure overtake him. His green gaze darkened, his nostrils flared, the pulse on his jaw worked. Taking hold of her waist, he held her still. She could feel each flutter of her heart, each pulse of his blood. He was powerfully male, full, hard. His arms were strong, and the muscles stood out against the brushing of brown hair. And his eyes...they held her entranced.

  "Lean forward. Slowly," he said as his hands held her steady.

  When she did, he pressed deeper, filling all of her, stretching the limits of what passion could be. Arousal--sweet and tumultuous and exquisite--spun as he thrust slowly, giving her a taste, tormenting her.

  "More," she whispered, almost afraid to say it out loud.

  Again he thrust, captivating her with the slick drive, searching for her center.

  This time she didn't whisper. "More," she repeated with a yearning she'd never known.

  She felt increased pressure, then as his hold on her tightened, he matched each stroke with the rocking of her hips. Her heart skipped beats, she succumbed to the whirling pleasure, her love for Noah poured out until all she wanted was to show him not only that she loved him, but how deep that love ran. Deep. Deeper. She engulfed him in the deepest corner of her heart and soul until he was part of her forever.

  Then she held him and cried as tears of joy ran down her cheeks, and swirl after swirl of ecstasy had her sobbing his name.

  Noah traced the path of Francie's tears with his gaze, memorized her face as she threw back her head and let passion take her in its throes. He'd never seen her look more beautiful, and her tears grabbed hold of his heart.

  He wanted to give her more. He wanted to give her his breath, his life. He thrust deep into her, needing her at this moment as he'd never needed anyone. His throat knotted, and as his life force surged into her, he heard Francie's murmured "I love you." It shook him as it had the first time. It humbled him. It made him long for her to say it again so he could be sure he'd heard it.

  A few minutes later, Noah pushed his jeans under his head and threw his shirt over Francie as she lay balanced on his chest and legs. When she tried to slip to the side to take her weight from him, he held her tighter. "Stay put," he said gruffly. "I don't want you on the floor."

  "You're on the floor."

  He stroked her back with long, caressing passes and remained silent, though his thoughts ran rampant. One emotion collided against another. Need fought against logic, logic fought against everything he felt for Francie.

  "You're still going to leave next week, aren't you?" she asked softly.

  His rational mind, his business, his confusion made him say, "Tonight doesn't change that."

  "What does it change?" she pressed.

  He didn't know for sure. But one thing he was sure of--he wanted Francie in his arms. He needed her tenderness, her gentleness, her smile. "Come back to the apartment with me and spend the night."

  "I can't."

  He tried not to react. If she didn't want to be with him...

  Francie kissed the line of his jaw. "I mean I can't stay the night. But I can stay for a while."

  The pressure in his chest eased and he realized why she couldn't stay. "Your parents?"

  She nodded.

  He kissed her temple. "Are you sure you want to come up now? It could get late."

  Brushing her cheek against his shoulder, she said, "I want to be with you, Noah, for as long as I can."

  ****

  At 3 A.M. Francie let herself into her parents' house. Angela was sitting in the living room drinking a cup of tea.

  Francie took off her coat, squared her shoulders, and joined her. "You're up late."

  "I couldn't sleep. I saw Brent leave the rink. He didn't look happy."

  "Mama, I told him I'm not going back."

  Angela examined Francie's love-flushed cheeks, her well-kissed lips. "What are you going to do?"

  "For now, manage the rink. Noah's promised to sell only to someone who wants to keep it. This summer I'll start courses and see how it goes."

  "For teaching? Noah told me," she added.

  "Yes."

  "And Noah? Is this what you want? Sneaking around with him?"

  Francie didn't break the accusing silence for a moment. "I'm not sneaking, Mama. I didn't think you and Pop would appreciate me spending the night with him. You care what the neighbors think."

  Angela's brows arched. "And you don't, Francesca?"

  "I love Noah. I'm not ashamed of that."

  Angela shook her head. "You've made all these decisions without consulting us."

  "Mama, I'm twenty-five years old. You have to stop thinking of me as a child. While I was away, I grew up."

  Her mother's answer to that was a definite, "Noah Gordon could break your heart."

  Francie felt her breath catch when she thought about Noah leaving. "I know. But I accept him the way he is. Isn't that what love's all about?"

  Angela gave her daughter a long, poignant look, then patted her knee. "You have grown up."

  ****

  Wielding the spoon as if the faster she stirred, the more she'd get accomplished, Francie mixed mayo into the chunks of chicken.

  Noah opened bags of sandwich rolls on the counter so they could be filled as soon as Francie finished making the chicken salad. They'd driven over to her uncle Dom's house early this morning to
help the family prepare for the party. Angela and Paul thought they were coming to Dom's for dinner. Thirty relatives and friends would surprise them instead.

  Noah couldn't believe the feelings that had barraged him the last few days, the explosion every time he and Francie made love. Most of all, he couldn't believe he'd taken her on the supply room floor! Valentine's Day had sideswiped him—finding out Francie wasn't going back to figure skating, watching her in her Cupid outfit, seeing McIntosh's lips on hers, and finally Francie telling him she loved him.

  Noah still wondered about that. But she murmured it every time they made love. Couldn't she be confusing chemistry with feelings? How could she love him when she knew he wasn't staying? Could love be that unconditional?

  It seemed it could in the Piccard family. Although Angela had wanted Francie to go back to skating, she'd accepted Francie's decision. But Noah got the feeling Angela didn't accept him. Because she knew how Francie felt and didn't approve of him? Or because she knew he was leaving?

  Leaving.

  As Francie washed and dried her hands, the thought of going back to Richmond and not seeing her for months seemed impossible.

  He came up behind her at the sink and circled her with his arms. "What else do we have to do?" Pushing her hair aside with his chin, he nibbled her earlobe.

  "As soon as we make...uh...the sandwiches and put them in the downstairs...refrigerator, everything's...ready. Noah, I can't think when you do that."

  He whispered against her neck. "What's there to think about?" Pressing against her, he knew she could feel his arousal.

  She rubbed her head against his shoulder. "The next shift is coming in a few minutes. Vince said he'd be here at-- Noah!"

  Her breasts fit his hands so perfectly. "Let's go back to the apartment."

  They'd spent as much time alone there as they could since they'd made love on Thursday. It wasn't the sex that made him want to be with her, though that was more wonderful than he ever imagined it could be. Rather, he wanted to simply be with her, spend every moment he could with her, and that led to their physical need for each other. Out of deference to her parents, Francie made sure she was always in her own room by 1 A.M. Noah respected Angela and Paul, but he hated to see her leave his bed. He hated the emptiness that she left behind.