Because of Francie Read online

  "Why?"

  He met her whispered question with certainty. "Because I'm not the type of man you need, if you need one at all right now. I don't stay in one place long enough to get attached. You want attachment. You've always had it with your family. I've never had it and I avoid it. You have decisions to make about your future that have nothing to do with me."

  He could see it all register with her. He could see her accept each of his statements as truth. But he also saw a flicker of hope that was pure Francie. And that was what urged him to bend his head and seek her lips. He nibbled gently, his conscious mind taunting him, asking why he was torturing himself with something he couldn't have.

  He wanted just a little of what Francie could give.

  Her hands uncurled and he felt the heat of her fingers through his sweater. Each one was slender, and the touch of her fingertips playing on his chest changed the gentle nibbles to a heated tongue-kiss no one could interrupt.

  Francie could feel the taut strength of Noah's muscles through his sweater. She could also feel the teasing tips of hair that told her he wore no T-shirt underneath. She splayed her fingers wide and dug her fingers into the sweater. He groaned, and she did it again.

  Noah might not have known attachment, he might not seek it, but that didn't mean he didn't want it or need it. He was a contradiction. Gentle yet hard, removed yet caring. Maybe his hard, removed side was his defense.

  If he didn't want to get involved, then why was he kissing her like this? Was purely physical pleasure enough for him? It would never be enough for her. Yet she was so lost when he touched her, when he kissed her...

  Noah abruptly ended the kiss and backed away from her hands. His eyes were glazed with unfulfilled desire and his breaths were harsh and quick.

  She pulled in a few deep breaths, then shook her head as she looked up and saw he was again composed and in control. "You confuse me, Noah. And you're right. I don't need any more confusion right now. You do what you have to do. I'll get on with my life."

  Emotion she couldn't decipher flickered in his eyes and made the pulse along his jawline jump rapidly. "Does that mean you're going back to McIntosh?"

  "You mean skating."

  "They're one and the same," Noah said grimly.

  "No, they're not. And that's the problem. I need more information before I make a decision. Instead of sitting still and waiting for something to happen, I'm going to make things happen." Picking up a foot-high stack of napkins, she headed for the snack bar. She knew exactly what she was going to do first.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Francie sat in the student union building on the Shippensburg University campus. She'd stopped in to see a friend of her mother's who taught some of the required courses for early education students. Last night she'd googled requirements online. If she attended college full-time, if she took the maximum number of credits, including summer sessions, she could have her diploma in three years. She sighed. Without a job, did she have enough to live on for three years? She thought about the inheritance her grandmother had left her so she could pursue her career. Her parents could have used that money to buy a larger house. Her brothers could have worked less and studied more to get through college.

  The inheritance was almost gone now. If, by some miracle, Noah didn't sell to developers and she could work and go to college part-time, did she have the stamina to do both for seven or eight years? She could just use up her savings outright. But that didn't seem like a wise decision. As a teacher, she would have a career for life. It didn't depend on her physical ability, her lack of injuries, or her youth. She could spend her days with children, something she loved to do.

  Her last conversation with Brent the night before she left New York played loud and clear in her mind.

  Brent had challenged her. "What else do you know, Francie? Skating has been your life. Get back on the ice with me for intensive training and I have no doubt we'll be going to the next Olympics."

  She'd picked up on his word of choice. "And what if you do have doubts again? What if we flub a competition? What if practices go sour? You bailed out last time, Brent. How do I know you won't do it again?"

  He'd looked uncomfortable but replied, "You'll have to take my word for it. Just as you'll have to trust me to lift you and throw you and catch you."

  Last night, Francie had awakened in the middle of a dream where she was standing before an applauding crowd. If she trained with Brent again, if they went to the next Olympics, if they won a medal and even if they didn't, was the next step to turn professional? Did she want a life of traveling and touring?

  Or was it time to put down roots?

  Noah didn't have roots. Did he wake up in the dead of night wondering which city he was in? That had happened to her often. The only constants had been her skates and her training schedule. And Brent.

  Checking her watch, she gathered up her purse. She'd stayed away from Noah yesterday after they returned from New York. This morning she'd started her campaign to get things moving. She wasn't finished with Noah Gordon. He was still in Gettysburg. She could still convince him not to sell the rink. But she needed some information first.

  Taking out her phone, she jabbed in the number she'd found this morning online. A Richmond exchange. When Craig answered, her heart beat faster. She wanted straight answers. What if Craig wouldn't give them?

  "Craig. It's Francie Piccard. Remember me? From the rink in Gettysburg?"

  There was a moment's silence then, "Sure, Francie. How are you?"

  "Fine. I, ah, Noah Gordon is in town."

  Craig went silent for a moment. "You must hate me."

  "Hate you? I don't understand."

  He paused. "Exactly why did you call?"

  "Because I want to convince Noah not to sell the rink. And I thought you might have an idea how I can do that."

  "Francie, it's because of me he has to sell the rink. He didn't tell you that?"

  Astonished by the news, she tried to absorb it. Finally, she said, "No. He said he needed the cash flow for the other rinks. Craig, what happened? You and I worked together to pull the rink out of the red--"

  "You worked, Francie. I went along for the ride."

  She didn't know what to say to that, either. There was something in Craig's voice now she'd never heard before. Regret? Sadness? "Are you okay? Noah said you were."

  "Thanks to Noah, I'm putting my life back together."

  "Maybe I shouldn't have called you. I didn't mean to pry. I just thought you might have some ideas to convince Noah--"

  "What do you think of him?"

  "He's...a fine man."

  "Francie?"

  "I, uh, sometimes, he's hard to read."

  "So you really don't know what happened."

  She sighed. "Noah won't discuss you."

  "Noah saved my life."

  Craig's statement stopped the air in her throat.

  Before she could ask any questions, he went on. "Being out of town so much destroyed my family life. I worked harder and harder to give more to my wife and kids, to make up for all the time I wasn't there. My wife didn't want the money...she wanted me. But I couldn't see that. The longer I was gone, the guiltier I felt, the more money I spent."

  "Craig, you don't have to tell me this."

  "I know, but talking about it helps me keep things in perspective."

  "All right."

  "I started gambling, and when I couldn't pay my debts, I started drinking. I embezzled money from our company."

  She let out a small gasp.

  "Yeah. That was pretty low considering my friendship with Noah. But I couldn't see another way out. I had loan sharks at my door."

  "Oh, Craig."

  "My wife left with the kids, and Noah and our accountant caught the problem with our books. I was at the bottom of a pit." He paused. "But Noah didn't leave me there. He should have, but he didn't. He put me into a rehab facility. Then he bought me out and helped me get on my feet again."

&nbs
p; Noah must have felt such a sense of betrayal. No wonder he didn't want another partner. Yet he surely understood the meaning of friendship and loyalty. "You're okay now?"

  "I'm working on it. I have a good job. I'm working on getting my wife and kids back. But I owe it all to Noah."

  Her feelings for Noah seemed to expand and overtake her heart. She relished the sensation, then asked the question she needed to ask. "Does Noah have to sell the Gettysburg rink?"

  "That's a tough question. Our company...Noah's company is financially solvent despite what I did, despite his buying me out. But he's at his limit. Noah likes safeguards and he doesn't have any right now. I know you're turning a profit at your Roller-Fun now, but it's peanuts compared to the other rinks because of its being in the red for so many years."

  Francie absorbed the information Craig had given her. "All right, I guess I'm asking if we could wait for a buyer who's willing to keep the rink going."

  "I'd say that's probably feasible if there's not an unexpected crisis. But I'm sure Noah sees this as a pure business decision."

  "I'm trying to change that."

  "Good luck. Noah can be..."

  "Stubborn?" she filled in.

  Craig chuckled. "Among other things. But he's a helluva good guy."

  Craig had confirmed something that Francie had known deep-down. "Thank you for telling me all this. It helps me understand Noah better."

  Craig's tone was curious. "You want to understand him?"

  "Uh, it helps in dealing with him."

  "I see."

  She was sure Craig suspected there was something more going on than business. She had to admit to herself there was. But for now, she'd make business the priority.

  Francie planned during the drive back to the rink, building on ideas she'd already considered. She'd try this one last strategy to make Noah see what the rink meant to the community. She might not be able to convince him not to sell it, but she could still possibly convince him to sell it to someone interested in a rink.

  She hurried through the lobby, searching for him as she went. He stood at the snack bar, cup of coffee in hand, looking so good she had to swallow hard. His gray slacks seemed custom-made to fit. The crisp white shirt and tie proclaimed him a consummate businessman. But the rolled up sleeves gave him a touch of casualness, taking the edge off of the professional severity.

  His eyes were hooded as he stared across the room at an inconsequential spot on the wall. He didn't look altogether awake. Was he having as many sleepless nights as she was? For the same reasons?

  He heard her approach, his gaze shifting from the wall to her sweater and jeans. "New uniform?" he asked, a flicker of something she couldn't name sparking his eyes.

  "I had a stop to make this morning. I have tights and a skirt in the lounge."

  "I wasn't criticizing."

  She had to quit analyzing every word that passed between them. "I know." She smiled uncertainly, hoping to recapture an ease between them again. "I have a favor to ask you."

  He gave her half of a grin. "Should I fortify myself with breakfast first?"

  "You don't usually eat breakfast."

  He cocked his head, as if surprised she'd noticed. "Neither do you. The only difference is that I like my cups of before-lunch coffee with caffeine, you don't."

  Okay, so they were learning each other's personal habits and preferences. It happened when people worked together. Trying to be nonchalant so he didn't guess that the future of the rink depended on his granting her a favor, she poured a cup of decaf and added cream.

  He was watching her carefully, every move, every breath. She wanted to tell him she respected and admired what he'd done for Craig. But she didn't think he'd appreciate her knowing.

  She blew on the edge of the coffee cup before she took a sip. Noah watched her lips. She thought of kissing him again, the taste of coffee on their tongues... Before warm color could stain her cheeks, she set her cup on the counter. "Don't sell the rink until after February fourteenth."

  "That's the favor?"

  She nodded.

  He again stared at that spot on the wall. "I was thinking about leaving at the end of the week."

  "No!" Her adamant protest surprised her as much as him. "You can't. Valentine's Day is less than two weeks away. You said you can run your businesses from here. At least give me that much more time."

  He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. Closing his eyes and shaking his head, he sounded almost grim. "Why do you want to torture us both? You know we'd be better off if I went back to Richmond."

  "You know that. I don't." She could've bitten her tongue once the words were out.

  The sadness in his eyes clawed at her heart. "Maybe I know better for both of us."

  "Don't take responsibility for me, Noah." She could see it came naturally to him. He'd taken responsibility for his mother, Craig, who else along the way?

  "You're still naive, Francie. You think everything will work out because you want it to. Don't you know life isn't like that?"

  She was thoroughly frustrated with him, with the attraction between them, with the feelings that got stronger each day she was around him. "Of course, I know it. I sure haven't gotten my way, have I? If I had, I'd be married to Brent, crossing the country with him, and this rink would be a childhood memory! Someone isn't going to wave a magic wand and suddenly life will be rosy. No one knows that better than I do. So don't you dare call me naive."

  The freshly-shaven skin alongside his jaw tightened, and the pulse at his cheekbone jumped. "I don't know why you care about this damn rink when what you really want is to be in New York with McIntosh. Why can't you admit it?"

  His anger sparked hers. Her fist came down on the counter. "I care about this rink because it's important to me and the community. Now, are you going to give me until Valentine's Day to show you why?"

  She could hear her heart thudding in the silence, she could almost reach out and touch the tension ricocheting between them, and she hurt because "friendly" didn't seem possible anymore.

  Noah crushed his cup into his fist and tossed it into a waste can. "All right. I won't accept an offer on the rink until after Valentine's Day. But no more favors, Francie. They complicate my life too much."

  He strode toward the office and didn't look back.

  She felt tears prick in her eyes and she blinked them away. Didn't Noah understand her life was just as complicated by him as his was by her?

  ****

  Early Friday evening Francie watched the kids roll around the rink, then almost did a double take. Drew was skating with everyone else. He rolled slowly, holding on to the edge now and then to steady himself. Francie went to the office, where Noah was working on the computer. Since they'd returned from New York, a cold war had hummed between them. She hated it and didn't know what to do. She just hoped Noah's mood would turn more receptive by Valentine's Day. She was still working on her agenda, but if what she'd planned didn't change his mind, nothing would.

  Noah didn't look up when she entered the office.

  "Did you know Drew is skating?" she asked, stopping in front of the desk.

  Noah raised his head. His gaze perused her slowly, lingering on her mouth. A shiver raced up and down her back. "Drew brought a note last Friday when you were gone," he said. "His dad gave him permission to skate. You know I wouldn't let him skate otherwise. The last thing we need is a lawsuit."

  She sighed. Of course that would be most important to him.

  "Was there anything else?" he asked, so politely she wanted to throttle him.

  She'd avoided talking to him because of his clipped, businesslike tone. But now that she'd started, she might as well finish. "Veronica and Theresa are going to take care of the rink on Sunday."

  "Family get-together?" His voice was gentler.

  "No. The skating club in Hershey is having a competition. I know a few of the skaters. I want to give them moral support. The competitions aren't always well attended."
/>   "Veronica knows what she's doing. I don't see a problem. Do you?"

  "No. I just wanted you to know."

  He gave her a short nod. "Now I know."

  Without thinking, only following her heart, she said, "Noah, don't you think we can try to be a little friendlier?"

  He blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck as if it had one very large crick. "You know better, Francie. This is the way it has to be."

  She bit her lip. He was stubborn, rigid, unyielding, and...she loved him. The realization almost knocked her over. She'd fallen head over heels in love with Noah Gordon—her boss, her adversary, a man whose life was a marathon trip. If that wasn't enough to make her go cold all over, nothing was.

  "Francie, are you all right?"

  She steadied herself. "Just fine. I have to get back to the kids." Turning, she fled the office before she did something stupid like telling him she loved him.

  Francie skated around the rink in a fog, wishing she knew how to swear in French like her father. It might help. How could she fall in love with Noah in a matter of weeks? With Brent, it had taken years! Of course, she'd been young when she met him; he was dating women older than she at the time. She'd always been in awe of Brent, and when they slipped into dating regularly, he'd controlled the relationship.

  These feelings for Noah were so different...so intense... so explosive...

  Somebody called her name. When she swung her head around, she saw Veronica coming toward her. Her assistant pointed to the other side of the rink where a crowd was clumped. "Drew fell. He hurt his arm. I don't know if it's serious—"

  "Go call his dad. Hurry. Jud Pierson. Artillery Drive. I'll go stay with Drew."

  Francie skated to where the crowd had gathered. Drew sat on the floor, holding his arm protectively. She crouched down beside him and could see he was trying gallantly not to cry.

  She put her hand on his shoulder. "Honey, what hurts?"

  "My...my arm. I hit my elbow..." He started to get up.