Because of Francie Read online

  As they left the arena, Francie shivered. The weather had turned damper and more threatening. Two inches of snow covered the asphalt, but it was topped with a thin sheen that crunched under Francie's boots. Ice.

  Noah opened her door for her while pinging skips of ice hit her hair. Always the gentleman. Where had he learned it? With the type of background he'd suggested, she'd expect him to think of himself first. He never seemed to. Except when it came to his heart. She hadn't known how to act around him yesterday, so she'd focused on her classes, handed out fliers for Valentine's Day, and finished last-minute arrangements. The deejay from the radio station had agreed to come and broadcast from the rink from seven to nine.

  She'd like to share all of it with Noah, but she wanted to surprise him more. She needed to prove to him that community was as important as family.

  When Noah pulled out onto Hershey Park Drive, Francie knew the road was treacherous. The back wheels skidded and Noah had hardly accelerated. They skidded again as Noah took the ramp for Route 283. He swore sharply.

  "I guess Pop was right. I'm glad I didn't do this alone," she confessed.

  "I'm surprised you're admitting it."

  She watched his profile as he concentrated on driving in the hazardous conditions. She loved the sweep of his hair across his forehead, the defined cheekbones, the strong jaw. "Why?"

  "Because you didn't seem overjoyed when he suggested it."

  She'd said they had to begin a relationship with honesty. The time was now. "I don't know how to act around you."

  He didn't take his eyes from the road. "Just be yourself."

  "That gets me into trouble. Right now, I'd like to lay my hand on your thigh, just to feel connected."

  "You're right," he muttered. "That could get you into trouble."

  The silence mocked her for being too honest as Noah drove cautiously. The eeriness of snow and ice falling on the hood and the highway before them crawled along Francie's nerves. Nothing like a mix of sexual tension and danger to make the hairs on her neck stand up.

  Noah cleared his throat. "How's Gina taking her grounding?"

  Francie knew he wanted to make the time pass faster as much as she did. "She knows she deserves longer than a month, but Mama's agreed to make Valentine's Day an exception. Of course Gina will go along to Uncle Dom's for what Mama and Pop think is an anniversary dinner. But it'll really be their surprise party." Francie wondered if Noah would still be around for the party.

  "Does Gina plan to see Jake again?"

  "No, I think she's relieved he's out of her life. She has no desire to see him again."

  "She told you that?"

  "We're talking more already. It'll take time, but I think we can get close."

  The swish-swish of the windshield wipers sounded in the silence. Closeness seemed to be what Noah didn't want. It was all Francie wanted--with him.

  No cars passed them on the highway. In fact, she didn't see anything moving at all. No taillights ahead of them. No headlights in back of them. Snow fell heavier, a mixture of white and ice. They moved at a turtle's pace.

  Suddenly, the car swerved, spun, and ended up turned in the wrong direction. Noah swore, a string of epithets that should have melted all the ice around them. He turned to her in the dim light. "Are you okay?"

  Francie caught her breath, and as she shifted toward him, found her face almost next to his. "I'm fine," she whispered. "But we're going the wrong way."

  He grimaced at her understatement. "Keep your fingers crossed that I can get us turned in the right direction."

  They were both aware of the undercurrent in his statement. He thought he was responsible for their relationship, the rink, their drive home. For the moment he was.

  When Noah attempted to back up, the tires skidded. So he made a very slow, large circle until the hood was headed the right way. Then he pulled over onto the shoulder of the road and turned off the engine.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Trying to get us home in one piece. We can't do it until the road crews cinder. So we sit here and wait until they do." He took his hands from the wheel and switched on the flashers.

  "But you turned off the heat..."

  "This is a major highway, Francie, and they haven't cindered yet. They'll have to come through soon."

  "And if they don't?"

  "They will."

  "And in the meantime?"

  "We distract each other."

  That could prove interesting. But she'd already gotten herself in trouble once. "By playing twenty questions?"

  "That's a start."

  "Can I ask first?"

  "You're the lady."

  "That's my first question," she mumbled, already feeling the cold penetrate her layers of clothing.

  "What is?"

  "How did you become such a gentleman? Do you know how rare that is these days?" As she waited for his answer, she stared at the blinking light signaling the working flashers. He could choose not to answer any questions and she'd sit here waiting, hoping, getting colder.

  "I went to parochial school for my first two grades. I guess the manners I learned stuck."

  "It's more than that."

  "You think so." His tone was haughty, arrogant, trying to put her off. It didn't work.

  "Yes, I think so. Why do you treat people so carefully, so respectfully?" The dampness in the car thickened, weighing heavier, bringing the cold closer as the seconds ticked by.

  "Because people deserve to be treated as if they matter. Especially women."

  She waited...and hoped some more. Maybe it was the shadows, maybe it was being stranded, but Noah went on.

  "My father walked out on my mother. He didn't respect her enough to leave a forwarding address. She was a singer looking for a break. She ended up a cocktail waitress with a drinking problem that killed her. I always felt responsible for her...for what we didn't have."

  "And what didn't you have?"

  His voice lowered in the inky darkness. "We usually lived in apartments near where she worked so she didn't need a car. Those weren't the best sections of town. I didn't mind where we lived, but I minded people's opinions of where we lived and the judgments they made."

  "That you were poor? Uneducated?"

  "That was part of it. But it was the way men treated my mother. She was a good woman who never got a fair shake. She was not a tramp. But because she sang in nightclubs, because she worked in bars, men walked all over her. I guess she got to a point where she just didn't care."

  "But you did."

  "You bet I did. I treated her with the respect she deserved and I swore I would always treat women fairly."

  "Have you ever been involved in a serious relationship?" She'd been waiting forever to ask that one.

  "By serious, you mean long-term."

  "I guess."

  "No, I haven't."

  "Why?"

  "I was too busy building my business, creating financial security."

  "And now?"

  "Now I'm set in my ways."

  His answer hung over her head like a warning cloud. "And you don't want to change your life." She burrowed her nose into her coat. The cold seeped through and she began to shiver.

  "Francie, patterns are difficult to break. You just heard the way I grew up. Two years, first and second grade, were the longest we stayed anywhere."

  Her teeth wanted to chatter, but she kept them still. "What do you think will happen if you stay in one place?"

  "I'll lose my business, for one thing. I have to stay on top of the managers."

  "That depends on the managers."

  He was curt. "A business can't run itself."

  "You're running your business from here with conference calls and video conferencing. Is your business hurting because you've been here a few weeks?"

  "I won't know until I make my next round of visits to see what's happening."

  "Do you trust your managers?"

  "I don't know them all yet. I have t
o meet with the ones Craig dealt with."

  Noah had trusted Craig. From what she'd heard, he'd given him half of the responsibility. But Craig had betrayed that trust and reinforced Noah's belief that if he wanted something done right, he had to do it himself. Which meant traveling continuously. At least that was the surface reason why he traveled.

  She shivered again and this time couldn't keep her teeth from chattering.

  As aware of her as she was of him, he knew. "It won't do much good to turn on the engine. We can't keep it running long enough to heat the car and keep it heated."

  "I know. Carbon monoxide poisoning."

  "And we'll run out of gas."

  She tried to relax so she wouldn't shiver, but she couldn't manage it.

  "Take your coat off," Noah said in a monotone.

  "What?" In the shadows she could see his hands unbuttoning his overcoat.

  "We're going to combine our body heat and keep warm."

  She gulped. Knowing how he felt... "That's not necessary," she mumbled.

  "Give me your hand."

  When she did, he slid off her glove and curled his fingers around hers. "You're cold. Neither of us needs to catch pneumonia."

  She knew Noah well enough to know he was determined as well as serious. He was also right. They couldn't drive under these conditions, but they needed warmth. She unbuttoned her coat and shrugged it from her shoulders.

  "Scoot over on your seat ," he said, his voice low and sexy. "We'll share your space so the steering wheel's not in the way."

  This was a nice-sized sedan, but the seats weren't that wide. She moved closer to the door, wondering how they could share body heat and not share more.

  Once he somehow maneuvered over the console and slid beside her, she couldn't move, she couldn't breathe. His leg, firm and muscled against hers, his hip meeting hers, his shoulders needing more room than she could give them led her to shy away, to try to move closer to the door.

  "Hold on a minute," he said, his voice warm and comforting but also arousing as his breath brushed across her cheek.

  Sliding his arm around her, he pulled her onto his lap in a protective, enveloping hold. She took a breath, feeling Noah in back of her, to the side of her, around her. She could smell the faint scent of his cologne. His sweater was thick, its ribbing cushiony as she fought the urge to burrow into him, not only for warmth but for the intimacy. But Noah didn't want that. She stiffened, trying to hold herself away.

  "Relax, Francie. I'm going to hold you. We're just going to keep warm."

  Throwing her coat over them first, he tucked it in along her window. He wasn't covered. She slid the down jacket closer to him.

  "My coat's larger. I'll be fine." He tucked her jacket around her a second time, then spread his long overcoat across them both.

  When she moved, he said in a husky voice, "This will be easier if you can sit still."

  "I'm trying to get settled." She was trying to keep her mind on the warmth, not Noah himself.

  "You're trying not to get too close. That's impossible. Don't fight it. Relax into me and you'll get warm quicker."

  She did as he said and lounged into his body.

  After a few moments, he rested his cheek against her hair. "Your hair smells like flowers."

  "That's the shampoo," she whispered.

  "You're like a summer flower, Francie. Vibrant and glowing, not afraid to open yourself to the sun."

  His words brought tears to her eyes. He sounded so...lonely. More than anything she wanted to ease that loneliness, give him a family...Is that truly what she wanted? If so, she didn't want either of them to go on the road. Children needed parents who were there for them, not a mother or father who was never home.

  What kind of dream was she weaving? Her, Noah, children. He wanted no part of it. She blinked back tears.

  Noah's arms tightened around her as he rubbed his chin against her temple. "Do you know how difficult it is for me to hold you and not want more?"

  "I want more."

  "You want the impossible," he murmured as he brushed her nose with his. His lips caressed her cheek then found her mouth.

  His tongue was velvet warmth as it teased and then curled around hers. Turning his body for better access, he played his fingers down her neck. They were warm under her hair. His palm cupped her breast with reverence, and suddenly she hoped the cinder truck was far, far away. She wanted this to last forever.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The fast sweep of Noah's tongue expressed his hunger. The slow teasing of Francie's transformed escalating desire to steamy passion. The tactile delight of Noah's lips and his hand on her breast created enough heat to make Francie forget ice and snow and the cold, blustery weather outside their wintry haven. Glittering tingles lit her body until she felt only Noah's tongue, tasted the chocolate lingering there, tested the strength of his desire by arching into his hand.

  Searching for the hem of her sweater, he sought her breasts. He gently held one in his palm, and she heard him mutter, "Lace."

  She felt his smile against her cheek and wondered what he was thinking. "I wanted to feel feminine today."

  "You're feminine every day. It's in the way you move, the way you smile, the way you drink your hot chocolate. It drives me crazy."

  She put her hands on his chest and slowly dragged them to his waist. Wanting to drive him more than crazy, she intended to show him she loved him, that they had a chance for more than friendship and desire. He didn't stop her when she pulled up his sweater and slipped his shirt from his waistband. She could see only shadows, but she could feel his gaze on her, burning through any inhibitions she might have. She felt free with Noah, free to be whatever she wanted, free to love him, free to express herself with more than words.

  As if she were blind and wanted to savor each and every sensation, she slowly slid her fingers across his stomach. He shuddered. Opening her fingers, closing them again, she let his chest hair slip through and under. Taut heat. Silky hair. Strength that was tough yet gentle at the same time. His warmth seeped through her hand and melted through her body until even her nose was warm. He pushed her hair away from her face and kissed her again, this time with a fierce demanding need that left her breathless. When she hung on to his belt for stability, when her hand went lower to his thigh, when she searched for his arousal to pleasure him, his kiss almost devoured her. She played with his tongue, she stroked his mouth, she let him discover the intimate territory of hers, then she cupped him in her hand.

  Groaning, he pushed against her. She stroked him and he pushed against her again. He broke off the kiss as a shudder forked through him. "We've got to stop." His voice was coarse and rough in the dark silence.

  "Stop?" She was totally lost in him and her feelings for him.

  She felt his chest heave before he said, "We're distracting each other, remember?"

  His words bothered her. "Distracting each other? Is that what you call it? Noah, I was showing you how I feel." She tried to pull away from him–feeling hurt and sorry and as young and naive as Gina. Was she wrong about Noah? Did he only want physical pleasure? It didn't add up. He could have taken it the other night. But then maybe the fear of being responsible for a child had curtailed that, rather than his concern about her career, rather than his concern about her. His body snug against hers was unbearable because it felt so right. She tried to move sideways to get away from his physical proximity.

  "Don't push away from me, Francie. We still have to stay warm." The edge in his rough voice grated across her already sensitive nerve endings.

  "Kissing and touching mean more to me than staying warm," she shot back.

  Instead of responding in anger, he said sadly, "I know. I wish..."

  Her anger vanished. "What do you wish?"

  "Never mind. It's not important."

  His overcoat had slipped and he tucked it in around her again. She slumped against him.

  "Pretend I'm a big brother," he muttered as his arm tig
htened around her.

  "But you're not a brother, Noah, and we both know it."

  Her words echoed in the silent interior. A few minutes later the cinder truck's lights flashed behind them.

  ****

  Francie worked off her frustration at her dance class late Monday morning. By Monday afternoon, she'd almost forgotten about Noah as she read to the kindergarten class. But the warmth of his protective nature, the heat of his kisses, the yearning to be his even for just a little while, soon pushed into the forefront of her thoughts again. If he could simply accept the idea of their being together, however briefly, maybe they could consider a life together.

  When she returned home, her mother announced that their uncle had invited the family to his pond for an evening of skating. Vince and Frank would help her uncle Dom build the traditional bonfire. Francie hadn't seen Noah since they'd returned from the harrowing drive from Hershey. But she knew she wanted to spend the evening with him under the stars. Nothing was as beautiful as the frozen pond on a clear winter night. She didn't have much time left with Noah. Valentine's Day was only three days away.

  She pressed in his number, wondering how to play this, serious or light. Then again, he might be at the rink or somewhere else.

  He answered and her heart pounded. "Okay, Gordon. How about some real exercise?"

  He laughed. "What do you call real?"

  "Ice-skating on my uncle's pond."

  "I've heard it's cold enough to freeze your buns off."

  "Do you think I'd take a chance on endangering my buns?"

  "I hope not. They're much too cute to lose."

  She blushed, not knowing what to say to that. "If you keep moving, you keep warm. The bonfire helps. And afterward, uncle Dom lights the fireplace in the farmhouse. He makes a great cup of espresso."

  "You're making it hard to resist."

  "Don't resist."

  His pause was telling.

  "Come along, Noah. We'll have fun." She didn't think he made much time for fun in his life.

  "I can't skate without skates."