Because Of Francie

Karen Rose Smith

Published by Karen Rose Smith at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Karen Rose Smith

Original Copyright 1996 Karen Rose Smith

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CHAPTER ONE

Noah Gordon slammed his car door, dragged his shirt cuff away from his watch, and glanced at the address he held in his hand. A gust of icy January wind singed him, and he thought briefly of his overcoat hanging in the motel closet. An oversight. He'd made too many of them in the past year.

Noah had parked along the street because the driveway to the detached garage overflowed with cars. Maybe his manager was having a party. He didn't know what she was doing at home on a busy Friday evening rather than overseeing the Gettysburg Roller-Fun. He rang the doorbell, not knowing what to expect.

The door flew open, and laughter with a rousing cheer spilled from inside. But the raucous sounds slipped by Noah as he stared at the woman in the doorway. His first thought--the long, wavy black hair framing her oval face created classic beauty. His second--he'd never seen eyes such a stunning brown. His third--her legs in flamingo-pink stirrup pants were endless. His fourth--she had the prettiest smile he'd ever seen.

"May I help you?"

A surge of desire startled him. He willed it to subside. "I'm looking for Francie Piccard. I'm Noah Gordon and..."

Her cheeks flushed. "My goodness. What are you doing here today? You're supposed to be driving in tomorrow."

"Francie, honey. Who is it? You're letting in all that cold air." An older woman, who somehow managed to look elegant in a sweatshirt and jeans, stood behind Francie. Her black hair was cut short and waved around her face.

Francie answered, looking agitated. "Mama, it's Mr. Gordon, the owner of the rink. Craig's partner."

Noah could see that his manager wondered why he had come this time instead of Craig Reardon. He and Craig had been partners, owning thirteen roller-skating rinks scattered across New Jersey, Virginia, and Pennsylvania. Craig had always overseen the Pennsylvania rinks, stopping in every month. But it had been three months since he'd been here. It was time Ms. Piccard knew why.

Her mother was calm and in control. "So...he's here early." The older woman took Noah's arm and urged him inside. "We're having a birthday celebration for our daughter Gina. Come join us."

Standing in the foyer, Noah could see into the dining room. At least ten adults and five kids talked and laughed around a large table. The noise coming from the room rivaled the noise at the rink. "I couldn't do that. I just need to talk to Ms. Piccard for a few minutes."

"The lasagna's dished out, the sausage bread is warm, and you look as if you've been traveling. Have you eaten supper?"

"No, but--"

She planted her hands on her hips. "You don't like Italian cooking?"

Noah almost smiled. "Yes, I like Italian food."

"Then you have a good reason for not wanting to sit, eat, and relax a little after a long drive?"

This woman was as determined as they came. He wondered if her daughter shared the quality. "No, I don't have a good reason except I don't want to intrude."

Francie spoke up then. "You won't be intruding. This group talks, eats, and laughs over, through, and around anybody. They won't even notice you're here."

From the worried look on Francie's face, Noah realized she'd notice. Unreasonably, he wanted to wipe away the worry.

Francie's mother motioned to the dining room. "The food will get cold." She called to a balding gray-haired man. "Paul, get another chair and put it next to Francie. Her boss is staying for dinner."

The adult conversation at the table stopped abruptly and all eyes were on Noah. With a wry smile, he murmured to Francie, "They won't notice, huh?"

She grinned. "Curiosity. It'll wear off in a few minutes." She introduced Noah to the group.

Francie hoped the curiosity would wear off. But from the raised brows and wide eyes of Gina and her two sisters-in-law, she knew what they were thinking. In no uncertain terms, Noah Gordon was major hunk material. Thick brown hair, penetrating green eyes, slightly squared jaw, and taller than Brent's six-one.

She stopped the flow of thoughts and frowned. Where had that comparison come from? Her former figure-skating partner rarely entered her mind these days, thank goodness. Over the last year she'd managed to put Brent and his betrayal in the past.

Noah waited for her to sit before he did, and Francie managed a second look. His height was the only way he resembled Brent. Noah Gordon's shoulders were broader and his chest wider. Brent's blond good looks and tightly packed body could make heads turn. But Noah Gordon projected...strength.

While Angela Piccard served Noah a block of lasagna the size of Pennsylvania, three pieces of bread, and a bowl of salad, Francie felt she needed to give him an explanation for being at home. "I'm usually at the rink Friday nights. But birthdays in this family are special. Gina's seventeen today. I've been away for many of her birthdays, so it was important I be here tonight."

"Away?"

"Mr. Gordon. You like what Francie's done with the rink?" Paul Piccard asked from the head of the table.

Francie grimaced. "Pop, maybe Mr. Gordon doesn't want to talk shop."

"What shop?" Her father shook his fork at her. "You've brought in double the people." He fixed his gaze on Noah again. "Did you see how many classes she gives now? Did Craig tell you she had to hire a part-time instructor because she couldn't handle it all herself?"

"Craig's not sick, is he? When I received the e-mail you were coming, I wondered."

Noah wiped his mouth with his napkin, and his shoulders tensed. "Craig's no longer involved in the Roller-Fun chain."

Francie's breath stopped in her chest. Craig had trusted her, had put confidence in her newfound abilities to manage. What would happen now? "I don't understand."

"We're no longer partners. I bought him out."

Stunned, Francie went over the many conversations she'd had with Craig about the future of the rink. He'd never given any indication he wouldn't be in that future. What could have happened?

Noah looked to be about the same age as Craig, around thirty-five. Had he decided a partner was a liability? Francie knew all about the disloyalty that went along with the drive for success. "You have a lot more traveling to do without Craig, don't you?"

"Yes. But it's a way of life. I don't mind. I just take my laptop on the road."

Francie did mind traveling. It didn't leave much room for normalcy. And after fifteen years of competitions, traveling, regimen, and being separated from her family, all she wanted was to stay in Gettysburg and have a "normal" life.

As the conversation around the table rose and ebbed, Francie was distinctly aware of Noah beside her. She knew herself well enough to know she could be attracted to him. She was disciplined enough to know she wouldn't respond to that attraction.

Noah's shoulder brushed hers as he leaned closer and asked, "Do you have these get-togethers often? It must take a week to prepare all this food!"

She laughed from the sheer joy of being with her family. "Every Sunday usually. Frank and Vince each make a tray of lasagna. Gina and I do the bread."

Noah stared at the fresh bread liberally dotted with sausage. "You make this yourselves?"

"We've been doing it since I could get my hands into the dough. Vince and Frank used to help, but they ended up fighting and throwing dough at each other. Mama would raise cain."

Noah's expression became very serious. "You're lucky."

"Excuse me?"

"To have such fond memories."

"You don't?"

His unease was obvious. "I imagine the way I grew up was much different than what you've experienced."

Francie didn't know how not to reach out. Her knee brushed his leg as she turned toward him. Noah Gordon didn't seem like the type of man to give his life history because of an invitation to dinner. And she wasn't going to ask him for it. But she did understand what she heard underlying his words--loneliness. "My life's been a bit...unusual. When I was away and everybody else was here, I felt so isolated."

"Away where?"

"Boston. I was in training for--"

"Mr. Gordon. How about another piece of lasagna?" Angela asked across the table.

"No, thank you. I'm fine. Everything's delicious."

Angela's cheeks flushed. "Thank you."

"Craig used to eat until he thought he'd burst," Francie commented, trying to get the conversation back to Craig.

But Noah wasn't cooperating. "Does your mother invite strangers to dinner often?"

"Mama would take in everybody off the streets if she could. Mr. Gordon, is Craig all right?"

Noah met her gaze directly. "He is now."

The last time she'd seen Craig, he'd looked tired, worried, and hadn't been as talkative as usual. "Have you known him long?"

"Since college." Noah paused, then said, "You didn't finish what you were saying. What were you in training for?"

Francie met his green gaze. "The Olympics."

****

Noah felt as if he'd been thrown a mighty curve. After dinner, after birthday cake and spumoni, after Gina Piccard had blown out each one of her seventeen candles, Angela and Paul took Noah to the living room and pointed out Francie's overwhelming collection of trophies. A junior championship, nationals, world competitions. She was the Francesca Piccard, ice skater, one-time Olympian, one half of a pairs figure-skating team that the skating world had expected to go far. Why hadn't Francie turned professional? And why was she managing his roller-skating rink?

The longer he spent with the Piccard family, the guiltier he felt about the news he was going to give Francie. As he watched her crouch down with a five-year-old, whisper in his ear, and receive a giggle in return, Noah's stomach twisted. To have a childhood like that with aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters, and more important, the time to simply enjoy being a child. Did happy memories make a difference in an adult life? He'd never wondered about that before. He didn't have any business wondering about it now.

He excused himself from Paul and Angela and approached Francie. "Can I speak to you alone?"

She glanced around the people-filled first floor. "Sure. We can go out to the back porch."

He followed Francie. Her oversized turquoise and pink sweater brushed her backside as she walked, her long hair swayed against the middle of her back. It looked so soft, so...touchable. Just like her.

She led him through the kitchen and flipped on a light in the glass enclosed porch. Opening the back door, she went down the steps and waited for him. His breath caught in his chest. She was as lovely a woman as he'd ever met and he was powerfully attracted to her. But that attraction had to be set aside. It had no place mixed with business.

"Ms. Piccard..."

Her smile was guileless. "Everyone calls me Francie."

This was harder than he'd expected. He usually conducted business without hesitation. "Francie, this isn't the usual managerial visit as Craig used to make."

A few strands of her hair slipped over her shoulder as she tilted her head. "I don't understand."

"I'm going to sell the Gettysburg Roller-Fun." Her small gasp of surprise, her widened eyes, did something to his insides.

"Why?"

"Financial reasons."

"We're doing better now than we've ever done."

"You've recently moved the rink into the black. And that's terrific. But the bottom line is that buying Craig out drained my company's cash flow. This rink has been dead wood for three years. I have to shave off expenses and this is the way to do it."

She wrapped her arms around herself, as if to keep in warmth in the cold porch, as if to protect herself. "You don't understand what the rink's coming to mean to the community. The changes we've started have made the rink a gathering place. It's a place where people build neighborhood spirit. Craig understood. A new owner might not."

Noah wanted to wrap his arms around her and keep her warm. Irritated by the thought, he cut in, "That's all fine and good, but when I check the balance sheets, good spirit doesn't enter into it. I have to do what's best for the future of my company."

She dropped her arms to her sides, though her fingers were still curled inward. "And what about my future, the future of the employees at the rink?"

There were fourteen employees besides Francie at the rink, many part-time. "That depends on the buyer."

"If he wants to keep us?" she asked hopefully.

He could see she didn't realize the full implications of what he was telling her. "Francie, I'm not sure I can find a buyer who wants to own a roller-skating rink."

Realization dawned in her brown eyes. Instead of surprise and worry, they radiated golden sparks of anger. "You might sell it to someone who might make it something else? Are you out of your mind? That rink was built in 1921. It has a history, just like this town. That wooden floor under the epoxy has seen generations of this town's skaters. It's almost a landmark. How can you even think of selling it to someone who won't consider that?"

"A developer could offer the best deal. And frankly, my time is limited. I want to get the rink off the books."

"So you're not only going to sell, you're going to sell soon and to the highest bidder!"

She made it sound like a federal crime. "That's good business."

"Business? Don't you see this involves more than business? It involves people's lives. I've finally found something other than figure skating I'm good at. And what about Charlie?" She held Noah's gaze, and he was surprised by the determination he saw there.

"Who's Charlie?"

She gestured with her hands as her voice rose and fell. "He's been working at the rink for twenty years. He reconditions the skates, drills them, fixes the plumbing, the sound system when it's down...Julie's working to put her son through college, Theresa's retired and needs the little bit she makes to—"

He didn't come here for a guilt trip or to be persuaded to change his mind. "Look, Francie. I can't take on the responsibility of the world. This is a business decision I had to make. I have a whole company of employees to consider. I'm sorry if it causes upheaval, but that's the way it has to be."

"The bottom line is the only one that counts?" Impatiently, she brushed her hair away from her cheek. "Maybe in your world, Mr. Gordon. Not mine. I've never been sorry when Mama's hospitality brought someone new to our table. Tonight, I am."

He understood her concern for the employees at the rink. But he didn't understand her anger. "I'm sorry you feel that way. Because we will have to work together. I'd like to keep our relationship...friendly."

She arched her brows. "I think your idea of friendship and mine are different. And if you expect me to try to help you sell the rink, you're crazy."

"I expect you to cooperate to the best of your ability. You're my employee."

Her chin came up and she looked him straight in the eye. "I might be your employee, but since that doesn't seem to mean much to you, my ability to cooperate might be quite limited." Without a good-night or a good-bye, Francie turned her back on him, went up the steps into the kitchen, and closed the door behind her.

Noah scowled at the closed door. What had he expected? That she'd be overjoyed she might lose her job?

Of course not. But he'd never expected that much anger. That much passion. For a roller-skating rink? She was right—he didn't understand. He'd give her the night to cool off.

And if she didn't cool off?

He'd do what he'd come to do anyway...with or without Francesca Piccard's cooperation.

****

Francie heard the outside door close and she breathed a sigh of relief. She shouldn't have lost her temper like that. It was the first time in years. But put her French and Italian heritage together...

Another man who believed in the bottom line, who gave no merit to loyalty, friendship...love. If Brent had truly loved her, his professional life wouldn't have been more important than their relationship, their history, their future. If he'd loved her, she would be beside him at his second Olympics in February, she would be putting the artistic strength into their performance, she would...still be involved with him? Thank goodness she'd realized that the qualities she valued most he valued least.

Everything had turned out for the best. She belonged back home with her family. She was happy here.

At least she had been until Noah Gordon had tipped her world tonight. Well, she wouldn't let another man pull the rug out from under her. This time she was going to fight.

CHAPTER TWO

Noah was surprised when he found the door to the rink open Saturday morning. It wasn't even 8 A.M. The large foyer led to a glass door situated next to a ticket window. Glancing around, he saw the exit door opened from another wall. That kept the public honest. The employee at the ticket window could watch both doors to make sure everyone paid.

Noah pushed open the door and silence met him. The carpeted area to the fore of the rink was well lit. The rink itself was dark. Noah walked along the low, round, hassock-like furniture dotting the reception area to a light beaming from an open door.

When he saw Francie bent over the desk, her concentration focused on a catalog in front of her, he paused. Her skin was perfect, her complexion a healthy pink that looked as soft as satin. And when she smiled, the tiny dimple in her left cheek created the inclination in him to stroke it. The fringe of her lashes was as dark as her hair. She looked as if she wore no makeup except a hint of lipstick. Was that possible? It had been a long time since he'd seen natural beauty this close up.

"Good morning," he said.

Startled, she looked up and said curtly, "Good morning."

She was going to be all business. He could be too--that's why he was here. "Before I examine the books, I'd like to take a look around. Is there anything I should know before I do?"

Her manner was matter-of-fact, perfunctory. "The rink's in good condition. It was remodeled about ten years ago. When I took over, the carpet was threadbare so I replaced it. I also had to have some of the seats in the foyer re-upholstered."

He wanted to keep her talking. "How much have you expended on interior modifications this past year?" That information was in his file, but he wanted to hear it from her.

She named an approximate figure, then added, "But that includes a strobe light, two new pool tables. I'd like to add a ping pong table, but...we'll see what happens."

He wished she'd smile at him as she had last night. He usually didn't pay attention to what was happening inside the rinks. As long as everything ran without a hitch and the numbers were good, he left the rest to his managers. He stepped in only when a problem arose, and that was usually a major monetary outlay--like a new air-conditioning or sound system.

Francie had plenty of space if she wanted to add table games. "Do you have a lot of kids who come to socialize rather than skate?"

She gave him a guarded look. "Mostly teenagers. But if they hang around long enough, eventually they try the rink." She stood. "I'll unlock the doors to the music room and pro shop. They have a different key than the main locks." She stood and came out from behind the desk.

Noah knew he was staring. She wore sneakers. But her curvy long legs were encased in nylon tights. Her violet sweater topped a matching short full skirt that landed a few inches down her thighs. A surge of heat urged him to shed his suit coat. He tugged his tie down a few centimeters instead. "How many classes do you have today?"

"Four children's classes--two beginners, an intermediate and an advanced. So I'll be out of the office all morning. Craig had my passwords for the computer. Do you?"

He could smell her perfume. It was an old-fashioned scent. Roses, maybe? "Yes."

"I might want to upload new programs to make this easier for me. Do you have any objections?"

She swung around, her short skirt rippling across her thighs. "Would objecting do any good?" She must have seen his determined look because she added, "Mr. Gordon, you have your reasons for being here and I'll cooperate with you because I have no choice. But don't expect me to be happy about it."

Noah kept silent, knowing he couldn't ask for more than that under the circumstances. Part of him wished the circumstances were different, part of him wished...what? That he and Francie could relate on an intimate basis? Hardly. He could already tell from her family and her commitment to the rink that she wasn't a one-night-stand kind of woman. And with his lifestyle, he couldn't give more than that. So...

Noah closed the door on his thoughts and checked out the rink. He found all of it in well-kept condition, which didn't surprise him. Francie took obvious pride in everything about the rink. He was concerned about the storeroom. Whoever had remodeled the rink had passed over that area, probably to cut costs. Noah wondered about the wiring in the small room and whether or not it had been checked recently.

Stopping in the snack bar, Noah found a slow cooker switched on. When he lifted the lid, the spicy-sweet smell of barbecued hamburger teased him. Had Francie made it this morning? No one else had been around. He knew managing took many shapes and forms, but cooking for the snack bar fell way beyond the line of duty. Then again, Francie didn't act as if she managed the rink merely out of duty.

Several four, five and six-year-olds laughed and chattered in the reception area as Noah ended his tour. Francie sat in the midst of them, lacing her skates. Her eyes sparkled, her smile was playful, her hands moved agilely as she laughed and spoke to the children. She looked like a teenager and he wondered just how old she was.

Noah stopped where she was sitting. "How many in the class?"

She turned her face up to him. "Twenty to twenty-five on a good day."

Another group of children spilled through the door. Noah smiled to try to coax one from her. "It looks like a good day."

One of the children sitting by Francie pulled on Noah's pants leg. "Mister, can you help me tie this?"

Francie's fingers moved faster on her laces. "Joey, I'll do it as soon as..."

Noah crouched down. "Sure. I bet pretty soon you'll be able to do this yourself."

The little boy with curly red hair and freckles grinned. "Francie says I hafta practice tying like I practice skating."

Noah made sure the skates were laced properly before he tied the laces in a double bow and tucked them into the boot of the boy's skate. "She's right. You have to practice anything you want to be good at."

The child forgot about the skates and pointed to Noah's tie. "Why are you dressed up? Aren't you gonna skate?"

Noah glanced at Francie. She looked as if she was waiting for the answer, too. "These are my working clothes."

The boy's eyes widened. "You work here?"

"For a little while."

"And you're not gonna skate?"

Noah chuckled. "Not today. Maybe another time." He stood and capped the little boy's shoulder. "You have fun."

Noah glanced a last time at Francie. Her gaze met his and his heart beat erratically--until she ducked her head to listen to the child beside her.

Telling himself he was forgetting his purpose for being here, Noah went to the office to settle in for the morning. He'd like to watch Francie, just to see what kind of instructor she was, of course, but he didn't want to make her nervous. He shrugged. Why would she be nervous? She was used to hundreds of people watching her...thousands. But so far, what he'd seen of Francie was very unassuming. He wondered if she'd liked being a star.

Noah sat at the computer and began with the most recent numbers. As he adjusted to the chair he had to smile at the a tall jar of lollipops that sat on the credenza. A squatty round dish on the other end held caramels. Apparently Francie had a sweet tooth. At least six pictures of her family stood in between the candy jars.

Such a big family, and a noisy one. While he'd been having dinner with them, catching bits and pieces of conversations, he realized the connection between all of them--a connection he'd never had. He'd thought he'd stopped mulling it over long ago--the life his mother had led, the years when he'd had to grow up too fast. But being with Francie and her family had brought back the wrenching emptiness he'd always filled with achievements and goals. The last few years, especially this past few months, seeing what had happened to Craig, Noah realized business achievements weren't lasting, weren't what could fill the emptiness. What could? At a loss for an answer, Noah turned to the computer once more.

Awhile later, he checked his watch. He'd been at it for almost two hours. Raising his arms above his head, he stretched, then stood.

The low drone of skates on the floor had diminished. He saw Francie standing on the inside ridge of the rink with a little girl. Their voices drew him closer.

The child looked to be about seven. She was holding on to the railing around the edge of the rink.

He heard Francie say, "Take my hand and we'll skate around once. Real slow."

The child's voice was plaintive. "But what if I fall? What if I--?"

Francie took the child's hands and faced her squarely. "Honey, if you want to learn to skate, you have to let go of the rail. You missed out on most of the session because you wouldn't let go."

The little girl dropped her eyes to the floor. "I'm afraid."

Francie's voice was soft. "Of what?"

"Falling."

"Are you afraid you'll get hurt?"

The little girl shook her head.

"What are you afraid of?" Francie asked gently.

"That everyone will laugh."

"Everyone else is gone now."

The child looked up at Noah. "Except him."

Francie cast him a concerned look. She didn't have to say anything. "Do you want me to leave?" Noah asked.

The seven-year-old thought about it and decided, "No, it's okay."

Francie began gliding slowly backward, pulling the child with her. "Bend your knees a little, but keep your back straight. That's it. You're doing great."

She let go of her hands and the little girl rolled to a stop.

Francie explained, "If you want to keep rolling, you'll have to pick up your feet. First one foot, then the other. Do you want to try it?"

The child nodded.

Noah was amazed at how her confidence grew as Francie talked, guided, and held one hand.

A loud group of older children came through the door and made a beeline for the skate rental window. Noah watched Francie stoop and say something to the little girl she was teaching. They glided around the remainder of the oval and skated onto the carpeted area. The little girl waved at Francie and said, "Next week I can skate with the other kids."

Francie smiled. "Yes, you can."

Her smile started a low heat in the pit of Noah's stomach. Damn! Francie Picccard might be as beautiful as a symphony, but that didn't change his reasons for this visit. Yet he couldn't keep himself from approaching her. "You were good with her."

Francie shrugged. "During the session, she wouldn't do anything the other kids did. Sometimes individual attention works wonders." She glanced at the kids lacing up. "But now I'm running late. I want to mop before they roll onto the floor."

"Can't you get someone else to do it?"

"Everyone has their own jobs to do." Francie skated toward the storage closet, then turned around and came back. "Are you going to be here all day?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No. It's just that...I'd like to talk to you when I get a few minutes free. This session's over at twelve-thirty. Can we talk then?"

"Sure."

Francie nodded and skated away, leaving him wondering what she wanted to talk about. He had the feeling that whatever it was, it could only complicate his life.

****

Francie mopped the rink as someone did after every session to keep the dust at bay. Then she went to find Noah, her palms slightly damp. In her mind she saw him crouched down, tying a child's roller skates. Somehow, that didn't fit his bottom-line image. His caring attitude had given her hope. Was she being foolish? Hadn't Brent shown her how single-minded a man could be? He'd let nothing stand in his way--not even her. Was Noah as ambitious?

He was waiting for her in her office. He looked up when she entered, stood, and came around to the front of the desk. Francie would have preferred he stay behind the desk. Whenever he got too close, she couldn't think straight. The intensity of his green eyes, his thick dark hair, his large, muscled body stirred up elements she'd rather keep at rest. All morning she'd wondered what he'd look like in casual clothes, jeans particularly. She told herself that if she imagined him that way, he wouldn't seem so impressive, so formidable. But the idea of his legs encased in denim, the snap at his slim waist...

Noah broke into her musings. "Would you like to get something to eat at the snack bar?"

"I'd rather talk here."

He motioned to the other chair and she sat. So did he.

She folded her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. "Mr. Gordon..."

"Noah."

With his half-smile, it was easier to talk to "Noah" than "Mr. Gordon." "All right. Noah, I don't think you realize what this rink has become. It's not just a business any more."

"How so?"

"Did you look at our schedule for the coming week?"

"No."

Thankful for the opportunity to do something, she went to her desk and pulled out a pink flier from the bottom drawer. She handed it to him.

When he leaned forward to take it, she could smell the scent of his cologne, see the red highlights in his brown hair. She stood before him as he studied it. There was a small scar on the right side of his strong jaw. Were the tiny lines around his eyes from laughter or something more serious? He'd opened the top button of his shirt. His throat was tan against the white cotton.

He looked up, his gaze meeting hers. His eyes darkened to the green of an emerald forest. Suddenly, she was too close to him; he was too close to her.

She backed up and sat down again, her legs feeling like she'd skated a long program.

He laid the flier on the desk. "What's that supposed to show me?"

"I don't just give lessons. We don't just promote skating sessions. We have a teen night now and we're finally getting a good turnout. We have seniors night. They love the fifities music and the chance to do something besides walking. And family skates are starting to be almost too well attended. A few months ago we began birthday celebrations on Tuesday nights, and more and more private organizations are booking time. We've become a community center. Everyone can have a good time here. Everyone has a place to go."

"I understand the rink is becoming popular but..."

Francie forgot she'd wanted to stay calm and composed. She gestured to the flier. "You still don't get it. This is more than a rink." There was only one way she could show him. She sat forward in her chair. "How long are you going to stay in Gettysburg?"

"I'm not sure. Just until I can set up everything."

"Stay a few weeks."

"Francie, I don't have that kind of time."

"Don't you want to know what you own? Were you planning to sell the rink long-distance?"

"I was going to put it in the hands of a real estate agent. I can accept a contract no matter where I am."

"But you won't know who you're selling it to!"

His expression told her that that hadn't been a prime consideration.

"Mr. Gordon, the last manager didn't give a hoot about the rink or the public. That's why he couldn't keep it in the black. You can't just sell this place out from under us without understanding why it's finally succeeding."

"Apparently it's succeeding because Craig hired you to manage it."

"Did you know I had no prior management experience?"

He looked surprised. "Then how can you do what you're doing?"

His gaze was too intense. She'd met many men in her life and not one of them had looked at her like this, as if he was getting to know her by osmosis. It was unnerving.

"I love this place," she said honestly. "Before I started ice-skating seriously, I spent hours here with my friends and brothers. When I came back to Gettysburg after-- When I came back to Gettysburg, I got a part-time job here. I decided to get my instructor's certificate so I could work more hours. And when Craig fired the existing manager, I went to him with my ideas and he decided to give me a chance."

Noah dashed his hand through his hair. "And what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to give me a chance to show you what the rink means to the community. If you stay and watch, maybe you'll see firsthand how business has picked up and that in another year the profits will be worth calculating. It could even help you run your other rinks."

"You think if I stay awhile, I won't want to sell."

"Yes."

His brows arched. "At least you're honest."

"I try to be."

He examined her closely. "If I stay, I'm going to use the time to search for prospective buyers. I can't afford not to."

"I understand that."

A wry smile turned up his lips. "You're hoping I don't find any."

"Mr. Gordon..."

"Noah," he reminded.

"Noah, you know how I feel."

He gave a quick nod. "Yes, I do, and I respect your forthrightness. But I don't want to give you false hopes. We're on the opposite sides of the fence. If I stay, I might not change my mind."

"And if you stay, you might."

He laughed. "It's not often I come up against someone as determined as I am."

His laugh was rich and deep, vibrating through her. As his gaze combed her face, she shivered. But she didn't back down. "So you'll stay?"

He was silent, almost too long. Finally, he said, "I'll think about it and give you my answer at the end of the day."

***

Later that afternoon, Francie was attaching the promotional fliers for the week onto the bulletin board in the foyer when she saw Noah talking to her ticket taker, an orange ticket in his hand. Would she get an argument from him about that new program? Hadn't Craig told Noah anything? Or did Noah only care about the money coming in, not the reason for it?

A tap on her shoulder drew her attention from him. She turned around and saw her sister, a manila envelope in her hand.

"Mama said you needed this." Gina held out the envelope.

Francie recognized her writing in one corner and was puzzled. "Thanks for bringing it. But I could have brought it in tomorrow." The envelope she'd left on the dining room table contained Valentine's Day ideas.

Gina shrugged. "Mama said it was urgent."

Francie frowned. Gina was the only one in her family who didn't seem pleased to have her back home. Any time Francie tried to make a move toward her, Gina backed off. Their mother probably sensed that tension and was doing everything she could to lessen it. Francie knew made-up errands wouldn't do it. But she wouldn't let the opportunity to try pass by.

Francie motioned to the rink. "Come in. You haven't had skates on in awhile."

"No thanks. I have a date tonight and I have to get ready." Gina's hair was as black as Francie's, but straighter. She kept it cut in a pageboy. Her eyes were more amber than brown. She was a beautiful young woman standing on the verge of her future.

"Are you going to the movies?" Francie asked. Gettysburg was short on entertainment for teens.

Gina laughed. "No way. Not with Jake."

"Is he someone new?"

"Sort of. We've been going out for a month."

"And you haven't brought him to Sunday dinner yet?"

"Jake's not the type to appreciate Sunday dinner at our house."

All of Francie's senses came alert. "What type is he?"

"A loner. He does his own thing when he wants to do it. He makes everything exciting." Gina had forgotten her nonchalance for a moment and her eyes positively glowed.

"You really care about him."

"I more than care about him."

"Honey, go slow."

The glow left Gina's eyes and she looked wary. "Do you know how many girls would cut off their arm to date Jake? He's different, Francie. He's mature. He acts like a man, not a boy. So why should I go slow?"

Francie didn't want to put more of a wedge between her and her younger sister. But she felt protective. "Just try not to do anything rash. Talk to someone before you make any...important decisions."

"You mean like before I go to bed with him?"

Gina's attitude worried Francie. "I just want you to think before you act. You have to live the rest of your life with the decisions you make."

Gina looked at her oddly. "You regret some you made?"

"I wish I hadn't been so eager to give my heart away."

"To Brent?"

Francie nodded and involuntarily glanced at Noah.

She knew Gina had noticed when her sister asked, "What's he like?"

She answered the question in her mind. Strong and determined and...sexy. To Gina she said, "I'm not sure yet."

"I heard you talking to Mama and Pop last night. What will you do if the rink closes?"

What she'd really like to do, what she'd dreamed of doing, was going to college and becoming a teacher. But she had a lot of doubts about it. One was the course work, the second was the money. She couldn't and wouldn't ask her parents to support her in this, too. She had a little of her grandmother Marie's inheritance left and she could use her savings from doing approved endorsements, but that was a security blanket for the future. She needed a good job while she went to school. A job like she had now.

"I'm not sure yet. There's not much I can do with only a high school education."

"You could teach or coach figure skating, couldn't you?"

"I'd have to move to Hershey to do that. I'm tired of moving around, Gina, not being close to you and the family."

"Look what you had! All the publicity, skating, Brent."

Yes, she'd had a lot. But during those last few years, it hadn't brought her the happiness she'd wanted. "That's not the same as having you and Vince and Frank and Mama and Pop around."

Gina looked at her strangely. "If the rink closes, I'll bet you'll help Mama with her business. She always said you had an eye for style and color."

Their mother ran an interior-decorating business from her home. "I don't think so. Mama and Pop have done enough for me. In fact, I'm thinking about getting an apartment. Or at least I was till Noah Gordon came."

"You're not moving in over the garage?"

Her father and brothers had built an apartment over the garage to bring in extra money. The last tenant had moved less than a month ago. "No. That's income Pop can use with your going to college."

"But I have a scholarship."

"You'll have plenty of other expenses. And, Gina? That's another reason you should go slow with a boy now. With your going to college next year..."

"Enough advice, okay? I gotta go. Mama told me to tell you not to forget to eat supper."

"I won't."

As Gina turned to leave, Francie said, "I'm glad you came by. Why don't you bring Jake in some night this week? I'd like to meet him." She winked. "I could even round up free passes."

Gina seemed uncertain. "I'll think about it." She lifted her hand in a wave.

Francie looked down at the envelope in her hand and at her sister walking through the parking lot. She wished she knew why Gina was being so cool. She hoped she could figure it out soon.

Francie took down the old fliers from the bulletin board. When she heard a door open and close, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She didn't have to turn around to know Noah was standing behind her.

"Your sister didn't stay long."

Francie smiled. "She had to get ready for a date. That will take at least three hours."

"Is that what it takes you?"

Amusement danced in his eyes. Francie felt too pulled toward their green sparkle. She took another thumbtack from a flier on the board. "As one gets older, one gets faster."

"Does one have a reason for the change?"

"One learns it's not what's on the outside that counts so much." She tore the old fliers in half and threw them in the trash can in the corner.

Noah stood still in front of the bulletin board facing her, as if their conversation wasn't over. As she approached, he asked, "Francie, how well did you know Craig?"

There was something in his voice that made her stop at least three feet from him. "What do you mean?"

"Was your relationship strictly business or was there...a personal element?"

Over the years, Francie had learned to keep her temper in check. That had come along with the discipline and control of skating, working with coaches, being in the public. "Craig Reardon and I were friendly. He had dinner with my family when he was in town. He didn't talk much about his personal life, but I did know he was married."

"I didn't mean to suggest--"

"Yes, you did, and I resent it."

"You're a beautiful woman."

She didn't see herself that way. The fact that he did excited her. But that didn't excuse his suspicions. "Craig was my employer. There was no personal involvement between us."

After a long, penetrating look, Noah nodded. Putting his hands in his pockets and leaning against the wall in a casual stance, he said, "Tell me about the group of kids that came in the bus this morning."

She tensed again. Apparently the third degree wasn't over. "They're from the boys' home."

"Orphans?"

"Some. Some have parents who can't take care of them."

"The rink picks up the tab?"

"Half of it. Community organizations donate the rest. The kids come in once a month." She took a deep breath. "I realize you probably don't approve, but--"

He frowned and his brow creased. "What makes you think I don't approve?"

His questions about Craig, her attraction to Noah, made her blunt. "You want to make money."

He pulled his hands from his pockets and straightened. "You think I'm that single-minded that I can't appreciate your giving kids a chance to have fun?"

"You've made it clear your aim in coming here is to--" She stopped abruptly as a man came in the door and paused to unbutton his overcoat. Francie's heart almost stopped. Then she squared her shoulders, and it resumed its normal rhythm. Brent McIntosh had no power over her anymore, no power to hurt her. But what was he doing here?

Noah surveyed Francie's face, her body posture, then the man approaching her. "Who is he?"

"My former skating partner."

"Then why do you look as if you've seen a ghost?"

"Because he is a ghost--from my past."

"Do you want me to get rid of him?"

Francie was surprised by Noah's offer, as well as his wide-legged, protective stance. "No. I don't run from problems, Noah, I meet them head-on. Do you mind if we use the office for a few minutes?"

Noah's intense scrutiny was almost as disconcerting as Brent's presence. "I wanted to check out the equipment in the program room anyway. I'll tell Veronica you'll be tied up for the moment."

Francie nodded. Her assistant manager was capable of overseeing while she was busy elsewhere. In fact, Veronica would make an excellent manager herself someday.

Seconds later, Brent stood before Francie, his smile as charming as ever, his blond hair pushed back from his forehead. He'd shed his coat and thrown it over his arm. His casual sweater and slacks did justice to his athletic body.

To her surprise, Noah stayed put. She could tell he was giving Brent a thorough but quick once-over. Brent might be in excellent physical condition, but so was Noah. Brent's strength was purely physical. Francie sensed Noah's strength came from within.

She introduced the two men.

Noah said, "You know where I'll be if you need me."

Francie didn't know whether to smile or frown. She'd been making major decisions and standing on her own two feet since she was a teenager. Noah's I-can-handle-this-for-you attitude was both irritating and...confusing.

Francie showed Brent to the office. As he walked beside her, he asked, "How have you been?"

"Fine. And you?"

"That's what I want to talk to you about."

Once in her office, she closed the door--an uncommon occurrence, but she had no idea what had brought Brent to Gettysburg and privacy seemed smart. "Why are you here?"

"Look, Francie, I'm sorry I haven't e-mailed or called..."

"You've been busy. I imagine you're getting ready for the Olympics."

"I wish. We didn't qualify."

Francie hadn't kept track of the world of figure skating, hadn't watched the cable specials. Instead, she'd poured her time and energy into a different life. She hadn't cared about Brent's career, or so she'd told herself. Seeing him now, she knew the deep feelings she'd once had for him were gone, but she also knew there was something left unfinished between them.

"I don't know what to say. I know this Olympics was your goal."

He shifted his coat to his other arm. "I came to Pennsylvania because I heard of a choreographer in Hershey who is supposed to be superb."

"You're going to try a new style?"

"Perhaps."

"Why have you come to see me?"

"Because I want you to be my partner again, Francie. What do you say?"

CHAPTER THREE

Noah went for a walk as soon as Francie closed the office door. He didn't understand the turmoil pushing him to take long quick strides around the parking lot, ostensibly to study the plot of land he wanted to sell.

Why should he care that Francie's former partner had the power to shake her up? Why should he wonder what was going on in that office? Why should he feel a stab of jealousy he had no right to feel? But the thought of Francie with any man, let alone Brent McIntosh, made his stomach roil.

He walked the perimeter of the property, not caring that the wind sliced against his jacket flaps, not caring that his overcoat still hung in the motel closet, not caring that he was in Gettysburg to size up the rink, not Francie.

When he returned to the rink, his fingers were numb. He blew on his hands and waited for a slew of kids to enter in front of him. The sound of skates rolling didn't distract him as he went to the office. The door was open. It was empty.

Glancing around the rink, he quickly spotted Francie's violet outfit. She talked with a few children as she rolled beside them. He went back to the office to wait for her. And wait. And wait.

Finally, at the end of the afternoon, the sound of children's laughter diminished. Noah poked his head out of the office door, expecting to find Francie mopping the floor or taking a well-earned break at the snack bar. She was doing neither. He found her in the program room, the door almost but not quite closed.

She sat on a stool facing a monitor. A DVD player sat beside it. She didn't hear him push open the door. She didn't hear him step in.

He stood beside her, his gaze drawn to the monitor.

The music was the background; the movement was the poetry. Francie's emerald-green costume floated around her. Her hair in a ponytail shifted with her movement, brushing her shoulder, swaying across her back. Her posture, her gliding, her skating, was pure artistry as her head tilted, her arms gracefully lifted. Her elegance was enhanced by her partner's strength. Brent McIntosh's strength. He lifted her, twirling her above his head on one hand, her body a perfect arc. Noah held his breath as she seemed suspended in time. He didn't breathe again until she was safely on the ice once more.

Francie must have sensed Noah's presence because she stopped the DVD.

He took a step closer to her. "That was beautiful."

"We won the Nationals with that one."

Her eyes were full of so many things, none of which Noah understood. He wanted to ask her what she was thinking, what she was feeling. But he didn't know her well enough to do that. Even if he asked, he had the feeling she wouldn't answer.

So he stuck to the obvious. "Did your meeting go well?"

She flicked off the DVD player with the remote. "It gave me something to think about."

"Something to do with skating?"

She stood and set the remote on top of the TV. "Brent wants me to be his partner again."

"Professionally?"

She didn't turn around. "For the next Olympics. He wants to go for the gold, as he puts it."

"You're considering it?"

She faced Noah, her eyes troubled. "I don't know. We were good together once."

Noah knew she meant in more than skating. The jealousy rolled again, but he ignored it. "How long have you been away from training?"

She unplugged the wire leading from the DVD player to the monitor and stored it in a drawer. Then she ejected the DVD. "I haven't been away entirely. I still run, lift weights, take dance classes. I could lose the five to eight pounds..." Her voice faded.

"But?"

She seemed surprised that he'd heard the doubt. "I don't know if I want that life again."

Noah was sure there was more to it than that, and he wanted to know what. Stepping close to her, he touched her arm and nodded to the now blank monitor. "What does all this mean for you?"

Her eyes drifted shut. "I'm not sure yet. I have so many mixed feelings..." She stopped abruptly and opened her eyes. Looking down at his hand on her arm, she stepped away. "None of this is any of your concern. I won't let it affect my work."

He hadn't even been aware he'd touched her. Yet now he was very aware that he wasn't touching her. "The hell with your work. I'm worried about you. I saw your expression when McIntosh walked in." Noah waved at the monitor. "Talent like that shouldn't go to waste. And I'm sure it's not the first time you've heard that. Why are you managing a roller-skating rink when you could be using your natural gifts?"

Her chin lifted, and her eyes darkened to the deepest brown he'd ever seen. "You don't know anything about it, Noah. Have you ever loved something so much you never even thought of doing anything else? You wanted to eat it, sleep it, live it every minute? But then did you ever lose the joy that made it wonderful? The prize became greater than the art, success became more important than beauty, practice became an endurance trial rather than preparation. Why would I want to go back to that?"

He knew what loss was. He knew what happened when faith was shattered. Yet he knew about hope, too. "You can't get back the joy and beauty?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know if I want it back or if I want to move on. Maybe it's too late. Maybe I'm too old."

"Those sound like excuses."

She tossed him a defiant glare. "Maybe I don't want it back. Maybe I want something else."

"It's part of you, Francie. I saw your face as you were watching your performance."

"And what did you see?"

"Longing. Wishing."

Her voice lowered. "You don't know what happened."

"Were you injured?" It was the only explanation he could think of.

She picked up the DVD. "I don't want to talk about it."

"With anyone? Or with me?"

Her brown eyes couldn't have been any more direct. "I don't know you."

"Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger." Though he was quickly discovering he didn't want to be a stranger to Francie.

"Sometimes."

He listened to the determination and saw the independence. "But you're not going to talk to anyone, are you?"

"I'm an adult. I have to make my own decisions."

"That doesn't mean you can't let someone give you perspective."

"Noah, I've learned that everyone has their own agenda. I have to work this out on my own. But thanks for offering."

He heard her underlying reservations and suspected the real problem was that she didn't trust anyone enough to confide in them. Why? Who had hurt her? McIntosh?

Noah wrestled with his own demons in matters of trust, knowing they were part of the reason why he traveled as much as he did. He made sure he didn't stay anywhere long enough to make attachments. That way he didn't get hurt.

Yet Francie's offer--or challenge--to stay in Gettysburg a while intrigued him. She intrigued him. Her family intrigued him. He could monitor his other rinks from here as well as from Richmond. He'd been traveling the better part of the last three months. Maybe it was time for a break.

"When do you have to decide about McIntosh's offer?"

She gripped the DVD tighter as if it could somehow help her decide. "He wants to know within the next few weeks. He's invited me to come up to New York state to watch him train, to train with him, to skate with him again. But I don't see how I can leave the rink."

"Why not? Veronica is more than capable of taking over from what I've seen so far. Am I right?"

"I don't know how I'd manage without her. She's organized and the staff respects her."

Noah was close enough to Francie to see each tiny freckle on the bridge of her nose that he hadn't noticed before. "If Veronica can handle the rink, and if I stay on, you don't have an excuse if you want to go to New York."

"But I thought you were leaving..."

"I've decided to agree to your suggestion. I'll stay. With video conferencing and my cell phone, I can run the business from here."

She smiled, as if he'd agreed not to sell.

"Francie, I said I'd stay. I'm still looking for a buyer."

The smiled dimmed slightly, but not much. "I know. But at least you're giving the rink a chance. You won't be sorry."

He hoped not. But when he gazed into Francie's beautiful brown eyes, he wasn't so sure.

****

When Francie came into the rink early Sunday afternoon after dinner with her family, Noah was sitting at her desk. She zeroed in on the larger monitor there, rather than Noah, hoping to forget the strange way she felt whenever she was near him--hot and cold, excited and afraid. Thinking about Brent's reappearance in her life, her conversation with Noah and his decision to stay on awhile, had kept her awake most of the night.

Now, seeing Noah so at home at her desk... "Where did that come from?"

"It will be helpful with the new programs I uploaded. I can help you get acquainted with them."

Noah had discarded his suit coat, his shirt sleeves were rolled up his forearms, the curling brown hair on his wrists and farther up drawing her attention. He didn't look so stiff, so businesslike. He looked somewhat casual, sexy... She eyed the monitor.

Noah leaned back in the swivel chair, making it squeak. "If I do sell to someone who wants to keep the rink, if you do stay on, this new set-up will make your job easier. You have about forty-five minutes before the skating starts." He stood and motioned to the chair. "Play with it a little."

"Noah, I have better things to do."

"Are you afraid of innovation, Francie?" His tone challenged her as much as his green gaze.

She hedged. "I'm not tech savvy."

"Just follow the instructions on the screen for entering data." He crooked his finger at her. "Come here. I'll show you."

Deciding it was better to placate him for a few minutes than argue with him, she acquiesced. He stood, and she sat in the chair, all the while aware of his tall bulk behind her. His after-shave was subtle, woodsy. As he bent toward her and pressed a button, her heart raced and her stomach lurched. Reminding herself he would be around only a few weeks, she took in a breath, attempting to steady her pulse.

Noah pulled a few papers clloser to the keyboard and showed her how to enter basic information. She followed his directions, but the attempt to steady her pulse was useless with him so close.

Relieved when she heard the familiar sound of skaters rolling on the floor, Francie glanced at the clock on the wall. "I have to get out there. Thanks for the lesson. It will come in handy."

Noah had perched on the corner of the desk to watch and instruct. He made no move to stand. "Francie, I really think this can help you."

She sighed. "I have a lot on my mind right now. New computer programs are the last thing I need to think about."

"I think it's more than that. You're afraid to try something new."

His probing green eyes penetrated all too deeply. She lifted her head, trying to keep her distance, trying to tell herself she didn't enjoy standing so close to him. "That's your opinion."

"Am I wrong?"

Francie had never been able to lie to anyone. Noah was no exception. She shrugged. "Maybe not."

"Why are you afraid?"

Maybe it was the gentleness of his voice that got to her. She looked down at his hand on her arm and he released his hold. "It's hard to explain. When most kids were out exploring, discovering, I was sticking to a regimen and a tight schedule. Anything new I tried, a new jump, different choreography, had to do with skating, not life in general. It was a safe world. A protected world."

He looked perplexed. "But you asked to manage the rink with no experience. That certainly was trying something new."

"No, that was desperation. I needed something to fill up my life, to absorb my energy, to help me...forget." She'd said at lot more than she'd intended to say. Upset that he could pull confidences from her so easily, she headed for the door.

"Francie?"

She stopped and turned.

"You'll get used to the new programs."

He wasn't challenging her now, he was offering her an opportunity to learn. She nodded and went to get her skates.

****

Francie stared at the grey-screened monitor, totally dismayed. She didn't know where Noah had gone, but she hated to tell him she'd lost everything they'd accomplished. What had she done? She thought she'd pushed the right button!

She sighed, leaned back in her chair, and laid her head against the back. She'd never had much time for anything but skating. Not only had she gotten up most mornings at 3:30 A.M. to drive to the rink for practice, but she'd had ballet class after school, too. Finding time to study had never been easy. Truthfully, academics had never been her forte. She'd had to work hard for the grades she'd achieved. But maybe that was because her attention had always been divided.

Gina was the scholar. And Francie had never resented her sister's ease in schoolwork. That was just the way it was. But that's why Francie had thrown herself into skating, something that seemed to come naturally, something she could practice and master almost effortlessly. Until winning had become more important than skating itself, until Brent had become more and more volatile, until she'd wondered if life off the ice existed.

She sat forward again, peering at the monitor, hoping it would tell her something soon. Hadn't Noah mentioned a HELP key? Now which one...? She pressed one, nothing happened. She pressed another. The machine beeped.

"Damn!"

Noah entered the office, grinning. "That wasn't you I heard, was it?"

A red flush crept up her face. "The kids have all left. At least for two more hours. You're not going to believe what I did."

His grin grew wider. "Uh-oh. Sounds like something terrible."

She threw her hands up. "It's not funny. I lost everything."

His brows arched and as he peered at the monitor from the opposite side of the desk, a lock of wavy hair fell over his forehead.

Though tempted to push it back from his brow, she instead returned her attention to the blank screen. "The information's not here."

She could tell Noah was trying hard to hide a smile as he came around the back of the desk. It wasn't funny.

She tried to squiggle her chair out of the way, but one roller hit the edge of the desk and her elbow brushed Noah's thigh. A current of electricity raced through her. Knowing there wasn't room enough for herself, the chair, and Noah at the computer, she began to stand.

He laid his hand on her shoulder. "Stay put. If you didn't delete, we'll have it back in a minute." His lazy smile along with his firm touch turned her stomach upside down.

She swallowed. "And if I did?"

He shrugged matter-of-factly. "If you deleted, you'll have to do it all over again."

"Not in my lifetime," she muttered.

He laughed and pushed a few buttons. The information she'd been working with flooded the screen once more.

"Where was it?" she asked in amazement.

His eyes twinkled. "Do you really want to know?"

She looked at the monitor, she looked at him, she felt the heat of his hand on her shoulder, and her mouth went dry. "No. It doesn't matter." Was that her voice, so low and thready?

Noah's face was very close to hers as he leaned toward the desk. "We should print this out."

When she turned to look at him, the top of her head brushed his chin. His lips looked firm, warm. The pulse on his jaw seemed to be beating in time with the increased rate of her heart. She slowly met his green gaze. He moved fractionally closer and her heart flip-flopped. If he kissed her, would she...

"Francie Marie. Have you had supper yet?"

Noah quickly moved to the side as Angela Piccard entered the office, a covered casserole in hand.

Francie felt her cheeks go hot. What had her mother seen? What had she thought? "Mama, what are you doing here?"

Angela plopped a potholder on the desk, setting the casserole on top of it. "Your father's doing our bookwork for last month. Gina went out again. So I brought you some left-over lasagna so you won't eat one of those hot dogs."

Her mother was still trying to make up for all the years Francie had been away. "I didn't eat yet. Thank you."

"Good." Angela smiled at Noah. "There's enough here for two."

"That's very kind of you, Mrs. Piccard."

She brushed his words away. "Angela. Call me Angela." She adjusted the lid on the casserole. "I came for another reason. Francie tells us you're staying a while."

Noah's expression became guarded. "Yes, I am."

"And you're staying in a motel?"

He nodded.

"We have an apartment over our garage that's empty at the moment. You're welcome to stay there."

Noah glanced at Francie. "That's very kind of you, but if you can get a permanent tenant, I wouldn't want to stand in your way."

Francie didn't think Noah was comfortable with the offer. She didn't know if she was. They'd be working together at the rink. To have him in such close proximity other times... She wished her mother had discussed this with her first. Not that talking would have done any good. Angela Piccard always did what she thought best despite adverse opinion.

"Francie, tell him how nice it is," her mother directed.

Obediently, Francie said, "It's very nice."

Noah's lips twitched at her lack of enthusiasm and he seemed to relax. "Why would you offer it to me, Mrs. Piccard?" At her raised brows, he amended, "Angela."

"Francie and I know how impersonal motel rooms are, how sterile. Who wants to go back there at night? This is furnished and you'll have everything you need."

"Mrs. Piccard..." He caught himself again. "Angela, you know nothing about me."

"I know you're a reputable businessman. I know Craig spoke highly of you. That's all I need. I don't think you'll back up a van to the place and empty it in the dead of night. I'm a good judge of character." She paused and glanced at Francie. "Usually. This time I know I'm right. You're welcome to the apartment."

"Mama, Noah might feel freer to come and go at a motel."

Angela clicked her tongue. "Nonsense. That place is just sitting empty and I worry about someone breaking in. He'll be doing us a favor."

Noah studied Angela for a few moments. "All right. It sounds good to me. You're right about motels, and I see a lot of them. Cooking my own food is preferable to eating out all the time, too. When can I move in?"

Francie's mother grinned. "As soon as you'd like. I aired it out and put clean sheets on the bed this afternoon. It's ready." She took a key from her purse. "Here you go. And if you need something, don't hesitate to ask Francie or knock on our door."

After Angela left, Noah looked concerned. "She does know I might sell the rink, doesn't she?"

"Yes."

"Francie, I hope she doesn't think hospitality will change my mind."

Francie was hoping the rink itself would do that. "Mama's just being Mama. Don't be surprised if you find a casserole on your doorstep at night."

He shook his head. "There aren't many women left like her."

"You mean women who put everyone else's needs before their own?" Francie had done that with Brent and that had brought her only heartache.

"No. Women who know how to nurture."

He sounded so sad that Francie said, "Mothers usually have that knack."

He looked out the window instead of at her. "Not all mothers."

"Noah?"

His eyes were shuttered when he turned around. He pointed to the printer. "Let's print this out before something happens to it," he said gruffly.

****

Bearing a gift from her mother, Francie climbed the steps to the apartment above the garage. Noah had left the rink earlier than Francie to check out of his motel and move into the apartment. She'd been considering something all afternoon and decided now was as good a time as any to approach him. Maybe it was an impulsive decision, and maybe it was a mistake, but maybe it was a good financial opportunity, too.

Francie rapped on the door, hoping Noah would find her mother's pastry as tempting as her lasagna. She needed him to be in a receptive frame of mind. A January breeze swept by, making her shiver. She'd run up here without her jacket, thinking her sweater would be sufficient. When Noah didn't answer, she knocked again, louder.

He opened the door and she stepped back, gripping the dish in her hand so hard she probably set her fingerprints on it for life.

He was shirtless. Every muscle on his chest spoke of hard work or a daily workout. Curly chestnut hair waved in an uneven design across his chest. A narrow strip led straight under his loosened belt buckle.

She snapped her gaze back up to his face. His head was tilted, his eyes sparkling at her discomfiture. She backed up another step on the small landing. "I'll come back. I didn't mean to disturb you."

He motioned to the living room. "Come on in. You didn't disturb me. I was changing before I work out. But that can wait."

Her gaze drifted again to the open belt buckle.

His lips curved in amusement. "Honestly, Francie, come on in. I'll put a shirt on and we can talk."

Talk. That's why she'd come. Right? She followed him inside and held out the dessert dish. "Mama thought you'd enjoy this."

He took it and lifted the plastic wrap. A cone-shaped pastry overflowed with white cream dotted with pistachios and chocolate chips. Poking his finger into the filling, he tasted it. "This is wonderful. Perfect for an after-workout snack. It's a cannoli, right?"

"Right."

He smiled, then studied Francie for a moment. "But you didn't come here just to bring me dessert, did you?"

The man was too perceptive for her peace of mind. Brent could never read her with the ease Noah did. It was unsettling. Suddenly she was nervous. Something about her and Noah in the small living room, his upper torso naked... She glanced in the other direction and saw an assortment of weights and a skiing machine. "Do you take all this everywhere you go?"

"The skier folds. It all fits easily into the trunk."

"Is everything here okay? You've found what you need?"

His eyes grew dark and hot at her question and her breath came faster. There was something powerful about Noah, something exciting. She wondered what he was thinking.

But his words were commonplace. "The apartment's great. Much more welcoming than a motel room. It almost feels like a...home."

That sadness was there again that made her want to reach out to him. She looked at the surroundings through his eyes. Her mother had sewn the navy and peach floral slipcovers herself. The sofa and armchair took up a good portion of the room. The navy and russet braided rug covering the dark parquet floor added to the homey feel. Francie herself had embroidered the framed crewelwork of the four seasons on the wall. Stitchery was one of the few ways she could sit still, relax, and let stress slip away.

The wooden dinette set in the kitchen was the same light blue as the cabinets. Navy and white cafe curtains hung at the window. The surroundings were pleasant, cheerful.

"I'm glad you like it. Sometimes in winter it gets a little chilly up here..."

"Your mother brought me an extra blanket."

Francie would bet a week's pay that Noah slept in the nude. She wished she could keep her gaze away from his chest, ignore the urge to run her fingers across it, through the hair. Blast it! What was the matter with her?

She nodded to the dish in his hand and stuffed her hands into her jeans pockets. "If you're not going to eat that now, you should refrigerate it."

In a few steps, he'd opened the refrigerator and poked the dessert inside. It was the only thing on the shelves. "Tomorrow I'll have to go grocery shopping. Where's the closest store?"

Francie gave him directions. Then curiosity got the better of her. "You really cook?"

He gave her a mock frown. "I'm thirty-six years old. How do you think I survived all these years?"

"Fast-food restaurants?" she teased.

He chuckled. "Your brothers know how to cook, why shouldn't I?"

It was a fair question, requiring a fair answer. "You just don't seem like the type."

His expression sobered. "I was on my own a lot growing up. I either cooked or didn't eat."

"No brothers or sisters?"

"Nope."

More than curiosity made her ask, "Do you have much family?"

He pushed the toaster closer to the small microwave oven. "None."

Her heart hurt for him. Family meant so much--support, comfort, love. She couldn't imagine doing without hers. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry--"

The cell phone on a side table chirped, startling Francie.

Noah looked relieved. "I'd better get that."

Glad for the interruption into a conversation he didn't want to have, Noah listened to one of his managers. However his gaze was on Francie as she roamed around the room and stopped to examine the skiing machine. Something was bugging her. And she was bugging him. Those damn big brown eyes that had widened so innocently at the sight of his bare chest. He couldn't help but feel a few moments of male satisfaction, but other feelings and urges had quickly taken over. There was passion in Francie. He could feel it. Deep, wild passion she restrained. He'd had a glimpse of it concerning the rink. And when her eyes had fallen to his loosened belt buckle, he'd seen it again.

A man. A woman. Attracted to each other. How simple it could be. How complicated. He sighed and repeated to himself, No involvement with Francie. She deserved more than he could give. Her questions about family had brought home more than anything how different they were. They came from two different worlds.

Noah concentrated on his manager's problem. "Call the insurance company and make sure about liability coverage. But I don't see any reason to increase it now or to switch companies. City Mutual is competent and easy to work with. Let me know if you have any more questions."

When he hung up, Francie said, "I'd never think of calling you after hours."

"Apparently you don't call much at all, or you would have known Craig had left."

She picked up one of the round five-pound weights, balanced it on her hand, then set it back on the floor. "I try to handle problems myself."

"Craig told me that."

Her gaze locked to Noah's. "He's really all right?"

"Yes. He went back to accounting."

"Accounting?"

"He and I had an accounting firm before we bought the rinks."

"Why did he sell out? He never talked as if he was considering it."

"He had some personal problems, Francie. That's all I can say." Craig was the one person with whom Noah had a bond. He wouldn't discuss his friend's problems with anyone, not even Francie.

A strange look came over Francie's face. What was going on in that pretty head of hers? He couldn't tell. But he was becoming more and more sure it wasn't good for them to be alone up here.

She moved away from the skiing machine and stood at the edge of the kitchen counter. "Noah, I have a proposition for you."

He almost laughed. But he didn't. She was dead serious. "Go on."

She clasped her hands together in front of her. "I want to buy a share of the Gettysburg Roller-Fun."

CHAPTER FOUR

"Do you know what kind of money you're talking about?" Noah asked.

"I have some saved," Francie said defensively. "I just hadn't decided how I wanted to invest it. Now I know. It would give you some liquidity." She smiled beguilingly. "And we'd both be happy."

"So what you're saying is I should keep the rink, take the money you offer to pour into the business, and forget about selling."

"Sounds good to me."

"It doesn't sound good to me. What you could offer doesn't create the amount of cash flow I want. I need more than that to replace..." He caught himself. "I need more than that to revamp a few of the rinks."

She gazed at him speculatively and he felt uncomfortable. He couldn't tell her Craig had embezzled more than the cost of the rink, enough to make Noah have to cut costs as much as he could and scrutinize his cash flow and profit margin carefully. That was made more difficult by the fact he now had Craig's territory to cover and less time to spend on everything else. Craig was basically an honest, decent man who'd found himself in a situation he couldn't handle. And Noah felt responsible. He wouldn't take on a partner again. He'd learned the hard way he should only depend on himself.

"What's the real reason you won't accept my offer?" Francie pressed as she pushed her hair over her shoulder.

"Cash flow is the real reason."

"Can't you be honest with me, Noah?"

When she frowned, the same dimple appeared as when she smiled. He switched his attention from her face to the matter at hand. He could be honest, but she wasn't going to like his honesty. "The truth is I don't want another partner."

"Why not?"

He shrugged, hoping a simple explanation would do. "I work better solo."

"Your partnership with Craig wasn't a success?"

He should have known that Francie wouldn't accept simple. "My partnership with Craig is none of your business." It came out sharper than he intended, but Craig's dishonesty and betrayal still hurt. Noah wouldn't set himself up like that again. Put someone in the position to hurt you and chances were they would. You'd think he would have learned that too by now.

Her eyes widened and emotion blazed there. She stepped closer to him and pointed her finger at his chest. "You don't know a good thing when you see it."

The tip of her finger grazed his skin and a jolt of desire shot through him. Reflexively his arms went around her.

Her sweater was as soft as it looked, her shoulders delicate but small, her hair glossy and thick as it fell down her back and teased his hands. She was a mixture of softness and fiery determination. He'd taken her by surprise, and for a moment she was uncharacteristically still. Her lips were a breath from his. He could smell her scent of roses made more exotic by her feminine sweetness. Her brown eyes were alive with surprise and he wondered if he saw a flare of passion.

Francie in his arms was the stirring experience he'd expected it to be. As he imagined his lips touching hers, caressing hers, devouring hers...

The warning system he'd developed over the years kicked in and the alarm was so loud it reverberated in his head. Kissing Francie would only lead to complications he didn't want or need.

Instead of kissing her, he brought his hand to her face and slowly traced her lips with his forefinger. "I do know a good thing when I see it. Believe me."

She seemed mesmerized, and he felt her tremble. She was as responsive as she was sensual.

Then she blinked and backed away. Avoiding his gaze, she went to the door and put her hand on the knob. As she opened it, she said, "It was a good idea."

"For you, Francie. Not for me."

She left then, closing the door with a forceful plunk.

Logically, Noah knew he'd done what was best as far as his business was concerned, as far as Francie was concerned. But that was small comfort as the emptiness that had always been a part of his life yawned deeper and wider than before.

****

The last person Francie expected to see after she brushed her teeth and combed her hair Monday morning was Noah Gordon. And the last place she expected to see him was sitting at the kitchen table with her father!

The rink was closed on Monday and she usually slept later, ran errands, went to dance class, then read to children at the elementary school. After last night, she'd decided if Noah wanted her, he could come find her.

Wanted her. Come find her. She'd seen the desire in his eyes last night and recalled all too well her response to being held in his arms, touched by his hands. She'd never experienced that kind of excitement before. When Brent had touched her, it had felt nice. Never that explosive.

Noah saw her standing in the doorway and smiled. Her pulse raced and she dropped her eyes to the lap-top computer on the table and her father's receipts spread across the Formica.

"What's going on, Pop?"

Her dad clapped Noah on the shoulder. "Noah here came over to borrow a couple of eggs. He saw what I was doing and told me he might be able to make it easier for me."

"Trading eggs for a computer doesn't seem equal to me."

Her father laughed. "I might have to get one of these, honey. He's got a program that's more intelligent than mine. More comprehensive. Do you realize how much time this could save me?"

"You understand it already?" she asked wistfully.

Noah answered. "We've been at it about an hour. Your dad picked it up quickly."

"Not like me," she muttered.

Noah looked surprised. "You did just fine. It takes some people longer to get into the rhythm of it."

His praise felt good but it didn't eliminate the worry and anxiety she still felt about going back to school. If Noah wouldn't accept her investment in the rink, she needed to consider further education seriously. Especially if, God forbid, the rink closed.

Her stomach growled and she glanced at the clean frying pan on the stove. "Where's Mama?"

"She had an early appointment in York. Decorating some office building. Gina just grabbed a cannoli. It's a good thing Angela didn't see her."

Gina's eating habits and Angela's idea of what they should be constantly clashed. "So neither of you had breakfast?"

Noah motioned to his mug. "Coffee."

Paul's grin was sly. "Would you care to make us some?"

Francie realized she was getting sucked in. Angela catered to her husband whenever she could. But Francie knew he could flip an egg as well as anyone. She smiled at him. "I could be persuaded. If the price is right."

"Uh-oh. You got to watch these daughters, Noah. They're more conniving than any son."

Francie laughed. "Are we gonna deal?"

Paul rolled his eyes. "What's the price tag for breakfast?"

"You fix the drip in the upstairs sink. I had enough trouble getting to sleep last night without—"

Noah's gaze buckled to hers and she knew her eyes betrayed her. Now he knew the scene in the garage apartment had shaken her. He certainly didn't look as if it had shaken him. All neat and precise with his hair combed perfectly, his oxford shirt open at the neck, his slacks perfectly creased.

"Francie?"

Her dad's voice made her realize she'd been staring at Noah much too long.

"You were saying?" he asked with raised brows.

What had she been saying? Oh, the drip. "I'll make breakfast if you fix the drip."

"And what does Noah have to do?" her father asked innocently.

"Pardon me?"

"Does he get off scot-free? Doesn't seem fair."

Noah grinned rakishly. "Yeah. It doesn't seem fair. What can I do?"

"Are you finished showing Pop what he needs to know?"

Noah looked at Paul. "I suppose so."

"Good." She took a bowl from the cupboard, opened the refrigerator, snatched a box of eggs from the door, and handed them to Noah. "Crack ten of these into that bowl."

"And what are you going to do?"

She glanced at the cluttered table. "Set up TV tables in the living room so we can eat, then fry the bacon and stand guard over the eggs."

As Francie pulled dishes from the cupboard, she surreptitiously watched Noah. He cracked an egg expertly with one hand and tossed the shell into the drainer in the sink. He did another, then turned and caught her watching him.

He winked. "Thought I'd make a mess, didn't you?"

She felt the heat flash to her cheeks. "No, of course not."

He cocked his head. "Don't underestimate me, Francie. That would be a mistake."

Had she underestimated him? Had she thought she could outmaneuver him? She didn't know how to play games; she didn't know how to manipulate. She only knew how to work hard for what she wanted and hope that was enough. The problem was that Noah had the power in his hands to make all her hard work count for nothing. She couldn't let that happen. No, she wouldn't underestimate him, but she wouldn't let him sell the rink out from under her, either.

Making breakfast was not a difficult task. Francie had certainly done it often enough. But working next to Noah, she was all thumbs and two left feet.

She stood at the stove watching the bacon. Noah dumped the eggs into the skillet and reached around her for the salt and pepper, his arm grazing her back. She dropped her fork. He bent to pick it up at the same time she did. Their noses almost touched; their fingers did. She plucked the fork from the floor, straightened, and dropped the utensil in the sink. Apparently he'd learned his way around the kitchen, because when she turned back to the bacon, he presented her with another fork.

"Know what we forgot?" he asked with a serious expression.

She was almost afraid to ask. "What?"

"Onions."

She'd been thinking how large his hands were, how hot his skin was, how green his eyes were. "Onions?"

"I like to chop and saute them before I dump in the eggs."

Saute. This undeniably masculine male knew the meaning of saute. She eyed him suspiciously. "Did you ever take cooking lessons?"

He grinned and her stomach lurched. "Nope. Betty Crocker's cookbook is the bible in my kitchen. I read it cover to cover when I was twelve."

"Why?"

His grin disappeared. "Because I was tired of canned soup and it was one of the few things in the house to read. I didn't have a computer then to get the info...or recipes I wanted."

From the little Noah had said about his background, she'd suspected he hadn't had a "normal" childhood. She hadn't, either, but hers was due to choice rather than circumstance. "We had books galore lying around, but I never had time to read them. And a computer. But I was busy with everything that had to do with skating." She was suddenly more curious than she wanted to be about his years growing up. "It sounds as if you were on your own a lot."

He cut the eggs in quarters and flipped them. "My dad cut out soon after I was born. My mom was too busy working in cocktail lounges and looking for singing gigs to think about much else."

Meaning she was too busy to think about him. Francie didn't know what to say. She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if her father had heard. But he seemed to be engrossed at the laptop. "You said you have no family. Your mom..."

"Died the year after I graduated from college."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I. That year I could have helped her. I finally had some money..." He shook his head and went silent.

Francie sensed he didn't want more questions. She could understand the need for privacy. That's all she'd wanted when she'd come back to Gettysburg. And her family had given her that, for the most part. Except for her mother. She had prodded and poked till she learned the whole story. She'd probably told the family, but no one had questioned Francie.

Who did Noah have to support him?

"Noah?" When he looked at her, she couldn't ask. There was too much sadness in his eyes. She realized his support came from an inner strength he'd somehow developed.

She wanted to take that sadness away. So she smiled. "How are the eggs?"

He smiled back. "Finished."

As they ate breakfast, Francie's father kept the conversation flowing with Noah. As Paul finished his last forkful of eggs, he declared, "I've made up my mind."

"About?" Francie asked.

"I want a laptop with the same programs that Noah has. "Noah, if you're not too busy, would you go to the electronics store with me and point out what I need?"

Noah looked pleased. "Sure. I have an appointment at two but until then I'm free."

Francie suspected what that appointment was about. "Does it concern the rink?"

Paul arched his brows at his daughter. "Maybe it's personal."

Noah wiped his mouth with his napkin and laid it on the table next to his dish. "I have an appointment with a real estate agent."

Francie wasn't surprised, but it was a blow just the same.

"I'm going to show him the rink," Noah continued. "Can you be there?"

"No, I'm busy then."

Paul broke the tense silence with an admonishing look at his daughter because she hadn't explained further. "Francie reads to a kindergarten class every Monday afternoon."

Francie hopped up from her chair and collected her father's dish. When she reached for Noah's, he said, "I'll bring it in."

She went to the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher. Noah placed his plate in the slot behind hers. "You knew what I intended to do."

She rearranged a few of the dishes. "But I thought you might wait a few days, at least."

His voice came over her shoulder, clear and determined. "I need to get appraisals. I have to start somewhere. If all goes well, I can get it listed by next week."

The dishes forgotten, she spun around. "I thought you were going to give me some time to show you—"

His green regard was as direct as his reasoning. "With the market the way it is, this could be a long process, Francie. It could take months. I have to get the ball rolling."

Rolling right over her and the rink. She dropped the silverware into its caddy.

Ignoring her frosty dismissal, his voice softened. "Tell me why you read to a kindergarten class."

He was attempting to divert her attention. She might as well let him, because arguing wouldn't serve any purpose except to increase the tension between them. She said curtly, "I like kids."

"You're with kids at the rink all the time."

"Reading to them is different. I have their full attention. Their eyes get so big and wide. They ask questions. There's this connection between us. They learn from me. I learn from them."

He leaned against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other. "What do you learn?"

Noah had a way of listening that led her to respond spontaneously. "That kids have the innate curiosity to learn and if we don't tamper with it, but rather guide it, they'll take off like shooting stars."

"It sounds as if you'd like to do more than read to them."

"I'd like to teach them," she mused softly and suddenly realized she'd said it aloud. Noah was too easy to talk to. She took the dishwashing detergent from the cabinet, poured it into the door, and flipped closed the compartment latch.

"Why don't you?"

"Because I need a degree."

"Do you want to go back to school?"

"It takes more than wanting, Noah. All my life, I've felt I've been preparing, not living. It's hard to explain."

The seriousness of his voice belied his casual pose. "You could go back to school and live."

"I've been thinking about it. But I've been away from books for eight years. And college is a major commitment."

"But it could be your future."

She studied him, looking for an ulterior motive for his encouragement. If she went back to school, he could feel less guilty about selling the rink. "I'd still need a job while I'm going to school. I have to support myself."

"Maybe you could enroll in a work-study program."

Didn't he just have all the answers? Even if she did that, a part-time job such as work-study offered wouldn't take care of all her living expenses. "I could look into it."

He uncrossed his ankles, straightened, and probed her heart with his gaze. "You're afraid to go back."

She shouldn't feel so vulnerable around him. She shouldn't feel as if he knew her, because he didn't. "What makes you such an authority?"

He leaned forward and she thought he was going to touch her. Instead, he shoved his hand into his pocket. "Do you think I haven't known fear, Francie? But I've learned to face it and do what I need to do anyway."

"Maybe you're stronger than I am," she said softly. She thought about her last practice with Brent when they'd tried to execute a complicated lift and he'd dropped her. She remembered the reason why. Was she hesitating about going to New York because she didn't want to face that fear and those memories, either?

"Maybe you don't know your own strength."

The more she talked with Noah, the more complex he seemed, and the better he seemed to know her. Turning away from the power and knowing in his green eyes, she closed the dishwasher door. "Going back to school is more complicated than sitting down with a new computer program." To herself she added, So was going to New York and skating with Brent.

Noah's voice was firm and as penetrating as his gaze. "More complicated, but not so different, either. Have you made a decision about skating?"

She had pushed Brent and skating to a think-about-tomorrow corner of her mind—until now. "No." If Noah wanted her future settled so it wouldn't affect his, she wasn't going to oblige him. Not until she was sure about what she wanted to do. The question was—when would she be sure?

****

Sipping her chocolate milkshake on Thursday evening, Francie sat with Gina in the snack bar at Roller-Fun. Every few minutes Gina checked her watch and glanced toward the doors. Francie had been delighted when Gina told her she'd bring Jake in to meet her. Besides, in addition to the opportunity to build a better relationship with Gina, Francie appreciated the distraction. She practically jumped out of her skin whenever Noah came close, so she'd avoided him as much as she could. But she couldn't avoid the real estate agents who'd paraded through the rink all week, asking her questions.

Turning her thoughts back to Gina, Francie tried to reassure her. "He's only five minutes late. Relax."

Gina stripped the paper from her straw and plopped it in her shake. "He gets tied up sometimes. Maybe he decided..."

"Skating isn't the 'cool' thing to do?" Francie finished.

Gina grimaced at her sister's terminology. "Something like that."

"You know, we soon have to get everyone together to finish planning Mama and Pop's anniversary party. What do you think about meeting here tomorrow evening?"

"That's fine," Gina said absently, then broke into a wide smile as she stood and waved her arm at a young man to attract his attention.

Francie studied the teenager who swaggered toward their table. He was undeniably good-looking, his shaggy hair defying the new shorter looks. An air of defiance accentuated his stance and glowed from his eyes. Francie saw immediately why Gina was attracted to him. He was everything Gina was not. Rebellious. Daring. Probably a risktaker.

Tight black denims hugged Jake's hips. His silver studded leather jacket was unzipped, revealing a black T-shirt underneath. He put his arm around Gina and stooped to give her a long, full kiss, then looked at Francie as if expecting a comment. She didn't give one.

With a half-smile, he said, "Gina's told me a lot about you. You're famous."

He looked as if fame was one thing that might impress him. "Not anymore." Francie extended her hand. "It's good to meet you."

He took her hand briefly then slid into the booth beside Gina, scanning the rink. "I haven't been inside this place in years."

"You and Gina are welcome any time."

He narrowed his eyes. "So you can keep your eye on us?"

"Why would you think that?"

His expression told her he hadn't expected her to challenge him. "You're Gina's older sister. Families are usually nosy."

Gina looked uncomfortable and Francie was determined to handle this as tactfully as she could. Whatever was going on with Gina, Francie didn't want to alienate her further. "I care about Gina. But I made the offer because I thought you two might have fun here. Lots of teenagers do."

"Yeah, well, I'm not like lots of teenagers. Neither is Gina." He patted her hand. "At least she's finding that out."

Francie wondered exactly what they had been doing on their dates.

Gina quickly explained, "Jake has college friends. We spend a lot of time with them."

Doing what? Francie wondered. Instead of asking, she tried to make the conversation base broader. "Are you and Gina taking the same classes?"

"Social studies is about it. Gina's headed for college. I'm not."

"What do you plan to do?"

His expression became wary. "Work on the race-car circuit. I work with a mechanic now. We soup up cars."

"For race tracks?"

"Not exactly." He shot a quick look at Gina. "Some kids race on highways, not speedways."

Gina averted her gaze and looked down at her pink-tipped fingernails.

But Jake looked straight at Francie. "Not when anyone else is on the road, of course."

Gina mumbled, "They do it at three or four in the morning." She raised her chin. "It's not as bad as it sounds."

"That's good, because it sounds dangerous." Francie was ready to talk her father into locking Gina in her room until she was twenty-five. But that wouldn't create a bond of trust between her and her sister. Criticizing Jake in front of Gina wouldn't work, either.

Noah appeared beside their table, and Francie wondered if he'd overheard the conversation. He smiled at Gina and asked, "Are you ready to skate?"

Gina leaned closer to Jake. "This is Noah Gordon. He owns the rink."

Jake's brows raised. "Really? So you're Francie's boss."

"I own the rink. Ms. Piccard runs it." Noah said to Francie, "There's a message for you on the rink's answering machine. It must have come in over the dinner break."

"Is it urgent?"

"It can probably wait, but you're the best judge of that."

Jake slid toward the edge of the booth. "We don't want to keep you. Gina and I are meeting some friends in Biglerville."

Gina looked surprised as if it was the first she'd heard about it. "Yeah, that's right."

Noah moved away so Jake could get out. "It's a shame you aren't going to stay. We play a mix of music on Thursdays."

"I'm into rap," Jake muttered as he slid out and stood.

"What about you, Gina?" Noah asked.

"I like lots of different music–and I'm into rap."

Francie knew better. Gina liked rock and had never been ashamed to admit it before.

Jake curved his arm around Gina's waist and led her to the lobby. But Gina stopped and looked at Francie over her shoulder. "Thanks for the offer of free passes. Maybe another time."

Francie picked up her milkshake and slid out of the booth. Another time and another boy. She had a feeling Jake wouldn't be caught dead on roller skates. But she wouldn't give up trying. "Saturday's teen night. If you and Jake would like to come then..."

Jake turned and tossed over his shoulder, "We'll let you know."

His attitude annoyed Francie, and more for his sake than Gina's, she said, "Remember, this is a school night."

The corners of Gina's mouth turned down and she shot Francie a dark look. "I know my curfew, Francie. I remembered it just fine when you weren't around." Without a backward glance, Gina let Jake lead her out of the snack bar toward the exit.

"I shouldn't have said that," Francie mumbled to herself.

"I would have said more than that. You were more tactful than I could have been."

It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Francie to turn to Noah and say, "I'm worried about her."

"With good reason. I didn't hear much, but I overheard enough to know he's not good for her."

Francie smiled because Noah sounded just like a disapproving father. "Maybe we formed a judgment too soon."

"She races with him in one of those cars and you'll wish we'd formed it even sooner."

"She has too much sense. She'd never--"

"She's seventeen and trying her wings."

Francie shook her head. "I know Gina. She's too level-headed to do something that stupid."

"She's under his influence. You could see she didn't know about his plans for tonight. If she thinks she's in love, if she thinks he can do no wrong, anything can happen."

Noah's words held truth. At one time Francie thought Brent could do no wrong. "We like to think the people we love are perfect."

"Experience teaches us differently. Gina's not old enough to realize that yet." Noah examined Francie closely. "I didn't mean to upset you. Are you going to talk to your parents about him?"

"Not yet. I want Gina to know she can come to me if she needs to. As long as she's in by her curfew, I'll know she's not racing on a deserted highway. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't say anything, either."

Noah's tone became distant, removed. "It's your business, not mine. I'm on the outside looking in. I'm not about to meddle."

Francie wondered why he'd suddenly backed off. He had been concerned. But as he said, Gina was her business. He'd be leaving in a few weeks. Maybe he'd remembered that, too.

Noah stopped in the program room while Francie went to the office. The little red light on the answering machine blinked. Francie pressed the button for it to play.

"Francie, it's Brent. You didn't give me your cell number. The old one didn't work. And I know your mom doesn't think the best of me right now. I hope you're thinking about my offer, about that gold medal that would look so beautiful around your neck. We can capture the dream. I know we can. I've missed you over the past year, and together I know we can win. Call me soon."

The machine clicked off.

Francie could remember a time when Brent's voice was the only voice she'd wanted to hear. She'd looked to him for guidance and approval. But now...

Noah appeared in the doorway.

"You could have told me what Brent wanted."

Noah shrugged. "It sounded private to me."

"Brent's wanting to win a gold medal is not private."

"His missing you might be."

Noah's voice had a husky timbre that melted through her like a hot toddy. The questions in Noah's eyes demanded answers. But he didn't ask the questions. She felt compelled to give him the answers anyway. "That part of it is over, Noah."

He took a few steps into the room. "I wonder. If you skate with him again, if you get the magic back, wouldn't your relationship revive?"

"No. I'm a different person now. I'm not young, idealistic, or blinded by pretty words and charm."

Noah looked somewhat relieved but still a bit skeptical. "You owe it to yourself to find out for certain or you'll always wonder what could have been."

She ran her fingers over the answering machine, thinking about gliding across the ice, the sound of her blades, Brent lifting her. "You think I should go to New York."

"I know you want to make your own decision, but for what it's worth, I think you should go."

"That would solve your problem, wouldn't it?" she asked, annoyed because he thought he could give her advice.

"What problem?"

"My job managing the rink. If I go back to skating, I won't be in your way."

"You're not in my way now, Francie."

His low voice made goose bumps break out on her arms. "Why did you really decide to stay?"

"I needed a breather, time to work on profit analysis. I can work here as well as anywhere else."

"So nothing I say or do is going to convince you not to sell the rink."

"Probably not. I'm going to list with the agent I spoke to on Monday."

His decision created a squall of anger. "You can list the rink, but that doesn't mean you'll sell it."

"Maybe not in two months, maybe not in six. But it will sell eventually. Everything does."

She came around the desk and stood before him. "And everything has a price. Is that the way it is, Noah?"

His face hardened. His jaw set. "Most things do."

She pushed by him, ignoring the woodsy scent that lingered even at the end of the day. But now there was more male than woods. She needed to get away from his presence, away from her attraction toward him, away from the temptation of feeling more than she should.

CHAPTER FIVE

"Has the roof leaked since you've been here?" Noah asked Francie Friday afternoon as he sat at the desk in the rink's office, filling out a disclosure form for the real estate agent. The problem was he couldn't keep his mind on the form. Every time he looked at Francie, he could remember the feel of her in his arms.

And it wasn't just Francie who was distracting him. It was her whole family. They treated him as if they'd known him all their lives. Paul treated him like a...son. Paul had taken his advice about a laptop and they'd gotten a great deal. Noah had helped Francie's father set up the laptop. The experience had brought back memories of another man who'd treated Noah like a son. Noah had been eight. And for a few months, he'd hoped he'd have a dad like most other kids.

But then his mother's agent had booked her a job in Detroit. The man Noah had hoped would become his stepfather hadn't gone with them. And Noah had never seen or heard from him again.

"The roof has never leaked as far as I know," Francie answered him, bringing his attention to her again.

She frowned and Noah knew what she was thinking. She thought he only cared about money. That wasn't true. He cared about the future of his company. He did believe anyone could be bought. He believed money could ease people's woes, if not bring them happiness. If he could have helped his mother sooner financially, maybe she would have stopped drinking, maybe she would have settled in one place, maybe she'd still be alive.

"What's next?" Francie asked almost impatiently.

"Plumbing," he answered. "Have you had any problems with the bathrooms or kitchen?"

"No," Francie sighed as she restlessly crossed her legs.

When Noah looked up from the form, her eyes met his. A stream of excitement shot through her as she remembered his arms around her in the garage apartment. His eyes darkened to deep jade, and she knew he was remembering, too. The tension between them was making her jumpy.

She tore her gaze from his and looked down at the disclosure paper. But instead of the form, her eyes fell on Noah's hand as it lay across the top corner. He had long fingers. The middle one on the left hand looked as if it might have been broken at one time. It was slightly crooked.

"I caught it in a car door."

She looked up, embarrassed. "Don't you miss anything?"

He smiled. "I try not to. If I'm on top of everything that goes on around me, I can be prepared for what happens next."

When his lips curved like that she wanted to touch them. "Always?"

His brows drew together and the line of his jaw became sharper. "No, not always. Sometimes I miss what's right under my nose."

She tried to draw her attention away from his lips by staring into his eyes, but they were just as intriguing. They were deep green and secretive. "You have something specific in mind?"

"Yes, I do."

"But you're not going to tell me what."

"No."

It annoyed her that, though she had confided so easily in him, he was so guarded with her. "Do you share your personal life with anyone?"

"Maybe I don't have a personal life."

"Surely you have friends, people you care about."

He picked up the pen, clicked it open and shut. "A few. But you have to remember my life is on the road. I might be at my home base in Richmond a month at the longest, three or four times a year. During the rest, I just stop in for a weekend or a few days."

Francie shook her head. "I don't see how you can live like that. I never got used to traveling for competitions, living out of a suitcase. Brent seemed to thrive on it. I...I missed my family."

Noah settled back in his chair, his elbows on the arms. "When did you first leave home?"

"When I was thirteen. A coach saw me at a regional competition and told my parents she could take me further than my present coach. So I moved to Boston to train with her."

He laid the pen on the desk and focused his full attention on her. "That must have been hard for your parents."

She shifted in her chair; his compelling green eyes seemed to see through her. "It was. But they wanted me to succeed. Sometimes I think Mama wanted it more than I did. I simply wanted to skate. She wanted to see me at the Olympics."

"When did McIntosh come into the picture?"

Noah's voice was neutral, but there was a quality there that made her wonder what he was thinking. "When I was eighteen. It's hard to believe we skated together for almost six years."

"He took the place of your family."

Noah's intuition was at work again. She shouldn't be surprised. "I guess he did. I depended on him too much. I'll never make that mistake again."

"Depending on people is hard for me, too," Noah admitted, leaning forward. "If you depend on someone, they can let you down."

"Exactly." A bond of understanding surrounded her and Noah. Brent had let her down. But who had hurt Noah? His mother? Craig? A woman? Francie's heard pounded. She didn't like the idea of another woman with Noah. "Have you ever been married?"

Noah looked surprised by her question. "No. With my lifestyle it wouldn't be feasible or fair."

"You don't see that changing?"

"Not in the near future."

Well, that was plain enough. Settling down was definitely not in Noah's plans. Why had she even entertained the possibility? Because she was thinking about becoming involved? No. She knew better. Maybe after she decided what she was going to do with her life, she'd think about loving someone again.

"I think someone wants to see you," Noah said.

Francie looked over her shoulder and recognized the eight-year-old with the tousled brown hair. He came to the rink after school and on Saturday afternoons. But he hung around the lobby with his friends. He didn't skate.

She beckoned to him. "Come on in, Drew. How can I help you?"

Drew took no mind of Noah sitting behind the desk and came right over to Francie. "I want to skate."

Francie smiled. "I think we can arrange that. You can rent a pair of skates--"

"No, I mean I wanna skate, but my dad won't let me. He thinks I'll get hurt. Ever since my sister was in that car wreck, he won't let me go anywhere by myself. He won't let me do anything!"

Francie had heard about Drew's sister. She'd been in the hospital for a while last year. "I can see why your dad is worried. And I can't let you skate without his permission."

Drew chewed on his bottom lip. "Yeah. I know. But maybe if you tell him I'll be okay, he'll believe you. Please?"

How could she say no? "This means a lot to you."

Drew jammed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his sneakers. "All my friends skate and I want to be out there with them. Will you talk to him? I'm going home with Rick today, but Dad will bring us tomorrow."

"I'll talk to him. But I can't make any promises. It's still his decision."

"You'll change his mind. I know you will."

After Drew had dashed out of the office, Noah asked, "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Talking to Drew's father? It can't hurt."

Noah's gaze was steady and serious. "It can if you change his mind and something happens. I don't think it's advisable to get personally involved with the customers."

She raised her hand in an I-don't-believe-this gesture. "I'm not going to date him. I'm going to talk to him."

Noah's intensity didn't diminish one iota. "Do you do this often?"

She sighed loudly. "Noah, I talk to my customers all the time. I know many of them from growing up in Gettysburg. It's good business."

Noah rubbed his hand across his forehead. "Public relations is one thing. Getting involved in their lives is something else. Business and personal relationships don't mix."

"Why?"

"Because there's no line separating them."

Witnessing his resolve, she took a stab in the dark. "You and Craig were friends."

"Yes, we were. And we could have lost the friendship because of the partnership."

"You didn't?"

"No, but it'll never be the same."

Hearing the sadness but also hearing the door clang shut because he wouldn't say more, she sat up straight and faced him squarely. "I do get involved with my customers, Noah, and I can't believe your other managers don't. We announce birthdays, anniversaries, babies' births. How can I not be involved in my customers' lives?"

Noah rolled his chair back, stood, and came around the front of the desk. "Most of my managers manage. They don't mingle or make barbecued hamburger for the snack bar."

When Noah was behind the desk, she felt she could keep her reactions to him under control. With him right in front of her, her temperature fluctuated and her pulse beat erratically. "I must be doing something right, since we're operating in the black."

He sat on the edge of the desk. His pants leg brushed her knee. "It seems as if you're doing everything right."

"Then why do I feel you're criticizing my methods?"

"I'm just wondering about the amount of energy you're investing. Do you have a personal life?"

"Of course I do."

His gaze pinned her to her chair. "When? You're at the rink six days a week."

She shrugged and brushed an imaginary piece of lint from her skirt. "I take off. I do things with my family. My sisters-in-law and I often go on shopping sprees."

"Do you date?"

Her head came up. "Do you?" That question had been taking up a good portion of her thoughts lately.

He gave her a wry grin. "Once in awhile."

She wondered what those dates entailed. Rather she didn't want to wonder. Noah was the most masculine, sensual man she'd ever met. Did he take women out simply to get his needs met?

He studied her. "What are you thinking?"

She felt heat in her cheeks. "Just wondering what you do on a date."

"Dinner, theater, symphony. But that isn't what you want to know, is it?"

The heat spread through the rest of her body.

"I'm very selective, Francie. Everyone should be."

She couldn't find her voice.

"What about you? What do you do on a date?"

She cleared her throat and moved her leg so she had no physical contact with him. "I haven't been on a date in a long while."

"What would you do?"

"If I was with the right person, it wouldn't matter. In the summer I like picnics and wading in the creek. In the winter, I like eating by a fire, listening to music, maybe skating on a pond."

"You're easy to please."

"I try to enjoy myself no matter what I'm doing."

"And that's why skating became a trap. Because you weren't enjoying yourself anymore?"

Her eyes met his for a moment, then she looked away. "Yes."

"But you didn't come back to Gettysburg because of that, did you?"

She studied the tips of her fingers. "No."

"Why did you come back?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It must matter, or you wouldn't be thinking about returning to skating. Was it because of McIntosh?"

Francie fell silent, but she realized Noah wasn't going to move on to something else until she answered him. "Let's drop it, Noah. Okay?"

"You don't want to talk about it, or you don't want to think about it?"

She felt uncomfortable and vulnerable sitting under his compelling regard. "For the moment, neither."

"Running away from it won't solve it."

"Neither will discussing it with you. Can we get back to the form?"

Noah didn't know why he was pushing so hard. When he wanted Francie to back off, she did. Why couldn't he? Because he wanted to know exactly how much McIntosh meant to her? If he'd hurt her? If the possibility was strong that she'd go back to figure skating? Why should he care?

He didn't know. He just did. But getting involved with Francie spelled trouble for both of them. He stood and returned to the other side of the desk.

****

Over the supper break, Noah was in the pro shop listening to Charlie tell him the pros and cons of the newer skates when he heard a baby crying. "Do you hear that?" Noah asked the bald man who had more creases on his face than pairs of skates in the shop.

"Yep. But I don't know who'd bring a baby to the rink. Next thing you know, Francie will want to put in baby sitting services."

Noah had to smile. He could see Francie doing just that. He winked at the old man. "I'll go check it out before she gets the idea."

He followed the sound of the child's cry to a room adjacent to the snack bar. Puffed fabric balloons in primary colors decorated the yellow walls. Francie had described it as the all-purpose room where they celebrated birthdays with ice cream and cake and held staff meetings. It also acted as an employee lounge for breaks. The door stood open so Noah peeked in.

Francie, Gina, and their brothers sat around the cafeteria-style table. One of the men, Noah thought it was Vince, tried to soothe a crying child. The little girl had been in the high chair next to Gina at her birthday dinner.

Francie opened her arms to the toddler and took her from Vince, but she kept crying. Francie crooned to her, rocked her, and kissed the top of her head, but nothing soothed her.

Vince shook his head. "When she doesn't have a nap, this is what happens."

Noah stepped into the room. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not unless you have a magic wand that will get her to pipe down," Gina grumbled, pulling her sweatshirt sleeves down to her wrists.

"Gina!" Francie scolded. "She's tired, bored, and unhappy."

Although the baby was crying, she looked right at home in Francie's arms.

"How are we going to finish planning Mama and Pop's anniversary with all the racket?" Gina insisted.

Noah crossed to Francie's chair. "How old is she?"

"Eighteen months."

"What's her name?"

"Marie."

Noah held out his arms to the child. "Marie, how about some ice cream?"

Marie stared at Noah for a moment, then leaned toward him away from Francie's hold.

Vince chuckled. "She knows a good deal when she hears it."

Noah took Marie and hiked her up to his shoulder. "Is ice cream okay?"

"It's fine," Vince responded. "Vanilla not chocolate though. Caffeine makes her cranky."

Noah smiled. "Vanilla it is."

Francie took a tissue from her pocket, stood, and wiped away Marie's tears. "You don't have to do this, Noah. We can distract her with something."

"Are you worried about her or me?"

"I didn't know if you were used to being around kids."

"I watched Craig's two grow. Don't worry. I won't drop her."

Francie gave him an odd look, then said, "I'm not worried."

Noah took Marie to the snack bar and got a cup of vanilla ice cream. Then he set Marie on one of the tables and helped her scoop it into her mouth.

She was cute. Black wavy hair--like Francie's, big brown eyes--like Francie's. He could imagine Francie pregnant, glowing... He cut off that picture. If Francie went back to figure skating, she wouldn't be getting pregnant for a long time. His stomach tightened when he thought of her and McIntosh together again. So why had he advised her to go to New York?

Because logically, that's what she should do to make a decision. The only problem was that Noah wasn't feeling logical. Every time he got close to Francie, he wanted to take her in his arms, run his fingers through her hair, taste her sweetly curved lips.

Marie sent him a gooey smile and offered him a spoonful of her ice cream.

Grinning, he murmured, "No, you eat it."

He needed more than a dip of ice cream to cool off. Marie finished her treat then patted Noah's face with sticky fingers. He laughed, dipped a napkin into a cup of water, and wiped her hands and face while she almost squirmed off the table.

What else would occupy her for a while?

Noah took her to the pro shop. Small pom-poms to tie onto skates caught the toddler's attention immediately. Noah tickled her nose with one of them and she giggled. Her laughter washed through him, teasing him with warm joy, a joy he suddenly needed.

To have a child like this. To love a woman enough to want to raise children with her. Get real, Gordon. You wouldn't know where to start.

Charlie gave Noah a broad grin. "I see a baby-sitting service ain't so far away."

Jiggling Marie in his arms, he took her back to the meeting room. Everyone was talking at once.

"They need a silver tray like they need more kids."

"Flowers wilt and die."

"Dad would never accept a new TV."

"C'mon guys. We have to make up our minds. We've only got a few weeks and time's running out."

Noah sat down next to Francie. Marie tickled his cheek with the pom-pom. He tickled her tummy. She giggled and curled up against his shoulder, her thumb in her mouth. When Francie looked at him, he wanted to take a picture of her smile and store it in his back pocket for a rainy day.

She brushed Marie's hair from her brow. "Was the ice cream good?"

The child nodded but kept her head pillowed against Noah's shoulder.

Francie said softly, "I think you've made a friend."

"Your brother's a lucky man." Noah couldn't keep the husky note from his voice. To steer away from the emotion that tightened his throat, he nodded to the brothers and sister still debating. "What's the problem?"

"We can't decide what to get Mama and Pop for their anniversary."

He tried to keep his mind on the conversation rather than on Francie's long legs encased in lavender tights. "How many years have they been married?"

"Thirty-five."

Noah shook his head. "Amazing. I didn't know marriages like theirs still survived."

"They love each other."

"They have more than love to stick together that long," he murmured.

"Respect, commitment, the same values. I hope to have their kind of marriage someday."

Francie's eyes were sparkling and bright, filled with idealism and dreams. Noah felt such a tug toward her, such an ungodly pull. But marriage wasn't in his plans. He didn't know the first thing about it. More men had been in and out of his mother's life than he could count. Noah knew nothing about having and sustaining a relationship. Besides, his lifestyle would make it impossible. Look what had happened to Craig.

"Your parents are rare," he said more to himself than to Francie.

She tilted her head and one of her silky waves curled against her cheek. "I know. That's why we want to have this party and get them something special."

Noah wanted to brush the hair away or caress her cheek. Both were tempting. "Does the gift have to be tangible?"

"What do you mean?"

Noah shifted Marie deep into the curve of his arm. "I'd imagine with a family like yours, your mom and dad never had much time alone. Would they enjoy a weekend away? All expenses paid?"

Francie's face lit up and she gave his arm a quick thankful squeeze. "That's a great idea. Hey, guys. Listen up!"

Gina and her brothers gave Francie their attention.

"Why don't we send Mama and Pop away for a few days? If we have the party on a Sunday, we can make reservations for them somewhere for that night and the next couple."

Vince suggested, "What about the Poconos? It's only a couple of hours away. It's an easy drive. And most hotels shouldn't be booked for the beginning of the week."

Frank wiggled his brows. "We could get them one of those rooms with a heart-shaped tub."

Gina made a face. "They're too old for that."

Francie grinned. "You're never too old for that."

"And who are you to say?" Gina snapped.

Vince cut in, breaking the sudden tension. "We'll settle for a whirlpool tub. Who wants to make the arrangements?"

Gina crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips.

Vince and Frank looked toward Francie.

She lifted her hands in surrender. "Okay, I'll do it. But you'll have to trust my judgment."

"No problem," Vince said as he stood and crossed to Noah. He held out his arms to his daughter, but her eyes were closed and she was napping against Noah's shoulder.

Vince smiled. "We'll have to hire you to baby-sit." He took Marie from Noah's arms. "Come on, babe. Let's get your coat on and go home."

"Home," she mumbled. "Mommy."

"Yep. Mommy and Stevie and Carol should be home from the grocery store by now."

With a flurry of arms and coats, the Piccard family dressed for the winter night, hugged one another, said good-bye to Francie and Noah, and left.

Francie approached Noah slowly and smiled.

If he opened his arms, would she walk into them? What was wrong with him? This was reality, not dreamland. "What?" he asked, annoyed that dreams now spilled over into daytime.

She rubbed at a spot on the placket of his shirt. "Marie left her mark. I think that's ice cream."

He chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised. She had it all over her fingers." He looked at Francie's fingers resting on his shirt. He could feel their heat as red-hot as a branding iron.

He covered her hand with his. "Your family's like a whirlwind. Did you get anything accomplished?"

She looked down at his hand on top of hers. When she lifted her gaze to his, her eyes were a deep chocolate brown. He could get lost in them and not care. Her soft skin teased him. He wanted to touch more than her fingers.

They stood there that way for what seemed like years, studying each other, touching each other, waiting--neither knowing what for or why.

Francie broke the spell. "We...uh, we planned the menu for the party, who's making what, that sort of stuff. My uncle Dom told Vince we could have the party at his place. He and Aunt Rita have an old farmhouse with a huge living room."

Noah loosened his hold on her hand and she pulled hers away. He could still feel its heat and knew he would for a long time. "I hope they didn't heap all the work on you."

She smiled. "They tried. But I didn't fall for it. Vince and Frank will do their share. They might grumble, but they'll do it."

"And Gina?"

Francie's smile faded. "I don't know what to do about Gina. She was almost hostile tonight. But when I ask her what's wrong, she says nothing. Maybe she's still angry because I mentioned her curfew in front of Jake."

"Maybe it's hormones."

"I wish. But she's been cool ever since I came back to Gettysburg. I thought by now she'd be used to having me around."

Francie looked worried, vulnerable, and he wanted to ease her mind. "She's the youngest. She must have had all your parents' attention when you were gone."

"She did." Francie sighed. "I wish she'd talk to me."

"She will."

Noah's reassurance helped, and Francie realized she'd confided in him once again. She didn't know why. She was used to keeping her own counsel. Maybe because he'd been so comfortable with Marie. His gentleness and his caring had squeezed Francie's heart. He'd make a great father. But then again, he'd said marriage wasn't in his plans.

Francie glanced at her watch. "I'd better get my skates. The seniors will be pouring in any minute." She avoided looking at Noah and crossed to the door.

"Francie?"

The way he said her name made it sound so feminine, so lovely. She stopped and met his gaze.

"You're lucky."

She knew what he meant. She tried not to take her family for granted because she'd missed them so much. But sometimes she did. "I am lucky," she agreed and with a last lingering look went to the rink to forget about Noah and do what she was paid to do.

****

The senior citizens took the floor with as much enthusiasm, if not as much speed, as the children. Noah stood at the ticket window and watched Francie greet many of her customers by name. One of the women who looked old enough to be Francie's grandmother put her arm around Francie's shoulders and gave her a hug. When the music started, Francie skated around the rink, smiling and talking with the skaters.

Suddenly Noah needed to be out there with her. He went to the rental booth and found a pair of skates his size. He laced up, tucking the ends into the black boots.

Sometimes he skated when he was visiting a rink. Not often, though. And never in public. He usually rolled the laps for exercise when everyone had gone home. But now he wanted to get out there for the simple pleasure of skating with the crowd.

He rolled onto the floor with the flow of the skaters. The first time he rolled past Francie, her jaw dropped open in surprise. The second time, she smiled at him. That smile of hers lit up his dreams. The third time around, he came up beside her and said, "Skate with me."

Before she could answer, he took her in a promenade position, both of them facing forward. They glided without breaking rhythm. If Francie leaned into him, her head would nestle into his neck. She would fit perfectly against his body. He had no doubt about it.

He held her left hand in his right. Her arm surrounded his waist loosely; he held hers a little tighter. Feeling her warmth, smelling her scent of roses, seeing her hair sway like a silky curtain across his chest created a swell of excitement within him that could easily turn into powerful arousal.

The motion, the music, the colored lights flickering across the floor swirled pleasure around and through all his senses. He felt alive in a way he'd never experienced. Because of Francie.

She was as pretty as a sunny spring day, as independent as a wildflower, as vibrant as a fireworks display. And he could enjoy her only for the length of the song. Longer than that and he'd want more.

She tipped up her head. "You really can skate."

"You had doubts?"

She blushed as the air from their movement ruffled her bangs.

"Underestimating me again?"

"Maybe," she said so softly he could hardly hear her.

Francie's head spun and it had nothing to do with skating around the oval rink. Noah had taken her by surprise and she'd instinctively taken his hand and wrapped her arm around his waist in a standard position. Her fingers lay across his belt, the tips feeling the heat of his skin under his oxford shirt.

His chest was hard beside her. She remembered the tips of her fingers grazing it. If she could run her hands across it... No! Enjoy the music, enjoy the motion, pretend Noah is any man.

Oh, sure.

Francie didn't know how long they skated. One song melted into the next. Noah's hold became more natural yet more stimulating at the same time. His long fingers splayed close to her breasts as he shifted his hold.

She caught her breath. When he bent to her and his voice whispered close to her ear, she lost it again.

"Would you like to take a break? Veronica's on the floor now, too."

When Francie turned her head, her chin met his. She felt a slight stubble, could smell his woodsy cologne. If they hadn't been rolling along, she would have stumbled. But poise on skates was her specialty.

"I could use a bottle of water." The breathlessness in her voice surprised even her.

His lips seemed to linger close to her ear and she thought she felt the texture of them, but it happened so quickly she must have been mistaken.

When they rolled toward the reception area, Noah still held her even as the smooth surface of the floor changed to low-piled carpet. They rolled to a stop, neither of them moving, neither taking the steps to separate.

Francie turned slowly with Noah's arm still surrounding her. Her gaze met his. The music stopped. The lights dimmed. The temperature went up at least ten degrees. They were alone and the roll of skates became silent.

She took a breath.

Noah lowered his head.

CHAPTER SIX

Francie closed her eyes.

Nothing happened. She didn't feel Noah's arms close around her. She didn't feel the touch of his lips.

But the moment she opened her eyes, she saw his glowing dark and hot. He brushed his thumb across her cheek.

She felt bemused, lost, disappointed. She couldn't keep from asking, "Why?"

His thumb rubbed back and forth until she almost purred. His touch was sensual, caring, gentle. It almost softened the blow of his words.

"It would be a mistake, Francie. We both know that."

Her mind knew that but her heart didn't.

Being on roller skates had its advantages. She'd almost made a fool of herself. She turned away from him, his touch, and his logic, and took off for the ladies' room.

He called after her, but she pretended not to hear. She had nothing to say to him; he had nothing to say to her. A mistake. The kiss would have been a mistake. She repeated that to herself as the door closed behind her and she went to the sink to splash cool water on her face.

****

Saturday morning Francie ignored Noah. He knew he deserved her anger. But the problem was that she wasn't angry; she was indifferent. He could handle anger better than indifference. It wasn't natural for Francie. She was passionate about everything.

He shifted the paperwork on the desk. He should have handled the situation differently. Maybe he should have kissed her. No. A kiss with Francie could never be casual. To pretend otherwise wouldn't be right. He'd done what he had to do. As usual.

Francie came into the office, her expression impersonal. "I'll be in the lobby for a few minutes. Drew's father is coming in when he picks up Drew."

"Francie, about last night..."

She gave it a dismissive shrug. "Don't think twice about it, Noah. I'm not. Neither of us wants to make a mistake."

She said it with such...neutrality, he couldn't believe she meant it. Maybe he didn't want to believe she meant it. Was he having second thoughts about getting involved?

As if it was all part of the same subject, Francie continued, "I'll let you know when I'm back on the floor."

Francie went to the lobby and took a couple of deep breaths. Dealing with Noah in a businesslike manner should not cause so much turmoil. He was her boss; she was his employee. She had to remember that.

Drew and his father stood in the corner of the lobby. Francie crossed to them with a smile on her face. Mr. Pierson wasn't smiling. She extended her hand to the man anyway.

He took hers and shook it briefly. "Drew said you wanted to talk to me. I hope he hasn't been misbehaving."

"Oh, no. Nothing like that," she was quick to reassure him. "In fact, it was Drew who suggested I speak with you."

The eight-year-old tugged on his dad's sleeve. "I'm gonna wait outside with Rick. Okay, Dad?"

Mr. Pierson gave his son an inquiring look. "All right. But stay on the sidewalk."

Drew scampered outside.

"Mr. Pierson, Drew would like to skate with the other children his age and he asked me to talk with you about that."

"Drew has been badgering me about it at home."

Francie knew when a child wanted something badly enough, "no" was not the final word. "Accidents really are rare, Mr. Pierson. There are usually two skaters rolling around the rink for security reasons, to make sure no one skates too fast or pulls a stunt that could injure someone else. Of course there are some falls. But if Drew comes to the lessons Saturday mornings for beginners, he should be able to stay on his feet. I don't know what else to say to reassure you. This is your decision, but roller-skating can have many benefits besides Drew having fun. It's good exercise. And if Drew can skate with his peers, he'll feel as if he belongs. Children hate to be singled out. They don't like to be different from their friends."

Jud Pierson gazed out the window at his son. "I want to keep him safe."

"I know you do," she said quietly.

"Let me think about it, Ms. Piccard. I'll talk to my wife. If I decide to let Drew skate, I'll send a note with him next weekend."

"That's fine. And if I don't get a note, Drew will stick to just hanging with his friends."

Francie said good-bye to Drew's dad and went back to the office, relieved to see Noah wasn't there. She'd felt his gaze on her all morning. She needed a breather. She needed to think about...

The phone rang and she automatically scooped it up.

"Ms. Piccard, this is Tom Carson with Town Realty. Mr. Gordon said it would be all right to set up an appointment to show the rink either with you or him."

Her stomach jumped. "I see."

"I have a client who would like to view the property Wednesday at two. Will that suit you?"

She mentally ran through her schedule. "I have a class at that time."

"A class won't interfere with my client's examining the property. It's not necessary for you or Mr. Gordon to be present."

She felt powerless to prevent the inevitable. If they didn't come Wednesday, they'd come another time. "Then I suppose Wednesday is fine. If Mr. Gordon has a problem with it, he'll call you."

Francie's hand shook as she replaced the receiver on its base. The sale of the rink could soon be a reality. Noah had said it might take months. But depending on who wanted to buy it and their financial status, it could be a matter of weeks. She had the sensation of being on a merry-go-round that was spinning faster and faster. Somehow she had to stop it. Somehow she had to get control of everything happening around her.

There was one way to get some perspective. It was time to stop dilly-dallying and take action. She spoke to Veronica, then went to find Noah. He stood at the counter in the pro shop, looking over a list of inventory; Charlie wasn't in sight. So much the better.

"How'd it go?" Noah asked as she approached him.

"He's a reasonable man. He's going to think about it."

When she simply stood there, not saying more, Noah asked, "Is there something else?"

She kept her voice even, despite the turmoil inside her. "Yes, your real estate agent thinks he has a prospective buyer. He's bringing him through on Wednesday around two."

"It shouldn't interfere with your class."

"I'm going to cancel some of my classes this week. Veronica can take the others."

Noah came out from behind the counter. "Why?"

She clasped her hands and stood her ground. "You're moving ahead with your options, I have to move ahead with mine. I'm going to New York for a few days to watch Brent train."

Noah's eyes bored into her, his voice deepened. "When are you leaving?"

"I've already talked to Veronica and I'm going to call Brent. If it's all right with him, I'll drive up tomorrow."

"It's a long drive."

"About five hours."

"When do you think you'll return?"

"I'm not sure."

Noah didn't seem troubled by her news but took it matter-of-factly. "All right. I'll need a number in case anything comes up here I need to talk to you about."

"Like selling the rink."

"Possibly." He said the word simply, smoothly, with no emotion.

She knew she had to get a grip on her own emotions. "Nothing you've seen has changed your mind."

"Not enough to warrant keeping it."

She wasn't surprised. She wished the tension between her and Noah would go away. She wished he'd kiss her so she could get it over with and stop thinking about it. Lord, what was she thinking? Maybe the tension was good. It kept them from getting too friendly.

"I have a class now. After I call Brent, I'll leave the information on the desk."

Noah nodded. "Fine."

"Fine," she repeated. But as she left the pro shop, she knew everything wasn't fine and she'd never felt so confused in all of her twenty-five years.

****

Noah stood at his small kitchen window, looking out into the black night. His body was wired with a tension that not even his vigorous workout had dissipated. The shower hadn't helped, either. Simply staring over at the Piccard household wound him up more. Francie was probably up in her room. Packing.

She'd left him her cell phone number and the address where she'd be staying. The address wasn't a hotel. Would she be staying with McIntosh? Could the man convince her to be more than his skating partner again?

Noah swore, disgusted with himself. What Francie did or didn't do was none of his business. Then why did he feel she'd taken a piece of him and run away with it?

He closed the blind and grabbed his jacket from the kitchen chair. Maybe a long walk in the cold night air would help.

Walking up and down tree-lined streets, he paid little attention to the residential area, not caring where one street ended and another began. But even his brisk stride couldn't calm his body or his mind. Francie's face as she waited for his kiss was vivid and clear. The determination in her voice when she'd told him she was going to New York was like a repetitive soundtrack that wouldn't stop playing. But most of all, the confusion in her eyes because he was playing havoc with her future tore at him.

Returning to the garage apartment, he paused at the foot of the steps, no more tired or relaxed than when he'd started. The back porch light at the Piccard house shone brightly. It hadn't been on before he'd taken his walk. He saw a shadow of movement deeper into the yard and he started toward it, not sure why. Maybe he was just lonely and wanted someone to talk to so he could get his mind off Francie.

But it was Francie sitting in the yard, rocking slowly on an old wooden swing hanging from a sturdy sycamore.

Recognizing her, Noah took a deep breath of night air cold enough to burn his lungs. But the pain didn't matter. Suddenly nothing mattered but Francie, sitting on the swing, looking serious enough to blot out the blink of white stars, the buttery glow of a three-quarter moon.

He took a few steps forward and the swing went still.

"It's Noah," he called softly in case she thought a stranger had entered the yard.

The light from the back porch reached her face. She didn't look happy to see him.

"It's a cold night for swinging," he said.

She pushed at the ground with her toes, rocking back and forth once more. "I couldn't relax in the house. Mama kept asking me questions."

He didn't think twice. "About?"

"Brent. The trip. What I'm going to do while I'm there."

Noah had plenty of questions himself but could see Francie needed space and privacy, not badgering. He went around to the back of the swing and took hold of the ropes.

"I'll push you," he offered.

She looked over her shoulder at him and saw he was serious. Lifting her feet, she relaxed her hold on the ropes.

Noah pushed the ropes the first time. On her second pass, he pushed the small of her back. He couldn't feel her through her down jacket.

"Higher," Francie insisted.

He used more force.

"Higher," she repeated as she pointed her toes at the sky.

"Do you plan to reach the moon?" he teased.

"I wish," floated back to him.

She swung as if she were trying to escape gravity's hold, trying to escape the decisions she had to make. He pushed harder, wanting to help her soar above her problems. The clear night, the velvet sky, the refreshing cold, suddenly became gifts that made the moment more precious than tomorrow.

After awhile, Francie's weight shifted on the swing, her legs lowering slightly, and Noah sensed she was ready to stop. His pushes became slower, less powerful, until Francie dragged her feet and the swing slowed to a halt.

"Did you know you can own a star?" she asked, gazing at the heavens.

"Seriously?"

She stood, still holding on to the swing's rope with one hand. "Gina showed me an ad online a few years ago. There's a celestial governing board that discovers new stars. If you e-mail them, they'll tell you where the star is and, for a fee, they'll give it your name."

"You'd like a star?"

She glanced at him and then looked up at the sky again. "After Gina told me about it, I thought it was a nice idea. When I traveled so much, I'd look up at the sky and think about my family looking at the same moon, the same stars. Somehow I felt closer to them."

Her words touched Noah's heart in places that had never been touched before. She had such a strong sense of belonging—something he'd never had. But more important, he knew she realized how precious that sense of belonging was, how lucky she was to have it.

Her beautiful long hair flowed along her cheek and down her back. With her face lifted to the sky, her profile became the perfect cameo. He ached to touch her delicate nose, her determined chin, her sensually curved lips. Instead he clasped her shoulder and she looked from the stars to him. Strands of hair teased his hand. He'd wanted to run his fingers through it from the first moment he'd laid eyes on it. Lifting his hand, he took a lock of black silk between his fingers. He'd never felt anything so soft, so sensual. One handful wasn't enough.

With both hands, he brushed her hair back from her face. Francie let go of the rope and closed her eyes as he ran his fingers through her hair again, and then again. She swayed toward him, placing her hands on his shoulders for balance. With gentle fingers, he traced the classic lines of her face, memorizing the softness, the texture, the beauty. He caressed her brows, stroked her cheeks, teasingly grazed the point of her chin. But he didn't touch her lips; he was saving them for last.

"I regret not kissing you last night. I'm not going to have those same regrets tonight," he murmured.

As he leaned toward her, her fingers curled on his shoulders. He gave her time to back away. She didn't. She raised her head and met him.

The first touch of his lips on hers aroused him. He savored the sensations, just as he savored Francie. He wasn't about to hurry this; it was already turning into a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Splaying his fingers through her hair, he cradled her head in his hands.

She was softness and sweetness and passion—everything he could want or need. Lightly rubbing his lips across hers, he teased them both. Francie parted her lips. But still Noah didn't enter. He took her lower lip between his teeth, laving it with his tongue. Francie caught her breath and gave a small erotic moan, fueling Noah's desire.

He let go of her head and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her body closer. His leather jacket, her down one, created inhibiting barriers, leaving the kiss to become their only means of contact. With the tip of his tongue, Noah touched Francie's. She was still for a moment, then shyly stroked against him. Desire rushed through him and throbbed in his lower body until he almost hurt from the need. When had he needed so much? When had passion left him so breathless? When had a simple kiss brought him to such full, immediate arousal? Never before.

The wintry air emphasized the burning heat of their kiss. The night silence created a bubble of intimacy he didn't want to burst before he could get his fill of Francie. She tasted as warm and sweet and natural as honey on a summer afternoon.

His tongue chased hers. She tagged him back. Their play became tantalizing, quicker, feverish. Noah knew he should break away. He knew he couldn't go any further with her. The knowing sharpened his control but made the wanting and needing that much more unbearable. He wanted so much more than a kiss. He needed more than a padded embrace.

Francie sought Noah's heat, wanting his warmth under her hands. His leather jacket was as cold as the night. She abandoned it in favor of the warm skin of his neck. She caressed with her thumbs, ruffling the hair at his nape. Thick and healthy, it felt like rich fur over her fingers. The scent of wood burning in a neighbor's fireplace wrapped around them and mingled with Noah's manly scent. Not cologne, but soap and Noah, an intoxicating combination.

One that made her forget kissing Noah could be a mistake, made her forget she wasn't ready to give her heart to anyone, made her forget Noah would be leaving in a couple of weeks, made her forget he was her boss.

Each time he stroked her tongue, caressed her back, or pulled her even closer, her excitement escalated and she wanted more. The passion between them became a palpable need. Her shivering had nothing to do with the winter night, everything to do with being in Noah's arms.

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 time 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..."

"It was his fault."

"Yes," she finally admitted. "I badly pulled my groin muscle, strained my back and twisted my ankle. The doctor said I would need physical therapy. I'd be off the ice for a few weeks, maybe longer. We could miss the National Championships and most likely the Worlds."

"What happened?"

"Two days after the accident, Brent came to see me to tell me he and Bridgit would be skating together. He was sorry, but he had to think of his career first. Some skaters never come back from injuries and he couldn't take that chance with me."

"The bastard." The word was more a growl than a curse.

Francie's hand curled under his. "The irony is that I could understand his professional need to choose a new partner. What I couldn't understand was that he and Bridgit were involved personally, too. He said it happened while I was home for Christmas, but I knew he was lying. I found out later he and Bridgit had been seeing each other since before Thanksgiving. I don't know how I could have missed it, how I could have been so blind—"

Noah thought of Craig. "We see what we want to see. Reality's often hard to take."

Francie sat back in her chair and her fingers relaxed under his. "That was two years ago. Since then, I've tried not to live under any illusions."

"Did you heal?"

"Yes. I could have been back on skates full-tilt in three months."

"You didn't think about getting another partner?"

"I was hurt by Brent and what had happened. I just wanted to spend time with my family and forget about competition."

"And how did you feel this past week?"

She studied the depths of her coffee. "I could skate with Brent again. And maybe in a few months the anxiety on lifts would fade and I could begin to trust him again. But the question is—do I want to?"

"How much does a medal mean to you?"

She brought her gaze back to his. "Just going to the Olympics, if we'd make it, could bring in money from the hype and promotion. But I never skated for that reason. I skated because I loved to skate. My grandmother knew that. That's why she bequeathed me a sum of money to support my career. Even so, my family has made sacrifices. Yet, I know I can't let a sense of guilt decide my future."

"You have a rough decision to make."

"I know. And I have to make it within the next few weeks. I won't be coerced or pushed into it. You've helped me see that this has to be my decision."

Noah wondered if Francie would have chosen a career in skating without the sense of responsibility her grandmother's inheritance brought with it, without Francie's desire to live up to her family's expectations. "Wise men tell us we control our own destiny. But I'm not so sure."

The waitress brought their orders, and Noah had to release Francie's hand. He didn't want to. The desire to hold on to the understanding between them was so strong, it unsettled him. Why should he care if they understood each other? Why should he seek to hold on to something that couldn't last?

As they ate, and with Noah's encouragement, Francie talked about her family, relaying childhood anecdotes that again increased Noah's sense of emptiness. Francie had this wealth of caring, no matter where she was, to draw on. And she didn't take it for granted as so many did. Craig for one. With his dive into debt and his drinking, his former partner could have lost his family as well as all his money. Noah had never had the chance to take a family for granted or appreciate it.

Later, as Noah opened the door to the rooming house, he was torn between the longing to take Francie in his arms and the knowledge that any pleasure they received from each other would be short-lived. This night was just an interlude until they returned to the problems of the rink, until Francie made a decision.

Half expecting Brent McIntosh to be standing in the hallway waiting, Noah was surprised when Francie said, "Brent's not back yet. His car wasn't in the parking lot."

Jealousy pricked Noah until he asked, "You wanted to see him?"

"I wanted to say good-bye so we could get an early start in the morning."

Noah felt a distinct relief, though he wondered if Francie was fooling herself where McIntosh was concerned. The man had hurt her, but that didn't mean she didn't still care. That didn't mean that those feelings couldn't be revived.

They hung their jackets on the coatrack inside the door and ascended the steps. When they reached Francie's room, Noah dropped her duffel bag on the floor at her door. He wanted his hands free. He wanted her hands free. The reason wasn't altogether conscious.

She tilted her head and, with a smile that was more serious than light, said simply, "Thank you."

"I didn't do anything."

"You listened. I can't tell you how important that is. My family's terrific, but they have a tendency to want to give advice and solve my problems for me. If I'm not careful, they'll run my life."

He held her by the shoulders, his thumbs gently rubbing back and forth. He meant to give her a light kiss and leave. He meant to keep desire controlled. He meant to walk away unscathed.

But then Francie touched him. She reached up and caressed his jaw. The amber lights in her brown eyes danced and beckoned until controlled feelings and good intentions scattered like sand in the wind. Kissing Francie became more important than breathing.

He pulled her close and saw only welcome before he closed his eyes. She was soft and yielding in his arms. Her lips opened immediately, and he knew she wanted this as much as he did.

Desire rushed through his blood, urging him to plunge, to take, to conquer. But Francie deserved more than the flare of passion that came and went like the tail of a tornado.

He ran his tongue along her lower lip and she softly moaned. He explored her back with open hands, wanting to know more of her. She pressed her breasts against his chest. He could feel the pebble hardness of her nipples and knew she was as aroused as he was. He thought about tonguing the nipple, taking it between his lips...

Her tongue touched his and he groaned. He cupped her bottom, bringing her full against him. How long had it been since he wanted a woman this desperately, since he cared if he left or stayed, since the need outweighed caution? Francie was beauty, balm, a veritable banquet of sensuality.

Francie laced her fingers in his hair, met each of his thrusts, and delved into his mouth with amazing abandon. She was shaking all over from wanting and needing and the freedom of letting herself feel both. No man had ever made her feel this way—precious...desired...equal. Never Brent. He'd been older, more experienced, more mature than she. But she'd grown up, and suddenly she knew she hadn't loved Brent. She couldn't have. Because now with Noah she knew a deep passion that seemed to have no end.

With Noah, she wanted to be the giver, not just the receiver. She wanted to be active, not passive. She wanted him to touch her, to hold her, to love her with an intensity that could destroy her. And she should be afraid. But she wasn't. She was ready.

Noah held her tighter, plunged deeper, pushed her back against the door. She could unlock it. They could go inside. If she could just hold the thought long enough to...

She heard something. She ignored it. She heard the sound again. It didn't come from her or Noah. A cough, that's what it was. And then a louder cough—

At the same time Noah released her, she heard Brent's voice. "Francie, I want to talk to you before you leave."

She opened her eyes, recognizing the fires still burning in Noah's green gaze. When he realized Brent had interrupted, the glint of passion changed to anger. But she watched as he quelled it, as he separated from her, as he looked normal and controlled as if nothing had happened. How did he do that?

She wasn't quite steady on her feet, so when Noah let her go, her hand went to the doorknob to steady her wobbling knees.

Noah looked from Brent to Francie. All emotion left his face and she wanted to yell, No, don't hide from it. Don't hide from me. But of course, she couldn't. Any more than she could guess what he was thinking.

Where earlier his tone had been warm and gentle, drawing her closer, it now turned polite and sharp, driving her away. "Is eight too early to leave?"

"Eight is fine."

He was about to turn away, about to leave. She couldn't let him. Not after that kiss. Not after he'd turned her life and emotions upside down. "Noah?"

He stopped, but his jaw was set, his features guarded.

"Thank you for coming."

"I told you no thanks are necessary."

He seemed angry. He couldn't think that kiss had been merely a thank you! But she could see that's exactly what he thought. With Brent standing there, there was nothing more she could say.

"At eight then," she said quietly.

Noah nodded and walked down the hall. Her gaze lingered on his back and she knew the closeness she'd felt to him all evening was gone. She didn't know if she could get it back. She doubted Noah would let her.

****

When Noah came to pick her up the next morning, he was wearing a polite but friendly smile along with his dark green sweater and khaki slacks. Francie blew out a breath of frustration. They were back to square one, wherever that was. Their moments of understanding and bonding had been swept under the proverbial rug.

He carried her suitcase; she lugged her duffel bag. But when he opened the car door for her to get in, she didn't. Clearing the air was more important. Trouble was, she didn't know how to start. Didn't that kiss knock your socks off? didn't seem quite appropriate.

Noah opened the back door and put her suitcase on the back seat beside his travel bag. Then he waited for her to get in. She didn't budge. "That wasn't a thank-you kiss last night."

Sparks flickered in his green eyes, the only sign of emotion. "No?"

"No." When he didn't comment further, she asked, "Well?"

"Well, what? Certainly not 'well, what happens next?' We know that. Nothing. I'm sorry I got carried away. I should have stopped--"

"I was there, too, remember?"

"Oh, I remember."

The heat stinging her cheeks fought against the cold morning air. It was something like the battle going on inside her. Would the heat of passion or the cold of reason rule? "I felt something, Noah."

He grimaced. "So did I."

More than her cheeks got hot, because she remembered him hard against her. She remembered being thrilled, excited... Exasperated, she said, "You're not even trying to--"

"What? To understand? I think I understand better than you do. You're confused. Your life is in the process of change. I was a port in the storm. Fine. Now, both our lives go on."

He stood there so calmly, so stolidly, so rationally, she wanted to beat on his chest, run her hands through his hair, kiss him in a way that would shake him up forever. But what good would it do?

There was an element of truth in what he'd said, though there was much more. She'd like to explore the more. Apparently Noah didn't want any part of it. He was a "bottom line" person. And the bottom line was that they were headed in different directions. Funny thing was, she didn't think they could be friends without being more.

She slid into the car. Noah closed the door.

****

When Francie told Noah she'd rather go straight to the rink rather than home, he raised his brows.

"I don't feel like answering a list of questions," she mumbled. "I'll call from the rink and tell them I'm back."

Noah didn't comment, just as he hadn't commented on much during the seemingly endless five-hour drive.

It was after one in the afternoon when Noah pulled into the rink's parking lot. Francie recognized the black Seville immediately. It belonged to the real estate agent. Glancing around the parking lot, she saw the agent standing with two men in the far corner. She sent Noah an inquiring look.

"They're the same men who looked at the rink Wednesday," he explained.

"Did you know they were coming today?"

"Tom mentioned they might stop again. Everything in real estate is iffy right now, so I didn't expect them."

"Well, they're here. Let's go see what they want." She thought she heard Noah call her name, but she was out of the car. He'd had five hours to talk to her. Now that she was back, she wanted to get her life settled. Meeting prospective buyers for the rink was one way to do it.

She crossed the lot at almost a jog. Noah's long legs brought him up beside her as she reached the three men.

Tom Carson turned to Noah, including her in his gaze. "Mr. Haslow and Mr. Chesterfield are seriously considering the property."

Noah nodded to the two men.

Haslow, a tall slim man with horn-rimmed glasses, said, "Nothing else we've looked at is as feasible."

Chesterfield buttoned the last button on his overcoat and shrugged. "Of course, we know your price is inflated."

Noah disagreed. "The price is fair. This is a tourist town."

Tom intervened. "We can consider all that when we draw up a contract."

Chesterfield narrowed his eyes. "There will be no contract at this time. We still have a few more properties to inspect. After all, this size of an investment demands much forethought."

Francie's skin began to crawl. She wasn't getting a good feeling about these two. They didn't look like the type to run a roller-skating rink. "Are you thinking about making many changes?"

Their gazes fell on Francie in tandem as if seeing her for the first time. "Changes? We'd be razing the building."

"Raising?"

Haslow made a sideways slicing gesture with his hand. "Demolishing. Starting from scratch. We're looking for a property we can develop into a motel complex."

"You can't be serious! Gettysburg has enough motels for two tourist towns."

"An exaggeration surely, Ms. ..."

"Piccard," Francie filled in, her hands on her hips.

Haslow continued, "Our research and statistics show otherwise. More and more Americans are taking vacations within the United States. Driving vacations, sight-seeing vacations to places like Gettysburg. Just because the economy is at a standstill doesn't mean people stay home. Types of vacations shift. And we see historical sites included in that shift."

Francie could easily see these two men were not interested in hearing about the merits of owning a roller-skating rink. And suddenly something hit her. Noah had known that. He had known these clients wanted to tear down the rink. Betrayal, like a hot, sharp lance, sliced through her. He hadn't told her. Why?

The week of indecision, dealing with Brent, Noah's devastating kisses--everything caught up with her. She wanted to run away, find a safe place, preferably somewhere warm like Tahiti, and forget about the rink, Noah, and the rest of her life.

She took off for the rink, hurt, mad, confused by her inability to choose a man who could be honest with her. She'd thought Noah was different. Ha!

Noah watched Francie race across the parking lot like a devil was chasing her and knew he had trouble with a capital T. Not because she was upset, but because he cared that she was upset with him. He lived his life without making explanations to anyone. So why did he feel this deep-seated need to explain to Francie?

Because of last night's kiss? Because of the kiss the night before she'd left? Because he was jealous as blazes every time McIntosh looked at her, let alone touched her?

He couldn't explain his disgruntlement last night to himself, let alone to her. Listening to the CD player on the drive home had been preferable to kissing her again, doing something he'd regret. Francie didn't have to touch him to get to him. All she had to do was look at him with those stunning brown eyes, give him one of her smiles...

He swore and when Tom Carson's expression told Noah he'd done it aloud, he just shook his head. "You gentlemen look as long as you'd like. If you need me, I'll be inside." Or better yet, back in Richmond. He should pack up right now and get the hell away.

Inside the rink, it was quiet. He heard voices in the pro shop and saw Veronica talking with Charlie. Francie wasn't in the office or program room or the lounge. Where the hell could she be? He was almost ready to check out the ladies' room when he remembered the storeroom off the snack bar.

He opened the door and saw Francie stacking packs of napkins on top of one other. He crossed to her. "They're going to topple over."

She kept stacking.

"Francie."

She glared at him. "We need a supply behind the counter."

When she added one more pack to the two-foot pile, it teetered. She grabbed for it the same time as Noah. Their arms brushed; their hands collided. Intentionally or unintentionally Noah faced her and held her wrists rather than the napkins.

She tried to pull out of his grasp. "Let me go."

He knew he should, but he wasn't going to. "I want you to listen to me first."

She pulled back again. "There's nothing to listen to. You knew. You knew, Noah, and you didn't tell me. How could you do that when I confided in you...when I trusted you?"

"The one has nothing to do with the other."

She stopped struggling against his gentle but firm grip and opened her mouth in astonishment. When she recovered, she said, "Of course it does! How can I trust you when you don't tell me the truth? Omission is the same as lying."

"There are reasons to omit, Francie. Sometimes to protect..."

Her voice rose. "I don't need your protection."

He moved closer to her, bringing her wrists into his chest. "Yes, I knew they were developers. Yes, I knew they were interested and they might come back. But you heard them. They're not ready to write up a contract. It's all speculative. More deals fall through than come to fruition."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

The shininess in her eyes led him to take her hand, still curled into a fist, and bring it to his lips. He didn't kiss it, just felt its softness against him. It was enough to arouse him, enough to make him want to lay her on the scarred wood floor and make passionate love to her. "I didn't tell you because you had enough to think about."

Defiance flickered over her features, but she let him keep her hand cradled under his chin. "I have two older brothers. I don't need another one."

"Believe me, I don't feel like a brother."

"What do you feel like?" she asked so softly her lips stayed parted.

The shy catch in her voice hit him like a sucker-punch. Honesty spilled out. "I feel chemistry, Francie. Chemistry so strong that I know I have to back away or someone will get hurt."

"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."

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.

"No, Drew. Stay still. Does anything else hurt?"

"I don't think so."

"Veronica called your dad."

Now the tears came to Drew's eyes. "He's gonna be so mad. He told me..." Drew bit his lip and the tears rolled down his cheeks.

"It's okay, honey. He'll know it was an accident."

"But he said..."

Noah crouched down beside Francie, his expression unreadable. "How are you doing, son? Your dad will be here in a few minutes." When Drew didn't respond but tightened up into more of a ball, Noah said to Francie in a low tone, "Pierson almost bit Veronica's head off. If she'd told me what she was doing, I would have made the call. He hung up before I could talk to him. I'm going to call the paramedics. Then Pierson will know we've done everything we can."

Noah was taking every precaution so the rink wasn't liable. Francie sighed, then spoke to Drew softly and soothingly. He seemed to be more worried about his dad's reaction than about his arm.

The paramedics arrived first. They'd finished checking out Drew when Mr. Pierson came running into the rink. He glared at Francie and knelt down beside his son. "How is he?"

The paramedic answered, "He seems to be fine except for his arm. We'll transport and get him X-rayed at the hospital. If you want to hop in the back with your son, you can."

Pierson nodded absently. "Yes, of course." He stood and turned to Francie. "This is all your fault. I told you I didn't want my son on skates. But, no, you people are all alike. Anything to make a buck."

Noah stepped up beside Francie, his demeanor calm. "This is not Ms. Piccard's fault. She had your son's interest at heart. And since you gave your permission—"

"I never gave my permission."

Noah frowned. "I saw the note myself."

"You're only interested in saving your own neck because you know I can sue." He looked at Francie. "Did you see the note?"

"No, I was away. Mr. Pierson, maybe we can settle this after Drew's taken care of."

Pierson pointed his finger at her. "Yeah, so you can call a lawyer in the meantime. Well, go right ahead. You'll need one. Because I'll be back."

Noah handed the irate man a business card. "You might get tied up in Emergency. That's my cell number."

Pierson glanced at Francie. "I thought she was in charge."

"She is. But I own the rink, and I'm the one who saw the note."

Some of the steam seemed to seep out of Pierson, but the hard purpose didn't leave his expression. He spun on his heels and hurried after Drew and the paramedics.

Francie felt as if she'd been hit by a herd of teenagers skating at high speed around the rink. First, her realization that she loved Noah, now this scene with Drew and his father.

Noah came to her and she moved away. She wanted too badly to feel his arms around her, his lips on hers. She couldn't be close to him now and not betray her feelings.

Noah took her by the elbow. "Let's go get a cup of coffee."

She yanked her arm away, burned by his fingers. "I don't need coffee."

His lips tightened when she wrapped her arms around herself. "Then let's go to the office and talk."

"What about? The way I get too involved with my customers? So you can say I-told-you-so?"

Noah surveyed the skaters starting the motion around the rink again. But a few were still watching Noah and Francie. "Let's take this someplace private, Francie." His voice was low, carrying a warning.

"Private? We don't need to go anywhere private for me to hear what you have to say. And I'll save you the trouble of saying it. You were right and I was wrong. Tell me, Noah, did you stand by me because you care about me or to prevent a lawsuit?"

She thought she saw pain, raw and sharp, flash in Noah's eyes. But a second later it was gone, replaced by icy anger that made his words wintry-sharp. "You believe what you want to believe."

Instead of heading for the office, he strode across the foyer and opened the glass door to the lobby.

****

Noah let the cold air sweep around him as he paced back and forth outside the rink. So many emotions battered him he felt like taking off at a fast run to escape them. But Pierson might call. And Francie might need him.

Hell. Need him? She didn't even trust him. That hurt so damned much his chest tightened. She'd wrapped her arms around herself and backed away as if he might hurt her. The oath he let out was loud and clear, sailing deep into the parking lot.

She as much as said she wanted to be married to McIntosh. She wanted to skate with him. Why didn't she just do it and save them both all this grief? Because she wanted to save the rink?

This situation was the exact one Noah had avoided all his adult life. Somehow, he'd gotten sucked into caring about Francie and her family and her hopes and dreams. None of it should matter to him. But after the kiss McIntosh had interrupted, it mattered too much. So Noah had tried to stay away from her.

How could he stop wanting her in his arms...in his bed...in his life?

****

Francie saw Noah come back in as she rolled around the rink. He looked windblown and distracted, the beard shadow along his jaw making him look more rugged, more untamed. She might have spoken to him, apologized even, if he'd glanced her way. But he didn't. Instead he disappeared into the office and came out a few minutes later—suit jacket buttoned, laptop in hand—stopped to speak to Veronica, and then left!

Francie almost rolled to a stop.

If she went running after him, what would happen? Would he admit he cared about her? That's what she'd been trying to pull from him when she'd made her accusation. She hadn't realized it then, but she did now.

She beckoned to Veronica when she caught her eye. Francie couldn't leave the floor when she was the only member of their personnel skating.

Veronica rolled beside her. "You want me to take over so you can get something to eat?"

"Where'd Noah go?"

Veronica tilted her blond head and gave Francie a speculative look. "He said he was going back to his apartment to work. He didn't tell you he was leaving?"

Francie felt her cheeks redden as she shook her head.

"I know it's none of my business," Veronica said, "but if you want to leave, Theresa can come out on the floor with me. We've got plenty of people working tonight."

"You covered when I was gone. You're covering Sunday."

"I like being here. You know that. I feel like I'm playing, not working."

Veronica did like helping to manage the rink as much as Francie liked doing it. She was also single and had no one to answer to, so odd hours weren't a problem. Francie's pulse raced as she thought about leaving and apologizing to Noah. Obviously he was angry with her. He could use some time to cool off. She could use some time to prepare herself to see him.

"I'm not leaving now. I'll take off around eight and let you close up if that's all right."

Veronica nodded.

Francie was going to use the time to shore up her courage. She had to apologize to Noah.

****

Francie ran up the steps to Noah's apartment, mindful of the red SUV parked in the driveway. Pierson's station wagon. She recognized the vehicle. Sure, it could be someone else. But who else did Noah know in Gettysburg? Should she barge in? This mess was her fault. She wanted to know how Drew was and why his father was here.

Noah opened the door, his expression neutral. Wordlessly, he stepped aside so she could enter. Neither man looked particularly upset. Pierson rose from the sofa when he saw her.

"How's Drew?" No matter what else was going on, the little boy was foremost on her mind.

"Nothing's broken. His arm is bruised. He has to keep it in a sling for a day or two. It wasn't the arm that had him so upset."

"But he said it hurt--"

Drew's father raised his brows. "I'm sure it did. But I was just telling Mr. Gordon I jumped to the wrong conclusions. I want to apologize to both of you."

Francie breathed an internal sigh of relief. "You were worried."

"That's the problem. I've been worrying too much."

When Jud Pierson didn't explain, Noah did. "Drew did bring in a note. But his sister wrote it and signed it for him. His father knew nothing about it."

Jud's forehead creased as he spoke. "It seems my daughter, who's fourteen and knows everything there is to know, decided this was one way to get back at me for, as she puts it, keeping her under glass! She's been fully recovered from her accident for six months now, but I'm still hovering. She didn't want to see me do that to Drew."

"I imagine it's difficult to know when to protect and when to let go," Francie mused.

Jud nodded in agreement. "It is. But I should have listened to my wife. For weeks she's been warning me that I can't protect our children from life."

"Do you believe that even after Drew's injury?" Francie asked.

"Yes," Jud answered wearily. "Drew as much as told me his fall was my fault. He said he was trying so hard not to fall, that's why he fell!"

Francie suppressed a grin at Pierson's amazement. "How does he feel about skating now?"

Jud gave her an exasperated smile. "He wants to join your beginners class next Saturday. I told him when the doctor gives his okay, he can skate." Offering his hand to Noah, Jud asked, "No hard feelings?"

Noah shook the man's hand. "Of course not. In your situation, I would have reacted the same."

Jud shook Francie's hand, then went to the door. "Maybe one of these days, you'll see our whole family at the rink."

Francie was almost sorry to see Jud Pierson leave. She was alone with Noah, and she had an apology of her own to deliver. She just wasn't sure how to go about it.

Noah stood by the door, watching her expectantly. He didn't offer to take her jacket, and she wasn't surprised he was letting her make the first move. After all, Noah was a cautious man.

She jammed her hands into her pockets and tentatively took a step toward him. His blue T-shirt struggled across his chest, molded to his muscled upper arms, fitting like a second skin. It looked soft, probably from a thousand washings. His gray sweatpants hung caressingly against his thighs. She almost broke out in a sweat. Sensuality and power radiated from him. With her desire for him as well as the love blooming in her heart, she was speechless again.

Her hesitant step must have been enough of a first move. Still frustratingly neutral, he said, "I would have called you. About Pierson."

"I wasn't sure you would. Not after what I said."

He shrugged, as if what she'd said, what she'd felt, didn't matter in the least. "No one can fault you for being honest."

"But I wasn't. Being honest, I mean."

No expression crossed his face, but the light in his eyes changed, making them greener, deeper. Maybe he wasn't so immune to what she had to say.

Being truthful had never seemed so risky. "I only said what I did to push you. To try to find out if you do care."

He approached her slowly, studying every feature of her face. "Would I put up with your stall tactics if I didn't care? Would I have come to New York? Would I go up in flames when I kiss you?"

Her knees shook. "I don't know. I guess that's what I was trying to find out."

"Touch me, Francie. Touch me and find out exactly how much I care."

She lifted her hand and reached toward his chest.

CHAPTER NINE

Noah hadn't meant it as a dare. To his surprise, it had been more of a plea.

The control he'd managed all week snapped like a chain with a weak link. The weak link was his desire for a woman who could melt his resolve with the simplest expression, the simplest touch.

And this time her touch wasn't simple. She was taking him at his word and touching him with fingers that wanted to explore, that wanted to take him deeper into passion. She played across his collarbone, then with curious intent, brushed along his shoulders to his upper arms...with both hands.

The T-shirt was so worn he could feel every nuance of her fingertips, and he couldn't imagine having a more vigorous response if she'd played on his naked skin. Naked. Suddenly he wanted her naked in his arms more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

He reached for the plackets of her jacket, opened it wide, and gazed at her breasts heaving up and down with the same excitement he felt. He wanted to feel them in his hands, touch them with his tongue. Moments later, her jacket and sweater landed on the floor. She wore a sport bra, and as his gaze lingered on it, Noah decided it was sexier than silk and lace. She blushed, and all he could think about was setting her free, seeing her naked and on his bed beneath him.

Just the thought hardened him and took his breath away. What would the actual experience do? His mind and body raced ahead while he slid his fingers under her bra and lifted it over her head. It sailed through the air.

The wind rattled against a window. The coffee pot clicked. His sight and hearing were acutely sensitive, the pads of his fingers tingling with longing to wisp across her bare skin. But there was something he wanted to do first, even before kissing her. He took her ponytail and carefully pulled the band that was holding it away from her face, away from her shoulders, away from his fingers.

When her beautiful black hair was loose, he slid his fingers through it. Like the cling of silk, it caressed him. He could no longer stand the waiting. He took her mouth with the hunger and desire he'd been denying too long.

Kissing him back, she met him stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust, sweep for sweep. She trembled in his arms, reminding him she was precious and responsive and--for the moment--his.

Francie tightened her arms around Noah so she wouldn't fall, so she wouldn't be swept away. He was solid and hot and hard and everything she needed right now. The intimate taste of his mouth, the slick heat, the devouring hunger taught her truths about passion she had never known. She had needs and wants and desires that Noah could more than satisfy. As a man, he didn't just need pleasure, he wanted to give it, too. Plucking at his shirt, she pulled it from his waistband. When she stroked his back, he rocked his hips against hers.

Need moistened her. Passion drove her to rub against him to find fulfillment. But Noah wanted more than pleasure inhibited by clothing. Still kissing her as if she were air for breath, food for hunger, salvation itself, he deftly unsnapped her jeans, grated down the zipper, and pushed the denim from her hips. The weight of the fabric took the jeans to her ankles. She kicked them away, reaching for the band of Noah's sweatpants at the same time.

Everything escalated. Need. Desire. Necessity. Hunger. Love.

She loved Noah. Nothing mattered more. Nothing else mattered at all.

His hands pulled; hers pushed. He stripped off her panties; she lifted his shirt. Heat and electricity and desire crackled around them as Noah swung Francie into his arms and carried her to the bed.

He sat on the side, holding her in his lap, kissing and caressing and making her world spin. He broke the kiss only to duck his head, string kisses along her chin, down her throat, lingering, though blazing a path she knew would end at her breasts. The anticipation was almost as thrilling as the kisses themselves.

Circling her nipple, closing in, tempting, teasing, he would approach it until she could almost feel his tongue. Then he reversed direction, widening the circle again. She let out a moan of frustration and he chuckled--a deep, sexy laugh that surged through her like pure lightning.

"Noah," she pleaded.

Her husky murmur stopped him for a moment, and he studied her face, kissed her nose, her cheek, her chin, then homed in exactly where she wanted him. His tongue flicked her nipple teasingly. She arched toward him. Leaving that nipple, he went to the other, tormenting her the same way.

She said again, "Noah." This time louder, with more urgency.

He opened his mouth and laved the peak of her breast with a velvet rasp that made her moan. The sparks inside her that had begun with his kiss and spread to every part of her, ignited into small flames licking at her nerve endings. She could feel them everywhere. They danced, jumped, coalesced into one large flame that made her burn, pant, long for the experience to go on forever, yet also yearn for its completion.

Noah's manhood was hard and fiery under her thigh. When she moved her leg, he groaned and she knew she could make his fires come fiercely alive too.

His mouth was heaven, but she leaned away so she could give him pleasure. She had to be an equal in this. That was so important. Would he let her?

When she pulled back, he asked, "Am I hurting you?"

She caressed his cheek. "Oh, no. But I want to make you feel good, too."

His face was dark with passion, his gaze alight with the same flames she felt. "You are."

She played her fingers across his lips. "I want to give you more."

He smiled and gave her a hungry, devouring kiss. They lay beside each other on the bed, his arm around her, her hair cascading over his shoulder. Now she had the full territory of his body to discover. Rough landscape, muscled terrain. After she explored that, she headed toward the velvet heat that could fulfill her.

She touched him, and he gave a deep guttural sound that was primal and exciting. As she trailed one finger down the heated length of his arousal, he sucked in a breath. Wrapping her hand around him, she counted the beats of his pulse against her palm. They were fast, anticipatory, rushing toward release.

She looked at him and searched his green gaze for what she wanted to find. She saw hunger and need. But she couldn't tell if there was love. How could a woman know unless a man said it? And she wanted it to be said freely. She wasn't about to ask. Not now. Not when she wanted to believe he felt as deeply as she did.

After she released him with a brush of her fingers that sent a shudder through him, she stroked his thigh and nuzzled his bronze male nipple.

He growled, "Enough, Francie," and rose above her.

He caressed her breasts and dropped kisses on their crowns. Stroking lower, he grazed her navel and slid his hand between her thighs, nudging her legs farther apart.

The excitement, the passion, the love, coursed through her. Shivers danced up and down her arms. Her legs trembled. She waited expectantly.

But even now, Noah wasn't about to take without giving. He tried her with his finger.

She gasped from the exquisite sensation.

Again, and again, and again, he touched her until she was writhing on the bed and reaching for his shoulders. She didn't want to experience this ecstasy alone. She wanted him inside her, taking the journey with her.

Bracing his hands on either side of her, he kissed her until she was part of him, whole with him, reveling in something so intimate that nothing could separate them again. She arched toward him so the oneness could be physical as well as emotional.

She felt him at her entrance, her secret folds separating to welcome him. Soon she would know all of him--

He swore, the sound of it so harsh and fierce she opened her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Are you protected?"

Her heart almost stopped beating as the reality of the situation sank in. She didn't want to answer him because she knew what would happen when she did. She knew Noah. "No."

He looked angry, angrier than she'd ever seen him. Closing his eyes, tightening his hands into fists on the spread, he took long, harsh breaths. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She didn't want him to move away, or stop what they'd started. Her body cried for completion, but so did her heart. "Because I didn't think about it any more than you did. Noah this is a good time of the month, I'm probably safe..."

"Probably?" he growled. He moved quickly and lay a good six inches away from her.

A moment before they'd been so close. She touched his arm.

He pulled away. "Don't touch me, Francie. Not right now."

Her cheeks flamed as she realized how stringently he was battling for control. "Noah, it wouldn't have mattered. I wanted this. I wanted you."

He jerked his head toward her, his gaze sharp, his questions just as sharp. "And what about figure skating, Francie? If you got pregnant, would you want me to carry around the responsibility for destroying your career the rest of my life?"

He was right. She knew he was. And she had no excuse except, "I didn't think about that."

He stared at her in amazement. "I have trouble believing that. Women calculate passion as much as men. They usually know exactly what they're doing."

His words hurt more than a slap. Did he think she wanted to trap him? Use him? He was searching for an ulterior motive. What she felt for Noah was free and natural and honest. Apparently he didn't believe that. And if he could think her feelings weren't honest, that she was playing some kind of game, then he obviously didn't love her. Tears burned in her eyes, but she wasn't about to let him see them.

Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she knew she had to get covered, she had to get dressed, she had to get out of here.

"Francie."

His voice stopped her. But she didn't look at him.

She heard his deep sigh. "Apparently neither of us was thinking."

A tear lodged in the corner of her eye. She blinked fast and furious. "What about feeling, Noah? Doesn't that matter, too?" She knew she was pushing. She couldn't draw from him something that wasn't there.

"Feeling matters, but we know this can't go anywhere."

"Even if I don't go back to figure skating?" As soon as she asked, she realized he wouldn't answer.

"Your decision about figure skating can have nothing to do with me," he said gruffly. "I can't promise you anything. I travel, I know nothing about family, about relationships. I told you before, Francie, I know nothing about being attached."

She flounced off the bed and picked up her bra from the floor. Being naked with a person was about as honest as you could get. But Noah wasn't being honest with himself. "You're wrong, Noah. You're caring, and giving, and protective. You know how to be attached. You don't want to be. I don't know why. Maybe you're scared. You think I'm not? But I'm willing to take the chance."

Yanking on her sweater, she dared to glance at him. But he was wearing his expressionless face again, the one that gave nothing away, the one that protected him from everyone knowing his thoughts. He might be protective of people he cared about, but he was a heck of a lot more protective of himself. Until he decided to open up and let someone love him, he couldn't love and be loved.

She loved him. She didn't know how that fit into her life, but she knew she could make it fit, make him fit, if they both wanted it. But until Noah was ready to risk trusting, to risk loving, he would be alone, a traveler, dabbling in life, not experiencing it.

She dressed quickly, needing to get away from Noah's presence, away from his aloofness, away from his silent regard. She had nothing more to say to him and apparently he had nothing to say to her.

Before she left, she realized she did have something else to tell Noah because she had to set the record straight. She put on her jacket and buttoned it. "Once upon a time, I dreamed of being married to Brent, of skating with him for the rest of our lives. But it was a young girl's dream. My dreams have changed, Noah. I don't know if figure skating is still part of them, but I know for sure that Brent isn't. So don't use him as an excuse. He has nothing to do with you and me."

****

Noah stared at the closed door after Francie left, tried to relax muscles tight with sexual frustration, and couldn't begin to relax any of them. Slamming his fist onto the mattress, he wished he could put it through the wall instead. Dammit. He needed to get back to his apartment in Richmond.

Why?

Because...

Why?

Because there he could...

What? Be alone? Keep safe? Pretend Francie had never entered his life?

No. He could get back to business.

And what about Francie?

He'd tasted the secrets of her mouth. He'd felt her ripe honeyed sweetness. He'd heard her sighs and moans begging for satisfaction.

She'd wanted to give him pleasure, too, and she had until he'd stopped her. He'd had no other responsible choice.

He'd promised he'd stay until after Valentine's Day. It was less than a week away. He wouldn't break his promise. But then he'd leave.

****

Francie let herself into the house, hoping no one would be around. But then she heard the television. Could she escape upstairs and pull herself together?

"Paul? Is that you?" Angela called from the living room.

Francie looked at the staircase again, then sighed and unbuttoned her jacket. "No, Mama, it's me."

"Come sit with me. I haven't talked to you for a few days."

Her mother had seen her this morning at breakfast, but Angela didn't consider that "talking." Francie was not in any shape to have a heart-to-heart. Her cheeks were probably still flushed, her lips still kiss-swollen. But she knew if she tried to scurry upstairs, her mother would be even more tenacious.

She hung her coat in the closet, pressed her palms to her cheeks, and went to the living room.

"You just coming from the rink?"

It would be so easy to stretch the truth and say yes. "No. I had to speak to Noah. Drew Pierson fell at the rink today and we had a few things to discuss."

Her mother looked up from the color-swatch book on her lap. Her one quick look took in much too much. "Why don't you ask Noah to come to dinner on Sunday?"

"That's not a good idea." Francie heard the panic in her voice. She couldn't pretend to be casual with Noah, not after what had just happened.

Her mother set the swatch book aside and clicked off the remote. Patting the sofa next to her, she invited, "Come, sit down."

"Mama, I'm tired. If you want to ask Noah for dinner, go ahead, but I'll be leaving right afterward for Hershey." Her mother looked hurt and Francie regretted her impatience.

"Why are you so tired, Francie Marie? Too much on your mind?"

More like too much on her heart. She crossed the room and sat down next to her mother.

Angela put her hand on Francie's knee. "What's wrong, honey?"

Tears came to Francie's eyes, tears that this time she couldn't blink away.

Angela studied her daughter's face, her shiny eyes. "Is it Brent?"

How much simpler things would be if it was. "It's not Brent."

"Have you made a decision?"

"No."

"What are you waiting for, Francie?"

"For a decision to feel right," she blurted out, suddenly realizing that's exactly what she was waiting for.

Angela looked perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"All my life, I made decisions because they were the right decisions to make, something I should do, something someone else wanted me to do. This time I want to make a decision that feels right in my heart, like last year when I made the decision to ask Craig to let me manage the rink."

Angela frowned. "You have to take many things into consideration--your talent, your future, what you've invested so far."

Her mother wasn't saying it, but Francie knew what Angela wanted. She wanted her daughter to be in the limelight, on television, to make the family proud, to sacrifice herself to her grandmother's belief in her. Francie had done that long enough. It was a hard habit to break.

Angela must have sensed Francie's withdrawal because she changed the subject. "So what about Noah? Are you upset about him, too?"

How much did her mother suspect? How much did she know? Maybe it was time to be up front with her mother about everything. "I love Noah."

Her mother's eyes widened, her mouth opened, but she recovered quickly. "You've known him only a few weeks."

"How long did it take you to fall in love with Pop?"

Her mother actually blushed! "I knew from the first time I talked to him. But times were different then. Now you have to be more careful."

"I thought I was careful with Brent."

Angela sighed and shook her head. "He seemed like such a nice man. So polished, so talented, so charming. Maybe he's changed. Maybe now he realizes what he did, what you both lost. Maybe you need to give him another chance."

Francie hadn't seen any evidence of remorse in Brent. Maybe that bothered her most of all. And she simply couldn't trust him or his motives. "Brent's charm is an act to get what he wants. Noah's not like that. He's honest, even though it hurts."

"How does Noah feel about you?"

"I don't know."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Angela confessed, "Your father likes Noah. He never thought much of Brent."

Francie had never known that. Her father was a good judge of character. "Where is Pop?"

"He went over to Vince's to help him install a new bathroom vanity."

"And Gina?"

"Out with that new boy. She said you met him. What do you think?"

This was Francie's opportunity to let the burden drop from her shoulders. But if she did, she'd feel she was betraying a confidence. "I'm not sure. She got in late last night, didn't she?"

"A half hour past her curfew for a school night. Normally we wouldn't mind. But it was her attitude this morning. As if she has a right to stay out as late as she wants. She wasn't like that before she started seeing this Jake."

"She's growing up."

Angela smiled. "Much too fast. She'll be off to college next year. You'll probably be traveling..."

"Mama, I don't know what I'll be doing."

Angela squeezed Francie's knee. "I know you'll make the right decision."

Francie had to ask herself, Right for whom?

****

Noah flicked on the light beside the bed for at least the third time. Two A.M. Insomnia at its height. Frustrated hormones coupled with turbulent thoughts. Francie's face before him whether he closed his eyes or kept them open. The spy thriller he carried in his suitcase for nights like this usually remedied the sleeplessness. But not this night. Not this situation.

The phone's sharp beep startled him. Who would be calling this time of night? Unless Francie...What? Just wanted to talk to him in the middle of the night? Not likely. Still, the hope leapt as he threw back the covers and went to the kitchen to answer the apartment phone. When he checked the caller ID he saw Piccard. But it wasn't Francie's number.

"Hello?"

"Noah, it's Gina."

"Gina! What's wrong?"

"Uh, nothing exactly."

"Nothing? That's why you called me at two A.M.? Has something happened to Francie? Your mom or dad?"

"No. But something's going to happen to me if you don't help me."

Noah hoped to heaven the teenager was being dramatic for effect. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Where are you?"

"An all-night diner along Route 30. About a half hour from Gettysburg."

"Toward York or Chambersburg?"

"York. Noah, can you come get me?"

The flippancy in her tone had changed to fear and Noah became worried. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I am now. But I'm afraid Jake will come back. I'm just...stranded."

Noah thought he heard tears in her voice. He had no idea what to do with an upset teenager. "Gina, do you want me to get your mom?"

"No!"

"Okay. Exactly what do you want me to do?"

"Please come and get me so I can sneak in. I was supposed to be home by midnight."

"And you think your parents aren't waiting up?"

"They trust me, Noah. They're probably asleep. Come and get me and they'll never know."

Noah went to his window and peered through the blinds. The Piccard house was dark. Gina could be right about everyone sleeping. Yet what if they were awake and worrying? "I think they're going to know, Gina, one way or the other."

"I can't face them right now. Don't you see? I was wrong about Jake--"

"Did he hurt you?" Noah asked as gently as he could.

"No. He just scared me."

"Is he there now?" Noah would break the punk's neck if he'd hurt Gina in any way.

"No."

Noah heard the catch of tears again. "Let me get Francie."

"No." As adamant, if not as sharp as the first time.

"Gina, I'm going to wake either your mom or Francie. Which is it?"

Silence. Finally, Gina said, "Francie usually leaves her purse with her cell downstairs. So you'll have to wake her from outside. Her room is at the right corner facing the backyard. If you throw something at the window, you can wake her without alerting mom or dad."

He sighed. "Wouldn't it be easier--"

"Please, Noah? Do this for me. Tell her I'm okay. Then come get me. But don't bring her along. I don't know what I'm going to tell her."

He must be out of his mind to consider it, but he knew desperation when he heard it. He didn't want Gina bolting off for parts unknown. "Is there anything else I should know?" Like, were the police looking for her or her boyfriend?

"No. I'll be waiting inside the diner. And hurry, okay?"

He'd fly if he could. Getting a few landmarks, he reassured her that he'd be there shortly.

Noah pulled on the T-shirt and sweatpants that Francie had stripped from him. He could still feel her hands on him. Damnation!

A few minutes later, he was outside Francie's window. Taking careful aim, he threw a stone, hoping he wouldn't break the glass. He needn't have worried. The stone pinged off the screen at a slant and he couldn't tell if it even made a noise. The incredible naivete of youth. Gina had thought this would be so easy!

With the third stone, determined if this didn't work he was going to ring the doorbell, Francie raised her window. "Noah? Is that you?"

"Come downstairs so we can talk."

"Noah, I can't hear you."

He blew out a huge breath and in as loud a whisper as he could manage, he enunciated clearly, "Come down here."

She'd turned on the light in her room. It backlit her tousled hair. He swallowed hard as he imagined her in her nightgown. She must have heard his shouted whisper because she turned away from the window. A short time later, she was standing in her robe at the back door.

With breathless anticipation and hopeful, sparkling eyes, Francie asked, "Did you change your mind? Do you want me to come back to your apartment? I wish I could, but Gina's not home and I was thinking about waking Mama and Pop..."

He felt as if she'd hit him in the gut with a cast-iron frying pan. He was trying to put wanting her out of his head. She was still entertaining the possibility they could be together. Her blue flannel robe molded to every one of her curves so that he remembered them explicitly. If it wasn't for Gina...No! In a way it was a good thing tonight had happened the way it had.

Setting aside that whole question for now, ignoring the longing stringing his body, he got straight to the point. "Gina called me."

Even in the porch light, he could see Francie pale. "Is she all right? Was she in an accident? I'll never forgive myself if--"

Noah took hold of Francie's arms and told her the little he knew. When he was finished, she said, "I'm going with you."

"You can't. I told her I'd come alone."

Francie pulled out of his grasp. "Well, you told her wrong. I'm worried about her. You can't believe I'm going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs until you get back."

"Francie, I don't want to go back on my word. She trusted me enough to call me. What if I call you as soon as I get there?"

"Not good enough."

"Francie..."

"If you don't take me with you, I'll just get in my car and follow you."

He realized she would and that would make no sense at all. But how would Gina feel--?

"Noah, I want to show her I care about her."

He couldn't say no to Francie's plea because he knew how much she did care. "All right."

Francie gave him a weak smile. "It'll take me two minutes to dress. I have clean clothes in the laundry room so I don't even have to go upstairs.

Noah followed her inside, careful not to let any of the doors slam. Pacing the kitchen, he thought again about Francie's hopeful questions about going back to his place. He never for a moment believed she was interested in an "affair." The thought had crossed his mind that she'd do it because of the rink as a last-ditch effort to convince him not to sell. But knowing Francie the way he did, he'd dismissed that idea quickly.

If he asked her to come to his apartment, he was agreeing to a commitment. He wasn't ready for that. He didn't think he'd ever be ready for that.

Francie emerged from the small room off the back porch dressed in a pink sweatshirt and slacks. She looked more than good enough to eat, her hair fluffy from pulling the sweatshirt over her head, her cheeks flushed from hurrying.

She brushed by him, the flowery shampoo she used wafting around him. "My sneakers are in the living room. If you want to start the car--"

"Francie? Is Gina home?" her mother called down the stairs.

Francie looked at Noah. "You're sure she's all right?"

"She sounded upset but in one piece. She said she was fine, just stranded."

Francie went to the foot of the stairs. "Mama, Noah is going to go with me to pick up Gina. Her boyfriend had a flat tire. Go back to bed."

"Tell Noah thank you. And come in and tap me on the shoulder when you get home."

"All right."

Noah's gaze held Francie's as he remembered how angry she'd been when they'd returned from New York and she'd found out he hadn't told her about the developers interested in buying the rink. "It seems as if you protect people you care about, too."

Francie plucked her jacket from the closet. "If there's a reason for Mama and Pop to worry, I'll call them."

Francie was familiar with the twenty-four-hour diner that Gina had described. The silence between her and Noah in the car was broken only by her terse directions. Noah held a heavy foot to the accelerator and they arrived at the diner in twenty minutes. Gina stood inside the door.

When Noah opened it, her voice was filled with dismay. "I asked you to come alone."

Francie took her sister's arm and propelled her toward a table. "Well, he didn't. I covered for you with Mama, but I want the whole story. And don't you dare leave anything out."

Gina sat and put her hands to her face. "They know I'm still out? What am I going to tell them?"

Francie sat across from her. "You can start by telling me the truth."

Gina pulled her hands away from her face and looked at Francie belligerently. "And what if I won't?"

CHAPTER TEN

Noah could see Francie didn't know how to respond to Gina's hostility. He put a hand on Francie's shoulder. "Do you want me to go take a walk?"

She accepted his support. After what had happened tonight, he thought she might brush it away. "That's up to Gina."

Gina shrugged her shoulders. "You can stay. I don't have anything to say."

The waitress came over and asked if they wanted to order. "Two hot chocolates," Francie directed, looking at Gina hunched up in her jacket as if she was cold.

"Coffee. Regular," Noah said, wondering how Francie would handle Gina's obvious anger.

He didn't have long to wonder. When the waitress left, Gina exploded. "That's what you do all the time! How do you know I wanted hot chocolate?" Her lower lip trembled.

Francie gestured with her hand. "You like hot chocolate. You drink it every night--"

"That's not the point. You just take over. That's what you've done since you've been home."

"I'm hardly ever there!"

Noah felt uncomfortable. He'd never been involved in a family conflict like this. But he was curious, too. What happened after the fight? All he remembered from his childhood were raised voices between his mother and men, a door slamming, the men not coming around again.

"You're there even when you aren't there," Gina mumbled.

Francie cast Noah a perplexed look.

He shifted in his chair, moving closer to her without touching her, though touching her was exactly what he wanted to do. "Why are you angry with Francie?"

Gina moved the fork in front of her to the side. "I'm not angry. I'm...tired of her being the center of attention. The whole time I was growing up, Mama was off to competitions with Francie or visiting her in Boston. Everything revolved around her and her schedule. All I ever heard about were her classes, her accomplishments, her talent." Gina's glare was accusatory but filled with hurt, too. "All anyone cared about was you and your skating."

Francie's face reflected astonishment, as if she couldn't believe Gina had kept her feelings under wraps for so long. "Why didn't you talk to me before this, Gina? Have you ever told Mama how you feel?"

"Of course not! She'd just pat my knee and tell me not to be jealous. I'm not jealous. Not exactly. I just want..."

"Attention?" Francie filled in.

"Don't make me sound like a child," Gina responded.

"Everyone needs attention," Noah suggested softly. "When they don't get it from people they care about, they look for it in other places." Thank God he hadn't run with the wrong crowds. He'd channeled his energy into sports to earn scholarships, into work so he could earn extra money.

Gina seemed to absorb Noah's words, the fact that he understood. "That's the reason I got all A's in school, that's the reason I'm in school activities. It's something I can do that Francie can't."

"And I've always envied that," Francie answered.

Gina's gaze snapped to hers. "You have?"

"Learning comes so easily to you. You read a page and remember everything on it. I could sit there all evening and still not remember everything I need to know."

"But you remember complicated choreography," Gina pointed out.

Francie shrugged. "That's different. Maybe I was always just too tired to study. I don't know. But I do know I wish I'd had the time with the family you take for granted. I only saw Vince and Frank when they drove me to practices or classes. And Pop. If I was lucky, I'd have a few minutes to talk with him before I went to bed. Summers, I was gone all day for training and I'd have evening dance classes. And then when I was thirteen, I went to Boston. You were at the center of the family then. You had all those years with them while I was away."

Gina's voice grew husky. "But the attention still always revolved around you. What you were doing. How well you were doing. Later how great Brent was. And then with the Olympics..." Gina shook her head. "They didn't care what I did at all."

Francie covered Gina's hand with hers. Her sister didn't pull away. "You've got to know that's not true. Every time I called home, every time Mama e-mailed me, she'd tell me how well you were doing, how proud they were of you. I often wished I was you instead of me. I hated being away from home."

"And I wished I was you. I want to travel and see places other than Gettysburg."

"You will," Francie reassured her. "But enjoy what you have while you have it. Believe me, once you're away, you'll miss the family."

Gina hesitated, then said, "I did miss you when you were gone."

Francie's eyes misted and Noah wanted to put his arms around her. "I missed you too. You're my little sister. I used to braid your hair. How could I not miss you?"

Noah could almost see Francie and Gina drawing closer, could see the barriers coming down in the face of their honesty. He leaned back as the waitress set his coffee in front of him. After she'd served the hot chocolates, he asked Gina, "Did you date Jake to get attention?"

Gina watched the foaming marshmallow in her cup. "I suppose. He was different and I guess I figured no one would approve."

"What happened tonight?" Noah asked gently.

Gina cautiously looked at Francie and Noah, then plunged in. "We met some of his friends here. Then we went down the road to a picnic area, and they all started drinking. Jake and a couple of the guys were bragging about racing their cars. I got scared. He never drank when I was with him before. He never raced, either. I sure didn't want to drive with him, so I made him drop me off here."

"He did that without an argument?" Noah probed, doubting it.

"He got pretty loud and swore. But I told him if he didn't let me out here, I'd jump out as soon as I could and walk home."

Francie cringed and Noah bet she was imagining what could have happened.

"What are you going to tell Mama and Pop?" Gina asked tentatively.

Francie didn't let go of Gina's hand. "I think you should tell them the truth."

"But they'll ground me."

"Maybe. But I think we should also tell them what was going on between us."

Gina ducked her head. "It was hard enough telling you."

"But I think they'll understand then why you've been seeing Jake. And I'll be right beside you."

Gina raised her head. "You mean that?"

Francie nodded and the look that passed between the two sisters was one of understanding.

Noah remembered the day he'd taken a good look at Craig and confronted him about the discrepancy in their books. There'd been angry words. Then Craig had broken down and admitted his problems. He and Craig had worked together to find a solution. Was that any different than what had just happened between Francie and Gina? Is this how families handled problems together? Noah thought about that as he drove Francie and Gina home.

Everyone in the house seemed sound asleep as they went in the front door.

"Francie?" Angela called.

"Yes, Mama. It's me and Gina."

"Is everything all right?"

Francie looked at Gina. "It's fine."

"You two get to bed. We'll talk in the morning."

Gina looked woebegone and whispered, "She knows something happened."

Francie couldn't suppress a smile. "Did you have any doubts?"

Gina smiled back. "I guess not. She's pretty sharp." She laid her coat over the banister. "And you'll be here when I talk to them?"

"I'll be here." Francie opened her arms for a hug and waited.

Gina went to her and squeezed her tightly, then looked at Noah. "Thanks."

He nodded. After Gina had climbed the stairs, the quiet house enveloped him and Francie. They stood perfectly still, aware of each other's breathing, each other's desire, each other's awkwardness. Noah broke the stalemate. "I'd better be going." But he didn't move.

"I appreciate what you did for Gina. Coming to get me. Trying to understand. You're a fine man, Noah Gordon."

He hooked his finger under Francie's hair and brushed it away from her cheek. It swung back with a mind of its own. Just like Francie. "My thoughts aren't so 'fine' right now."

"What are they?" Her voice was husky.

"You and me. Naked. Finishing what we started."

"Noah..."

He stroked her cheek. "But I can't do that to you, Francie. Nothing's changed."

"How can you say that? You've just proved how caring you are, how dependable."

"There's a long way from caring to going the distance in a relationship. You know that as well as I do. And you want the distance, Francie. You're that kind of woman."

"And you won't even try."

The sadness in her eyes, coupled with the same longing as he knew, made him feel like a first-class heel. But he knew his history. He knew his limits. "It's not a matter of trying. It's a matter of not even knowing where to begin."

"With honesty."

He sighed, wanting nothing more than to pull Francie into his arms. But hugs led to kisses. Kisses led to more intimate kisses. And he knew exactly where those intimate kisses would lead.

Not kissing her, but needing to touch her again, he lifted her chin with his knuckle and ran his thumb along its side. "I'll see you in the morning."

She sighed and nodded.

Still reluctant to leave, he asked, "Are you going to tell me what you're planning for Valentine's Day?"

She attempted a smile. "I'd rather keep it a surprise."

He pulled back his hand, stepping away from temptation. "I don't generally like surprises, but if you're planning it, it should be good."

She looked so vulnerable, so innocent, so natural, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Then he left, because that brush of his lips on her skin wasn't nearly enough.

****

Sunday afternoon, a whimsical layer of on-again, off-again snow dusted the parking lot of Hershey Arena. Noah took Francie's elbow as they walked across the fresh white powder. She looked up at him inquiringly.

"I wouldn't want you to fall. Paul would have my head."

Noah couldn't keep his smile from his voice, though there wasn't much to smile about. He'd accepted Angela's invitation to Sunday dinner. She'd made it clear the invitation was a thank-you for helping Gina. For some reason she hadn't been as friendly as usual.

During dinner Paul had promoted the idea of Noah driving Francie to Hershey Arena in case the roads became nasty. Noah was tormenting himself by being with Francie, but it was better than the thought of his being at the rink and her driving alone in the snow. In this twenty-degree weather, anything could happen. He didn't want her stranded somewhere. When he'd agreed to be chauffeur, Angela had given both him and her husband a probing look but hadn't shown disapproval or approval.

And Francie? During the drive she'd kept her distance physically and emotionally, the car's armrest a tangible barrier between them.

Francie's tone now was annoyed. "Pop's not-so-subtle maneuvering at dinner was embarrassing. I'm quite capable of handling myself in snow or rain or sunshine."

"He worries about you. I can't blame him."

Francie waved her arms at the sky, catching a few snowflakes in her upturned palms. "It's hardly snowing."

"But in three hours we don't know what will happen. You said that's about how long the competition takes."

Turning her face up to the sky, she caught a slow-falling snowflake on her tongue. "About."

Noah's gut tightened, watching Francie's sensual appreciation of the weather. He was fascinated by the way the snowflakes caught in her black hair. "I'm surprised the club didn't cancel the competition."

"It's too difficult to reschedule because of the hockey team. Besides, this snowfall isn't supposed to amount to anything."

The inside of the arena looked deserted with its rows and rows of vacant seats, waiting for the next hockey game or ice show. Noah could imagine Francie on the ice. She could be performing here someday as a professional during a yearly road trip. What life path would she choose? Would today help her decide as she watched other skaters on the ice? She seemed to be waiting for something. What?

They found a smattering of a crowd, about thirty, gathered near the judges' box. Francie laid her hand casually on Noah's arm, and his increased pulse rate proved no gesture was casual between them.

"I want to go downstairs for a few minutes to talk to the skaters. Do you want to come along?"

"I've always wondered what goes on behind the scenes."

She grinned. "Bedlam."

Noah got the idea as skaters pushed by him on their way to the dressing area or the ice. Excitement and anticipation hummed in the air. A young woman recognized Francie and hugged her in the middle of the hallway. "You made it. I'm so glad. Chuck and I are so nervous. It never changes, does it? Look, everybody, look who's here! Francie."

Noah stood to the side as one skater after another came up to Francie. She seemed genuinely pleased to see everyone, and he realized that's why she'd come. Because of friendship. She sloughed off the attention and the praise, considering these people as she did everyone else, as equals. He wondered if that's why she wasn't judging the amateur competition, if she didn't want to put herself above them.

Every few minutes, Francie would turn to Noah and introduce him to someone else. He almost felt like part of her circle. Almost.

When the speaker system blared, Francie wished everyone luck. Someone thrust cups of hot chocolate into Noah's and Francie's hands and they carried them into the stands. After they settled in, Francie warmed her nose in the cup before she took a sip.

Noah chuckled. "Do you ever get used to the constant cold?"

Francie licked her upper lip, enticing him to bend his head and kiss her. "I don't notice it." She smiled. "Permanent cold feet are a hazard of the profession."

He remembered her foot on his calf. Francie was warmth and heat and light; she had no coldness in her. The remembering was a bad idea. When her eyes switched from the ice to him, he knew she was remembering too. Their gazes lingered, she not wanting to break away, he not able to.

She asked in almost a whisper, "Why did you come along today? Because Pop suggested it?"

Noah's reasons for accepting Angela's invitation as well as responding to Paul's suggestion were the same, and he couldn't be anything but honest with Francie. "Because I wanted to be with you."

Francie dropped her gaze to her lap. "You're a difficult man to understand, Noah."

He didn't understand himself these days. Being around Francie changed him, confused him, unnerved him. But there was no one else he'd rather be around. The problem was handling her company tactfully, safely, and with as much restraint as he could muster. He turned his attention to the skaters warming up on the ice.

Francie had explained this was a dance competition, not single or pairs skating. She explained each dance and what the judges looked for, and she applauded heartily after each couple performed.

When he quirked a brow, she replied, "No one realizes how difficult it is to get out there in front of people and put your talent on the line. Once I'm focused, I forget about the audience. But it's never easy."

Francie leaned forward as the next couple skated, her gaze never leaving the woman.

"Special friend?"

Francie leaned back. "Jennifer and I took lessons together when we were kids. But when we were fourteen, she quit. She wanted time to date, go to movies, be a teenager. And now she competes as a hobby because she enjoys skating."

It sounded as if Francie envied her friend. Noah could see Francie loved skating. But as an art form, exercise, sheer exhilaration? Not as a profession? What if she did give up thoughts of figure skating? What if she stayed in Gettysburg and he didn't sell the rink? He could see her whenever he came to town. Was that enough? And what if he did sell the rink? What if he left after Valentine's Day and never saw her again?

Noah searched her face during the competition, saw her eyes light up, her smile when a couple performed well, her frown when she noticed mistakes. And sitting next to her was enough. So he told himself.

After the winners were announced, Francie went to the dressing area to congratulate them. Noah felt himself tense when the men hugged and kissed her. She responded so freely. The same way she responded to him?

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 to 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 tightened 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."

"We'll fix you up with an old pair of Vince's or Frank's."

"Not giving me an out are you?"

"Do you want one?"

That pause again.

"Noah, I like being with you."

"And I like being with you."

"Come skating?"

"Do you want to ride to the farm with me?" he asked.

"Sure. We can take the scenic route along the battlefield. Have you seen it yet?"

"No."

"We can climb up to Devil's Den if you're game. The sun's melted the snow."

"That sounds good."

"See you in a half hour?"

"A half hour."

"Francie?"

"Yes?"

"Don't forget your scarf."

She heard the smile in his voice and she smiled too. "I won't."

****

Noah stared into the bonfire that Francie's brothers and uncle had lit as it reflected on the silvery surface of the pond. He and Francie had toured the Gettysburg Battlefield for over an hour, stopping at some of the state monuments, climbing up to Devil's Den, a natural rock formation from which the Confederate soldiers had routed Union troups. He and Francie had climbed up the natural stone steps, scrambled over rocks, then come to the farm for a light supper and renewed warmth before going out onto the pond.

Francie's family skated as if they'd been doing it all of their lives. He supposed they had. Paul had found a pair of Vince's old skates for Noah. He hadn't skated since the winter he'd lived in Philadelphia. He'd scrounged money wherever he could find it for an afternoon on the ice at one of the hotels with an indoor rink. He'd never been proficient, but he'd stayed on his feet. Back then.

Francie flew by him as she skimmed across the center of the pond. Yesterday evening in his car had almost been his downfall. One kiss had led to another and then another until the windows steamed and his blood had run like hot lava in his veins.

Tearing away from Francie—removing himself from her warmth, reminding himself loving her kisses and needing her body under him weren't the basis of commitment and he didn't know what was—had been difficult, if almost impossible. But moving to the driver's seat where he was in control, not his needs, not the allure of Francie's sweetness, had been the necessary and responsible thing to do. Watching her now, even all bundled up in jeans and her down jacket with a scarf wrapped around her neck, the aching for her returned, an aching that went deeper than needing sexual release.

Angela came over to him at the small boat dock and sat next to him on a double layer of blankets. "I haven't seen you on the ice."

He smiled. "I'm waiting for the right moment."

She turned toward Francie as her daughter spun in a circle, her arms raised above her head. "Isn't she beautiful?"

"She is."

"It will be a loss if she doesn't go back to skating," Angela mused.

"Whose loss?"

"The family's. Hers."

"Even if skating isn't what she wants?"

"Look at her! How can she not want it?"

"Right now she's skating with sheer delight, the utmost pleasure. But I saw her practicing with Brent. The joy wasn't there."

"It'll come back."

Noah debated with himself for a moment, then responded, "You've been kind to me, Angela. And I'm not treating that kindness lightly. I hope you'll understand I mean no disrespect when I say that it's not fair for you to push Francie into what you want, rather than what she wants."

"And what do you want, Noah Gordon? Can you offer my daughter better?"

Angela's attitude had changed toward him recently, becoming more cautious. She could probably sense the vibrations between him and her daughter. "I'm not making any offers." And he was suddenly fiercely jealous of any man who could. A man who could offer Francie stability, a house with a picket fence, the whole package.

"If you can't ask Francie to share your life, maybe you shouldn't try to influence hers, either," Angela retorted.

Score one for Mrs. Piccard. As Francie had said once, everyone had their own agenda. Noah couldn't claim to be impartial anymore. "I want Francie to be happy."

"So do I, Noah," Angela assured him with a sincerity he believed. "We just disagree on what will make her happy."

They watched Francie as she picked up speed and executed a double toe loop.

"Have you ever watched her work with children?" Noah asked. "She thinks she might want to be a teacher."

Angela spared him a quick glance, then looked back at Francie. "She told you this?"

"Yes. She's wonderful with the children at the rink." And she'd be wonderful with children of her own.

"I didn't know she was considering teaching. She'd have to go back to school."

"She's weighing all her options, Angela. Whatever decision she makes will affect the rest of her life."

Angela let out a breath that puffed white in front of her. "Sometimes I wonder if I know either of my girls. Gina... Francie. The boys were easier to raise."

Francie skated over to Noah, spraying snow shards when she stopped in front of him. "Are you ready?"

When she tilted her head, the moonlight flickered in her hair, giving her a silver halo. The scent of flowers from her perfume brushing him with the slight breeze, along with her huge brown eyes and feminine appeal, wove a spell around him. He responded as vehemently as if she'd undressed in front of him.

"As ready as I'm going to be."

Francie grabbed his hand like a youngster eager to show a friend something special, and he felt as if the starlight had touched his soul. "Then let's go," she said.

To steady the pounding beat of his heart, he quipped, "You know, I could be working out on the skiing machine, rather than risking life and limb on the ice."

"You risked life and limb yesterday. This'll be a cinch compared to driving home from Hershey."

With a last glance at Angela, he tentatively glided forward.

****

Noah stepped into Roller-Fun Thursday morning and could feel something different. All the lights glowed brightly. That was unusual at 9 A.M. Today was February fourteenth. Exactly what did Francie have up her sleeve? She'd acted like a kid last night after the rink closed as they'd watched a comedy with her parents and laughed together. That had been nice.

He'd enjoyed the past few days more than he'd enjoyed any time in his life. Because of Francie.

Monday night as they'd explored the battlefield and skated on the pond, he'd realized he needed to spend these last few days with her, fill his life with her spirit and smiles, so when he left, he wouldn't feel so empty. They'd formed a friendship frosted with kisses Noah kept under control. It was more than he'd ever had with a woman...a closeness that superceded physical intimacy.

When he made his way to the rink area, his heart practically stopped. Francie was perched on the top of a stepladder, tying silver streamers to the ceiling. No one steadied the ladder.

Frowning, he shucked off his jacket and threw it onto a seat in the lobby. Hurrying toward Francie, he noticed Veronica and three other employees attaching decorations to the walls.

He stood at the base of the ladder and held it steady. "Isn't it a little early for you to high dive from a ladder?"

Francie wrinkled her nose at him. "I'll have you know I'm a very balanced person. Careful. Methodical."

He held out his hand to her. "Come down. I'll do that."

She pursed her lips. "Haven't you been listening?"

He kept his palm upturned, waiting for her. "Yes. But I don't want anything to happen to you."

Her gaze just about melted him. She took his hand and descended the rungs. With a smile that could light up the whole continent, she waved her hands around the rink. "What do you think?"

Even an alien from Mars would realize it was Valentine's Day. From the signs proclaiming the day, the shiny hearts, and the red and silver streamers, the holiday was evident everywhere he looked.

"It seems as if you're going to have a party."

"We are. Just you wait until tonight. And don't go into the lounge, okay?"

He studied her for a moment. "How long have you been here?"

"Since seven. I hope I don't crash before tonight. I'm so excited."

"You don't have classes all afternoon, do you?"

"I'm free from two to four. Why? Is there something you want me to do?"

He slung his arm around her shoulders in a brotherly fashion. "Yes. Go home and take a nap."

"I can't. I have to supervise--"

"It looks to me as if everything's under control and it's not even noon." He couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from twitching up.

"Are you making fun of me?"

Her lips glowed with soft pink fullness he wanted to kiss, then kiss again. He slid his hand to her left shoulder and rubbed soothingly. "No. I'm complimenting you. That's why you're such a good manager. You cover all the bases with time to spare. It's also why you'd be good in a classroom."

She studied the buttons of his shirt. "Have you heard from Tom Carson about Haslow and Chesterfield?"

"He thinks they're ready to make an offer. I told him not to push it."

"He wants his commission."

"Francie, I told you I'd wait until after tonight to make a decision and I will. Trust me."

She searched his face and he didn't know what she was looking for. "I'll trust you, Noah. Can you trust me?"

"I already trust you, Francie." In his heart, he knew it was true.

She smiled and stroked his cheek. "Then take the afternoon off. Don't come to the rink until seven tonight. Will you do that for me?"

He'd found he'd do almost anything for her. "The rink won't disappear while I'm gone?"

"The rink will be waiting for you and so will I."

Noah mulled over Francie's words, then chastised himself for being foolish. She'd meant she'd be waiting for him tonight, nothing more. Yet they unsettled him enough that instead of working all afternoon at the apartment, he took another drive on the battlefield. And then he walked, his mind on Francie.

While the sun blazed on his hair, wind brushed by him. He passed by a cannon and another memorial. Gettysburg was a town rich with history, and it would be rich with memories for Noah when he left. Memories of Francie.

****

At a little after seven, he arrived at the rink. The parking lot overflowed, and some customers had parked their cars along Route 30. Paul stood in the lobby talking to a group of men. He waved at Noah and went back to his conversation. Noah stared in amazement at the line of customers that extended from the ticket window to the outside door.

As soon as he opened the door into the foyer area of the rink, Angela approached him, a newspaper under her arm. "Look at this crowd. Her ads worked."

"What ads?" Noah asked.

Angela opened the paper for him to see. "She's run this since Monday."

The ad took up a quarter of the page. Hearts danced around the border.

COME SHOW YOUR SWEETHEART HOW MUCH YOU CARE,

COME WITH YOUR RELATIVES AND FRIENDS TO SHARE--

VALENTINE'S DAY AT ROLLER-FUN.

BRING YOUR HEART, YOUR SWEETHEART, YOUR FRIENDS.

Noah heard a booming voice blast over the public address system. "Get your balloon and have Cupid deliver one to the person you love. See Veronica in the employee lounge."

"He's the deejay from the local radio station," Angela explained. "Francie's made this quite an event, hasn't she?"

She certainly had. A successful event. "Where is Francie?"

Angela grinned. "Just look for a streak of red. That's her." The grin faded and Angela looked uncertain for a moment.

"What's wrong?"

"Brent called the house before I left. He couldn't reach Francie on her cell. It's probably in her duffel and she didn't hear it."

Noah felt his muscles tense. "What did he want?"

"To see her."

"He wants her to drive up again?"

"No. He's here. In Gettysburg. I told him she'd be busy tonight. He ignored that and said he'd come over to the rink later. Maybe he'll think about it and change his mind."

Noah knew full well what McIntosh wanted. If McIntosh said he'd be here, a busy night wouldn't keep him away. Noah didn't know if Francie was ready with her decision. But he did know one thing. He wouldn't get involved. He wouldn't step in. He had no right.

"Does Francie know he's here?"

"No. I haven't told her."

"Any particular reason?"

"She's put time and effort into tonight. I don't want anything to spoil that."

"But you want her and McIntosh back together."

Angela's gaze swept Noah up and down, then she tried to see into his heart. "I do want to see Francie happy."

Noah looked over the multitude of skaters rolling around the rink. "I'd better go help her supervise. This crowd is huge."

Angela gave him a probing look and nodded.

Noah went to the rental room to find a pair of skates.

When he went out onto the floor, he saw Jud Pierson and Drew. They waved. A few moments later a woman caught up with Jud and a young teenager poked Drew in the ribs. The whole family had come. As Noah skated, he saw more of the same. Families who belonged together having good wholesome fun. Had he missed it before because he'd never known it? Could a roller-skating rink hold a community together? Of course not. But it sure could foster an atmosphere of friendship, a place where young and old could share an interest and talk to each other.

Someone nudged his arm. He smiled as Gina whipped past him. She gave Noah a thumbs-up sign and caught up with her friends.

Then Noah saw the red. Every hormone in his body went on "red" alert. He started his perusal at Francie's feet. Red and white pom-poms on her skates. Red tights molding to curvy, wonderfully shaped legs. A silky leotard defining her breasts, her slim waist, flaring into a skirt that skimmed her thighs much too high for his peace of mind. A red-and-white satin ribbon emblazoned with CUPID wrapping her like a beautiful package from shoulder to waist. Long black hair, half of it loose the way he liked it, half of it intricately braided to keep it away from her face. A huge red bow tied to the braid.

Lord, she was beautiful and sweet and exciting and he wanted to strip off her clothes to get to what was underneath. He skated up to her, rested his hand on her waist, and guided her to the edge of the floor. "Quite a production here."

"What do you think?" She looked excited and fearful at the same time.

He tweaked her nose. "I think you're one smart manager."

Her smile broke free. "Does that mean you like it?"

He took her by the shoulder and played with the ends of her hair. "It means you've done a fantastic job and I'm proud to have you as one of my managers."

She looked disappointed for a second, as if she'd been hoping for something more personal, but the look quickly vanished. "You haven't seen everything yet. Check out the snack bar and the lounge."

He stroked her cheek, gazed deeply into her eyes, thought about telling her McIntosh was in town, thought about going back to Richmond, but simply said, "I will."

At the snack bar he found heart-shaped cookies, cupcakes decorated with candy hearts, and free Valentine's Day punch. He passed Vince and his family at one of the tables, gave little Marie a hug when she held out her arms, and felt empty when she let go. He headed for the employee lounge.

Dozens of balloons bobbed in the room--silver, red, transparent multicolors. Veronica manned a booth in the corner. Noah shook his head. "How did she get all this ready?"

"We all arrived at seven this morning to blow up balloons and do decorations. She and I made batches of cupcakes a couple of weeks ago and froze them. Angela made the icing and we iced them this afternoon."

"The cookies?"

"Francie's aunt."

"And how much are the balloons?"

"Two dollars each, delivered to the one you love by Cupid. All the proceeds go to the new children's wing at the hospital."

This monumental effort of Francie's, the effort of everyone who helped her, everyone who came out tonight, showed him how much they all cared about the rink. He knew that that was exactly what Francie had hoped he'd see.

Noah meant to find Francie and take her to the office to talk. But he got waylaid by Frank, beckoned to the pro shop by Charlie, and tugged onto the rink by little Joey, who never failed to ask Noah to tie his skates.

The deejay announced, "This is it, ladies. Ladies' choice. Pick a gentleman and skate to a slow one."

Suddenly Francie was beside Noah, a heart-shaped silver balloon proclaiming Happy Valentine's Day in hand. She wrapped the red ribbon around his finger. When her fingers skimmed his palm, a streak of warmth followed their path.

He smiled, gave her a quick kiss, and murmured, "I always wanted to skate with Cupid." Noah took Francie in a skater's dance position and whispered in her ear, "Ready?"

At her nod, he guided her. Skating with Francie, driving with Francie, doing anything with Francie soothed him, aroused him, but most of all gave him a sense of peace he'd never experienced. As they skated, the balloon yanked against his finger.

The low, varied-colored lights played over Francie's face. More than anything, he wanted to pull her close, but he had to keep his mind on what he was doing or they'd land on the floor. Skating wasn't second nature to him as it was to her.

His gaze held and caressed her, though his hands couldn't. She searched his face, looking for answers to questions he didn't understand. Quietly, she asked, "How much longer are you staying?"

He'd made up his mind last weekend. "Until after Angela and Paul's anniversary party. I'd like to be back in Richmond by the end of next week."

She avoided his eyes. "I see."

"Francie, I won't sell the rink to a developer. Haslow and Chesterfield will have to look at another property. I'll wait until we find someone who wants to own a roller-skating rink."

She came to a stop and threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Noah. This means so much to me, to everyone who comes to the rink."

"I don't want it to influence your decision about figure skating--"

The music stopped. The lights became brighter again.

"I've already made my decision."

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? His 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.

"I told Veronica I'd stop at the rink for a while this afternoon," Francie said as she relaxed against him.

"But I'm the boss." He teased her nipple back and forth as if that might convince her to play hooky.

"You're not playing fair," she groaned.

"Who's playing?"

She sighed and turned in his arms, placing her hands on his chest to keep him at a distance. Her brown eyes danced with desire. "Uncle Dom just finished putting up the chairs. Listen."

"I don't hear anything."

"That's my point. He'll be in here in a minute and so will Aunt Rita. She can clean the living room for only so long. How will it look if we're..."

Noah smiled wickedly. "Making out?"

"Noah..."

"We don't have much time left, Francie. A couple of days. Come back to the apartment with me." He felt guilty as soon as he said it because the sadness in her eyes almost chased the desire away.

She fingered the front of his flannel shirt, teased a few of the curling hairs in the open V with her forefinger, sending a ripple of longing through him. "You know I want to be with you. Let me call Veronica. She's been taking over so much lately. Maybe we could stop in at the rink before we come to the party."

"You won't be dressed for skating."

"If it was up to you, I wouldn't be dressed at all," Francie teased with a smile that said she truly didn't mind.

He pulled her into a tight hug, loving the feel of her in his arms, the feel of her in his life. "Go call Veronica. I'll keep my fingers crossed that none of the staff is out sick today."

****

Despite the noise, despite the bedlam of friends and relatives moving in and out of rooms congratulating the anniversary couple, despite the small children running here and there, Noah kept his eyes on Francie. She was a vision in her magenta sweater-dress with her hair curled in spirals from the crown to the tips. High heels suited her even better than skates. When they'd stopped in at the rink, everyone had done a double-take.

She came to his side now and he curved his arms around her waist. "Your parents were surprised."

She laughed. "I never saw Pop blush before. But they're enjoying themselves now."

Angela and Paul sat on the sofa opening presents. They were down to the last one. Gina handed them a blue box with a white ribbon and Noah realized it was his. Angela looked up at him but didn't smile.

Francie caught the interchange. "What did you get them?"

"You'll see in a minute."

Paul tore off the wrappings to find a collection of fifties and sixties music. A big grin split his face. Angela got up from the sofa and came over to Noah while Paul shuffled through the CD's.

She said, "Thank you, Noah. Maybe I can get him to dance with me again. Those were the songs we fell in love to, raised our family with. But you didn't have to buy us a present."

"You've been more than kind to me. I appreciate being able to share your celebration."

Angela hesitated a moment, then hugged him. The older woman's affection felt unusual, but welcome. His mother had never been big on hugs. Angela murmured softly so that only he could hear, "You, too, could have this kind of celebration someday."

When she leaned back, she studied him.

A voice whispering in his heart asked, Could it be possible?

Paul called for his wife. "Come here, Angela. The kids want to give us something."

She rejoined her husband on the sofa. "You already gave us this wonderful party. What more could we want?"

Vince handed his father an envelope. "We thought you could use a little time away. We made you reservations for tonight--the honeymoon suite at the Comfort Inn here in town. Then tomorrow you can drive to the Poconos and have three days alone together to do whatever you'd like. Pop, I've rerouted all your calls for the next few days, and Mama, Gina rescheduled your appointments."

"The Poconos," Paul mused, examining the brochure. "I've always wanted to try to ski."

Angela playfully punched him in the arm. With tears in her eyes, she looked at her children gathered around them. "The vacation makes us happy." She gazed at Francie. "But having all of you here, together, makes us happier."

Noah backed up a step, the pain stabbing him so intense he closed his eyes for a moment. But he could still see the portrait of the Piccard family. Angela and Paul in the center. Vince and Frank and their families standing in the back, little Marie in Vince's arms. Gina on one arm of the sofa. Francie on the other.

Suddenly passion was nothing compared to the need for love and being loved, the need for family and someone special to make a life with.

He'd never even dreamed of it because he'd believed it could never be within his grasp. Was a different life possible? Was there an answer to traveling for the business?

Both questions seemed monumental, their answers too complicated to figure out now. Now he needed Francie in his arms.

After Angela and Paul cut the anniversary cake, with much laughter they repeated the ritual of feeding it to each other. They chatted with their guests a while longer, then left to pack for their mini-vacation. Noah helped Francie and her family clean up the party remnants.

As Noah folded chairs and Francie picked up stray paper cups, Gina flopped into an armchair. "I wanted to tell you guys that Jake and his friends were picked up Friday night for DUI."

"Good for them," Noah commented.

"Exactly what does that mean?" Francie asked.

"It's Jake's second offense so he'll lose his license for a year. I don't know about the others."

"I'm thankful they'll be off the streets." Francie stacked the empty cups.

"I'm thankful I didn't keep seeing him and get caught with him."

Noah and Francie exchanged a look. Gina saw it. "I know doing it is wrong. But getting caught's the worst."

Francie rolled her eyes.

"So...," Gina drawled. "Speaking of getting caught. I'll be staying over at Lisa's tonight. Mama and Pop said because I helped you guys arrange the party, I deserve a night out of the house. So since they'll be gone tonight, you can stay with Noah."

Noah had to smile at Francie's discomfiture. Her face was almost the same color as her dress.

Gina pointed out, "I do know what goes on. I have eyes and ears I got from Mama."

Francie brushed her hair from her forehead, a gesture Noah knew meant she was unnerved.

Gina shrugged and hopped up from the chair. "You don't have to tell me if you are or aren't. I know Noah will be gone in a few days. Frank's going to drop me off at Lisa's. I'll see you tomorrow."

After Gina left the room, Francie looked uncertain.

"She's right," Noah agreed. "I'd like you to stay the night."

"I don't know, Noah."

"Think about it."

****

It was funny. Francie felt awkward when she went back to her parents' house and stood in the kitchen with Noah...alone. They'd never been alone in the house before. She'd wanted to come by to make sure everything was locked and secure.

As she checked the back door, Noah asked, "Is there anything you'd like me to do?"

"Make sure the cellar door's closed. I'm going upstairs to pack an overnight bag."

He grinned, took her in his arms, and kissed her soundly. His voice was husky when he raised his head. "You'd better hurry that packing, or we'll end up in your bed."

In case he was serious, Francie backed away and took off up the stairs. A sensual side of her she'd never known existed manifested itself when she made love with Noah. Maybe in the back of her mind she thought that if he could only see, feel, and hear how much she loved him, he'd stay, or at least talk about the future. She couldn't give up hoping, not when she loved him so deeply.

She'd bought something special and worn it tonight. She couldn't wait to see his face when she took off her slip.

The phone rang and Noah yelled, "I'll get it."

This late at night...A sense of foreboding overtook Francie, but she brushed it aside. Maybe her parents had forgotten something.

But when Noah appeared in her bedroom doorway with a grim look on his face, she dropped the nightgown onto the bed. "What is it?"

"The skating rink's on fire."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Noah pushed through the gathering crowd, Francie close behind him. The dispatcher from Adams County Control had only told him that engines had been dispatched, nothing more. He hoped to God this was minor. But as they reached the cordoned-off area, he knew better.

Smoke rolled out the windows of the rink. Firemen seemed to be everywhere with their black jackets, black helmets, fluorescent orange stripes. A tanker, two engines, and a squad truck zigzagged in front of the building. He'd noticed another engine around back.

Noah said to Francie, "Stay here."

"I'm going with you."

"I just want to find someone who knows--" He began.

"We'll find someone together."

He wanted to give her a hug and tell her everything would be all right, but he didn't know if it would be.

A fireman standing at one of the engines in a white jacket and white hat caught Noah's attention so he headed that way. After Noah introduced himself he said, "I own the rink. How bad is it?"

The fire chief pushed his hat back on his head. "We're not sure. I ordered a foam hose into the kitchen from the back. The supply room and kitchen are the areas we're fighting. I'll know more in a while. All you can do is wait."

It seemed as if they waited a lifetime, but it was only a half hour until firemen exited the building and then returned to the interior with tarps and exhaust fans. Noah learned they were the clean-up crew who poked around for hot spots and dispersed the smoke.

Noah looked over at Francie. Her high heels looked uncomfortable, her cream-colored dress coat not as warm as her down jacket. Her nose was red in the blaze of the spotlights, and she'd shoved her hands into her pockets.

"Let's go back to the apartment. Someone will call us when they're finished."

"I don't want to leave."

All too well he knew how determined she could be. "Then let's go sit in the car."

In the car, Noah held Francie as they watched the outside activity diminish, as they watched the cold night air chase onlookers back into their houses. Only the remaining fire crew and a newsman and cameramen still bustled around the building.

An hour later, the fire chief came to Noah's car.

Noah rolled down the window. "Do you know what caused it yet?"

"Looks to me like a faulty outlet in the supply room."

Noah had expected that. He remembered his own thoughts when he first saw the supply room. "Faulty?"

"I guess 'old' is a better word. There were inside breaks, and when the broken wires touch metal you have heat. Spontaneous combustion. Did you smell anything funny in there lately?"

"Yes," Francie answered. "The other day. But I didn't smell it again."

"It looked like you had an overhead light plugged in there. My guess is you didn't use it all the time."

"We didn't," Francie murmured.

"Probably somebody left it on this evening. With the paper goods in there, the wood floor, and the kitchen close by, you're lucky the whole place didn't go up in flames."

"What's the damage?" Noah asked.

"I can take you through now, then we can seal it off."

When they entered the front doors, the stench almost overwhelmed Francie--smoke, water, burned materials. Except for smoke lingering in the air, the rink area looked fine. But when she saw the snack bar, the kitchen, and the supply room, she wanted to cry. Black everywhere. Charred wood. Stained walls and floors. There were no words for it.

The images lingered as Noah quickly ushered her through and back out into the night. As they drove to the apartment, she knew it would be a long time until she could forget the sights and smells of the rink on fire.

Noah opened her car door for her and she got out, still feeling dazed.

"Do you want to call your parents?"

"There's no point. I don't want to spoil their night. There's nothing they can do." She felt tears push to her eyes.

Noah wrapped her in his arms. "Let's go upstairs."

Right now she didn't care what "looked good" or about the proper thing to do. She needed Noah.

He let her into what she now thought of as "his" apartment. They'd made love here every night and some days since Thursday. At least she had made love to him. He hadn't said he loved her. Gina's words had put the whole thing in perspective. Noah will be gone.

Francie laid her coat on the sofa and wrapped her arms around herself. "Do you think it's chilly up here?"

Noah tossed his coat on top of hers. "Come here."

The wind had rumpled his hair. He'd tugged down his tie and opened the top button of his shirt. The thought of peeling it back over his shoulders took her chill away and momentarily made her forget about the condition of the rink. She went to him and he wrapped his arms around her.

She couldn't keep the question inside any longer. "What's going to happen? What are we going to do about the rink?"

His hesitation should have been a warning signal. But she wasn't looking for warning signals; she was looking for answers.

He held her tighter and smoothed her hair away from her face. "We'll talk about it in the morning."

With that, he kissed her. His hand stroking her hair and his tongue exploring her mouth created feelings that made talking useless and feelings too intense to ignore. Somehow she had to convince Noah they could have a life together, that they could combat any obstacle, solve any problem. As long as they loved each other, nothing was impossible.

But what if he didn't give her the chance to convince him? Tears rushed to her eyes. She had sworn she wouldn't do this; she wouldn't blackmail him with tears.

He must have sensed her emotional upheaval. Leaning back, he lifted her chin. She blinked, but not fast enough. Noah kissed her tears away.

She kept her arms linked around his neck. "I'm sorry. I don't want you to leave. Ever." She thought she might see anger, but she didn't. She only saw sadness a moment before his lips captured hers again.

Noah wanted to reassure her, wanted to calm her fears. But he couldn't. Driving back here tonight, he'd made the rational decision to sell the rink. It was the only logical option.

Money was too tight. Until the insurance company settled, until he hired contractors, until they repainted, recarpeted, rebuilt, there would be no profit coming in. He might be able to weather it, but he didn't want to sell another rink or go into debt. It had taken years to become successful. Craig had almost ruined that success.

Noah felt Francie's soft, warm body pliant against his. He needed her tonight. He needed to forget he'd be leaving in a few days. If he told her about his decision...

He was afraid she'd pull away. He was afraid she'd see it as rejection. He was afraid he'd lose her for this little amount of time he had left with her. He hadn't thought ahead to what would happen after he went back to Richmond. More traveling, for sure. That was his life now. How could Francie and a relationship fit into that?

Didn't they deserve tonight with no barriers, no pulling away, no fighting that could tear them apart? Right now, tonight was all he wanted, all he needed. He couldn't give it up.

Francie's tongue tangled desperately with his. Her arms tightened and her fingers delved into his hair. She seemed to need him as much as he needed her. Tomorrow would be soon enough to tackle the aftermath of the fire. Tomorrow they would face the problems. Tonight he would hold her and pleasure her and try to show her how much he cared.

He was going to take her on a slow journey this time, a journey that would tell her all the things he couldn't say. He didn't have any answers, only questions. He knew he had to go back to Richmond and attend to business. He knew he might be ready for some changes. But he hadn't analyzed the changes or what the future could hold.

Noah let his lips and tongue and hands tease and court Francie. As he kissed and stroked through her dress, she sighed, moaned, and pressed into him with the same wanton desire surging through him. The three small buttons at the neck of her dress became as difficult to undo as a Chinese puzzle because he could taste her, smell her, feel her so close. Then there was the sweater belt looped in a simple square knot. But he was too agitated, too hungry for any of it to be simple.

He helped her out of her dress, dispensed with her slip, and stared. The garter belt almost made him forget that slow existed.

Francie reached out to him and he remembered.

He placed her hands on his shoulders, wanting to give her something special, something he'd never wanted to give a woman before. "Not yet. I want to touch you, look at you, remember you."

She didn't say anything, but her eyes became shiny, too shiny for him to deal with. He needed to put passion there instead of longing, desire instead of dreams.

With a flick of his wrist, he unsnapped the bra and knelt before her.

"Noah?"

"Just hold on, sweetheart. Hold on."

Touching her as if he'd never touch her again, he smoothed over her breasts, teased the lace band of her panties, and played with the straps of her garter belt. "You're so sexy, so soft...so loving. You've given me precious gifts, Francie."

"Then why go? Why leave? Can't we...?"

She stopped and he realized she wouldn't apply any pressure. Not now when they were this close, this intimate, this together. He rolled her stockings down one leg, then the other.

Brushing his hands up and down her thighs, he looked up and saw her parted lips, her flushed face, her glistening eyes. He stripped off her garter belt and panties, brushed up and down her thighs again, then replaced his hands with his lips.

When she moaned, he murmured, "Open for me, sweetheart."

She curled her fingers on his shoulders as she balanced herself, never questioning what he needed, never questioning the intimacy he wanted to share. He cupped the dark curls at the apex of her thighs.

When he put his mouth to her, she swayed and caught herself. Holding her hips steady, he teased her with his tongue until she cried his name.

"It's going to be good, Francie. So good."

"I love you, Noah."

She didn't murmur it tonight. She said it clearly and loudly for him to hear and respond to. But instead of responding with words, he touched her again and again with his fingers and his tongue until she cried out in ecstasy. Then he lifted her into his arms and took her to his bed.

She gazed up at him with passionate brown eyes, looking only at him. As he stripped, she watched. Her appreciation was so damn arousing. When he lay down beside her, she stroked his chest, then propped on her shoulder. "I want to give you what you gave me. I want to love you every way I can."

She kissed his lips with a slow, tasting fervor that made sweat break out on his brow. She kissed his nipple with a slow sucking motion that drew his arm muscles taut. She kissed his navel and his thigh muscles contracted. And when her cheek brushed him, then her lips, he thought he'd found heaven.

He shuddered and knew he'd had enough if he wanted complete union. That's what he wanted tonight. He couldn't see further than that. He rolled her onto her back, sheathed himself in a condom, then sheathed himself in her.

Each stroke brought them closer together, each kiss desperately defied their parting, each caress made Noah wonder what he was giving up, why he was giving it up, and how he could change the nature of his past and the course of his future. Francie was the rainbow he could never reach, the pot of gold he could never find, the love he'd never experienced. That realization pushed him to the edge, toppled him over the peak, and, as Francie tightened her thighs around him, propelled him to the same wonder she found as she raked her nails down his back and shouted her joy. He lowered himself, kissed her, and wrapped his arms around her.

Francie nestled into his shoulder, holding him as tightly as he held her.

****

Francie reached for Noah and found the wrinkled sheet. Strong morning sun flashed across the foot of the bed. She heard a low voice in the kitchen.

Grabbing one of Noah's shirts from the closet, she buttoned it and went to find him. He was on the phone.

"Okay, Tom. I'll wait to hear from you later today."

A chill ran up Francie's back that had nothing to do with her bare feet. "Tom Carson?"

"Haslow and Chesterfield still want the property. They've raised their offering price. I'm going to sell."

"You can't! More important, you promised you wouldn't!"

"Francie, this is a business decision. The fire last night gave me no choice. It will take time to repair and rebuild. In the meantime the rink will be losing money again. I can't afford that right now. My cash flow is too strained."

She remembered what Craig had said about a problem if there was an unexpected crisis. But much more was involved here than the rink. What about the two of them?

When she remained silent, Noah quickly continued, "I'm not forgetting about you. With the sale, I can give you enough severance pay so you can start school. You can get that teacher's degree you want."

He hadn't forgotten about her. How wonderful. He also hadn't said he loved her or needed her in his life. Selling the rink would sever their ties. He'd have no reason to come back to Gettysburg. "No severance pay can buy me off." Francie's heart beat so hard she could barely breathe as a realization hit her. "When did you make this decision?"

"After the fire."

"Before or after we made love?" It was immensely important that she know.

"Francie, what does it matter?"

"It matters to me. When?"

"As we drove back here."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you'd be upset. You were upset enough."

"You know what you did, Noah? You used me."

"I did not."

"You didn't tell me about the rink because you knew I wouldn't make love with you if you told me."

Noah's face changed, and the change scared her. It looked like the face of a man who'd had a dream grasped from his hands. "Does your love depend on what I do with the rink?"

"No. But it does depend on honesty. I gave you everything last night, Noah--everything I felt, everything I am. I thought you gave that to me, too. But now I find it was some kind of calculated ruse--"

"You're wrong."

"Tell me, Noah. After you left this week, when was I going to see you again?"

His expression didn't change. "I don't know."

Her heart seemed to sink to her toes. "It doesn't matter to you if we never see each other again?"

"I didn't say that."

Francie had never felt more confused. She couldn't have dreamed the strong feelings between her and Noah, yet his leaving denied them, his actions denied them, his words denied them.

She hurt too badly to keep her thoughts to herself. "I guess I was a convenient affair. I made the same mistake twice, falling in love with ambitious men who have no room in their lives for love."

She took one last long look into his hard green eyes and then went to get dressed. Good-bye had arrived sooner than she'd expected.

****

The sterility of Noah's office walls in Richmond glared at him with unnerving sameness, echoing the sterility of his life. Monday morning, Francie had left the apartment and his life. He'd left Gettysburg on Tuesday, simply because being so close to her yet so far away had hurt too much. He hadn't contacted her before he left. She hadn't contacted him.

Two hours out of Gettysburg he'd tried to look at their situation rationally. Simply put, Francie had felt betrayed. Under the circumstances, he would have felt the same. After Noah had discovered Craig's embezzling, he'd wondered how Craig had faced him day after day, knowing he was being dishonest with his friend. Yet Noah had made love to Francie, knowing full well he'd made his decision. Of course, it went deeper than thinking she wouldn't make love with him if he told her. Subconsciously, he'd figured it would tear them apart, a thought that had become more and more unbearable.

He'd been back in Richmond a week, and he now realized—without a doubt—he loved Francie. That's why their physical relationship had been fantastic. That's why he wanted to spend every minute with her. Because he loved her. He'd been afraid to call it that. He'd been afraid to feel it. He'd been afraid to risk it. He'd been afraid to declare it.

And now he was afraid he'd lost Francie for good. Losing her was unthinkable. He'd rather lose every customer, every manager, every rink, every penny. But he was new at this. He was new at love and showing his feelings.

So he called Craig. After the preliminaries, Noah asked bluntly, "How are you and Joanne?"

"I moved back in with her and the kids last week."

"That's terrific, Craig. Uh...can you tell me how you made it happen? How did you get her to trust you again?"

"It sounds as if there's a point to that question."

"I've met someone."

"Francie Piccard."

"How do you know?"

"She called me a few weeks back. Wanted to know if I could influence you not to sell the rink."

"I see."

"We got into more than that. I thought she deserved to know why we weren't partners anymore."

"I didn't think I should tell her."

"I figured that. She's a special woman."

"I know. I've messed things up royally."

"Fix them. You're good at that."

"I'm not sure how."

"Show her with actions, old friend. She has to see you mean what you say. At least that's the way it was with Joanne."

"A few of the right words would probably help, too," Noah muttered, exasperated that three small words could be so hard to say.

Noah told Craig he'd be in touch and sat at his desk to think. One idea fell in line behind the next because unconsciously he'd been mulling it over for the past week. Show her, Craig had said.

Noah picked up the phone to do some research, made another call, then waited for a package to arrive Federal Express.

****

Two days later, Noah returned to Gettysburg. No one answered the door at the Piccard house, so he took a chance and drove to the rink. Francie's car sat parked in the lot, and he wondered how often she came here to look at what used to be.

Noah unlatched his car door, got out, and purposefully strode to the skating rink. "Used to be" didn't matter. Because of Francie, he saw the world the way it could be. Because of Francie, he was ready to risk loving. Because of Francie, he could dream. He had to convince her the future was better than what used to be.

He opened the door to the rink and went in. Patting the envelope in his back pocket, he wondered if he should have wrapped it. He hadn't wanted to take the time, but if it would help Francie realize...Hell. Pretty packaging was inconsequential at this point.

He found her in the center of the rink as if she was imagining...remembering...wishing. Now he had wishes, too. Because of Francie, he wanted to be part of a family. Because of Francie, he wanted children of his own--their own. Because of Francie, he could believe in forever.

She didn't hear him as he crossed the carpeted foyer. She did hear him as he stepped onto the rink's floor.

When she turned and saw him, he realized he'd never been more nervous in his life. He searched her expression for a sign of welcome, but found none. He tried to smile. "Hi."

Her face didn't change, her eyes didn't dance just for him. "I can leave if you're meeting someone here."

"I'm not meeting anyone."

She clasped her hands in front of her--a typical Francie-gesture. "You came back for legal work?"

"Fax machines are good for that." He waited for her to ask him why he was here, but she didn't. Not sure what to tell her first, he slipped the envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Fax machines aren't good for this, though."

She took the paper from its envelope and read it. Watching her closely, he waited for a sign that she understood. His heart thudded so hard he could hear it in his ears.

"You had a star named for us? The Piccard-Gordon star?"

Had the light come back into her eyes? Was that a hint of a smile? "I thought it would be a good idea."

"Why?"

So much for being symbolic. He'd have to come out and say it. "Because I love you. Because I want to marry you. Because I want our children to be able to gaze into the sky, see our star, and know it symbolizes the life we share. Will you marry me, Francie?"

Her smile returned then, the one he'd seen the first night they'd met, the one that warmed his days and electrified his nights. But it was more radiant than he'd ever seen it. Throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed him. He didn't play, or tease, or coax. He took what she offered, gave back his share, then gave some more.

When he finally dragged his lips away, he said it again. "I love you."

There were tears in her voice. "I love you, too. I'm so sorry for the things I said. I know you'd never use me. And the rink has nothing to do with the way I feel about you. If you have to sell it, you have to sell it. I've been trying to find the courage to call you. I was so afraid you'd never come back--"

He kissed her again to show her he was back and intended to stay. "You said things I needed to hear. I didn't tell you my decision before we made love because I was afraid I'd lose you. I guess I didn't believe you'd still love me if I made you angry or did something that hurt you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

She stroked his cheek and the tender expression on her face said she understood as well as forgave. "You'll never lose me, Noah."

Her words surrounded his heart and he knew they were true. "I've made some changes. I've gone over the books with my accountant. The insurance payment will cover repairs to the rink. I have some real estate not connected with the rinks that I can sell to carry us over the hump until this is running again. And there should still be enough capital left over for you to go to school...if you want to."

"Oh, Noah. I never expected that. Could I still manage the rink? Oh, I guess not, if your base is in Richmond."

"How about moving my base here? There's no reason I can't work from Gettysburg. And there's no reason why I can't hire someone qualified to do the traveling for me. I can spend more time reading e-mailed reports." He winked and squeezed her closer. "When I'm not in bed with you."

Francie blushed, and he laughed. Then he framed her face with his hands. "I do love you, sweetheart. You haven't answered me yet. Will you marry me?"

She took one of his hands in hers and kissed it. "Yes, I'll marry you. And I'll live with you and travel with you and work with you, if you want that, too."

"I want it all, Francesca Marie Piccard. I want it all."

EPILOGUE

Noah lifted his camera but stopped for a moment to appreciate the sight before him. The sun glanced off the grove of silver maples. The leaves shimmered, reflecting the rays until the silver almost bounced against the blue sky, bringing the magic down to earth. The magic bathed Francie as she stood in their backyard in her graduation gown.

He loved her more today than the day they'd married more than five years ago. The passion between them still exploded with a look or a touch. It had been damn hard keeping his hands off of her for six weeks. But they'd been creative. And every night since then...He smiled, remembering.

Francie waved her hand at him. "Are you asleep, Gordon?"

He raised his brows and drawled, "No. Just thinking about the bottle of champagne we never opened last night. Somebody was too eager to show off a new negligee."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "And somebody else was too eager to get his hands on the negligee."

"Wrong. I was eager to get my hands on you."

Francie still blushed and her blush still delighted him.

The back door to their house slammed and Angela called down to the yard. "Wait a minute. Let me get a picture of all three of you before the gang arrives."

Noah turned and snapped a picture of Angela hurrying down the walk with their infant daughter. Sara Marie Gordon was eight weeks old today.

Francie went toward her mother. "I thought she was still napping."

"She wants to be part of the celebration." Angela winked at Noah.

He and Angela had had their differences over the years that he and Francie had been married. But he loved Angela like a mother, and he respected her opinion. She'd learned to accept the joint decisions he and Francie made.

Angela handed Sara to Francie and took the camera from Noah. "You said she slept most of the night. She doesn't need the sleep right now."

Noah enjoyed getting up with Francie, feeding their daughter. Sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night, his arm around Francie, the knowledge his daughter lay in the next room a wonder, and he thanked God he was so blessed.

The first year had been tight--with refurbishing the rink, Francie going to school part-time, buying a house. But each year the rinks had become more successful. Veronica had eventually taken over as manager of the Gettysburg rink so Francie could attend college full-time. And Noah had managed to keep traveling to a minimum.

Francie slid her fingers through the thatch of her baby's dark brown hair. "Every time I look at her, I want to cry."

"Don't start," Angela warned. "Today's emotional. Gina home for a change from her school in Chicago. You graduating."

Francie glanced at Noah, and he knew what she was thinking. He nodded.

"Well, I have more good news," Francie told her mother.

"What?"

"I got the job teaching morning kindergarten in the fall. It'll be perfect. A half day of teaching. A half day with Sara. And a whole evening with my husband and daughter." Her gaze found Noah's and told him she looked forward to the time after Sara went to bed as much as he did.

The back door opened again and more of the Piccard family poured out. Angela gave Francie a quick hug and kissed her cheek. "Congratulations, honey. I know it's what you've been working for. You are going to let me babysit Sara, aren't you?" Angela looked at Noah. "Though I don't want to interfere if you've already made other plans..."

Noah placed his hand on his mother-in-law's shoulder and, after a nod from Francie, said, "We wouldn't trust her more with anyone else."

"Hey, Mama," Gina called. "Come see the cake. It's great."

Angela went toward her younger daughter, taking the camera with her.

Francie smiled, thinking about the past few years. She was proud of the decisions she'd made since she met Noah, and she'd had no regrets, not even when Bridgit and Brent won a bronze medal at the Olympics. How could she have regrets when Noah loved her enough to let her be herself, filled her nights with passion, and doted on their daughter as if she were the only child on earth?

Noah chuckled as Gina drew her mother into the house. "We might get your picture sometime today."

Francie rocked Sara and played with her little fingers. "It doesn't matter. I want a record of Sara's life, not mine."

Noah brushed a wisp of hair from Francie's cheek. "You look beautiful today."

Francie flicked her tassel. "Even in a mortarboard?"

"Even in a mortarboard. Especially with Sara in your arms."

His green gaze still had the power to make her knees weak. "I love you, Noah."

"And I love you, Francie." He bent his head to kiss her, and immediately they got carried away. Francie slipped her free hand into his hair as his arm went around her and the baby.

Then Francie heard the click of the camera.

When she and Noah looked up, the Piccard family faced the Gordon family, smiles on all their faces.

Shrugging off the embarrassment, Noah bent his head for another kiss and another picture. Francie lifted her lips to his, proud of their love. Proud of their life. They truly had it all.

From the Author:

Gettysburg, Pennsylvania—where Because Of Francie is set—is one of my favorite towns to visit. The historic character of it is inspiring. This romance was originally published as a Kensington Precious Gems. I believe romances should touch the deepest nook of readers' hearts. From my early books to my most recent, I have kept the emotion of my characters as the focus. Though styles change, characters change, and trends change, the important element of a romance doesn't change—the hope that there can be a happily-ever-after. Since Because Of Francie, I have published over seventy novels, making both the USA Today List and series Bestseller Lists. Living in Pennsylvania with my college sweetheart and two cats, I spend most days writing, editing, cooking and gardening. Believing in the power of love and commitment, I look forward to writing relationship novels for a long time to come. For more about me and my latest releases, including excerpts, photos and short stories, please visit my website listed below. To keep in touch day to day, follow me at Facebook and on Twitter. Look for more of my books on Smashwords.

My website: http://www.karenrosesmith.com

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/karenrosesmith

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=1707769293

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE