Waking Sleeping Beauty (5 page)

But something wasn’t right. She reread the pages. “Something’s off,” she said. “It’s all disjointed. Nothing goes together. It’s not fresh. Or new. Same old, same old.”

She sighed, thrusting the legal pad away and leaning her head back on the edge of the couch cushion. Francie searched her mind for anything that would pique her own interest. If she was bored with her own plan, then everyone else would be, too. Especially Marcus.

Her heart fluttered at the thought of him.

She swallowed hard at the memory of kissing him. Heat warmed her cheeks at how unabashed she’d acted.

Actually meeting and talking to him was even more of a novelty. He didn’t completely dismiss her, literally and figuratively. His keen interest in her had her senses on high alert. But he was her boss. “Well, he won’t be if I drop the ball on this.” She also wouldn’t be able to support herself and Priscilla.

Closing her eyes, she blocked out the image of super sexy Marcus Goode and focused on keeping her job, well, actually getting a better one. “Top priority,” she said. Then it dawned on her. Could she really be a wedding consultant? “All day, every day. Like a kid in a candy store.” She giggled. “My dream job.”

Out of nowhere, she got a flash of genius. She opened her eyes and sat upright. “I can do this!” Reaching for the legal pad, she cried, “That’s it! King’s Department Store will not only plan the wedding of your dreams, we will put on a dream wedding for one lucky woman!”

In the back of her mind, she wished she could be that lucky woman. If only wishes and dreams came true…

***

It took everything she had not to chew on her bottom lip as she sat across from Marcus the next day. With her duties outlined, basic needs listed, simple rudimentary sketches, and her ad campaign idea for a real wedding, he held her future in his hands.

The room echoed in silence. He read: no sound escaping those sexy lips, no emotion crossing his face.

Torture
.

Finally, he looked up, meeting her gaze. His green eyes gave nothing away. But she had to clamp down on her racing heartbeat. “Interesting,” he said.

“That’s all?” she squeaked out, not able to hold back her disappointment.

He shoved away from the desk and stood up, coming around to her side of the desk. Marcus folded his arms across his chest. “Not good enough.”

She jumped up. “What do you mean not good enough? I have every detail down.” She reached over and picked up the paperwork. “I even created a budget. If it’s off, I can get the numbers. The ad campaign is the most costly, but will bring in the most business—”

“Too old-fashioned,” he said in a clipped tone.

She sank back into her chair, deflated. “Old-fashioned?” Her cheeks burned; it felt like a personal insult.

Gulping hard, she wanted to slide down in her seat and out under the crack in the bottom of the door, slinking away. She got up instead and gripped the pages she slaved over to her chest.

He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets as she faced him. “Honestly, Francine, is this really what you would want your wedding to be like?” he asked, his soft tone dulling the edge of her injured pride.

Avoiding his stare, she looked at a point just beyond his left shoulder.
How had he known? How had he figured it out? This wasn’t her dream wedding, the intimate details still tucked away in her precious binder. This was the vanilla version. One that didn’t open up her heart and make her envious with longing
. She chewed her lip. “I did the accepted wedding, most generic that would appeal to a full range of women.”
Yes, go ahead and believe that lie
, she told herself.

“I don’t want predictable. I don’t want dull. And you don’t either, if by the wedding dress I discovered you in is any indication.”

At the mention of their first secret meeting, she jerked her gaze to his. He’d gone there, to that tender spot. His eyes flared. Heat, hot and searing, yanked her into the web she’d side-stepped until now. “Marcus,” she whispered.

He dropped his stare to her lips, and then back up to gaze into her eyes. From the look of it, he felt that tug, too. “I could easily not hire you.” He seemed to be wrestling with that decision.

“I need this job,” she countered, breaking away from the magnetic pull. “Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll redo the details.”

His silence stretched until she dared to glance back at him. “Just tell me what you want.”

Was he talking about the wedding ideas or something else entirely?

She went for what she wanted the most. “The wedding.” Knowing she’d put the business back into this meeting, yet also telling him what she truly desired. Quickly, she told him of the changes, her mind racing faster than she could talk. “Simple. Elegant. Colorful,” she said, picking up his pen. She slashed through her vanilla choices and scribbled notes as she spoke. “Not hot pink, but not pale either, somewhere in between. Fuchsia, perhaps? Definitely that same color for the shoes and in the flowers. Tuxes are out, black or silver gray suits with the ties the same shade of pink and the shirts a lighter pink. Forget traditional anything. Move the site from a church to an outdoor venue, gardens, trees with white lights. Of course, night wedding…” she murmured, trying to write along the crowded margins now.

“Anything else?”

His voice pulled her back to the moment. “Huh?” she asked, looking up at him. She gulped hard at the burning interest directed at her.
Had she made a fool of herself?
Lost in her musings, she’d zoned in on her cascade of thoughts and blocked him out. Now, she scrambled to her feet, saying, “We’ll get other vendors to participate. A bakery for the cake. Florist for the flowers. Invitations.” She shrugged. “It’s a tie-in campaign. Let’s say for longtime Dallas-based companies that have always supported King’s in the past. It can kick-start a city-wide promotion. More people are involved all over the city. More interest with across-the-board appeal and customers. More at stake.” Another thought tumbled through her mind. “We could tap into a wider audience with a voting contest. We select, say, three options. The customers vote on what they want as far as the ring choice, venue choice, etc. You understand, right?”

When she stopped babbling, she focused on him. His smile came slow. Her heart jumped and her breaths became shallow. Francie reached out to hold onto the back of the chair to steady her wobbly knees. How could just that lop-sided grin make her turn to jelly?

“Now, that’s an idea. Eight weeks. That’s all you have. That and a raise for all your added responsibilities. Oh, and if you pull this miracle wedding off, you get a bonus.” He held out his hand and she took it, engulfed by the strength and power of the man standing before her. “Francine King, you’re hired.”

As she slipped her hand out of his, already feeling the loss of his warm touch, she wondered if, first, she could produce the miracle of the century, and second, if she’d made the wrong decision in turning her back on this incredibly sexy man. How could she hide her attraction to him while struggling to keep her head above water?

Marcus’ body hummed with anticipation at seeing Francie again. For the rest of the week, he’d dodged meeting with her alone. He’d seen her with her assistants, keeping up on the progress. But it hadn’t taken the edge off at all. It had made it worse.

Now, Saturday night and tying up loose ends for the store, he knew he’d find her still working. Her devotion to her new position impressed him.

He rounded the corner to the jewelry department. Tucked in an alcove beside it was Francie’s new venture. Velvet drapes covered the opening, but he smiled at the glossy black painted wood with just the right color pink spelling out the name,
The Charmings Wedding Boutique.

She’d had a brilliant idea in tying in Charlie’s ongoing recent well-received campaign, the Charmings. It had revitalized the store, pumping in more interest and business than it had seen in years. Now, Francie intended to use that as a stepping-stone to further her
business.

Slowly, he parted the curtains and entered. She was there. Alone.

“Rico, did you forget something?” she asked absently as she stuffed items back into a box.

“That’s the first time I’ve been mistaken for Rico,” he said, trying to hide his smile.

She twirled around, putting a hand on her heart. “Oh, Mr. Goode.”

“Marcus,” he said softly, wanting to hear her use his name.

“Marcus,” she corrected in a whispery voice that tickled his blood. With her hands fluttering to indicate the space, she asked, “What do you think? The guys have been putting in overtime to get this put together. They took the ideas and ran with it. If you want any changes, I can come in tomorrow and get them done for our Monday morning debut.”

He looked into her beautiful blue eyes for another moment, noting how she talked too fast, used her hands more, and her cheeks turned pink whenever she was alone with him.

Something low and deep tugged in him. No, he couldn’t go there. Not with her.

Breaking his stare, he glanced around. In just a few short days, she’d transformed this spot into the intimate boutique she’d described. Rich colors, with the right touch of photos and artwork on the walls, a small crystal chandelier hanging overhead, cozy seating with two chairs and a matching loveseat in black-and-white stripes and pink accented pillows. A small French desk sat along the wall near the back with a lamp casting warm light. A discreet black lacquer counter in the back divided the public area from the staff nook. There was even a carpet underneath in a charcoal gray.

“Stunning,” he said, meaning it. She’d taken his breath away.

Her blush deepened. She nodded to the glass cases that appeared to be columns at the entrance. “Jewelry, shoes, and housewares are loaning me a few things to display. We can rotate the items every week, a theme maybe.” She shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”

“You’ve thought of everything.”

“Rico has helped a great deal with the design.”

“Yes, he has a flair for it.”

“Flamboyant, sometimes, but toned down; he understood the look I wanted.” She grinned.

Marcus had encountered her new assistant on several occasions and had to keep from chuckling at his very frank, very vocal opinions on Marcus’ office decor. “Should I let him redecorate my office?”

“Ow, that’s a tough question.” She grimaced. “He’s into animal prints now, especially zebra stripes.” Going to the nearby loveseat, she waved a hand at the black-and-white striped upholstery. “I let him use it as the main color combination in the seating area and used the glossy black paint to bring everything together with the pink accent pieces.”

“Ah, compromise,” Marcus noted. “On second thought, I’ll pass on the redecorating.”

She giggled. “Good choice.”

He stilled. Her eyes sparkled and her smile mesmerized him. Or was it just her lips that did that? How could she take his breath away? Shaking his head, he asked, “Ready for Monday?”

She tucked a tendril of hair behind an ear. “Yes and no.”

He understood the opening day nerves. “The wait is the worst to get through, but, once you’re up and running, you’ll forget all about it.” He dug in the inside pocket of his suit coat. Holding out the small box, he said, “I almost forgot this.”

Taking it gingerly, she avoided touching him. Marcus thought that was for the best while feeling a pang of regret. “For me?” She lifted the lid and peeked inside. Gently, she pushed back the tissue paper. Her breath caught. “It’s beautiful.” She ran her finger along the lettering on the flat gold business card holder. “You had my name engraved.”

A curl of pleasure slid through him. “Open it up,” he said softly.

When she did, she gasped. “My own business cards. Francine King, Wedding Consultant, King’s Department Store.” She looked up at him; tears clung to her eyelashes. “Thank you. This means…a great deal to me.”

Something hard kicked him in the gut, taking his breath away. Her blue eyes were even more beautiful and the look in them melted his heart. He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you like it.”

Swiftly, she wiped her tears and turned to the box she was packing. “Yes, it’s lovely. I will always treasure it.” Gingerly, she placed the gift on the desk and ran her finger along the surface again. Looking over her shoulder at him, she said, “Don’t let me keep you. I’m just going to bring this box back to the storage room and tidy up some before I go.”

She’d intentionally cut the intimacy and for that he should be grateful. But a part of him felt the severed shared moment and a wave of loneliness swept over him. He shook it off. “Here, let me take that for you. I’ll put it in the storage room.” When she protested, he held up his hand. “No, I insist. The store’s closed. No one is around, except security walking the aisles, so let me.”

“All right,” she relented. “There are just a few more things that go in this box.” She grabbed some canvas frames from the nearby counter. Coming back, she tucked them in the cardboard box.

Something caught his eye. He pulled the top one out. It was a photo of her. “What’s this?”

She tried to take it back, but he held on. “Oh, it’s just from the photo shoot a while back.” She shrugged. “You know, Charlie and her husband’s wedding pictures hanging in the jewelry department. Well, my younger sister and I were bridesmaids. No one else could wear my custom-made bridesmaid’s gown, so I was in the photo shoot, too. Here, Priscilla is in this picture.” She flipped to one in the box, pulled it up, and then stuffed it back in. “Thankfully, they only kept ours up for a week for the ad campaign. I just pulled this box to get some smaller pictures for the rings and shoes.”

She was babbling again. Usually, he’d find it annoying, but with Francie he found it adorable. Still holding the photo of her, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Blonde hair swept up off her neck.
He’d like to kiss her right there
, he thought. That had him glancing at her lips: perfect, kissable rosy lips. When his body tightened, he skipped her lips and looked at the rest of the photo. The blue of the gown matched the blue of her eyes perfectly, making him suck in a sharp breath as he looked into those eyes now. He turned away from the picture and gazed into the real thing.