Free Waking Sleeping Beauty by Laurie LeClair

dinner. Chicken and dumplings, one of your favorites. I remember.”
    Francie gulped as he took a chair just a few inches from her. Suddenly, the space narrowed. His heat and scent drifted to her and she wondered if there was such a thing as swooning; she thought she would any minute now.
    There was something about the tall, broad shouldered man that made her heart beat faster and her blood warm. She stole a sideways glance at him. He was looking at her. Jerking her attention away, she encountered Charlie’s expression, her eyebrows raised in question.
    “It was nice visiting with you, Charlie.” She made to stand. “I see you and…Mr. Goode must have business to discuss.”
    “Marcus,” his curt voice cut through her, “and don’t leave on my account.” He reached out and grabbed her elbow to stop her from going.
    It seared through her white silk blouse. He must have felt it, too; he yanked his hand away.
    “Stay,” Charlie coaxed, glancing from Francine to Marcus and back again. “I know you can’t resist Dolly’s home cooking. Have you had a decent meal since you walked out on your mother?”
    She didn’t have to turn to know Marcus’ intent stare was on her, the way her skin prickled with awareness.
    “You walked out?” Marcus asked, obviously not hearing this before.
    Her smile, small and tight, was one of practiced politeness. She glared at Charlie for that admission. But she sensed her stepsister was trying to inform Marcus of her non-cooperation with her mother’s ideas.
    “Yes, it’s a long story,” Francine said with a dismissive air.
    “Oh, come on,” Dolly piped up, “the old battle-ax stole their trust funds. Years of lying, cheating, and domineering her own daughters.”
    The truth stung. Francine blinked to keep the fresh tears from forming. She was little more than a commodity. It was still a shock to comprehend the enormity of her mother’s desperate need to control everything and everyone around her.
    Seeing her face to face this week had hammered it home. Her mother hadn’t changed in that regard. No, she’d relished leaving Francie a list of eligible bachelors to contact for her search. Marcus had glared at the paper littered with the names of prospective grooms while Francine numbly shook her head, stunned by the gall of the woman she’d once trusted, trusted to make the best decisions for her, trusted her to be a mother, not a domineering nightmare who swooped in and took over people’s lives.
    Marcus stiffened. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That explains a great deal.”
    Not able to speak, she nodded. She didn’t want his sympathy. Thrusting her chin up higher, she said, “I’ll survive.” I can do this! She meant it. There may be obstacles, roadblocks even. And there may be doubting Thomases all around her, but she’d show them. “I’m a King.”
    “Indeed you are,” he murmured.
     
    ***
     
    Why did she have to smell so good? he wondered as she brushed past him, her scent tickling his senses. Dolly had pleaded for his last-minute help with their meal and Francine had offered to set the table. Now, she stretched to reach the plates.
    He came up behind her, attempting to help with the china. “Here, let me.”
    She sucked in a breath. Pulling back, she leaned into him. She jerked away, bumping his chest. He groaned. Could she just touch him some more? Graze his hip once again?
    Francine sidestepped him, heading for the silverware instead.
    Mentally, Marcus kicked himself for reacting to her at all. After the fiasco a few days ago, he swore he’d stay away. When things had calmed down and business picked up, he’d walked away. But, he’d been drawn back. Out of curiosity at first. He soon found out advertising worked.
    Women were lined up to get a peek at the boutique, fawning over every detail of the hip, chic little oasis in the midst of King’s Department Store. Each day brought more and more customers. The interest should have had Marcus