Free Waking Sleeping Beauty by Laurie LeClair Page B

throwing a look over her shoulder, making sure the others weren’t overhearing them. “I’ve got to make this a success. I’m scared,” she confessed, in her heart of hearts knowing she spoke of both her fear of failing and not being able to take care of herself and of the feelings Marcus stirred up. “I’ve never done this before.”
    “Francie.”
    “Here we are,” Dolly chirped, leading Marcus to the table.
    “Looks delish,” Francie said, meeting Marcus’ eyes.
    “You talking ’bout the food or him?” Dolly chuckled, nudging her arm. “Oh, honey, I’d be eating him up, too, if I was your age.”
    Heat flooded her cheeks. Caught, red-handed. “What about Edward?” she asked, trying to divert the attention away from herself.
    “Edward, huh? Is he my competition?” Marcus’ joke eased the tense air. “What’s he got that I don’t have, Dolly?”
    “Oh, now, don’t you go getting me in trouble. I can flirt all I want, but, when it gets down to business, Eddie is the one.” This time it was nice to see someone else turn pink.
    Much to Francie’s surprise, dinner wasn’t the ordeal she had anticipated. The others shared a bond that she was loath to infringe on, yet they included her in their stroll down memory lane. However, she was content to sit back and listen, as she usually did. Years of being shy and quiet had come to her aid time and time again. People revealed far too many things when they thought her silence meant they could pour their hearts out without judgment or censor.
    Little did they realize how much she’d observed and learned about them. Sometimes she took guilty pleasure in sitting back and just watching. Like now.
    Marcus sat across from her, comfortable with the conversation and with the slight ribbing the ladies gave him. That lop-sided grin appeared more often and drew Francie’s attention more than a few times. The way he moved his hands, his quick wit, and ready laughter were only part of the physical allure.
    But it was him, the way he looked at her—really at her and not through her—the way he listened to her, and the way he’d encouraged her to take such a risk on developing her new title of wedding consultant that went far beyond a mere attraction. That thought startled her.
    Being a King had brought her in close proximity to the wealthiest families, who yearned to match their marriage-minded sons with a suitable bride. Most were too plastic, too pretty, too self-absorbed, too everything to even hold her interest. The outside may have looked appealing, but, underneath that polished exterior she’d seen the cracks of disdain for the process, for complying with Mummy and Daddy’s wishes. In exchange for compliance, the men would earn their inheritance. What was a little discomfort to trade for getting a ton of money they never worked a day in their life for?
    Marcus wasn’t like any of them. There was no underlying contempt or fake interest. He was the real deal.
    Their chuckles brought her back to the moment.
    “Marcus B. Goode,” Dolly said, “that was the funniest thing I had ever heard.”
    “Huh?” She looked to see Marcus run a hand over his eyes, and then groan.
    “Did you have to bring that up, Dolly?” he asked.
    “To think your momma giving you that initial for a middle name to remind you to be good.” She laughed so hard, she grabbed her side.
    Francie tried to stop her lips from twitching, but she couldn’t help the giggle that erupted.
    “I guess it didn’t work, did it?” Charlie teased, reaching for her plate.
    “Very funny,” he said, shaking his head with a grin on his lips.
    “Shame you can’t eat, honey.” Dolly swiped at the tears of laughter in her eyes, and then pointed to Charlie once again nibbling the edge of a saltine. She nudged Marcus’ arm, saying, “She’s got the two best cooks in Dallas and she can’t taste any of it or she’ll be running to the bathroom again.”
    “Morning sickness,” Charlie