Brenda Joyce - [Francesca Cahil 03] Read Online Free Page B

after
her.
    He no longer smiled. “Yes, it is. There, I have admittedit. You are unique, and working with you has been a unique and exceedingly pleasant experience. But again, the danger that accompanies the job is just too much for any woman, even you, Francesca. And, fortunately, women do not work for the police, except occasionally as a secretary.” Theodore Roosevelt had hired a woman for that post.
    Francesca studied him. “I am going to concentrate on my education, as I am falling behind in my studies, so that leaves me with little choice. So you win, Bragg. For now, I shall behave in a most ladylike and decorous manner.”
    He grinned. “We shall see how long this intention of yours truly lasts. Shall we wager?”
    “Bragg! You are corrupting me!” But she was laughing.
    “I think so.”
    “A dollar? No, wait. I have a better wager.”
    His gaze narrowed. “It is . . . ?”
    She swallowed, refusing to analyze her motivations now. “Escort me to that new musical. I believe it is playing at the Waldheim Theatre.”
    He seemed only slightly startled, and he quickly recovered. “Very well. I give you, oh, two weeks.”
    She blinked. Then, “Done. I am going to throw myself into my studies for the rest of the month,” she said.
    Now he laughed. “We shall see.”
    She didn’t laugh. She had to win this wager now. He would escort her to the theater, and perhaps they would have a late supper afterward. He would be in a tuxedo, she in her new, bold red dress. It would be a glorious evening, even if they were only friends. Perhaps they would even dance afterward, in each other’s arms. . . .
    His smile had vanished. “Francesca?” His tone was somewhat rough. As if he knew what she was thinking.
    She realized she had been smiling dreamily and bit her lip. Neither one moved, their gaze holding. Did he suspect the depth of her feelings? In the past few weeks, she hadbecome a woman, one aware now of the meaning of desire and the difference between desire and need. She wanted him physically, as a lover, but even more, she needed him as a friend, but as a man.
    Of course, they would
never
be lovers. And she would never be able to think of him merely as a friend, either.
    He turned and gazed down at his desk, fiddling with a folder. The silence felt heavy now and fraught with tension and maybe danger. This was getting harder, she realized, not easier. Perhaps calling like this had been a terrible idea. But if she had not, they would not have this wager—which she intended to win. Would it ever become easy, seeing him, loving him, and being mere friends? Suddenly she was afraid; suddenly she had an inkling, one she hated and feared. For she did not think so.
    “So,” he said tersely, glancing sidelong at her. “As much as I enjoy your company, I must get back to work.”
    In a way, she was relieved by the change of topic. On the other hand, the glint in his eyes excited her no end. “And I must go home and continue studying,” she agreed, her voice unusually hoarse.
    He walked briskly over to her coat, removing it from the wall peg. Francesca let him help her on with it, aware of his hands upon her as he did so. Their eyes met and they moved apart. He walked her to the door and there they paused, without his opening it.
    She could not help herself. She thought about their conversation on the steps of the Plaza Hotel, just before the newsmen had surrounded her. “Do you regret what you said the other day?” she asked softly.
    He hesitated. “No.”
    Her reaction was instantaneous; she was inwardly thrilled. But she kept her expression as passive as possible. “Nor do I, Bragg,” she said softly.
    He nodded gruffly at her; she left.

    “You have a caller, Francesca.”
    Francesca halted at the sound of her mother’s voice, having just handed off her coat, hat, muff, and gloves to a servant. She slowly turned, with dread.
    For her mother’s voice had been sharp. Now disapproval covered Julia’s attractive