Brenda Joyce - [Francesca Cahill 04] by Deadly Desire

you have fallen truly in love with Rick Bragg, he is married, remember?”
    How could she ever forget? Francesca tried to inhale, with extreme difficulty. “Con, believe me, I know he is married. But he is separated—or have you forgotten?”
    “It doesn’t matter if he is separated or not. He isn’t available. You cannot ever marry him. So you cannot remain in love with him—and frankly, Hart is far more interesting, wouldn’t you say?” Connie demanded.
    Francesca backed up. “What would you say if I told you that Bragg has decided to divorce his wife?”
    “I would say that you are dreaming,” Connie said slowly. “A divorce would destroy him, his career, and you, because you would immediately become the other woman.”
    Connie was right. Francesca sat back down again. Bragg had told her that he was going to divorce his wife, but he had been extremely upset when he had said so, as she had
just escaped the Cross Murderer’s efforts to murder her. And even so, Francesca had known the moment he spoke that a divorce was unthinkable, because his political future was more important than their personal one.
    “Did he really tell you he wants a divorce, Fran?” Connie asked quietly, seriously.
    Francesca nodded and looked up. She felt moisture gathering in her eyes. “I could never allow him to do it. He is destined for greatness, Con.”
    “Dear God, he really does love you.”
    Francesca nodded and could not speak. The magnitude of the sacrifice Bragg wished to make was simply incredible.
    Connie sat down and took her good hand. “Fran? No good can ever come of your love for Bragg, just as no good can ever come of a man’s divorce. I fear for you, Fran. I am afraid there is going to be so much heartbreak.”
    Francesca hugged her sister, hard. “You are going through your own ordeal, and still you worry about me and my foolish dreams,” she whispered.
    “Of course I worry about you.” Connie broke the embrace. “You are my headstrong little sister who is always leaping in front of trolleys and just barely getting out of the way.”
    Francesca smiled and wiped away a tear. “I have never jumped in front of a trolley.”
    “Then a Cross Murderer,” Connie amended. “Fran, Mama is very wise. Her matchmaking might not be a terrible idea.”
    Francesca shuddered. “Calder told me himself. He will never marry.”
    Connie raised both brows. “Famous last words,” she murmured.
    “I really am in love with Bragg.”
    Connie patted her hand. “I know you are. And it frightens me.”
    Francesca knew the moment would never be more opportune. She stared at her sister.
    “Uh-oh. What is it? You look ill.”

    This was her chance to tell her sister everything . “I am in a bit of trouble,” Francesca said slowly.
    Connie became grim. “You are always in trouble, Fran.”
    “Not this kind,” Francesca whispered.
    Connie suddenly started. “You are not … pregnant , are you?”
    “No!” Francesca stood. “No, Con, we have been noble, Bragg and I, even if he is separated, even though he despises his wife, even though she left him and he has not seen her in four years.”
    “Thank God,” Connie said fervently.
    Francesca inhaled, meeting her sister’s gaze. “You are right. I am ill. I am ill with fear.” She opened her purse and withdrew a carefully folded note. She handed it to Connie. “I received this a few days ago. Read it,” she said.
    Connie unfolded the note and silently read it. It said:

    My dear Miss Cahill,
    I should be in New York City soon, and I wish to meet you at your convenience. I shall be staying at the Waldorf-Astoria when I arrive. I look forward to making your acquaintance.
     
    Yours Truly
Mrs. Rick Bragg

    Slowly Connie looked up. She seemed stunned.
    Francesca smiled at her and felt how weak her smile was.
    “When did you receive this?” Connie asked.
    “It came by hand on Thursday,” Francesca said. “I have been telling myself that it is a joke, but the truth is,