by Rae Summers
He didn’t answer. Knowing the elevator was stuck and getting it working again were two very different things.
“How long will the air in here last, do you think?”
Since the temperature had already risen by at least a few degrees, he didn’t imagine it’d be more than another hour. If that. He undid the top buttons of his shirt. It made no difference whatsoever. The air in the cabin was as still as the grave. “They’ll get us out of here long before we run out of air.” He injected as much positivity into his voice as he could muster. Though he didn’t truly believe his own words.
It was full dark now. He couldn’t even make out her outline against the wall.
“At the risk of sounding like a weak female, would you mind very much...?” Her voice floated, disembodied, in the darkness.
“Yes?” he prompted.
She cleared her throat. “Would you mind sitting next to me? The darkness is strangely disorienting, is it not?”
He crawled across the space between them, feeling ahead for the opposite wall. His hand grazed her knee. She shifted, and the air swirling around her gave him a sense of her position in the blackness. He leaned against the wall beside her, leaving a little space between their shoulders. It was too stifling to sit close, though he could still sense her presence as if they touched, like a pulse in the darkness.
“It’s very warm in here, isn’t it?”
“Feel free to unbutton your blouse if you need to. Your modesty will be safe, Mrs. March.”
Though he could see nothing, the rustle of cloth and the slide of silk was enough that he knew when she not only unbuttoned her blouse but removed her stockings, too. If this was to be his last moment on earth, then God was especially cruel. To tempt him with a beautiful woman, bare-skinned, smelling as sweet as a summer rainstorm, and to torment him with the knowledge that he could neither touch nor taste.
“Jennifer.”
“Excuse me?”
“I think we’ve progressed beyond the point where the use of first names would be an impertinence.”
Nicely put. He liked a broad with a bit of class.
“Tom. I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.” He reached tentatively for her knee. His hand rested on the smooth skin just below her hemline, and this time she didn’t move away. Instead, her hand slid into his, elegant, slender fingers soft against his palm.
“In case I don’t have the chance to say this again: thank you, Tom.”
“For what?”
“For being here. Being stuck here with you is infinitely preferable to being stuck here on my own.”
“I’m glad I could be of service.”
“I knew you were a gentleman.”
He didn’t feel much like a gentleman right now. There was nothing at all noble about the sensations running through him. Electricity had nothing on the surge of lust that had swamped him at the touch of her soft skin.
Right now, it was taking every ounce of his willpower not to run his hand up the inside of her thigh. What did she wear under that dowdy tweed skirt...cotton, or silk and lace?
When he’d first noticed her, he’d have sworn she was a no-nonsense cotton-briefs type of woman. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
The elevator groaned, sending a vibration rolling across the floor.
“What was that?” Her grip on his hand tightened.
Another groan, followed by a distant rumble. “It’s the machinery. They’re trying to get it started.”
About damned time too. Hope surged through him. And frustration. If...no when...they were rescued, real life would still be out there waiting for him. There were worse things than slow suffocation.
“I wonder where Lucy is. She must be very worried by now. She’ll have dressed for dinner, but she won’t go up to the dining room without me.”
“The sister-in-law you’re traveling with?”
Tom felt rather than saw her nod, as if the air current shifted around her.
“She likes to think she’s older than she is, but she’s still just a kid.”
“You love her.” It wasn’t a guess. Perhaps it was the fact that in this pitch dark every nuance in her voice rang clear, for there was no mistaking the affection in her tone.
“She’s very lovable and completely unaffected. She’s growing up to be a real beauty, but she doesn’t know it.”
“A rare treasure.” He couldn’t prevent sarcasm from coloring his tone. All women worked their assets to their best advantage. He’d thought Bee was lovable and unaffected when he married her. Looks could be deceiving indeed.
The cabin lurched, and she clung to him. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him. It was nice to be needed by a woman. Not for a leg up in a career, or for his money, but for strength and reassurance. Jennifer March made him feel like a man again. Not a sap who’d been taken for a ride by a pretty face and a pair of shapely legs.
A sharp crack sounded above their heads and they both looked up. A sliver of grey light appeared in the ceiling, widening slowly. A muffled voice penetrated the soundproofed box that not so long ago had felt like a coffin.
He removed his arm from her shoulder. Even more reluctantly, he extricated his hand from her clasp. “Our rescue is at hand.”
She pushed herself up against the wall, and he followed. The sliver of light turned the hot, heavy air around them murky.
She fumbled with her buttons. “So silly of me, but my fingers don’t seem to be managing.” She laughed, sounding a little breathless.
“May I assist?” He didn’t wait for her agreement. Unerringly, his fingers found her neck, and slid down the smooth column of her throat to the edge of her blouse. As he slowly, carefully did up the buttons, her pulse raced beneath his fingers.
“Thank you.” Definitely breathless now. No less than he was.
“Everyone all right in there?” A man’s voice penetrated the gap above their heads.
“We’re fine. Just very pleased to see you,” Tom lied.
“How many of you are in there?”
“Two.”
“Is Mrs. March with you?”
“I am.” Her voice was as unruffled as ever. Did nothing faze this woman? Even the electric spark that still pulsed between them?
“We have a young lady here who’s been searching all over for you. She’ll be delighted to hear you’re all right. Can you hold on a little longer while we pry this roof panel loose?”
Jennifer laughed softly. “Do we have much choice?”
“Good show.”
In silence they watched as the workers above their heads cut through the strong steel roof, the dim light floating down from the elevator shaft above growing gradually wider, the air growing gradually sweeter.
Slowly, inextricably, the outside world seeped into their cocoon as other noises and voices grew audible above them. Tom squared his shoulders in readiness to face the world.
At last the gap was large enough to admit a head. A tousled mop of hair emerged, framing a round cherub’s face, more boy than man. “As you’ve no doubt guessed, the elevator’s stuck between floors, and the doors are blocked by the walls of the shaft. We’re going to pull you up out of the cabin. Once you’re up here, it’s just a big step up to the doors on this floor.”
A rope sling descended through the gap. “Time to blow this joint.” Tom grabbed the sling and held it out to her. “Ladies first.” She paused, eyeing the sling skeptically. At least there was sufficient light now to enable him to read her expression.
“I guess there’s not much point trying to retain my dignity, is there?” Her soft laugh caressed his skin as he helped her slide the sling under her arms.
“You’ll always be dignified,” he said softly, then louder: “You can take her up.”
Slowly the rope winched higher, lifting Jennifer off her feet and towards the hole in the ceiling. He averted his eyes, affording her that last chance at modesty. His gaze fell on the crumpled silk stockings on the floor. Wouldn�
�t do to have some ship’s engineer pick those up later. He shrugged back into his jacket and stuffed the stockings into his pocket.
Then the empty rope was again lowered through the hole. He grabbed hold, securing the sling beneath his arms, and the men above heaved him up. The edges of the hole were rough and scraped his shoulders, but at last he was through. Strong hands tucked under his arms and hoisted him the rest of the way up, a little less delicately than they’d done with Jennifer, he was sure.
He picked himself up from the dirty roof of the cabin. “Thank you,” he said to the two burly sailors who stood on either side. The tousle-headed one nodded and gestured for him to climb ahead of them through the door that stood open at waist height. He scrambled up, the bright electric light of the corridor burning his eyes after the darkness inside the elevator.
“All right there, mate?”
“Nothing a cold shower won’t cure.” His eyes adjusted to the brightness. The corridor, which at first impression had appeared crowded, no longer seemed quite so full. Two men in officers’ uniforms flanked Jennifer, but mercifully there was no watching crowd. For her sake, he was overwhelmingly relieved. Her reputation would be safe after all.
“I was so scared when I couldn’t find you.” A petite blonde had her head tucked into Jenny’s shoulder. She seemed more in need of consolation than Jennifer herself. This then must be Lucy.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” A fair-haired man in officer’s uniform hovered protectively beside the two women, his hand barely an inch from Jennifer’s waist. Tom swallowed back an irrational urge to swipe the man’s hand away.
“I’m fine, Colin, really I am. Please don’t fuss.”
Colin. The name settled in Tom’s gut like a planted fist. Not just a concerned officer, then. Someone she knew. Someone she was on first-name terms with.
“You didn’t come to any harm?” Over her shoulder, Colin eyed Tom, taking in the unbuttoned state of his shirt, his disheveled hair, the grime he’d managed to collect inside the shaft. In contrast, Jennifer still looked immaculate. And just as buttoned-up as the moment he’d first laid eyes on her. But he knew different. Beneath that prim blouse beat the heart of a red-blooded woman.
There was a touch of impatience in Jennifer’s voice now. “Of course not. What harm could I possibly come to inside a lift?” She shrugged off the hand Colin laid on her arm. Perhaps the strain had finally taken its toll. It was the first crack in her composure Tom had seen.
Then, as if sensing where Colin’s gaze had settled, she turned and found Tom. She smiled. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, Tom. I’m truly grateful.”
Lucy looked up. Baby blue eyes swam with tears of relief. She was indeed pretty, in a baby doll way, all golden blonde ringlets and big eyes. He wondered fleetingly if Jennifer’s late husband’s eyes had been the same shade of blue.
Colin’s gaze dipped. He didn’t bother hiding his smile when he spotted the gold band on Tom’s left hand. “Your wife must be worried for you, sir.”
“I doubt it.” Tom turned on his heel, and put as much distance between himself and them as quickly as he could.
Chapter Two
Tom ignored the curious stares as he made his way towards the front of the ship and the luxurious stateroom he shared with his wife. With any luck, she and her stolid maid would be off on some other part of this infernal boat and he could enjoy his cold shower in peace.
Luck was not on his side today.
Bee sat at the vanity, powdering her face with an oversized brush. She glanced at his reflection in the mirror. “You look dreadful.”
“Thanks.”
He moved towards the bathroom. “You planning to wear that dress to dinner?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
The dress was little more than a lacy slip, exposing her rouged knees and leaving nothing to the imagination. The salmon-colored feather boa around her neck drew the eye to her daringly low neckline rather than concealing it.
He shrugged. “Since you married me to save your reputation, you might have a care for that reputation.”
She laughed her girlish tinkle. He’d once thought it musical. Now the sound grated. “What reputation? You’re a bootlegger, Tom darling, no matter how smart you dress. And didn’t I make it clear enough earlier? I married you for the protection of your money, not your name.”
The door swung open, and her maid entered, Bee’s jewelry box in hand. Tom’s hands fisted, and the maid scowled.
“Thank you, Mary darling.” This time Bee said the word darling without the dripping sarcasm.
Tom’s stomach rolled. He needed a stiff drink. A few of them. The sooner he could get to dinner and out of this nightmare, the better. Hell, being stuck in an airless elevator was better than this. At least there he could still breathe.
As he stepped from the shower, cleaner, more in control, he heard the click on the outer door close. Thank God. Without her jealous girlfriend in tow, Bee was a little more bearable. He wrapped a towel around his waist, combed and parted his hair, then slicked it down with hair cream.
Only once he felt ready to face his wife did he open the door into the bedroom. Bee still sat at the vanity, this time applying lipstick the color of blood. Gleaming against her pale throat lay the diamond necklace he’d given her as a wedding gift.
“I’m not sleeping in my dressing room tonight,” he said. “I don’t care where you sleep, but I bought and paid for this bed, so I’m sleeping in it.”
She turned kohl-rimmed eyes to him, her gaze meeting his for the first time since she’d delivered her double blow earlier this afternoon. The look she ran over his bare torso turned his blood cold. How in hell had he duped himself into believing she’d simply been shy? All the excuses he’d told himself when the truth was there in her eyes: she simply didn’t desire him.
Unlike the buttoned-up schoolmarm in the elevator, whose breathing had fractured at his touch.
“Like you bought and paid for me?” Bee’s voice dripped syrup. She crossed one long slim leg over the other, teasing him. Or perhaps mocking him with what he would never have.
It had been at least five months since he’d gotten any, and his frustration had reached boiling point, but… “I would not make a woman do anything she doesn’t want,” he said, as coldly and dismissively as he could muster.
He headed over to the bed, where his valet had laid out his dinner suit hours ago. No doubt at the same time he’d gone looking for his wife, only to find her naked in the arms of another woman. He began to dress.
“Oh I know, darling. That’s why I married you. You’re still a choir boy at heart.”
“Altar boy,” he corrected automatically.
“Whatever. You may be lapsed, but you’re a good Catholic. You’ll never divorce me.” She blew him a kiss with her blood-stained lips. “You’ll keep my little secret.”
“Yes, but will you? You live your life and let me live mine, and we’ll get along just fine. But if you’re indiscreet and word gets out, you’ll live to regret it.”
The flicker of fear in her eyes told him all he needed to know. She’d not only heard the menace in his words but she understood it. He wasn’t an altar boy any more, and he wasn’t afraid to play dirty. That’s how he could now afford the best suite of staterooms on this damned boat. And it was how he could afford to buy more willing women, even if he could never offer them more than a bit of fun.
He slipped his feet into shoes, wiped a speck of dust from his spats, and rose. “Let’s go get ourselves liquored up, Mrs. Gallagher.”
#
The chime of crystal and silver rose up to the vaulted roof of the packed first class dining saloon as Jenny wove between the tables, Lucy close on her heels. They reached their table and Colin pulled out her chair for her. “Are you feeling better?” His fingers brushed her bare arm.
She didn’t flinch from the touch, nor did she welcome it. His hand held none of the prickly sensation she’d felt at Tom’s t
ouch, and the memory brought a blush to her face. The heat of Tom’s touch still lingered in her body, a reminder that she was alive and a woman, even though she’d buried her heart in the grave with Robert.
“Have you not been well?” Mrs. Fenton-Bell leaned forward across the table, her ample bosom in its cascade of lace resting on the tablecloth.
“Nothing a little fresh sea air won’t cure.” Jenny glared at Colin, daring him to say more.
She and Lucy took their places, and the hovering waiter filled their wine glasses, a rich burgundy for Jenny, lemonade for Lucy. For the first time since they’d set sail, Jenny was grateful they travelled on a British ship and American law held no sway here. She looked forward to the softening influence of the alcohol on her nerves. Since she’d watched Tom Gallagher walk away down the long corridor, she’d felt odd and off balance.
Through the potage, fish, and meat courses she tried hard to concentrate on the conversation around the table, but it was a futile exercise since old Mrs. Fenton-Bell dominated the table for a third evening running with tales of her many grandchildren. Her husband was unable to get in a word, so like Lucy he tucked into his food and ignored the conversation. Since the table’s other occupants were a young honeymooning couple with eyes only for each other, it was left to Jenny and Colin to nod and murmur, and pretend interest.
It was agony, at any time, to hear of other people’s children while her own heart ached for the babies she would never have. But it had never been so hard as tonight, with her nerves jangled and the traitorous thought that maybe her life didn’t yet have to be over.
As the waiter set their dessert before them, a peal of laughter rang out, loud over the fervent hum of conversation in the room. Half the heads in the dining room swiveled to where the outburst had emanated.
Jenny’s heart stuttered. Beside the ship’s captain sat Tom’s wife, sparkling in the harsh light of the electric chandeliers like a mirage on the sea’s surface. And beside her lazed Tom, one arm slung across the back of his chair. He’d been good looking in the gathering gloom of the lift. Here, against a backdrop of opulent drapes, a frown furrowing his brow as he tossed back a glass of wine, he looked debonair, dangerous...sexy.