Prohibited Passion

by Rae Summers

  Losing him had been her punishment for giving in to that wildness. She was sure of that.

  These were not things she could acknowledge out loud. Even less so to a man, and most certainly not to a man like Tom, who would use that knowledge for his own gain.

  He held her gaze for a long moment, those dark eyes burning through to her soul. Then he nodded slowly, as if deciding something. “The day we met, Bee told me she’s in love with someone else. She married me only for my money.”

  In spite of herself, Jenny laid her hand over his. “I’m sorry.”

  He laughed, but it was a rough sound. “Don’t be. I married her because she was young and beautiful, and because she said ‘no’ to so many other men. She was a trophy that I bagged, and now I will pay for my own foolishness. For letting my ego lead me.”

  No matter how he made light of it, the bleakness in his voice bled through. Tom might be tough on the outside, but he had a heart.

  He wrapped her hand in both of his. Though she should pull away, she didn’t. “But meeting you has restored my faith in humanity. You remind me there is good in the world.”

  “I thought we’d just established that I’m not very good.” Her voice came out low, choked with her muddled emotions.

  “Where I come from, wanting to be true to yourself is not evil. Love is not a sin.”

  Oh, but the kind of love she wanted was a sin. With difficulty, she recovered her voice, the proper one, the civilized one. “So what will you do now?”

  “There’s nothing I can do. I am Catholic. There cannot be a divorce.”

  She was sure her repulsion was writ all over her face. She did not envy him now. Better not to be married at all than chained to someone you didn’t love. “You told me a year is too long to live without happiness, but how much more so an entire lifetime of it...”

  “You are a romantic, aren’t you?” Tom squeezed her fingers. “Don’t worry about me. I won’t be unhappy.”

  “Will you get an annulment?”

  “And admit to the world I made a mistake? That she didn’t choose me above all those others because of me?” His laugh had a bitter sound. “Bee knows me well enough to know that since I married her for my ego, I will stay married to her for the same reason.” His mouth twisted. “She has me well and truly trapped.”

  Her own life might be barren, but at least she had the memories of her joy. At least she’d known love. Tom would have neither.

  He leaned close, his voice low and intimate in her ear. “But I won’t live without love. Or without pleasure.”

  Horror coursed through her with the power of an electric shock. “Do you not intend to honor your wedding vows?”

  When he shrugged a careless shoulder, she snatched her hand away, as if burned. “What you are considering... That’s a sin!”

  “What is one more sin added to the others?”

  Was this why he’d sought her out? Did he think to make a conquest of her? She’d said she didn’t want another husband. She hadn’t meant she’d take a lover instead.

  She stood so quickly, she nearly knocked over the potted palm. “You cannot possibly think that I...?”

  “Sit down, Jenny. I wouldn’t dream of compromising a woman like you. There are women who are made for that sort of thing. You are not.” His voice dropped a notch. “Passionate, hot-blooded woman though you may be.”

  She stared at him, heart beating against the satin chemise that suddenly felt two sizes too tight. He knew. Damn him, he knew.

  Not just his effect on her, but the depths of her wickedness. But worst of all was his belief that she was too weak to defy convention and give in to her dark side. Inexplicably, that hurt most of all, when it should have pleased her.

  She sucked in a breath and sat back down. He was right about one thing. She wouldn’t give in to her darkness again. She would not throw away a virtuous reputation for anything less than love, and there was no chance she’d lose her heart again, with Robert buried in the cold churchyard in London.

  To expect a love like that twice in one lifetime would be to expect too much.

  Tom’s voice brought her back to the present. “Now you know the true depths of my depravity, do you still think I’m a gentleman?” His tone was mocking.

  No. No gentleman she’d ever met would admit to a lady of breeding the things he had admitted. But then, no lady of breeding would feel her pulse race and her core grow wet at the thoughts his admissions provoked.

  She clenched her knees together and clasped her hands in her lap. “You’re not a gentleman, but I still believe you have nobility inside you.”

  He laughed, throwing his head back in genuine amusement. “You make me want to be a better man, Jenny. But I’m not, and I’ll prove it.”

  His fingers touched her throat, hovering over the pulse point in her neck where he could no doubt sense the wild beating of her heart. Then he tipped her chin up, and kissed her.

  Fire. Ice. Her body raged in a fever of sensation.

  His mouth grazed hers, rough, demanding. She parted her lips in a sigh, and he thrust in, his tongue tangling with hers, the taste and touch of him dizzying.

  Something broke inside. The hunger that had lain dormant for too long flared and consumed. She kissed him back.

  Tom slid an arm around her waist, dragging her against him on the banquette, up into his lap. She molded into the hardness of him, the strength and solidity of hard male muscle, and the hardness of his erection against her thigh.

  And at last a shred of common sense filtered through the fog of her brain. She pushed herself away and stood on shaking legs, chest heaving.

  For the longest moment, their gazes held as silence stretched between him. His dark eyes burned, but now there was no hint of humor. Only the same raw passion that burned them both.

  She struggled for breath. “You are deliberately trying to shock me, aren’t you?”

  He grinned. “Perhaps. After all, it’s best that you and I are not friends, isn’t it?” The amusement was back in his tone, and she longed to slap him for it. Instead, she clasped her hands tightly together.

  He leaned back against the banquette. “Can you imagine what those high hats you’re surrounded with would say if we were friends?”

  She had already imagined it, had wondered what her parents-in-law would say if she brought a gangster into their midst, to sit at dinner and make polite conversation. And it didn’t take much imagination to know what the Mrs. Fenton-Bells of the world would have to say. That thought made her smile. “And how welcome would I be in your world, I wonder?”

  Tom laughed. “If you ever dare to find out, you’ll find me at The Liberty Club. Just give the doorman my name and he’ll let you in.”

  She held her breath. From his roguish smile, she knew his dare was more than an invitation to visit a speakeasy. It was a dare to give in to the darkness inside.

  And there was nothing she could say to that. Nothing he wouldn’t see through in a moment. She couldn’t let him know how tempted she was to throw her conventions and her principles aside.

  “Before I corrupt you any further with my presence...” He rose and held out a polite hand to her. She shook her head and tucked her hands beneath her arms.

  He smiled. “Goodbye, Jennifer.”

  It was a very long time after he left before she was sufficiently composed again to venture from the reading room.

  Chapter Five

  The door in the wall didn’t look like much, just a plain steel door with a grill at eye level. Jenny would have assumed it to be nothing more than another service entrance if she hadn’t seen the well-dressed couple ahead of them disappear inside.

  Colin knocked loudly on the door and the panel behind the grill slid open to reveal a dark, scowling face. “What d’you want?”

  “We’d like to come in.” Colin glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder. “For a drink.”

  “You got the wrong place. This is a members-only club.” The panel slid sh
ut again.

  “I’m so sorry.” Colin said as he turned to her. “I suppose we need a password or an invitation to get in. We’ll have to settle for tea somewhere.” He sighed. “I really wanted to celebrate my last night in New York with something special.”

  “We could try another club,” she suggested.

  He shook his head. “I wouldn’t risk it. Too many of these places serve drinks that are toxic. My crewmates assured me the Liberty Club doesn’t serve rotgut.”

  His puppy dog look tugged at her. He was her friend, the last link to her old life, and she couldn’t bear to see him disappointed. She knocked on the door.

  “Didn’t you get the message?” The doorman asked. This time he only slid the panel half way open. “Scram.”

  She swallowed. “Tom Gallagher invited us. My name is Jennifer March.”

  Her heart thudded against her ribs, overloud in the sudden silence. She avoided Colin’s gaze. Then they heard a bolt slide back, and the door opened.

  The doorman was tall and broad-shouldered, perfect white teeth and bright eyes gleaming in his dark face. He barely cast a glance at Colin, but his grin widened as he looked Jenny up and down, taking in the expensive fur stole and the glitter of silver beneath it. Her chin rose in defiance.

  “That way.” The doorman nodded down the gloomy narrow stairway.

  “Thank you.” Jenny took Colin’s hand and tugged him after her.

  “You knew this was his place when I suggested it, didn’t you?” Colin’s voice was low, his tone accusatory.

  She shrugged. “What does it matter except that it got us through the front door?”

  At the bottom of the stairway was a corridor of bare brick walls, lit by a single dingy bulb, that led the length of the building. At the other end of the corridor was another flight of stairs, better illuminated and proudly marked with a freshly painted sign. Liberty Social Club.

  The door at the top of the stairs opened instantly at their knock, and they stepped into another world.

  The smoky haze did nothing to dampen the dazzle of light. A hundred bright lights twinkled–off the high gilded ceiling, off the mirrored walls, off the hundreds of bottles lined behind the bar that ran the full length of the room, and off the diamonds around the necks of the women.

  The room put the cruise liner’s ballroom to shame. On a podium to Jenny’s right a jazz band of colored musicians played while dancers shimmied to the fast music on the crowded dance floor. Around the edges of the vast room, reflected in the mirrors, were dozens of booths, separated from one another by diaphanous white curtains.

  Colin slid a hand into the curve of her back and led her to the left, to an empty booth on the quieter side of the nightclub.

  “It’s certainly classier than I expected,” Colin said, having to raise his voice to be heard over the sound of the music. “Who would guess from the outside that this lay within?”

  Jenny nodded. She wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t expected Tom to run a hole-in-the-corner joint. As much as he would deny it, he was far classier than that.

  Colin ordered champagne from the waiter while Jenny shrugged out of the stole that was way too warm in here. Then she turned her attention to the stage where a slender woman with coffee-colored skin had stepped up to the microphone.

  The singer’s voice was low and sultry, at odds with her youth and frail frame, and in spite of the swift beat of the music, the song had a haunting quality. Jenny sat enraptured, her chin in her hands, until the waiter pouring their champagne broke the spell.

  “It’s French,” Colin said, admiring the label.

  “I told you my European trip was profitable.” The voice was deep and familiar, and Jenny’s head snapped up.

  Her breath caught as she looked up into a pair of dark eyes filled with laughter. Eyes she’d imagined a thousand times. Usually laughing at her while he cavorted with a string of women, none of whom were her.

  “I heard I had guests.” His cool gaze swept over Colin. “We were never formally introduced. I’m Tom Gallagher.”

  Colin had no choice but to accept the hand offered to him. “Colin Wainwright.”

  “I hope you don’t mind that I used your name to get in,” Jenny said. The room suddenly seemed very warm, too warm, and she hadn’t even had a sip of the champagne yet.

  Tom was every bit as good-looking as she remembered, perhaps even more so in his tailored black evening suit. He ran a hand around his collar, distractedly loosening his bow tie as he grinned. “I’m just pleased you dared at last.”

  A bobbed blonde appeared beside him, wrapping her arms around Tom’s waist in a possessive gesture. “You promised me a dance,” she pouted. It was obvious she was already drunk. Jenny had never seen so much alcohol drunk as she’d seen since she arrived in America. This Prohibition thing didn’t seem to be working too well.

  “I did, didn’t I?” Tom rubbed the blonde’s arm, but his gaze did not leave Jenny’s face. She hoped he couldn’t read her discomfort or her disappointment, and she was immensely glad his gaze didn’t drop any lower. She already felt exposed enough in this dress. Lucy had given it to her, and though she loved the shimmering silver fabric, until tonight she hadn’t dared wear it in public. She’d tried to hide the bare expanse of her chest with a string of pearls, but it made little difference.

  Somehow she hadn’t minded Colin noticing, but Tom...Tom didn’t even need to look at her to make her feel things she oughtn’t feel.

  “I hope you enjoy your evening.” Tom nodded to Colin, and allowed the blonde to lead him away to the dance floor.

  Jenny let out the breath she’d been holding. From the moment in the cab when Colin had suggested they come here for an after-theatre drink, she’d known she would see him again.

  She’d known too he would be with another woman. After their last conversation, she wouldn’t have expected him to take his time finding a woman who was made for ‘that sort of thing.’ Somehow she’d expected him to ignore her, as she’d tried so hard to ignore him at sea. After all, they were in his world now. In the weeks since she’d arrived in New York she’d learned enough to know that nightclubs like these were places of glamour and excitement. She was neither.

  But he hadn’t ignored her.

  And though he hadn’t touched her, the fire was still there between them, charging the air and flushing her skin hot and cold.

  The memory of his parting challenge heated her entire body. She’d taken the first step, but how much farther she dared go...that depended on Tom.

  She wouldn’t take another step...couldn’t... But if Tom were to reach across that divide with either a word or a gesture...would she be brave enough, or weak enough, to follow?

  “What did he mean about a dare?” Colin asked.

  Jenny sipped the champagne, and pretended to choke on the bubbles to give herself a moment before answering. “It’s nothing,” she said. “When we were stuck in the elevator I told him I didn’t dare enter a speakeasy. He must have remembered.”

  Colin seemed satisfied, so she swiftly turned the conversation to safer things, to the voyage he embarked on tomorrow and the letters she wanted him to carry home. But she had to turn her back to the dance floor in order to concentrate.

  “I’ll only be gone a few weeks,” Colin said. He looked down into the depths of his champagne glass. “When I come back...” He cleared his throat. “I’d like to see you again when I come back.”

  “Of course.” Jenny sipped her bubbles and watched the dancers reflected in the mirror behind his head.

  “No, I mean...”

  Suddenly aware of his discomfort, she focused on him. “What are you trying to say, Colin?”

  He flushed. “I know you’re not ready for this, and I promise I’ll give you all the time you need, but I’d like you to consider...marrying me.”

  Her heart sank. She’d known this moment was coming but had hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. He’d shown her around the city and given her an escape from the mo
llycoddling of Robert’s well-meaning relatives. She didn’t want to lose his friendship. But there was no way she would even consider marrying him.

  “Let’s talk about it when you get back,” she said gently.

  Half the bottle of champagne was gone and she felt decidedly lighter on her feet when Colin invited her to dance. Though the music had slowed, there could still have been nearly a hundred dancers on the dance floor. The songstress’ haunting voice rose and fell like the tide as Colin led Jenny around the floor in a foxtrot.

  No amount of champagne could stop the memories, though. The first night she and Robert had danced together. How, after their marriage, they’d gone dancing in clubs far seedier than this one, and drunk champagne like it was water. How they’d danced to gramophone records alone in their living room, and how the dance had been a precursor to their lovemaking.

  Robert had been a skilled dancer, masterful, so sure of himself, so sure she would follow where he led.

  Nor could the champagne stop the other thoughts that followed. What kind of dancer would Tom be?

  He was no longer anywhere to be seen. Neither was the blonde.

  The foxtrot flowed into a slower waltz, but the new song had barely begun when a commotion at the door startled her from her reverie.

  “It’s a raid!” someone yelled.

  The music crashed to a stop, and suddenly people were everywhere, running in all directions and shoving around her.

  Colin grabbed her hand and pulled her across the dance floor, to the back of the club behind the podium.

  “My stole!” she cried, but the din swallowed her voice.

  Then she saw a door that hadn’t been there before, where a concealed panel had slid open in the back wall. Jenny followed Colin through the door, hanging onto his hand so as not to get separated from him in the push of the crowd. Casting one last look back at the club, its dazzling lights still shimmering off every surface, she saw that the waiters had begun to hammer wall panels over the bar, concealing the liquor behind a fake façade. Then she was borne away down another long, dingy corridor and out into the cool, crisp air of an unlit alley at the back of the building.