An Innocent Abroad: A Jazz Age Romance

by Romy Sommer

  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 one 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 only 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.

  Prohibited Passion is available from all Amazon Kindle stores.

  Read on for an opening sample of Waking up in Vegas, the first in Romy Sommer’s contemporary fairy tale Westerwald series.

  Opening Sample of Waking up in Vegas

  I wish I were dead. Phoenix moaned and pulled the pillow over her head to blo
ck out the blinding light and the clamour of rain. If only her head would just explode and get it over with.

  At least the pillow seemed softer this morning. And it smelled nicer than normal too. A fresh citrus scent that quickened her blood.

  Hang on a minute. Rain? In Vegas?

  She peeked out from under the pillow. Oh my…

  Not her room.

  This room was at least twice the size of her entire motel apartment, and way better furnished. Correction: this wasn’t just a room; it was a palatial hotel suite. Through the double doors she spied a living room.

  She sank back on the pillows, which seemed to be dusted in gold glitter. Perhaps she’d already died and this was heaven. Though she highly doubted heaven would want Phoenix Montgomery. Not that she’d been a particularly bad girl, but she’d never made much effort to be particularly good either.

  And she’d certainly seen and done a few things a more conventional person might quail at. This being one of them.

  She covered her eyes. Blocking the sunlight streaming in through tall windows at least helped the ache in her head.

  Sunlight? Then that wasn’t rain…

  Instantly awake, she turned her head and identified the source of the sound of running water: not rain, but a shower running.

  She wasn’t alone.

  Terror clutching her heart, she lifted the crisply starched sheet. Oh hell…

  Beneath the sheet, she was stark naked, aside from yet more gold glitter. And not alone, in a room she didn’t recognize.

  What the hell had happened last night?

  Through the aching blur, she fumbled for memories. She and Khara had got off work not long before dawn, and they’d gone out for a drink as they often did at the end of a shift. They’d chosen a pool hall away from The Strip, the kind of place that wasn’t in any tourist brochure. With the sedatives the doctor had prescribed to help her sleep, Phoenix hadn’t had that much to drink. Besides, she could handle alcohol. Unless...

  There was only one thing that could get her drunk.

  She closed her eyes, grasping for the memories. They’d danced to music from an old-fashioned juke box and played a couple of games of pool. She’d even won a little money off a guy with tattooed arms who couldn’t believe he’d been bested by a girl.

  And then there’d been a man who bought her a drink…

  The bathroom door opened. Phoenix sucked in a breath and opened her eyes.

  Yeah, that man.

  God, but he was drool worthy. Especially wearing nothing but a fluffy white towel wrapped around his hips. He definitely worked out. Until now she’d believed six packs like that were the results of air brushing in magazine spreads. This set of abs was one hundred per cent real.

  She forced her gaze higher, over the tanned chest, broad shoulders, up to meet a pair of startling blue eyes in a face framed by overlong fair hair.

  “You’re awake. Good. I’ve ordered breakfast.”

  She was so not hanging around for breakfast. She cleared her throat. “Where are my clothes?”

  He pointed toward the living room. Clothes lay strewn across the floor and, yep, there it was, the only thing that could get her truly and embarrassingly drunk… a bottle of champagne, empty and lying on its side on the floor.

  “How are you feeling?” The demi-god’s voice matched his face; deep, masculine, with a hint of amusement and a faint Germanic trace.

  He perched on the edge of the bed. He smelled as good as he looked, clean and slightly lemony. Just like the pillow. Her blood all rushed south again.

  She could only imagine how much fun he’d been up close and personal. Pity she had absolutely no memory of it.

  “Did we really…?” She waved a hand at the bed, and her naked body beneath the sheet that she now held clutched to her breasts.

  And her heart stopped.

  Was that a ring on her finger? On her left hand?

  She clutched her head in her hands and groaned. “Please tell me we didn’t…”

  Waking up in Vegas is available from Amazon in paperback and as a Kindle eBook.

  Acknowledgements

  I owe a massive debt of gratitude to Rosa Bella of the Bellaventura blog for her invaluable input on the history of the Positano area. Any errors or omissions are mine, and are no reflection on her! http://bellaventura.blogspot.com

  About the Author

  I’ve always written stories for myself, but didn’t even consider becoming an author until I realized that being over thirty and living in a fantasy world was a little odd. Writing those same stories for other people makes it a lot more socially acceptable!

  I live in Johannesburg, the City of Gold, in sunny South Africa. By day I dress in cargo pants for my not-so-glamorous job of making TV adverts, but at night I come home to my two little Princesses and write Happy Ever Afters. Since I believe every girl is a princess, and every princess deserves a happy ending, what could be more perfect?

  http://www.romysommer.com

  1920s Novellas:

  Dear Julia

  An Innocent Abroad

  Prohibited Passion

  Let’s Misbehave

  Contemporary Romances:

  Waking up in Vegas

  The Trouble with Mojitos

  To Catch a Star

  Not a Fairy Tale

  View Romy’s pages on Amazon and Amazon UK.

  I love to talk to readers. You can find me on Twitter as @Romy_S and on Facebook here. Sign up for my newsletter for special offers and updates on new releases.

  Copyright

  An Innocent Abroad

  1st Edition © 2012 by Romy Sommer (published by The Wild Rose Press)

  2nd Edition © 2015 by Romy Sommer

  Cover Art by Sally Clements

  All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be reproduced in any form other than that in which it was purchased and without the written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

  This ebook may not be re-sold or given away. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the work of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter One of Prohibited Passion

  Opening Sample of Waking up in Vegas

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Table of Contents