She stared at him with a rapt expression, like a student trying to absorb every shred of wisdom she could from a revered teacher. When Tony didn’t continue, her eagerness melted into apprehension. “There’s more, isn’t there?” He didn’t answer. “War,” she whispered. “Isn’t it?”
He drew his finger across his chin. Shit, why did he have to be so transparent? “Yeah.” Might as well tell her.
She twiddled her gold chain. “When?”
A feeling he was doing something wrong gripped his chest. “Look, I don’t think it’s right for me to tell you stuff like this.” Especially when every time he tried to get some answers, she grew evasive.
He had to push her harder, lay a guilt trip on her if that was what it took—after all, she owed him her life. But he’d raised her guard. He’d best work back to the topic slowly, get what he needed, then split. The longer he stuck around, the harder it would be to keep his hands off her.
Like now. They sat on the sofa and listened to the radio. It had already become an ingrained routine. In the mornings and early afternoons, he helped at the restaurant—Irving had grudgingly offered him a buck-fifty a day plus meals. After work, Tony helped Charlotte around the house doing things like mowing and weeding the garden. She told the nosy woman who lived next door that Tony was working off part of his board.
Evenings were the hardest. Each night, it grew more difficult to restrain himself from taking her hand or slipping his arm around her like he’d done the other night. Yet every evening it seemed they sat a little closer on the sofa as they listened to some radio show.
He wanted to touch her, God did he want to. He wanted to touch her like he hadn’t touched a woman in over two years. Why now? And why her? Why not one of the women at the office? Why not one of those at Mulroney’s?
Easy. The women at work were too much like Dora. The women at the bar were either gold diggers or just looking for a good time. His sister would say he was attracted to Charlotte because she was unavailable, and therefore safe. Maybe she was right.
But he longed to hold Charlotte in his arms, the way he had in the attic. This time, not because she was cold and frightened, but because he wanted to.
She’d been quiet all day. Her silence unnerved him, and he feared his hunch was correct, she knew something about him. But when he’d questioned her as they walked home from Irving’s, she’d told him she was just worried about Elmer. She’d expected her former boyfriend to get over his anger and call on her, but he hadn’t.
Guilt crawled over Tony. All his fault. “Guess you’d be at the dance right now if you hadn’t blown Elmer off.”
“Blown Elmer off?” Confusion knotted her forehead.
“Told him to get lost.”
She stared down at her skirt and picked at a fraying thread on a buttonhole. “It was my choice, Tony.”
“You sorry?”
Her jaw tightened for a second. “Not for a minute.” Her voice was firm. “Elmer wasn’t the man for me. I just... I hope he’s all right. That he found someone else to take to the dance. And I shall miss going myself, but not because of Elmer.”
“You and I could go.” Tony wanted to smack himself. Where had that come from? Too late now. “If you don’t mind going with a guy who doesn’t have a clue how to dance.”
A grin slid across her face. “I would be delighted!” At her reaction, something happy and bubbly rose inside him, along with trickles of warning. It was too much like a date. Hell, it was a date.
One date couldn’t hurt. Might be fun. He’d at least try to dance. To feel her waist beneath his hand, to move with her...
“I could show you a few steps,” she said. “Or we could just socialize.” The clock chimed nine times. “Oh dear, it’s nine o’clock, admission will be a quarter now. Elmer and I always try to get there early, then it’s only a dime—”
Tony chuckled. “It’s okay, I can afford it.”
“Then I’d best get ready.” She jumped up and dashed for her bedroom, then returned a few minutes later wearing the violet-print dress he’d bought for her. He stood. The happy-bubbly feeling solidified into raw desire. “You look fantastic,” he breathed. He wanted to sweep her into his arms right there. If only they had more than a week together... She twirled, and the skirt flared out in a wide circle. His eyes followed her. It wasn’t the dress, but what was inside. Pride swelled in him. He’d be the envy of every guy in the place.
He tipped his head toward the door. “Shall we?”
As they reached for their hats, someone knocked on the door.
“Who on earth?” Charlotte lifted the curtains to peer out the window. “Theodore!” She dropped the curtain.
Pippin? Holy shit!
Tony’s gaze darted around the room, and he almost forgot to breathe. There was no way he could escape out the side door without Pippin seeing.
Charlotte rushed to the door and reached for the knob. Tony bolted for the only other exit: the bathroom. He bolted inside and turned the lock as the front door squealed and Charlotte greeted her guest.
“Theodore! What brings you this way tonight?”
Me. Tony studied the window above the bathtub. The opening was just large enough for him to squeeze through. He leaned over the tub and tugged on the sash, but it didn’t move. Great. The damn thing was stuck.
He pulled harder. The window didn’t budge. Tony’s head whipped toward the locked door. What would Pippin do to him?
He strained to hear Charlotte. She’d lowered her voice to a mumble. “...working on it... I need a little more time... Please...” What was she talking about?
Tony gripped the window handle and pulled again. Dried paint on the wooden frame cracked, and it gave a little. The front door clicked shut.
Footsteps came, sharp clacks on the living room’s hardwood floor. One set. Charlotte’s. “Tony? Are you all right?”
He released the window handle, and his adrenaline rush dissipated. Pippin was gone.
“I’m fine, just thought I’d better, uh, unload some of that coffee before we take off.” Not the most graceful excuse but the best he could come up with on short notice. He regarded his trembling hands, palms up. A thick reddened stripe slashed across the right one from pulling on the window handle.
He unlocked the door. Her wide eyes and tense features contrasted with her calm voice. “Who was at the door?” he asked.
“Theodore stopped by. He was in the neighborhood, wanted to know how my project was coming—” She snapped a finger. “Oh, drat! We could have asked him your question, I didn’t even think about it.” She hurried to the front door, as if she was going to call Pippin back.
“No!” Tony rushed to follow. “It’s okay. My question can wait.” It would have to, if Pippin was around. “Actually, I’d forgotten all about it, thinking about going to the dance with you.” He touched her shoulder as she reached for the doorknob. She turned around, her face bright.
It was true. He really had forgotten about Bethany for a few moments, forgotten about warping...
He couldn’t let it happen again. He had to keep his eyes open, his mind on his goal—and on the threat of Pippin. That kind of lapse would land him right in the Saturn Society’s lap. “Ready—” he began, but stopped mid-sentence.
They couldn’t go to the dance now. Not if Pippin might still be in the neighborhood. “Uh, you know, I was really looking forward to going out, but I’m afraid I’m not feeling very well... maybe I’d better stay in tonight after all.”
The lighter-than-air feeling in Charlotte’s stomach snapped, dropping her back to earth. He’d wanted to take her to the dance. Enough he hadn’t tried to ask his alarming question yet that evening, as he’d tried every night so far. But now... “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Tony looked her in the eyes as his breathing slowed to normal, although his expression remained wary. He rubbed his stomach. “Nothing major, just a little heartburn.”
“Oh dear. You’re sure? Perhaps a glass of mi
lk would help.”
“Uh, sure.” Although sure was the last thing he sounded, she dashed to the kitchen.
He was lying. Why? Did he know what Theodore wanted? She dumped the last of the day’s bottle of milk into a glass, then hurried back to the living room.
Tony had moved to the sofa. She handed him the milk. He took a small sip, then dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. “Sorry I ruined your plans.”
She shot a glance at the curtained window and sighed. “I suppose it’s just as well.”
He looked up, questioning. “It would look strange for me to show up with a man who’s supposed to be just my boarder,” she said. “Betty Clark from down the street goes every week with her sweetheart, she’d tell her mother and next thing you know... And next week, others would wonder what happened to you, why you’re not there after... you know.” After the pull took him away. She didn’t want to think about it.
“You’re right. I’m still getting used to this whole time travel deal. Coming here was easy.” His thumb squeaked in the condensation as he drew it around the glass. “And the time I went back two years. That was even easier, but... I’ve never been able to repeat it. Why?”
“Why do you want to?” She thumbed her quarter through the fabric of her dress. The low neckline barely hid it.
She waited while he sipped his milk. Tiny sips. Like he was trying to make it last. “Tony?”
“You know, I think I’ve heard this song before,” he said. The Waldorf-Astoria Orchestra had begun playing a melodious, slow number. She looked at Tony, then the radio, then at Tony again. She should bring up the Society, try to turn the conversation around and suggest going to the House.
Her mouth wouldn’t form the words.
He stood, his eyes never leaving her, and held out a hand. “Miss Henderson, would you care to dance?”
A thousand tiny wings beat against Charlotte’s heart, blowing away all thoughts of Theodore and her obligation. It was just a dance. What could be the harm? The fluttering slowed, and she forced calm into her voice. “I’d love to.”
She slid her hand into his, and he led her to the center of the room. His other hand was warm on her back between her shoulder blades, and his sureness pushed away the last of her anxiety. She let him lead her in an odd, freestyle step that made up in feeling what it lacked in style. This moment could last forever. It’d never been that way with Elmer. Not even with Louie, the first and only man she’d let— No use thinking such things. She and Tony had no future. But they had tonight.
They swirled in time to the music, the feel of his hand in hers and on her shoulder sent an intoxicating warmth through her. “Did I tell you you look incredible?”
Her cheeks heated. “I believe you did. But I don’t mind hearing it again.” Perhaps the dress showed more than was proper. She didn’t care. She turned her face back to his and reveled in the feeling that for this moment, there was only the two of them and the music. Nothing else existed. Her world began and ended in Tony’s arms.
He pulled her close, enough to catch the dance-hall inspectors’ notice had they gone to Triangle Park. She leaned into his shoulder and caught a whiff of the restaurant beneath a pleasant blend of his clean shirt and mildly musky man-scent. Too soon the song was over, and the orchestra picked up with a faster one.
Charlotte tipped her head. “Thank you, that was delightful.” She didn’t want to let him go, didn’t want the emptiness, the sense of something lacking when they’d part. But she couldn’t stand in the middle of the room holding his hand all night. She stepped back but Tony didn’t release her. Instead, he tightened his hold and slid his other arm around her back, then drew her closer until their bodies touched. She let go of his hand, unable to do anything but look into his eyes.
“I’m sorry we didn’t go to the dance,” he said.
She looked down, conscious of the press of her breasts against his chest, then met his gaze again. “I’m not.”
His eyes closed halfway and he lowered his head until his lips touched hers. A thrill coursed through her body as she angled her neck to meet his kiss.
His lips were soft, yet firm, and her body tingled with awareness everywhere they touched. He started to pull away, but she slid her arms around his back. He relaxed against her and did the same, his mouth still molded to hers, moving with hers. No future. Just this moment.
Finally he pulled back and dropped his arms. “God, I’m sorry. I had no business doing that.”
Her fingers trailed down his arm as she stepped away. “Don’t be sorry. I didn’t try to stop you.”
They moved to the sofa and sat with a wide gap between them. They stared at the radio, the way Tony said people in his time sat and watched the wondrous thing he called television.
Finally he spoke. “Look, Charlotte... maybe I should go to a hotel. I don’t want to, but... Elmer may not be the man for you, but neither am I. Not when I have a week at the most to be here.”
She studied her hands in her lap. Maybe he was right from a personal standpoint, but there was so much more at stake. His life, maybe his soul. She had to be the one to bring him to the Society. If she failed to keep her end of the bargain, Theodore would find Tony and make him a mindless shell of a man like Fred Cheltenham.
She’d watched Tony for four days. Tried to convince him his best chance to learn what he wanted to know lay in the Society House. He hadn’t fallen for it.
He hadn’t done anything wrong so far, but his questions warned her he would. She had to stop him.
Warmth crawled through her insides. He was so much more than the man who saved her life.
She studied the tip of her shoe, where a small scuff marred the black patent leather. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. He shifted, started to rise, but she touched his arm, stopping him. “But it’s late. Stay here tonight. Go tomorrow if you must.”
As soon as she got off work, they’d leave for the Society House. Forget trying to convince him. She’d insist on it. Trick him if she had to. He found her intriguing, enough to make him temporarily forget his mission. If all else failed, she’d use her “woman’s wiles,” as Theodore called it. Whatever it takes.
The close call with Pippin weighed on Tony’s mind as he mopped the restaurant floor after the breakfast rush the following morning. Somehow Charlotte had managed to talk him into going with her, though it was a continual effort for Tony to keep from wanting her, watching her, touching her as she cleared tables. “Thank you again for staying through today.” A coffee cup slipped in her fingers as she grabbed it, but she caught it just in time. “You don’t know how much of a help you are. The new girl doesn’t start until tomorrow, and Sunday’s our busiest morning.”
“I figured it was the least I could do, for letting me stay with you all week.” His grip tightened on the mop. Charlotte’s workload wasn’t the real reason he stayed.
The prospect of leaving gnawed at him until he finished mopping and started gathering the table linens that needed to go to the laundry. He didn’t want to leave, dammit. He’d be stuck in 1933 for at least another week. Seven long, lonely days of trying to find something to fill his time until the pull hit—
“I declare, Mr. Irving, do try to be more careful.” Charlotte slipped through the kitchen door. “That’s the third time today you’ve bumped into me. What if I’d been a customer?”
Tony barely heard the man’s grumbled response. Charlotte hurried to clear a vacated table, sureness and grace in her every movement. She held her own with Irving, but her tight jaw betrayed her discomfort at his advances.
The eggs and toast Tony had eaten for breakfast sat in his stomach like a ball of hard clay. He wanted to take her away from that asshole. Give her a comfortable life where she could work on her projects all day if she wanted.
But he couldn’t, not when his return would precipitate her death. He had to leave now. The longer he stayed, the harder it would be to leave. He’d tried to ask his question for five days. If she h
adn’t answered by now, she wasn’t going to. And she kept suggesting they go to see Pippin! Didn’t she know her mentor was more likely to torture, brainwash, or kill Tony, than help him?
The lump in Tony’s stomach hardened into rock as he collected the napkins from the table by the window. It was more than the sense of failure, the knowledge that he was this close to getting his daughter back and he’d failed. No Bethany...
And no Charlotte. The better he’d come to know her, the easier it was to believe Dewey. Their kiss last night confirmed Tony’s suspicions. Gratitude for saving her life wasn’t the only reason she’d insisted he stay with her.
She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
All the more reason to get away. Spare her heart, not to mention his own. He’d split now.
He gathered the last tablecloth, then stopped to pick up a dirty plate from the counter on his way to the kitchen. His work was done. All he had to do was say goodbye to Charlotte... forever.
He nudged the kitchen door open, and the scene before him froze his blood.
Charlotte’s back pressed against the edge of the sink. Irving hovered over her, gripping the countertop on each side of her. The cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth bobbed as he spoke. “Come on babe, there’s dozens of broads out there wouldn’t give it a thought to have your job...”
Tony couldn’t move. Charlotte shrunk back farther. “No...” Her voice was small and weak. She reached up to her neckline, fumbled with her necklace. Irving leaned closer. “Did you say no?” His lips drew into a sneer. “Come on, don’t make me get ugly—”
Tony leaped forward and yanked Irving’s shoulder, pulling him off of Charlotte. “You’re already ugly, you sonofabitch!”
Irving whirled around. “What the—” He glared at Charlotte. “You told me there ain’t nothing between you and him!”
“There’s not.” Tony bit the words out as he edged close to her. “And the lady said no.”
Irving drew himself up, his hand clenched into a fist. “Now look here, pal!” He extended a finger and jabbed Tony’s chest. “This is my place.” poke “I’m the one in charge.” poke “If I say she puts out or gets out, then she puts out or—”
Time's Enemy: A Romantic Time Travel Adventure (Saturn Society Book 1) Page 21