“Hello, Will,” Jared said through a firmly set mouth.
Grace looked exceptionally provocative tonight. Will wouldn’t know that she was off limits; his friend would figure Grace was just another pippin in a long string of willing females.
He gritted his teeth. “May I present Miss Grace Hathaway. Grace this is William Talbot. A friend.”
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Talbot.”
Jared saw Grace glance at the wedding band on Will’s hand. If he admitted that Grace was from out of town and staying with him, Will would surmise things about her that weren’t true.
“Why have you kept this gem hidden away, you devil?” Will asked.
“To keep lecherous vermin like you from feeding on her innocence.” The blatant insult, delivered with a deadpan expression, had Will hesitating for the briefest moment before he threw back his head, laughing robustly. Jared eventually smiled and heard Grace emit a tight breath.
“Where is the rest of the crowd tonight?” Jared inquired. Not that he particularly wanted company.
“Paul Whiteman is performing at the Astor with his group, The Rhythm Boys. I hear the new singer, Bing Crosby, is a pip. I’m on my way there now. Why don’t you and Miss Hathaway join us?” Aside he whispered to Jared, “A new peach will drive the mums crazy.” His fingers smoothed his pencil-thin John Gilbert mustache.
“Maybe we will.”
Taking Grace’s gloved hand again, Will pleaded, “If I know old Jare here, he’ll want to keep you all to himself tonight, so be a doll, Miss Hathaway, and promise to show.”
Grace smiled and allowed Will to kiss her hand once again. “We would love to join you, Will. It’s been ages since I’ve been to the Astor Hotel. I’ll make sure Jared keeps his promise.”
Talbot grinned at Jared triumphantly and, bowing, donned his bowler hat and headed in a somewhat wobbly manner toward the door.
Jared poured Grace a second glass of champagne and drained the rest of the bottle into his own glass. The women in the crowd at the Astor were shameless piranhas and would like nothing better than to sharpen their teeth on the likes of Grace Hathaway. And he realized he did want her to himself tonight. He wanted to undress her and do all the lascivious things that he had mentally accused Will of wanting.
He sipped his champagne. A torch singer draped herself across a piano singing “East of the Moon, West of the Stars” in a throaty velvet voice. Grace looked beautiful, with a crooked smile that seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face tonight. He wanted to touch her, so he did, softly, toying with a curl that had escaped at the nape of her neck. He felt her shiver, but she didn’t pull away, keeping her eyes on the singer for a long moment.
Then she turned swiftly and, pulling him close by the lapels of his jacket, kissed him full on the mouth. The kiss lingered long enough to take his breath away but short enough to make his loins ache afterward. She smiled wickedly then turned her head back to the singer, leaving Jared dazed but pleased.
In one swift movement, she had taken away all his polished reserve and issued an open invitation. He’d been waiting for this. Hell, plotting for it. She knew his reputation, and most of it had been earned, she would soon find out.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The short ride to the Astor Hotel didn’t allow time to start something he couldn’t finish, Jared decided. Grace chatted gaily—from the effects of the liquor and the lack of food, he suspected—but she seemed sober, just less reserved.
He wanted her. He wanted her so much he could feel his arousal against his clothing, but to take her and then leave her... He should leave her untouched for the right man. But could he deny himself? He was, after all, only human, and though her signals were mixed, at times she seemed willing, eager even, as if she were discovering her femininity, her power over him.
She might be innocent, but she wasn’t a child. They were both adults and responsible for their own actions, but Jared found rational thought seemed to vanish whenever he was with Grace.
“Jared?” she asked softly. He turned his face toward her. She raised her brows. “A penny for your thoughts.”
Levering his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward. “What do you want, Grace? From me? Do you know?”
Grace blinked owlishly, considering his question. “Why, I want this night to go on forever. I want to have a good time, Jared.”
He thought about asking her to explain but decided not to push his luck. He moved toward her slowly and deliberately, raising her chin with his knuckle. “I like that answer,” he whispered into her ear. He brushed his lips lightly over hers. “Come, we’ve arrived.”
****
Grace’s eyes feasted on the splendid sights of the ballroom. The gay crowd at the Astor Hotel filled the smoky nightclub. Lively music had the full rich sounds of a whole orchestra. The room blazed and glittered with hundreds of tiny lights, candles, and the reflection of women’s jewels. Grace breathed in the potent mixture of flowers and perfume. The entire room shimmered with the color and movement of so many splendidly dressed people and the gaiety of a crowd that was rewriting old rules.
She suddenly felt young and pretty and filled with energy. Responsibilities had robbed her of the chance to be young. At twenty-eight, she thought youth had forever passed her by, but tonight seemed magical, a night in which she felt free and happy. She wanted to dance until her legs would no longer hold her up. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
“How wonderful!” Grace sighed happily, while Jared drew her to a halt, searching for his friends.
She felt his gaze on her and glanced up. He was studying her with a bemused look on his face. “If you say so.”
“You’re jaded.”
“Possibly,” he replied, raising one hand in a greeting to a group across the room.
Will Talbot hailed Jared and Grace from a round table on the edge of the dance floor. As they moved through the crowd, Grace noticed women looking greedily at Jared while men eyed him with a certain degree of vigilance. His commanding height and presence alone did that. He was undeniably virile, dangerously masculine, with the unflinching sensitivity of a big cat.
She could feel a ripple surge through the crowd as they approached the table where four couples were chatting and drinking. Several silver flasks were in plain view on the table. One flask had tipped over, spilling an amber liquid on the white linen.
Flipping her blonde hair behind her ear, an extraordinarily beautiful woman sidled up to Jared and laced her arms around his neck. “Shame on you, Jared,” she cooed, “for not calling when you got back to town. You know how I miss you.”
Jared smiled down at the woman affectionately, returning her embrace. “Agnes, I’ve never known you to suffer from a lack of male attention.”
Giggling, she released him and turned to face Grace. Holding a bejeweled hand out, she introduced herself, “Hello, I’m Agnes Talbot, the better half of Mr. and Mrs. Talbot. The half that has manners.” She scowled at her husband. “We must get to be fabulous friends and share sordid stories.” She folded her arm through Grace’s and led her away from the table, casting a mischievous smile over her shoulder.
“Jared is such a beast, dear,” Agnes complained as she applied black kohl to her eyelids in the gilt-framed mirror of the powder room. Gaslight sconces lit the feminine room softly as the two women regarded their reflections.
“Don’t get too attached,” Agnes continued. “He’s wonderful company. Sinfully rich. But I find it necessary to warn any unsuspecting females of his devious ways. And that reputation of his! Some say it goes beyond cold-blooded.” She leaned toward the mirror, checking her appearance, and then reached into her clutch purse. “Most people are actually afraid of him, and for good reason, or so Will tells me. Absolutely cutthroat in business. And rather lethal in a confrontation. Will has seen him in action.”
Agnes brushed the waves of her French bob. “Of course, I see him as a big teddy bear. Have you known him long?”
&nb
sp; “Not long, but I believe I know him well.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Agnes crowed. “No one really does. Know him, I mean. Very esoteric. Every time I think I have him figured out…” She hesitated, pursing her lips toward the mirror and applying a deep shade of red.
Grace waved off the rouge Agnes offered and critically checked her own reflection, pinching her cheeks and reapplying the berry stain, then a dusting of powder.
“What a marvelous dress.” Agnes smoothed down her loosely fitting, drop-waist ensemble. “You look spectacular. All the men have noticed. Serves Jared right,” she said gaily. “He needs a bit of competition.”
Grace changed the subject. “What can you tell me about Jared?” Was it simple curiosity or self-preservation that made her ask?
“His past? Oh, I doubt anyone knows that. Doesn’t seem to be attached to anyone or any place. It’s sad, really.” Agnes fluffed her bob again. “He never speaks of any family or friends, for that matter.”
“He’s an orphan and has never been able to find his parents or any relatives.” The words were uttered before Grace realized she might have made a mistake in telling Agnes what it seemed Jared had chosen not to reveal.
“Oh, dear.”
Grace breathed a sigh of relief when Agnes’s eyes grew somber and she shook her head.
“I didn’t know,” she said softly. A thoughtful moment passed, then Agnes quipped, “Well, it’s up to you and me, then, to make him happy, don’t you know.” Wrapping her arm once again through Grace’s, they exited the ladies’ room and made their way back toward the table.
****
“A sheba, that one,” Will said, his eyes on Grace as she and Agnes wove through the crowd.
“Have you looked closely at your wife lately, Will? Agnes doesn’t have to take a backseat to anyone in that department.”
“Bah,” he said, taking a drink from his hip flask. He pointed to a woman. “Now, Violet there,” he said, inclining his head toward a curly-headed, voluptuous redhead on the edge of the dance floor. “She’s a pip.”
Several men of varying ages surrounded the woman, vying for the next dance. She laughed, playing one man against another until two of the men seemed ready to go for each other’s throats. Violet smacked her feather fan against the chest of one of them while curling her index finger at the other. The randy victor backed her up onto the dance floor, grinning at his catch.
His eyes on the redhead, Jared asked, “Are you dipping into that, Will?”
“And if I am?”
Jared bit his tongue. “What happens if Agnes finds out?”
“She won’t. You’re turning into a flat tire, Jare. Here, I have something for you.” Will dug in his pocket. “I’m too drunk to do any good for myself, but you, you might get some use out of this.”
He pulled a room key from his dinner jacket and dropped it into Jared’s hand. “A little present from me to you,” he said conspiratorially. He swayed slightly and winked, folding Jared’s fingers around the key. “I keep a room here, just in case I don’t want to drive home, ya know. Won’t need it tonight,” he said, as he stared at Violet dancing with the young man who had one hand on her buttocks and was grinding against her to the rhythm of the music.
Jared started to protest, to say it wasn’t like that with Grace, but his friend had already fallen back into his chair and lowered his head to the table.
Damn! Suddenly he was everyone’s keeper? His life had certainly been less complicated two weeks ago. And why did he feel anything but contempt for his idiot friend? Probably because he liked Agnes and had finally figured out Will, in his immaturity, didn’t think he deserved anyone as beautiful as his wife. She adored him and didn’t care what he looked like, but Will didn’t feel he measured up, wasn’t rich enough, or good-looking enough, so he cheated with everyone and anyone who showed interest. Jared had seen the same disgusting scenario too many times over the years.
But tonight he felt an urge to set his friend straight even if it meant beating the hell out of him. Confound it! He didn’t like being responsible for anyone other than himself. He slipped the key into his pocket and turned to search for Agnes and Grace.
He saw Agnes stop several times, on the way back to the table, to introduce Grace to friends. She seemed in no hurry to return to her drunken husband. Agnes’s unhappy marriage had made her seek Jared out for comfort, for friendship. Now they had an understanding—about her life with Will and what she had actually needed from Jared.
“There you are,” Agnes sang. “I’m not leaving without a dance with my favorite partner.” The music was lively, and Agnes dragged him onto the dance floor while Grace danced with one of the other men at the table.
As the evening wore on, Jared noticed Grace danced almost every dance and drank more than her share of liquor. His friends at the table seemed determined to keep her glass full. He checked on her several times during the night. In spite of all that had transpired during the last week, she seemed able to put aside her worries and thoroughly enjoy herself.
He heard her explain to several of his friends that she lived in Chicago but was visiting in New York with her aunt for two weeks. No one questioned her further. No one seemed interested in really getting to know her, except Agnes, of course, and good manners would not allow her to pry.
At one point in the evening, Grace murmured to him, “Shouldn’t you be more congenial, pleasant...mingle, you know?”
He bent to nibble on her earlobe. “No one expects me to do anything other than what I damn well please. One of the benefits of being known as a scoundrel.” He cupped her face and ran a thumb over her bottom lip. “I intend to stay close by.”
Finally, Will sobered up enough to walk. Jared noticed his two friends dealt with the incident in the pattern they had set long ago. Agnes ignored Will’s behavior, guiding him toward the door at the end of the evening. She stopped long enough to invite Grace and him to a party the next evening at the Dussalt Estate on Long Island. Agnes begged them to come. “Please join us. It will be the last fling of the year before the cold sets in.”
Jared knew the Dussalt family and probably had an invitation sitting in the pile of mail he hadn’t bothered to open yet. He agreed to meet Will and Agnes the next evening and bring Grace.
The women hugged, and Agnes took Will by the hand, leaving just as the band began to play “Goodnight, Irene,” the traditional last song.
“We haven’t danced, Grace. Would you like to now?” Jared asked, holding out his hand.
As she placed her hand in his, he noticed how small and delicate it was compared to his own. Even in that she seemed vulnerable. He took her in his arms, placing his right hand on her bare back. Her smooth skin was cool and soft. He pulled her closer, feeling the firm roundness of her breasts against his chest. She laid her head against his cheek, leaning into him, cuddling and sighing. He realized he’d not paid close enough attention to the amount of alcohol she had consumed. His friends had been quick to fill her glass, even though he’d tried to keep them at bay.
“Are you all right, Grace?”
“Uh-huh,” she murmured softly and wrapped both arms around his neck as she leaned into him and swayed to the music. Several older women noticed the intimate position and raised their eyebrows. A few men smiled his way.
“Grace, we should go now,” Jared said, grinning, but she murmured an indistinct reply and only snuggled closer.
Amused by her lack of polite decorum, Jared finished the dance in that scandalous position, Grace’s arms wound around his neck, her eyes closed and a contented smile on her face.
He didn’t quite know what to do with her now. She wasn’t sloppy drunk but rather contentedly so, compliant and affectionate.
And he was stone cold sober.
“Let me help you with your wrap, love,” he said nibbling on her ear as he slipped the capuchin over her shoulders.
Turning, she tilted her head up to him and slipped both arms around his waist. Her eyes
were half-closed, the corners of her mouth turned up in a silly little smile. Then she sighed. It was his Waterloo.
He bent his head and kissed her mouth softly, then her eyelids, her forehead, and temples, his attraction chipping away at his self-control. He found himself wanting to bestow his kisses everywhere, on every inch of her sweet body; she felt so good pressed against him.
“Get a room,” a stranger chuckled, passing by.
Jared fingered the key in his pocket.
“Come with me, sweetheart,” he said taking her hand and leading her to an elevator, where he pressed the number six after a glance at the gold key.
Chapter Twenty-Five
With Grace’s head resting on his shoulder, they arrived at Room 647. She blinked several times, trying to focus on the gold numbers on the door as Jared turned the key in the lock. He pushed the heavy door open with one arm and stood aside, guiding her into the room with his hand on the small of her back.
When she hesitated a few steps inside the room, Jared closed the door quietly and stood behind her, waiting, holding himself in check, giving her time to make up her mind. It seemed to him in those few moments an eternity flew by.
She finally turned and held out her hand, a feminine sign of affirmation. He took two determined steps toward her and crushed her lips with his own, pulling her lower body to his growing erection, one hand sliding into the low-backed dress.
His control was gone. His resolve was gone. All that remained was a burning desire to be buried deep within her.
His hand caressed her velvety bottom, deliriously pleased to find the absence of panties. Of any underwear at all. The thought of her delicious body naked under the silver gown, except for perhaps the garters and silk stockings, undid the last vestiges of his reserve.
He pulled her roughly against him, ravishing her mouth, pulling the aigrette and pins from her hair, tangling and twisting his fingers through the thick, dark locks.
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