“I wanted to see the Barbary Coast, all right?”
He made a sound that was a cross between anger and exasperation.
“To be precise,” she said, “I believe I ended up in the red light district.”
He looked at her as though she had lost her wits entirely. “Do you know that women have gone missing from that area? Don’t you read the papers? Kidnapped for the purpose of enforced prostitution.”
“For your information, I was approached with such a proposition and, as you can see, I made it out alive.” She spread her hands and caught sight of her bandages again, promptly bursting in to tears. Suddenly, all the fear she’d felt the night before rose up and choked her throat. She was so lucky to be lying in a clean hospital bed with Riley by her side. She could be held captive in . . . in the virgin room. All the horridness came flooding back, but now Riley was putting his arms around her.
He gave her the briefest of consoling hugs, then pulled back to look at her, his gaze hard and direct, while she used the bedsheet to wipe her tears.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Sophie. What you did last night is about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of. I think you realize that now, and will never, ever go there again. Am I correct?”
She didn’t appreciate the tone of his voice. She was not a child. “I ought to be able to walk around this city, like anyone else,” she said mulishly. “That man with the gold tooth—”
“Gold tooth! Damnation, Sophie. You’re talking about Carlos Perez Alonso.”
“And how would you know?” She had a disturbing image of him lying back on the brothel table with one of the red-jacketed women draped over him, long legs in black stockings wrapped around his lean hips.
“He’s as infamous as his Dew Drop Inn.”
“Have you ever been there?”
His eyebrows shot up and he looked like thunder. “That’s beside the point. Do you realize you could have disappeared, never to be seen again?”
She did, in fact, have that realization, and it scared her to death, but she wasn’t letting Riley know it. “Carling wouldn’t let that happen.”
He swore again and ran a hand over his eyes. She thought it was shaking slightly.
“Riley, I know now that I shouldn’t have gone to the Barbary Coast, and I won’t go again.”
He looked at her with a level gaze.
“At least, not without a male escort,” she added truthfully.
He flushed red, apparently angry once more. “What? No, you ridiculous woman. You will never go there again. Ever!”
“I only wanted to . . . to hear the music you’d mentioned.” She tried a winning smile, but he didn’t thaw. “And I wanted to experience a bit of the excitement.”
His nostrils flared a moment and she watched his jaw working, until at last, he asked, “And did you?”
“I heard some dreadful music actually, and then . . .” she trailed off, thinking of her “bit of excitement.”
Riley brushed the wayward hair from her forehead. She wanted to turn her cheek against his palm, wishing that especially here, under these circumstances, his touch didn’t affect her. She dragged her thoughts together into something cohesive.
“I guess my purse is gone.” What had been in it? Some cash, but not a lot, enough for a meal and cable car fare, and her favorite ivory comb.
He shook his head. “You didn’t have it when you arrived. Sophie, will you tell me what happened?”
She pursed her lips, feeling torn. “It will most likely make you angry again.”
“Most likely,” he agreed. But this time he gave her a wry smile.
“I wasn’t trying to go into the Dew Drop Inn. We’d gone into some dance hall.” She watched him roll his eyes. “And then into a gambling den, where a man, . . . well, never mind that.” His jaw tightened once more. “Then I was pulled into that horrible Dew Drop by Gold-Tooth . . . I mean, Carlos whatshisname, and held against my will while he—”
“While he what?” If ever a man looked like he was going to explode, it was Riley. She swallowed.
“While he offered me a job,” she mumbled, mortified.
“Offered you a . . . I’ll fucking kill him.” His voice was too loud and his eyes were blazing.
“Riley!” She was shocked beyond measure, not only by his language, which was certainly not fitting a physician in a hospital, but also by the vehemence of his words. “You’ll do no such thing. Not on my account.”
She pictured the two large men who guarded the gates of that particular hell. She’d better bring Riley back around to medical matters before he decided to bring out his six shooter.
“When can I leave?” She fluttered her eyelashes, trying to distract him. He didn’t answer at first, but slowly, he uncurled his fists.
“I know what you’re doing,” he ground out, “so you can stop with the eyes. Do you have any idea how dangerous—? I mean, of all the ludicrous, outrageous ideas—” He didn’t seem able to finish a sentence, looking as though he could throttle her at any moment.
“When will I be discharged?” Sophie tried again, desperately wanting to move beyond her serious breach of good judgment. Thank goodness she hadn’t mentioned the wine, or Riley would be demanding she become a teetotaler.
She could see he was trying to regain his composure by the way he closed his eyes and sighed. At last, he looked at her.
“The ward doctor will come in and check you over. Head injuries are considered serious stuff around here. I would think, though, that tomorrow, or at the very latest, the next day, you can be released.” He paused, then asked, “Do you live alone?”
She stared hard at him, until he amended, “I mean, no roommate, such as Miss Rilkers?”
“No.”
“Hm.” He looked worried.
“I’ll be fine. Next thing you’ll do is demand I bring Sarah to San Francisco to cook for me.”
At last, he nodded. “That’s not a bad idea.”
She made a face at him. “No. She already thinks . . .,” she trailed off.
“Thinks what?”
Her cheeks flushed scarlet, remembering the look on Sarah’s face when she caught them kissing. “Nothing. I just can’t imagine she’s thinking too well of me at the moment.”
“You’re wrong, but no matter.” He frowned. “I’ll look after you.”
She sighed with exasperation. “Yes, Riley, why don’t you move in to my little set of rooms and wait on me hand and foot. I’m sure that will be utterly acceptable to Eliza.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “You could go back to Spring City or to Boston, until your hand heals.”
He would probably be married by the time she got back. “Maybe. I think I’ll wait and talk to Carling.”
“She’s here somewhere. I’ll go find her.” He hesitated. “Shall I send word to your family? Your brother, perhaps, and Charlotte?”
“God no!” Reed would be on the next train and he’d take her home whether she willed it or not. “I mean, I’ll send them a telegram when I’m out of the hospital. I think I need to rest now,” Sophie said, dismissing Riley because she felt close to tears again at the thought of her hand. She had lost her livelihood and her joy, and her respite from the world, all in one fell swoop. Not to mention her purse.
He was looking at her so intently, she closed her eyes, but as she did, the first tear rolled down her cheek.
“Sophie,” he murmured, “please don’t cry.” She felt his lips brush against her forehead. He smelled so good, like fresh vanilla, and she wished he could lie down next to her and hold her. “Your fingers will heal quickly. I promise you.”
Her eyes popped open to see him still leaning over her, as he stroked her tussled hair. “Can you truly promise me that?”
“Yes,” Riley said, and the way his eyes bore into hers, she decided to believe him. “I had better let you sleep now.” But his gaze had moved down to her lips.
She couldn’t speak as she watched him lower his head. Unable to stop h
erself, she curled her good arm around his neck and waited for him to kiss her.
“Well, hello,” came Carling’s delighted voice.
*****
He’d nearly kissed her. Smack in the middle of the women’s ward, with two nurses and a host of patients and the possibility of an attending physician walking in at any minute, and he’d nearly kissed her.
He took the steps in the stairwell two at a time until he was outside in the fresh air. Damn! What was wrong with him? He had never acted unprofessionally before. But his head had been swimming ever since he’d walked into The Palace and seen her. Like a miracle! He’d told himself it couldn’t possibly be Sophie Malloy, but there she was. Then and there, he’d had to reengage in the monumental battle with himself to keep his hands off of her, to keep away from her entirely.
Then to see her in that hospital bed, pale and unconscious, with her precious hand injured—he saw a haze of red just thinking about it, feeling shaken by deep down tremors of possessiveness and rage. He clenched his fists again. Thank the good Lord she hadn’t been hurt worse, but at least he had a way to vent his anger—all over Carlos Alonso’s face.
He headed for the cable car stop outside the hospital. To find Sophie against all odds in San Francisco and then to have her snatched away again by the likes of Alonso would have sent him insane, he was sure of it, even if she could never be his. As it was, it was going to be excruciating to leave her behind when he graduated and left the city. How was he going to do it? He wasn’t sure he was strong enough. However, for Eliza’s sake and for Sophie’s, when the time came, Heaven help him, he hoped he was.
Chapter Eleven
“You should be staying with me,” Carling said, bringing Sophie over her evening meal for the third night in a row.
“No, I’m all right. Except for taking forever to dress, I can do almost everything myself,” Sophie assured her. “I just wish I had something to do all day. I miss my career, such as it was.”
“I can’t say the same,” Carling said and laughed. “Though Egbert would miss me, I think.” She winked. “He’s all worried about us living alone here after what happened to you.”
Sophie didn’t want to admit to Carling that she felt the same way as Egbert. She jumped at every noise now and definitely didn’t want to go out at night. She was even worried for Carling walking home two blocks.
“I’ve been on Russian Hill two years now,” Carling said, hand on hip. “If some bloke comes near me, I’ll clobber him.”
Sophie had no doubt Carling meant it, too, and she had to remind herself that it was her own foolhardy idea to venture to the Barbary Coast.
“So besides me, any other visitors?” Carling asked, cleaning up the dishes.
Sophie blushed. She knew what her friend meant. Carling had been teasing her mercilessly since coming upon her and Riley in the hospital, and interrupting what surely would have been a kiss.
“No one. Though Freddie Vern sent me a note yesterday with some flowers and said he’d stop by this evening. In all likelihood, he means to sack me in person.”
“He wouldn’t. He’s never had such a busy bar.”
“Pshaw,” Sophie said. “People go for a drink, don’t they, not for the music?”
“Well, not any music. I’m sure Mr. Vern—”
As if conjuring him, there was a knock on the door. They looked at each other, eyes large until, with relief, Carling ushered in Freddie.
“We were just talking about you,” Carling offered, making Freddie redden.
“Oh, yes?” He eyed Sophie. “You don’t look as bad as I expected.”
Sophie smiled. “What did you imagine? That I’d be bandaged from head to foot?” Then she held up her hand. “Isn’t this enough?”
He sobered. “Yes, it’s more than enough.” He looked at Carling then back at Sophie. “I’m simply going to say this, even in front of your friend. I don’t like the idea of your living alone here. I’d like to offer you a room at The Grand.”
Sophie saw Carling’s jaw drop, mirroring her own.
“I don’t understand,” Sophie said.
“Gratis, complimentary, free,” Freddie said, coming forward and taking a seat. “The Grand has some rooms that hardly ever get rented out. They’re smaller, at the back side of the building, on the third floor. You can have one for free.”
“Until my hand is better?” Sophie asked.
“No, even after, until . . . until you don’t need it anymore.”
“Get on with you,” Carling said, leaning her chin on her hand. “Living at The Grand! What about me, then?”
“What about you?” Freddie shot her a smile. “Are you my star piano player?”
“No, but I’m currently her best friend.”
He cocked his head. “Sorry, sweets. You’ll have to ask someone at The Palace for a room.”
Carling made a face. “Phooey, they’re not giving rooms away for free; I can tell you that. Not by half.”
Sophie had stayed silent. Did she want to live at The Grand? She had learned that Riley lived near the hospital, on Mission Street. She would be closer, but she brushed that thought away. Obviously, when he married Eliza, it wouldn’t matter how close she lived.
“Let me think about it, Freddie, will you? I’m not sure. And I hate to leave Carling on the hill by herself.”
Freddie shrugged. “I wish I could offer you both something, but I can’t and the rooms are too small for two beds. You can’t swing a cat in there.”
“The Palace doesn’t have any small rooms. Only big ones and bigger ones,” Carling said dreamily. “Still, it’s rather luxurious, I think, hotel living, even if it’s a small room at The Grand.”
“I’m grateful, Freddie. I truly am. Just let me consider.” Sophie frowned. “How are you managing at the bar?” She had to ask.
“My cousin is filling in.”
A male pianist. What if he was more respected? What if he played better than she did?
“Don’t worry,” Freddie added, seeing her concern. “He knows two songs and they’re maudlin at best.”
“Ooh, that’ll drive customers away,” Carling said. She looked at Sophie and winked. “Maybe you better ask for a raise when you get back.”
What if she couldn’t go back?
“Hey, what’s that look for?” Carling asked.
Sophie bit her lip. “What if my fingers don’t work correctly again? I mean, I need to spread this wide,” she said, holding up her other hand for them to see, “to reach across an octave.”
“Your Riley said you’d be fine, didn’t he?”
My Riley. Eliza’s Riley.
“Your Riley?” asked Freddie, eyes narrowing. “Who’s that?”
“She means the doctor,” Sophie put in. She knew that men could be strange and competitive, for no reason at all. And she didn’t want Freddie to withdraw his offer before she even had a chance to accept it. “How long will you hold my position?”
“Don’t worry about that, sweets. Just get better. And let me know if you want the room. Remember, it’s tiny, but you won’t have to worry about rent while you can’t work.” Freddie got up and went to the door. “Righty-o. I won’t keep you ladies.”
“Freddie,” Sophie interrupted him, “would you please escort Carling home? It’s only a street away.”
Carling started to protest, but Sophie interrupted, “Dearest, I would feel so much better knowing you were home safely. Anyway, I’m going to eat this lovely meal you’ve made me and then go straight to sleep.”
Carling frowned.
“I’m happy to do it,” Freddie offered.
“Please,” Sophie said, “I don’t want to worry about you.”
“All right. If you insist. I’ll let this handsome gentleman escort me home.”
“Better not tell Egbert,” Sophie teased.
“Oh, tell me all about Egbert,” Freddie said as he closed the door behind them, leaving Sophie alone.
She sat with her thoughts a
nd ate a little, feeling beyond distracted. She hadn’t yet told her family about “the little incident,” as she’d come to think of it. She didn’t want to upset her mother or Reed. Besides, the man who took her purse probably needed the money more than she did, and she should count herself lucky that she didn’t have to share the fate of the red-jacketed women who worked for Gold-Tooth.
Besides, she could always go home and live in the lap of luxury if all else failed, but she didn’t want to fail. She wanted to be successful. She wanted to play piano and make people happy simply by hearing her.
Sighing, Sophie pushed her plate away, standing up, wishing it were a few hours earlier and light out so she could go for a long walk.
“Blast it,” she swore aloud. She had never felt fearful before and she was sure this feeling would pass, but her bandage was a reminder of how everything could change in an instant. She might as well go to bed and read, though without Carling, it would take her ages to get out of her—
Another knock. She froze, then relaxed. Stop being ridiculous! A criminal wouldn’t knock.
Still, she lifted the curtain and peered cautiously out the window onto the step. Riley!
Her heart started hammering.
He knocked again. She took a deep breath and opened the door, thinking he might be more dangerous than a criminal.
His eyes seemed to take all of her in with one sweeping glance before fixing on her own dark blue gaze. “Sophie, good evening. I was . . .,” he stopped short. “I was going to say that I was in the area, but I can’t lie to you. You are the one person with whom I feel compelled to be utterly stripped, so to speak.”
“That’s quite a greeting,” she said. Never mind that he was already five kinds of inappropriate.
“May I come in?” He held up his doctor’s bag. “Official medical visit.”
“Then I guess you may,” Sophie said, stepping aside to let him in. When she turned, she realized two things in short order: One, that he filled the room. This wasn’t like Charlotte’s homestead where she could run down the hall to the kitchen to try to gain a little distance from her involuntary attraction. This was a small apartment and Riley Dalcourt was not a small man. And two, he had the remnants of a split lip and a black eye.
An Irresistible Temptation Page 10