His eyes narrowed and his lips touched hers while he spoke, “Oh, I can accommodate you, sweetheart. Don’t worry. That’ll happen. You can’t stop me now.”
* * * * *
Maggie put the finishing touches on her makeup and hair. She felt a little immoral in the dress but knew she looked great. She had grave doubts about what she was going to do tonight. After all, she’ll all but promised Scott she’d sleep with him. Her hands shook with nerves and her heart raced. The knock on the door didn’t help any. She put the last pat of face powder on her nose and went to open the door. “Hello.”
Scott’s mouth dropped open. She was sure he meant to say something but his mouth opened and closed with no sound coming out. Maggie watched him take a swallow as if to clear his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his strong throat.
“Like the dress?” Maggie twirled for Scott and before she’d finished she was swept up into a crushing hug.
“You look delicious, magnificent, stunning and sexy,” he growled in her ear. “Dinner’s going to be torture.”
Laughing with relief she threw her arms around Scott and kissed him. Her breasts swelled and her nipples tightened. Maggie felt a weakness between her legs and was glad Scott held her in his powerful arms. She thrust her tongue into his mouth. They both groaned. His taste, his flavor, the way he smelled, musky but sweet, all combined to have the blood roaring in her ears. Maggie molded her body to Scott’s and tightened her arms around his neck.
When the kiss ended they were both panting.
Scott pulled back and stared at Maggie. “We’d better get going or we’ll never leave here.”
Maggie picked up her silver wrap and purse. She linked her hand in Scott’s and they left the trailer. Scott walked her to a car parked nearby. “Where’d you get this car?”
“Like it?” Scott beamed with pride at the vehicle.
“Like it? It’s a Rolls-Royce!” Maggie turned to Scott. “Where’d you get this car?” she repeated.
“Sid Goodman loaned it to me. Said he wanted me to take you out in style.” Scott patted the car’s hood fondly. “This is some baby. A brand new 1925 Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost Maythorn. If you didn’t look so delicious, sweetheart, I’d be making out with this machine.” Scott laughed at his joke.
Maggie knew he was strange but that comment confused her. “What? What do you mean by making out?”
Scott threw back his head and laughed. “It’s just a saying from my time. I wouldn’t really make love to a car.” Maggie gasped when she got the meaning, then laughed. “Come on, get in. We’ve got reservations for seven and it’s six forty-five now.”
The plush interior gave off a wonderful new car smell. Maggie ran her hands over the buttery black leather and real wood trim marveling at the smoothness and richness of the car. She’d never been in one this incredible before.
“God, this baby is a dream to drive. I can feel the power under her hood, her steering is so tight. I hope I don’t scrape anything when I park her. I’m not used to cars this size. They’re very different in my time. Come here,” Scott demanded.
Maggie scooted next to him and they sat shoulder to shoulder. The light pressure was reassuring yet sensual. Must be her heightened senses. Maggie’s blood felt warm and liquid as it raced through her body. Every touch, shift, scent and sound raised her awareness of Scott and she felt surrounded by a magical bubble.
Scott turned into the Ambassador Hotel on Wilshire Boulevard and parked the Rolls for the valet. “Here we go.” He helped her out and pulled her arm through his.
They entered the lobby and Maggie gasped. The Mediterranean-style tile floors, Italian stone fireplaces and tropical courtyard were beautiful. Maggie and Scott walked past patrons dressed to the nines in formalwear. Maggie felt like a princess.
They stopped at the door to The Coconut Grove where Scott said to the host, “We have a reservation for seven o’clock. The name’s Forrester.”
The man glanced at Scott and Maggie then did a double take. He ran his finger down the names in his register nodded his head and said, “Right this way, sir. Welcome to The Coconut Grove, Miss Ingram, Mr. Forrester.”
Maggie started. The man knew her name! It must be from yesterday’s picture. They were ushered to a table in the center of the room. The maître d’ pulled out her chair and Maggie sat down.
As she glanced around the beautiful, glittering room she saw Joan Crawford, Loretta Young and Carole Lombard sitting at tables nearby. A young man named Bing Crosby sang a catchy tune. “Look, Scott. There’s Rudy Valentino. The newspapers say that the artificial palm trees that decorate this restaurant are from his movie, The Sheik. This is so exciting! Thank you for bringing me here.”
“You’re welcome.” Scott perused the menu. The prices were cheap compared to what he was used to. When the waiter came he ordered the filet mignon for two and almost laughed out loud. The price totaled five dollars. He would have ordered champagne to celebrate but the only thing on the menu was Martinelli’s cider.
They both stared at the beautiful surroundings. Scott reached for Maggie’s hand. “Would you like to dance?”
“I’d love to.”
They danced to “That Certain Feeling” by George Gershwin. Scott held her close and nuzzled her neck. As they twirled and swayed they saw other celebrities at nearby tables. Howard Hughes, Jean Harlow and John Barrymore graced the restaurant’s sparkling tables. It was a magical evening and Maggie knew she’d never forget it.
Scott couldn’t believe what he saw. The celebrities of the day all gathered at The Coconut Grove. He’d read so much about each one and here they sat or danced. He was particularly interested in Howard Hughes. The man was young, vibrant, healthy, and wore the formal black tux very well. Glittering women hung off his arm, sparkling cider flowed from glasses he passed around his table. Trills of laughter floated on the air.
1925 Hollywood. Wow. He remembered seeing a blurb on Turner Classic Movies that Judy Garland sang at The Coconut Grove and it launched her career. He wished he had a camera to document everything.
Wait. He did. He’d brought his BlackBerry with him, too afraid to leave it in his trailer for some reason. He’d put the phone on vibrate in case his sister-in-law Shauna, called. He didn’t know if it would work, but the last thing he needed was to get a call in the middle of The Coconut Grove. Scott decided he’d take a stroll to the men’s room, then come back and take pictures from a distance.
The song ended and he and Maggie walked to their table. Patrons smiled and nodded their heads. Some men stared with curiosity at them, a few women raised their noses in the air and turned away. “I guess the picture in the newspaper made the rounds. The men are interested and so are the women, but they pretend to be snobs.” He laughed a little. Nothing had changed from his time.
“It makes me uncomfortable,” Maggie said. “Some of these very women who are snubbing me have had terrible things printed about them in the newspaper. Why, Walter Winchell talks about them every day on his radio show. You think they’d feel some sympathy for us.”
“Ignore them, sweetheart. Let’s just concentrate on having a great time.”
They sat down and the formally dressed waiter brought them their tender filet mignons, baked potatoes with sour cream and chives and steamed vegetables covered in real butter. After finishing the delectable dishes Scott asked Maggie to dance again.
They danced to the song, “I Wonder Where My Baby Is To-night?” by Henry Burr and Billy Murray. Then the song changed to, “Yes, Sir. That’s My Baby” by Irving Kaufman. They were dancing to an Irving Berlin love song, “Remember”, when there was a tap on Scott’s shoulder. He saw the look of astonishment on Maggie’s face and stepped away.
Carey Chambers stood there resplendent in a formal white-coated tux with tails and bow tie. “May I interrupt and dance with this lovely lady?” He bowed and kissed Maggie’s hand.
Scott wanted to say “No!” but he didn’t. Too many people were watching the i
nterplay between the three of them. After all, Scott was the second lead in a Carey Chambers’ movie and the picture in yesterday’s Los Angeles Times told the world that the lovely Maggie Ingram had fallen for an unknown man, not the wildly famous Chambers. “Have at it.”
Scott sat at the table and stared at the two as they danced. Chambers looked handsome in his elegant tuxedo. Scott fingered the cuff of his sleeve, happy with the quick purchase of his tux yesterday. But he knew that the quality of his clothes paled in comparison to Chambers’. He’d also purchased a few pairs of pants, some shirts and underwear since he had no idea how long he’d be staying in 1925. He turned the wide-mouth champagne glass in his hand, refilled it with more sparkling cider and drank the contents as he watched Maggie in Chambers’ arms.
Why had Chambers shown up here? Did he know that he and Maggie would be here? Probably not. After all, it’s New Year’s Eve and all of Hollywood is celebrating at the hot spot of the day. Scott looked around the room and saw many eyes on him. He forced a smile and refilled the glass again. The flash of a picture being snapped caught his attention. The photographer had just taken a picture of Maggie and Carey Chambers in a very tight embrace. It looked like the actor was just about to kiss Maggie.
Scott had had enough. Chambers held Maggie too close and Maggie looked like she was having the time of her life. He strolled over past Howard Hughes who gave him a nod and raised his glass to the air. He tapped Chambers on his left shoulder. “My turn, buddy. Let go of my girl.” Scott had whispered the words directly into Chambers’ ear and knew that Maggie hadn’t heard him.
Chambers looked startled at Scott’s rough words, but covered his shock and bowed out gracefully. Scott pulled Maggie into his arms and held her much too close.
A photographer came up and snapped a picture. “This’ll be front page. First Chambers, then you. Hey, buddy! What’s your name for the caption?”
“Forrester. Scott Forrester. F-O-R-R-E-S-T-E-R,” he spelled for the man. “Make sure you print it in big letters for all to see.” A red haze of anger and jealousy raged through Scott. He’d never had a reaction like that before. He knew he was behaving badly and couldn’t stop himself.
“Scott,” Maggie whispered in a horrified voice. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Chambers is wrong with me,” he growled. “He’s trying to horn in on my date with you, Maggie. That just isn’t done where I come from.”
“It was only one dance,” Maggie soothed.
“The man was making love to you on the dance floor, right in front of every top Hollywood celeb. I didn’t like it.”
Maggie’s shocked gasp caused other dancers to turn their heads. “I think you need to cool off,” she whispered. “Why don’t you take a trip to the bathroom and calm down.” Maggie pulled away from Scott’s arms, forced a smile for the people watching them and said over her shoulder, “I’ll do the same. That will give you time to reflect on your insulting words.”
Chapter Nine
Scott didn’t need to reflect on his words. He needed to reflect on his feelings. Seeing Maggie with Chambers brought out the worst in him and he didn’t like it. His Aunt Evelyn had brought him up to respect other people and be kind. He hadn’t been kind just now. So what if Chambers wanted to dance with Maggie? Scott felt pretty sure that he and Maggie felt the same way about each other. One dance shouldn’t worry him.
He dried his hands on the towel and turned to leave the restroom when John Barrymore came through the door. God, the man was right there. He desperately wanted a picture but couldn’t take out his BlackBerry.
“So, you’re the new kid working with Carey Chambers,” Barrymore said in a deep voice. He stuck out his hand. “John Barrymore. Nice to meet you.”
Scott shook his hand. “Scott Forrester, and it’s nice to meet you, sir.” Barrymore had a very firm grip.
“Better keep that girl of yours away from Chambers. You turn a blind eye and she’ll be gone.” Barrymore studied Scott for a minute. “You could give Chambers a run for his money, though. I bet the man hates you.” He laughed at some inside joke.
“Your legend lives on, Mr. Barrymore. You’re highly regarded where I come from, sir.” Scott couldn’t believe he was talking to “the” John Barrymore. But he couldn’t believe that Howard Hughes was in the dining room and Bing Crosby was singing for them either. They were all so young. He mentally shook his head and ordered himself back to his present reality.
“Legend, eh?” Barrymore cocked an eyebrow at Scott’s comment as he combed his hair. He pulled the cuffs of his sleeves down, flicked at an invisible piece of lint and said, “Well, time to get back to the party. Nice meeting you, Forrester. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around town.”
“A pleasure, sir.” Scott watched the actor leave and wondered if he’d ever see him again, let alone around town. He left the bathroom just in time to see Judy Garland round a corner. Scott grabbed for his BlackBerry. He glanced around the room. No one was watching him so he snapped a couple of pictures hoping the phone worked and he’d have proof of being in 1925. When Carole Lombard and Loretta Young strolled by hand in hand Scott stood behind a tropical plant and took their picture too. He was lining up the shot to capture Gloria Swanson when Maggie startled him.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Shh. I’m taking a picture of Gloria Swanson. I don’t want her to hear us.”
“With that phone thing of yours?” Maggie looked shocked. She had taken a step away from Scott. Obviously the BlackBerry frightened her.
“Maggie, sweetheart,” he whispered. “These people are Hollywood icons in my time. Everything they do now will follow them into the future and all movies will be judged by theirs.” He snapped two shots of Swanson, one where she was pushing a strand of her hair back into place and holding a cigarette in a long holder in her other hand. Scott knew that Mike and Shauna would love these pictures.
He turned to take a shot of Bing Crosby when Maggie said in a harsh whisper, “Put that thing away. You’ve already drawn enough attention to us, what will people think if they see that?”
Scott looked around the lobby. No one watched them. “Just one more picture. Look, here comes Jean Harlow.” Scott pointed the BlackBerry at Harlow.
Snap.
“Gotcha!” a photographer said. “Say, what’s that gadget you got in your hands?”
Scott stuffed the BlackBerry in his pocket. “Oh…it’s nothing. Just a box.” He paused dramatically, glanced at Maggie who had her hand over her open mouth in astonishment and said, “Got some pretty baubles in here for my lady.”
The photographer guffawed, “Can’t wait to put that in the caption.”
Distracted, Scott said, “You do that.”
The man walked away with a smile on his face but Maggie rounded on him. “What kind of romantic evening has this turned out to be? I thought we would have a lovely time and here you’re sneaking around artificial palm trees to take pictures with that…that thing. Why did you bring it tonight anyway?”
Scott pulled Maggie into a hug. He kissed her lightly on the lips and rubbed his hands up and down her back as he said, “It didn’t feel safe to leave it in my trailer for some reason. I’m sorry, sweetheart, let’s go and spend the rest of the night together,” he lowered his voice, “alone.”
Maggie hesitated. It would work to her advantage if everyone saw them leave. “Let me get my wrap.”
They went to the coat check girl and retrieved Maggie’s silver shawl. With one long glance back at the glittering A-list crowd inside the famous Coconut Grove restaurant, Scott sighed, put his arms around the stunning woman he loved and walked out of the most famous restaurant in Hollywood history.
* * * * *
The next morning the newspaper showed four pictures. One of Scott and Maggie dancing. The caption read, “Our Mystery Man Revealed! Scott Forrester has won the heart of socialite Maggie Ingram!” One showed Carey Chambers and Maggie dancing. That caption read, “Wait! H
as Miss Ingram fallen for matinee idol Carey Chambers? They look pretty cozy here dancing at The Coconut Grove.” The one that showed Scott tapping Chambers on the shoulder said, “We thought there’d be a fight between the two leading men over the stunning Miss Ingram.”
But it was the picture of Scott taking the picture of Jean Harlow that had the biggest caption. It said, “Why is new star Scott Forrester holding a box to his eyes?”
Well, if all those pictures didn’t infuriate her father, nothing would, Maggie thought. She lay back on her sofa and smiled at the picture of her dancing with Scott. Then she frowned at the picture of Scott taking a picture of Jean Harlow with his strange phone. A phone and a camera? What will they think of next? She’d been so upset with Scott last night that when they’d arrived back at their trailers she had kissed him goodbye, wished him Happy New Year and disappeared behind the closed door. She knew Scott was disappointed, but she’d told him how upset she had been at his rudeness to Carey Chambers. The evening had not ended the way Maggie had wanted either, but she felt a sense of relief that she hadn’t given in to Scott’s powerful attraction and her own weakness where he was concerned. At least her anger from last night had drained away.
Also, Maggie had begun to believe Scott. Too many things pointed to his telling the truth. Like the black hand phone. Where else would it come from? How could she have heard voices through it? Only time would tell, but a skittering feeling shot through Maggie at the thought that Scott came from the future.
Maggie sighed. Life was so confusing right now. She stared at the pictures in the paper again. By now her father should have seen the first one, which had been on the front page a week ago. Maggie knew her father’s face would turn purple with rage. Good. If that first picture didn’t do it then these pictures would. The one with her dancing with Scott showed too much cleavage, the one with Carey showed that he held her too close to him and the last one with Scott tapping Chambers on the shoulder show the anger in Scott’s face.
No Silent Christmas Page 12