The once chilly air whipped about him in hot flashes, and their stares intensified. She didn’t look away once, and he didn’t either—not that he ever looked away from anyone. His tongue flicked over his bottom lip, as he decided what to say next. But before he could, she took a sharp step back, holding on to the top of her dress for dear life.
Stumbling backwards, she shot out her arms and reached for him. Dark hair fanned out as it came loose from the Victorian bun at the nape of her neck and landed over her shoulders.
He gasped, extending his hands to catch her body.
She grabbed his arm, pulling at him to regain balance and just as quickly released him. The button on her dress had popped off at the worst moment.
He leaned over to catch it before it rolled into oblivion and was lost forever.
She had the same idea as their hands collided. Flesh on flesh.
His nerve endings sprung to life with her touch. Their gazes met again, and something changed. The air he breathed changed. Highly charged, it electrocuted his senses. Damn if her dewy eyes and cascading ebony hair didn’t give her Pre-Raphaelite goddess status. She was an angel dropped to earth from the big Man Himself.
Modestly, her small hands stretched over her to hide her freed breasts the best they could—her hands were much too small.
His breath caught at the sight of her milky white cleavage. She was even more beautiful than he had first thought.
Her lips parted, and moments later her warm breath tickled his cheek. Her mouth was inches from his.
His first inclination was to kiss her. It was hard to not kiss her. It was hard not to caress the exposed skin, put his mouth on it. In the midst of her vulnerability, he wondered how beautiful she would look succumbing to his touch, his kiss, his… At that moment, he wasn’t her boss—not with those thoughts.
“Oh dear,” Norma said, her squeaky voice reduced to a low mumble. She completely came undone.
Keeping his lips together was a challenge. His grin fought him hard, but he won, of course. What really astounded him was, for once, Miss Hill didn’t have a witty remark. She could barely look him in the eye—and he very much wanted her to look him in the eye.
“Let me help you,” he said with a steady voice, though his hands shook. Before standing to his full height, he scooped the flattened button from the cold tiled floor. In those moments, the air thinned between them, and he felt something slipping away. Like someone putting a bite of steak to his lips and then yanking it away before he could savor the taste.
Her gaze shifted as if she was looking for the nearest exit, and she turned away from him. “I’m fine.” The words tossed over the shoulder. She didn’t look back, even though he willed her to.
He reached for her fleeting body—desperate for her touch again. “Norma…”
She turned around and looked up to him. She didn’t speak, though the turmoil within her dilating pupils spoke volumes. Did she want to kiss him? Her gaze fell to the floor and then back up again. Electricity lit up her eyes. Her bottom lip curled in, and her teeth raked against the soft flesh.
Clenching deep in his belly at the sight, he wanted to draw that lip in his mouth and do things to it. When he saw her pink tongue peek over her teeth, it nearly pushed him to do something a boss shouldn’t do.
“Th-thank you.” She snatched the button from his hands and sped away, grabbing her coat on the way out.
What the hell?
Her body dashed across the room and evaporated into the grand hall to the elevator bank. Containing the stiffness in his trousers, along with tempering his rampant breathing, was a massive effort.
He raked a hand through his hair. What was she doing to him? All the things he wanted to do to her right there on the press room floor played out in his weakened mind—touch her, run his hands up her skirt, kiss her parted lips until she was panting for more. He groaned to think about it. Only one explanation. This tiny woman would cause him trouble.
“Get yourself together, Chapel,” he said aloud, trying to regain his composure—it took longer than usual.
****
Norma rushed into the elevator car and repeatedly pressed the button until the wood-paneled, art deco doors closed, and she was alone in the small space. She exhaled and tried desperately to regulate her breathing. What had transpired with Mr. Chapel made her border on hyperventilation, and it bothered her to no end that he had seen her so vulnerable. She hated not having the upper hand, and she especially hated how easily her body was drawn to his.
Every part of her had been magnetically attracted to him ever since he had walked into the Daily and turned everyone’s world upside down. But she had almost kissed him. And she knew he knew it. His so-sexy-it-should-be-illegal eyes pried into her mind again. In those remembrances, something dawned on her.
Did he want to kiss me too?
When her normal breathing resumed, she wrapped the wool coat around her shoulders, hiding her wardrobe malfunction. Perhaps she should care more about getting properly fitted clothing and stop borrowing from her cousin, who was a size or two smaller, with no bubs to speak of. Mr. Chapel probably thought she was a slob without a fashionable bone in her body. The heat crept up her face. She closed her eyes and moaned.
Darn.
Forgetting what happened would be impossible, her harping mind was proof of that. Her brain went against her wishes and recalled the incident with perfect recollection of his eyes, his musky smell, and his velvety fingers on hers. His eyes. They softened and changed in the span of a few seconds. They were different. Belly fluttering, she wondered what wonderful things could come of a softened Mr. Chapel. A Mr. Chapel that was gentle and kind. That was the kind of man she could fall for. That was the kind of man she could give herself to, fully.
Stop.
She couldn’t think such things. But she did.
The memory continued to flash in her mind, reliving the moment his lips parted with languid seduction and electricity. He did want to kiss her. Her breath caught in her throat, and in her wayward dream, he not only kissed her but disrobed her and put his large capable hands on her most private parts.
The ding of the elevator brought her back to reality. With just a few blinks to wipe the haze from her eyes, she leaped from the elevator. Facing the elevator doors, a part of her desired to go back up to the Daily press room floor, but for what she hadn’t worked out in her spinning mind. But she continued to look inside the elevator.
Without the slightest muscle twitch to act on her whim, she watched the doors close. With the departed vestibule went her chance to do something she never thought she’d actually act on. Kiss Mr. Chapel. She’d have to press that urge down deep, because it could never happen.
Chapter Four
Norma groaned as she rolled to her back on her bed, staring at the low ceiling with more intensity than a police stand-off. She prayed some grand wisdom would be bestowed upon her from above, but it never came. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Henry...err…Mr. Chapel. She simply couldn’t stop the desire from growing deep within. He made her desire and the feeling was…odd, made her antsy. It made her not want to go out for a gay time with Ingrid. Too late for that, though. The time was nearing, and Norma hadn’t done a single thing to prepare for a night of what probably would be a disaster, if Ingrid and gin were involved.
She groaned again, reluctantly sliding off her bed, limbs heavy with exhaustion. Preoccupying herself with Mr. Chapel forced every cell in her body to work over time. Somehow she found the strength to slip into her speakeasy attire. Her best dress was thrown over a wooden chair near the window, and she slid into it with much effort. Forget about how much energy she expelled putting on her stockings and shoes—it winded her. When she twisted her long hair into a neat chignon at the back of her neck, she thought she’d faint. As she put the final touches to her outfit, a knock sounded on the door.
Ingrid showed up with a new suitor, though Norma would use that term loosely. Ingrid had many
suitors, but Norma had never heard about this one. He was dripping with the times. He was hip and into the jazz scene and knew where to get all the best gin. In the back seat of his luxury motorcar, Ingrid sucked deeply on her cigarette in an ivory holder. She laughed and carried on like she was completely out of her mind.
“Welcome, doll.” Ingrid’s date pulled Norma into the back seat next to a thoroughly sauced Ingrid whose eyes sparkled like polished blue agate stones. Another mysterious man, dressed in a dark jacket and hat, sat behind the wheel. He didn’t say a word. He must have been the driver—because all sheiks need a personal driver.
“Good evening.” Norma remembered her manners. She refused the brown bottle filled with white powder Ingrid handed her. She didn’t need anything extra to have a good time, especially since she’d already doomed the evening as a disaster.
“Come on, doll.” Ingrid laughed, mimicking her date. “Have a little.”
Norma frowned at the potent smell of gin wafting from Ingrid’s mouth, and even though Ingrid was clearly on a toot, she was beautiful in a chiffon dress with a lariat string of pearls wrapped around her delicate neck and fishnet stockings stretched over equally delicate legs. What Norma admired the most were Ingrid’s perfectly pouty red lips and deep ocean irises contrasted with a line of black kohl around her wide eyes. No one would disagree that Ingrid was more seductive than Theda Bara.
Norma looked down at her own ensemble, second guessing her basic fringe dress and nude stockings. This is my best dress? She sighed. It could’ve been worse she reconciled, thinking of the wardrobe malfunction—the one Mr. Chapel witnessed. She couldn’t think of that—too much.
She looked up from her fidgeting thumbs and caught a dangerous glint in the sheik’s eyes. The lust dripping from them was palpable. What the heck is he looking at? Her pulse quickened double-time. She could do nothing but turn away.
Later, Norma found out about Ingrid’s date. He was Ralph Heinz, a very wealthy copper and commodities heir. He apparently got whatever he wanted. Unfortunately, that did not include Norma Hill. She’d been left alone with Ralph after Ingrid fainted in the back of the car before they arrived at the Jazzy Cat. Not exactly the ideal situation—in fact, it was the worse. Norma saw it coming a mile away. Was Ingrid always so irresponsible? She’d have to speak to Ingrid about the indiscretion once she sobered up.
“Cash or check?” Ralph whispered in her ear, his warm breath prickling her skin with each word. They’d been on the dance floor, pounding out her favorite dance. On the dance floor was the only way she felt safe with him.
His face was too close to hers. She sensed he had wanted to kiss her since the car ride, and his question confirmed it. Exhausted from dancing the Black Bottom, she couldn’t fight him off if he intended to collect his kiss with force. With all the energy she could muster, she pulled away and said, “Neither.”
“Are you playing hard to get, Miss Hill?” He followed her as she returned to their exclusive white linen covered table near the dance floor.
She hadn’t had a drink yet, but it seemed like a good time to have her first one…ever. Take that Too-Dry-Two-Shoes.
“Not at all.” She softened her tone. “I don’t give away my kisses.” Norma fanned at the perspiration beads along her hairline. Her dogs were screaming at that point. She really should stop wearing her cousin’s too tight shoes. She was nothing but a big wardrobe malfunction. And it reminded her of what happened with Mr. Chapel. I would have given him a kiss free of charge. Her stomach dropped. She told herself she wouldn’t think such things.
Ralph chuckled deep in his throat. A quick lick of his lips said what words didn’t. Her predicament became more dangerous by the second. Ralph, who got things so easily, wouldn’t have to work for anything, especially a kiss.
“Well, what will it cost me?” He showed his pearly white teeth like a beast in the wild would.
“Well…” Norma faked true contemplation. “I could use a mint julep.” She wanted his face away from hers and would say anything to make that happen. His steamy breath invaded her space. It cornered her, heightened her need to run, but she had nowhere to go.
He tipped his head back in a hearty laughter. For a creep, his laugh was soothing and melodic. What a waste. He drank her in with hungry eyes before gesturing to the waiter. He placed the order and then turned back to her, but not before he ogled the attractive female servant.
“I like you.” He took a sip of his drink. Gin, probably.
Great.
Her face tightened, a smile didn’t come easily. Though when she finally managed it, she imagined her face resembled a marionette’s.
Darn Ingrid for passing out.
Did Ingrid really like this idiot? Sure, Ralph was handsome by society standards, burly and probably very capable—not to mention stinking rich—but his eyes were simply eerie. That negated all his physical good looks in Norma’s book. Not to mention he looked like he would do just about anything to get ahead in business or otherwise, and at that moment she was his “otherwise.”
Norma was irritated and couldn’t wait to give Ingrid an earful about her “date.” Though, Norma didn’t have to play along. Perhaps she should’ve thought about her own bad judgment before she pointed an accusing finger.
Her mind conjured ways to handle Ralph, but before she could act, she saw him. Yes, her employer, Henry Chapel—the Big Cheese—walked in the Jazzy Cat, and the room seemed to stop at his feet. Her heart pulsed hard—almost hurt her insides. Was it a mistake? She hoped so, but it wasn’t.
Henry Chapel, the man she had almost kissed and couldn’t get out of her mind, stood across the crowded Jazzy Cat scanning the room with his alluring eyes. They were dangerous and commanding, eyes a person couldn’t refuse. They seduced and hypnotized at will. Every ounce of him oozed style. Every ounce of him oozed confidence.
She couldn’t remove her gaze from him when he moved, and her body responded immediately. Her troubles with Ralph fell away for a brief moment.
Mr. Chapel eased through the room like he owned it. Like he owned every room he walked through. White flecks of snow decorated his black wool coat.
A blonde vixen threaded her delicate arm through his—the act was dignified and sweet. Who is she? The beauty held an onyx cigarette holder—probably very expensive—stretched long from her fingers. She also held a chinchilla shrug in the crease of her elbow.
Norma slowly drank in his date’s attire from head to toe. She dressed in an in-vogue chiffon dress, long at the waist and cut to the knee—the very same Ingrid reported on in the Smart Style—and a cloche hat placed perfectly over her blonde straight bob.
Her stomach dropped two feet. The blonde Sheba was more than perfect. She was the kind of woman a man like Henry Chapel should be seen with.
Less than graceful, Norma ducked in hopes Ralph’s large body hid hers from Mr. Chapel’s view. She pushed all musings of him out of her mind, feeling the urgent need to escape. Surely the Jazzy Cat was the last place a boss would expect to see his female subordinate, and after their encounter, she didn’t know how to face him. What would she say? She could easily vomit right where she sat.
The female servant cut the tension when she returned with the dreaded mint juleps. Norma watched her set the sweating glasses on the table, trying to reconcile her predicament.
“Here’s your hooch, doll,” Ralph announced, his large knee clanking her thigh under the table. He didn’t make any strides to pull back or apologize, only moved closer. His slits for eyes devoured her like the big bad wolf that swallowed Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother. She was in trouble.
Panicked, she tried not to make eye contact with Mr. Chapel, even though she had a perfect view of him. He greeted various patrons, shook hands with men, and offered a kiss to the hand of several women who swooned under his puckered mouth. She scoffed at the sight. His lips curled in that perfect smirk, and his green eyes shined brightly. Darn he’s a confident fella.
The potent s
cent of the drinks drifted to her nose. Aware of the current situation, she didn’t see the possibility of escaping. She decided to take a sip while the wheels in her brain spun up a new plan to get out of the predicament. Where could she go? With Ralph in front of her and Mr. Chapel nearby, things looked dire at best. She swallowed the toxic liquid, forcing it down as it burned all the way to her stomach. Clearly, she was inexperienced—in drinking and dealing with men.
“Easy.” Ralph brought his large hand to her cheek, a behemoth hand coming to devour her whole. He caressed her skin with feather-soft strokes, obvious something else was on his mind.
She cringed. Her gaze searched for Mr. Chapel, who within that split second had evaporated into the crowd of beautiful, ossified people. Where is he?
When Norma wouldn’t soften to Ralph’s advances, he pried the drink from her grip and set it on the table. Hot breath smothered her face again as he moved in and whispered things she couldn’t hear over the vibrant orchestra music. He thrust his torso forward to plant his lips against her mouth, and she flew back as if he’d poured boiling water on her. In the process, she hit the highball crystal glass, tipping it over with a crash against the white table cloth. Everything in its path was drenched.
Cursing, he jerked around in his seat, proving he was not a gentleman.
She’d never heard swearing like that.
His once lusty eyes were filled with rage. Engorged veins on this forehead proved it.
“I’m so sorry. Is there anything you want me to do?” She hoped he’d tell her to scram. But that wasn’t the case. Nothing went over well. Not the ride to the Jazzy Cat. Not the proposition on the dance floor. Not the attempt to have her first drink. Worse was, Mr. Chapel was very aware of her presence. Their gazes locked.
Henry Chapel’s piercing stare impaled her straight through the chest. No mistake that he saw her, and his eyes darkened when he glossed over her boisterous companion.
Love Easy Page 4