Chloe (3 page)

With only moments to spare, the four of them entered at the rear of the crowded auditorium. The aroma of buttered popcorn, the chatter of a hundred voices, and the hurry to get seats together compounded Chloe’s uneasiness. Roarke found four seats in a row. He entered the aisle first, knowing Chloe hated sitting next to a stranger, and she smiled up at him for remembering. She expected Kitty to follow her in, putting herself next to Theran. But instead Kitty motioned Theran to precede her. Why? Why would Kitty want Chloe to sit next to her beau?

Chloe glanced surreptitiously at Theran and was startled when he winked at her. Confused, she sat down. Pins and needles raced up and down her arms at his nearness. On her other side, Roarke opened the box of candy almonds he’d purchased at the snack counter. He proffered the open box with a subtle rattle. She tried to say no, but the words wouldn’t come. So she just shook her head and tried to smile naturally. Then the organist began to play urgently, loudly from behind them. The theater went inky black and flickering light flashed on the screen at the front.

She trained her eyes forward. She didn’t want to embarrass herself with a wrong move, so she propped one elbow on the armrest between her and Roarke and tried to follow first the newsreel about the war in Europe and then the movie. But she couldn’t focus on the flickering images. Her entire body was waging a battle to hide her interest in Theran. One thought filled her mind: if the dark stranger was interested in Kitty, then why had he winked at her?

Theran scanned the dim, barn-like interior of the roadhouse as Roarke ushered the four of them inside to a table at one end. Theran was accustomed to much smaller honky-tonks in New York. He’d never been to a place quite like this one. But here, just as in the city, society types like Kitty and Chloe mingled with painted ladies and some slick-looking customers. The addition of redneck farmers and their fresh-faced sweethearts added a new note.

Near them, a banjo player, a fiddler, and a piano player—the only black faces in the crowd—were pouring out excellent syncopated ragtime. Couples dancing the turkey trot crowded the floor. The place smelled of cigarettes, dime-store perfume, and liquor. “This sure isn’t the Harlem,” he said to Kitty.

Kitty gurgled. “No, but this place hops.”

Theran glanced at Chloe. The pretty blonde had spent the evening looking everywhere but at him. Very classy, very cool. He wanted to get to know her. He wondered, would he be able to break through the aloof distance she maintained? He’d enjoy trying. “Would your parents disapprove of your coming to a place like this, Miss Chloe?” he teased as she and Kitty sat down at a tiny table.

She flashed a look at him. Huge blue eyes edged with dark lashes and such white, white skin. Mary Pickford had nothing on Chloe Kimball. His mouth went dry just looking at her.

“I’ve never been here before, Mr. Black,” she replied, her chin down.

Her low, sweet voice in that southern-belle murmur did things to him. He looked over at Roarke, who was at the bar placing their drink orders. Did the banker’s son have an interest in Miss Chloe? If so, too bad.

Kitty giggled again. “Call him Theran, Chloe. Your mama isn’t here.”

Roarke came back with four glasses clutched in his hands. “Allow me.” He handed glasses of amber liquid topped with white foam to Kitty and Theran. But the one he set in front of Chloe was darker and matched the one he kept for himself.

“What’s that?” Theran pointed at the darker brew.

“Root beer,” Roarke replied without hesitation, taking a sip. “I’m driving tonight.”

Chloe gave the junior banker a tight, grateful smile and took a polite little sip. Her every movement caught at Theran, made his pulse spike. He chuckled to show Roarke he appreciated the joke. Who would have thought Kitty McCaslin would have a teetotaler for a big brother? But Theran didn’t want Kitty. She was cute and fun, but . . . In the dimly lit room, the blonde next to him glittered like a Roman candle.

She looked at him over her glass. “Is this your first visit to Maryland, Mr. Black?”

“Theran. Call me Theran. Mr. Black’s my dad.”

Ever since this afternoon when he’d seen her back-talking Kitty from the bed of that truck, he’d wanted to touch Chloe Kimball, hold her close and breathe in her perfume. But how could he get her away from her arch protector, the banker’s son? “Kitty thought I should see something besides New York for a change.” He played for time. “This is my bold adventure south of the Mason and Dixon.”

Chloe blushed and sipped again. The turkey trot ended and the couples moved back to tables or the bar.

“Hey, Kitty, Roarke.” Breathless from dancing, another couple dragged over chairs and plunked down at the small table, crowding everyone closer together. Theran wished Kitty had maneuvered him next to Chloe like she had at the movies. He didn’t pay much attention as Kitty introduced the new couple, giving them no more than a nod. Then he realized the new arrivals had solved his problem. Now he could ask the blonde to dance without leaving Kitty to sit here or dance with her brother.

Theran stood and motioned toward the piano player. “Hey, Mac, how about a tango?” The pianist nodded and hit the ivories. The fiddler joined in. “Let’s dance.” Theran claimed Chloe’s gloved hand.

“I can’t tango.” She held back.

“You can.” He pulled her to her feet and then onto the dance floor. “Easy as pie. Just step-step-step-step-close. You’ll be doing it in no time.” He tucked her close to him, pressing her against him in the provocative tango posture. “Just follow my lead.”

As her body learned the sensual movements of the Latin dance, Chloe’s senses reeled—shocked, thrilled. She clung to the dark stranger, moving with him. Within his arms, she’d been plunged into a tropical sea and the swells were carrying her away. She struggled to hear his words above the beating of her heart.

“Press your cheek to mine,” he instructed. “It’s a must when you tango.”

Slowly, she let her face drift nearer his until . . .
What would Kitty say?
She froze, holding to decorum. But he closed the inches between them and firmed his hand over the small of her back. “Relax. This is fun.”

Chloe surrendered and felt as if her skin had been slipped off. All her senses were heightened, sharpened. Intense sensations she’d never felt bombarded her. They were exhilarating, more devastating than anything she’d ever known.

The compelling two-four beat of the Latin dance pounded through her mind. She clung to Theran and moved in time with him. Through a blur, she glimpsed other couples joining them. Kitty waved as she pressed herself to the other young man from their table. Wondering what her friend was thinking, Chloe misstepped.

“Relax,” Theran whispered, “you’re a natural. Get ready. I’m going to dip you. Just let go and let me move you. It’ll be great.”

He dipped her and she reveled in the strength he exerted over her. She felt suddenly that if he wanted to he could levitate her to the ceiling or even outside into the dark sky. He was a magician and he was working his magic on her. He turned her. With a confidence she’d never known, she followed his slightest shift, molding her body to his, letting him carry them through the bold, stylized pauses. He sang to her under his breath. And she felt unlike herself—for once daring and free.

All day, she’d tried not to imagine what it would be like to have Theran’s arms around her and now she was in his embrace. Surely, he couldn’t hold her like this and be Kitty’s beau. Surely not.

The final chords of the song vibrated in the air.
No, don’t let it end.
But the next thing she knew Theran had spun her out the back door and they were alone in the chill moonlight. And the way he looked at her . . .

“No,” she said, her face suddenly burning. Anyone could have seen them leave. Would this reach her parents’ ears? She tried to pull away. “What will Kitty say?”

But he still held her in his arms as if about to dance. “Kitty and I are just friends.”

“Does Kitty know that?” she managed to ask.

He laughed. “Yes, we dated awhile, but decided we’d make better friends than lovers.”

Lovers?
The concept rocked Chloe. She’d heard all the whispered gossip about Kitty going to college up north. But Kitty wouldn’t take lovers, would she?

Theran leaned his mouth to her ear. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

She was struck dumb at the look in his eyes and could manage only a shake of her head.

He took her hand and she let him draw her away from the light over the back entrance to the dubious shelter between two cars. “Hey, I mean it. Surely you know how gorgeous you are?”

She gave him her profile. She knew she had features that were pleasant to the eye—her father’s use of her for political reasons was proof of that—but no one had ever talked to her this way. His flattery left her bemused. Was he teasing her?

His hands claimed her shoulders and he turned her to face him. “You’re beautiful, really lovely.” His voice was low, urgent, sincere. “Kitty told me about you but I didn’t believe it. That’s why I came home with her this weekend—to meet her friend Chloe.”

In the shadows, Chloe shook her head at him. She wanted to believe him, but it all seemed so unreal—to have seen this man for the first time only this morning, and yet to have him whispering in her ear now. “You can’t be serious,” she finally managed, trying to add a dose of commonsense to the moment.

He bent his face over hers and held it just inches away. Chloe had time to think,
He’s going to kiss me.
Then his lips brushed hers and her knees became jelly. She clung to his shoulders. She’d received chaste kisses before. But there was nothing chaste about the way Theran’s kiss progressed. He assaulted her mouth, insisting, invading. She was without defense. So she answered his every demand, letting her mouth become a part of his, and his a part of hers.

Finally he ended the kiss and folded her close. She heard his breathing—ragged, hard—as she rubbed her cheek against his stiff white collar and the smooth fabric of his suit jacket. Her hat fell to the earth and she didn’t care. She sniffed his collar and caught the scents of soap, starch, and him, his flesh. “No one’s ever kissed me like that,” she admitted, unable to stop herself.

“I believe it. You’re like an angel. Sweet, innocent, lovely. A man would think twice about touching you.”

“You keep that up, sir—” She tried to protect herself by lightening the tone. “—and you’ll turn my head.”

“But I don’t want an angel,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken, “I want you as a woman.”

His candid words shook her. What did he mean, he wanted her as a woman? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Out of her depth again, she tugged free of him.

“I’m rushing you, aren’t I?” He prevented her from leaving. His gaze captured hers as he cradled her face between his strong hands.

“You . . . you . . . I’m not used to men talking this way.” She recalled the way her father made up to women sometimes when he didn’t know she was listening. “Is that how gentlemen talk to ladies in New York? Is this your version of sweet talk?”

“This is no sweet talk,” Theran whispered close to her face, his breath warm against her skin. “Kitty dared me to meet you and not fall for you. She was right. You are my doom.”

“Why your doom?” Chloe felt as if she’d caught the tail end of a hurricane. Nothing he said was making sense. Surely he wasn’t serious? “Is that bad or good?”

“I know I’m rushing you, but I don’t have time. I saw this war coming and I enlisted. I didn’t want to miss a war from being slow. In a week, I report to training camp. I’ll be heading to France in a few months.”

The news struck her as if she’d known him forever—that his leaving would render her bereft and heartbroken. She reached for him. He moved closer, enfolding her, and she rested her hands on his lapels. “No.”

“Yes, I told Kitty that guys who enlisted and then fell in love were idiots. A man should have better control over himself—not leave a girl behind.” He shook his head. “But Kitty dared me to meet you and not fall for you. I should have known better. Kitty’s as sharp as they come.”

“You don’t know me.” Chloe slid her forefingers up and down his notched lapels. “I don’t know you.”
This isn’t happening,
she thought.

“How long does it take to fall in love?” He lowered his mouth and paused, leaving only a breath between their lips.

She stared at his chest, at the white shirt front against the black coat, gleaming in the low light. She shook her head.

“It only took me one minute.” He claimed her mouth again.

Every part of Chloe’s body was jolted once more into that peculiar heightened consciousness. She clung to his lapels as the world around her softened and blended. It felt as though she had become part of the night, of Theran and earthy spring. She pressed closer to him, letting his heat flow into her, warming her against the clammy, chill April evening.

The crunch of footsteps on gravel and a low voice inserted itself into Chloe’s consciousness. “Miss Chloe,” Roarke said politely.

She jerked away from Theran, allowing one startled glance at him before bringing her hand to her lips and turning away, unable to look either man in the eye. She heard Theran swear softly.

Roarke acted as if he hadn’t just caught them kissing. Calmly, he bent and picked up Chloe’s hat and offered it to her. “It’s time we went home.”

“It’s early yet,” Theran objected, his chin jutting toward the young banker. “We’ll come back inside. I’ll play by your rules.”

Chloe tucked her hair under her hat, flaming and vibrating with embarrassment.

“It’s time we got the ladies home.” Roarke took out his pocket watch and swung it in front of Theran. “After all, tomorrow is Sunday and church.”

With no further comment, Roarke turned for the car. Afraid to look at Theran, Chloe followed him. Mute, eyes downcast, she walked beside Roarke, her hands tucked into her elbows, her thoughts jumbled. What did Roarke think of her kissing a man she’d just met? And kissing like
that
—so wantonly? What if her mother ever found out? Chloe hadn’t behaved herself as a Carlyle of Ivy Manor should. Silent in her humiliation, she let Roarke lead her to his Model-T.