Romance Classics (46 page)

She blinked and her heart began to beat a little faster. After all, he was by far the best-looking man she had ever seen in her life and he had made it his business to be charming to women. He had worked at that as hard as the average man works for success in a more prosaic profession at which he hopes to earn his living. And he was a success.

After a moment in which she showed no inclination to speak, Ronnie said, “And now, if I may, I’ll tell you why I was late this afternoon.”

“Do,” Carey said politely.

“It’s the most cockeyed thing you ever heard,” he warned her, chuckling at the memory. “Ann Paige rang me up this morning and commissioned me to turn her into a raving beauty with charm and sex-appeal and plenty of ‘oomph’.”

Carey stared at him, incredulous. “It can’t be done!” she said sharply.

“I don’t know about that!” protested Ronnie, still chuckling over what he had revealed. “I barged over — after all, a fee of twenty-five thousand dollars is not to be sneered at, not when a guy is penniless. Anyway, I gave her the onceover — ”

“I’m sure of that,” said Carey and hated herself for the tone of her voice.

“Miaow!” Ronnie didn’t sound at all like a cat and he went on cheerfully, “With a rigid diet, supervised exercises, and the services of the very best in the way of beauty operators and dressmakers, she’s going to surprise all of you, her lovelier rivals.”

“But, for the love of Pete — why
you?”
Carey burst out. “I mean why should she pick
you
to turn her into a glamour girl?”

Ronnie said gently, “I resent that. Hadn’t you heard that I’m supposed to be something of a connoisseur in beautiful women? And to have something of a flair for choosing their clothes and their cosmetics.”

“And getting handsomely paid for it.” Carey could have bitten her tongue out the next moment. But it was too late. The words were out, and Ronnie was looking a trifle gray about the mouth and his eyes were pinpoints of fury.

For a moment he said nothing, then Carey said meekly, “I’m sorry, Ronnie. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why not?” asked Ronnie, his eyes straight ahead, his hands gripped tightly on the wheel. “I’m glad to know your very low opinion of me. It saves me the embarrassment of asking you a certain question I’ve had in mind for some time.”

Carey’s heart jumped a little. Her common sense told her that Ronnie was a conscienceless sponger. But her heart said rebelliously that he was gay and charming and disturbingly good-looking. And she listened to her heart rather than her common sense.

“Forgive me, Ronnie. I’m just a jealous, spiteful cat. I’m just angry because Ann thought of this scheme before I did! I might have commissioned you to make me over — ”

“That would be impossible — to make you anything lovelier and more charming than you are,” Ronnie said unexpectedly, bringing the car to a halt, its long silver nose turned off the road into a little sheltered spot away from the wind. “I’m a fool, Carey, and I know you’ll give me the horse-laugh — but I’ve kept it back as long as I can. I’m mad about you. I’ve been crazy about you from the very first moment I saw you. I’ve tried to stand aside and let you have fun this year and be free, but I can’t go on waiting — I’m so darned scared somebody else will come along and cop you. Carey, I adore you — is there a chance for me?”

Carey’s heart was racing like mad. She was trembling a little with excitement and, as she looked up into his pleading dark eyes, her own became a little shy and the white lids fell, veiling them. But Ronnie had seen what he wanted in her eyes and now his arms were about her, drawing her close against him. When she would have turned her face away from him, his hand cupped her chin and turned it almost roughly until her mouth lay just beneath his own. She felt the hard, eager downdrive of his mouth upon her own and from some hidden depth in her startled, trembling heart some instinct surged upward, ordering her to tear herself from his embrace.

After a little he let her go and sat looking at her. “And you’ll marry me, darling — right away?” he begged eagerly. “Why not this afternoon? We could drive on to some place where we wouldn’t have to wait for a license.”

Carey felt as though she had taken a sudden step in the darkness and plunged headlong over a precipice. She had the feeling of flinging out her hands, trying wildly to clutch at something that would save her. She stammered breathlessly, “Oh, no, no — Ronnie. I couldn’t do that to Dad. Not just run away and be married. He’ll want me to have a real wedding and all that.”

“But he won’t want you to marry
me,”
Ronnie told her grimly. Then with an unexpected touch of candor: “Fathers somehow don’t seem overly pleased at the idea of me as a husband for their daughters. Of course, I admit I’m a no-good — ”

Carey put her hand over his mouth and would not listen.

“Dad will give his consent, the minute he’s sure it’s what I want,” she said confidently. “He’s never refused me anything in his life, so why should he start now, especially when I never
really
wanted anything before!”

Ronnie looked relieved. “You think you can persuade him?” he asked swiftly.

“I don’t think,” she answered promptly. “I
know
he will agree to anything I want — he always has.”

Ronnie’s arms closed about her once more, and he kissed her. After a long moment, Carey raised her head from his shoulder and said firmly:

“So now you can tell Ann Paige to go fly a kite — ”

“Twenty-five thousand dollars is a lot of money, angel-face,” Ronnie reminded her. “She will give me that when I turn her into a glamour-gal — and I wouldn’t come to you exactly penniless.”

He looked down at her when she didn’t answer, and his eyes danced ever so little at the mutinous set of her pretty chin and the steel in her smoky-gray eyes.

“Jealous?” he murmured.

“Of Ann Paige?” She sniffed disdainfully. “It’s just that-well, I’d rather you didn’t have anything more to do with her, that’s all.”

He let her go and bent to switch the ignition on. She was a little startled to see that there was an ugly line to his set jaw and his voice was curt as he said, “Sorry — I’m afraid you’ll have to be reasonable about this, my sweet. I’ve given Ann a promise, and I usually manage to keep my word.”

“But if you love me — ” Carey protested.

He swung the big car around and turned its silver nose back towards New York.

“I’m mad about you, my angel,” he told her, and despite the words his tone was dry. “But I can’t let you meddle too much in my affairs — not, at least, until we’re married. After that — ” he shrugged.

“After we’re married,” Carey snapped rashly, “you’ll stop being so friendly with people like Ann Paige.”

Ronnie’s eyes slewed for a moment from the road ahead and took her in, and his lip curled with a little derisive smile as he drawled coolly, “How you
do
talk!”

She managed to hold her tongue and her temper, until they had crossed the bridge and were swinging once more into Riverside Drive. Then Ronnie glanced at her coolly, a conciliatory smile just touching his good-looking mouth, and asked gaily, “Well? What do you think of her? Isn’t she a beauty?”

For a moment, preoccupied with her thoughts of Ann, she raged. And then she realized that he meant the car, so she answered him almost curtly: “Stunning! She sounds like a cream-fed cat, doesn’t she?”

“Shall I just leave her in your garage? You can have your dad mail me a check in the morning,” he suggested with a carelessness that was just a bit unconvincing.

“Oh, I’m not so sure — that is, I’ll have to talk it over with Dad,” Carey answered stubbornly.

Instantly she saw the shadow on his face. “I’m afraid that won’t do,” he said. “The owner is very anxious to complete the sale today. But don’t bother about it. I am sure Ann Paige would jump at the chance to buy it. I’ll tell her about it when I dine with her tonight.”

“So you’re dining with Ann tonight!”

“Any objections?”

“Plenty of them! Did you, or did you not ask me to marry you — just a little while ago?”

“I did, of course — ”

“And did I or did I not accept?”

“You did — and darned decent it was of you, too — ”

“Then you’re dining with Dad and me tonight and we are asking his consent to our wedding and telephoning the news to the papers,” she told him belligerently.

Ronnie laughed. “Oh, no, I’m not, angel! You’re going to break the news to your dad — and then if he doesn’t explode or behave in a manner of unseemly violence, I’ll drop around and have a little chat with him.”

“You’re scared!” she accused hotly.

“Certainly I’m scared!” he admitted, entirely without shame. “Remember, I begged you to elope with me and tell him the news later. This idea of asking his consent was yours. And you assured me you could handle him! I can’t — and I’d never even try.”

Carey drew a long breath and her hands clenched tightly in her lap. After a moment she said grimly, “I suppose I ought to despise you for that.”

“Undoubtedly,” Ronnie agreed, completely undisturbed.

They were caught by a traffic light, sitting still, waiting for the light to change from red to green. Ronnie looked down at her, and she could not tear her eyes from his warm significant gaze. Then boldly, audaciously, he bent his handsome head and kissed her.

The next moment the light shifted and the car shot ahead. And neither Ronnie nor Carey spoke until it came to a stop in front of the austere, narrow house in Sixty-third Street that was her home.

As he helped her out of the car, Ronnie’s hand tightened on hers and he bent above her, not quite kissing her, but his manner so devoted, so caressing that she felt as though he
had
kissed her.

“I’ll just drive the car around to your garage and leave it there,” he told her. “And I’ll give you a ring in the morning — the telephone kind.”

Carey nodded and stood on the steps until the sleek, expensive car had slid into the side street and was swallowed up from sight. Then she turned and went in, her shoulders drooping a little with a reaction that she found it hard to understand or classify.

SHE HAD a dinner date that night, but on a sudden impulse she had Hulda telephone to say that she was ill. She knew that her hostess would probably hate her for life, but she had to face her father tonight and tell him not only about her purchase of the car but about her intention to marry Ronnie. And neither was going to be easy. It was Carey’s way when there was something difficult to do, not to put it off but to go at it immediately. So she dressed herself very carefully in a pink chiffon dress — pink was her father’s favorite color — and tucked gardenias in the soft dark masses of her curls.

Her father was in the library before the open fire. The evening newspaper was unfolded on his knee, but he was not reading. As she came into the room he looked up and, for a moment, there was something in his face that struck terror to her heart. He looked so old, so tired, so worn. Then he moved, spoke her name in pleased surprise, and she told herself that frightening expression had been a trick of the firelight.

“Don’t tell me I’m to be honored by the presence of my very popular debutante daughter at dinner!” he marvelled as she perched on the arm of his chair and bent to drop a light kiss on his cheek.

“Well, since you’ve always been my favorite boyfriend, why wouldn’t I have dinner with you?” she demanded pertly.

“Your favorite boyfriend, eh?” Her father was a trifle derisive. “I learned a long time ago that when you were most affectionate and considerate, it was because you wanted something. So what is it this time?”

Somehow she was stung by that. Stung so that she sprang to her feet, little flags of color in her cheeks, her eyes hot as she stammered, “What a cruel thing to say! I should think you’d be ashamed to say I only love you when I want something from you!”

He was instantly remorseful when he saw that his impulsive remark had hurt her. He reached out and drew her close so that she perched on his knee while he asked for forgiveness.

It was thus that John found them when he came to announce dinner. John and his assistant were constantly in and out of the dining room during the elaborate meal, so Carey and her father talked of surface things until dinner was over and they were back in the library before the replenished fire, afterdinner coffee on a low table in front of Carey.

Mr. Winslow, handing back his empty coffee cup, snipping the end from his cigar, heaved a little sigh of complete happiness.

“This is cozy,” he said. “It’s great having you like this, baby — just the two of us. Though of course I’m a selfish old man wanting to keep you to myself now and then.”

“You’re neither selfish nor an old man,” Carey protested almost mechanically. “You’re a perfectly neat guy that I’m crazy about.”

She sat looking into the fire, her lovely profile turned to him. Something about that profile, relaxed now, made Silas ask quietly, “Anything bothering you, infant?”

Carey started a little and the color flooded her face as she looked up at him swiftly and then turned away.

“I — well — a little,” she stammered.

“Then tell your old man about it — and let him straighten it out for you,” Silas suggested affectionately.

Carey was angry with herself because suddenly it seemed so hard to tell him. And that was pretty crazy because, after all, it was her own life, and all she asked was a chance to live it as she wanted to. Her father was going to be hurt, she knew; and she was sorry about that. He didn’t like Ronnie — but then it was she, not her father, who was going to marry Ronnie.

She drew a long breath and, her hands clasped loosely together about one slender knee, she faced him.

“I want to get married, Dad.”

A spasm of pain sped over her father’s face and was lost. There was a full moment before he could master that pain so that he could answer her. But when he did, his tone was calm, even if a little self-consciously so. “Well, of course, baby, I knew this moment had to come. I was a fool to think it could be postponed. Who’s the lucky man?”