Sinful Suspense Box Set (29 page)

“That girl is something else,” Gideon repeated. My older brother rarely got excited or worked up about anything, but he was right. She really was something else. The sphere was opened, and she rode back to the box truck, her sequined costume rippling like metallic diamonds and her long hair flowing like copper waves in the warm night air.

The deafening applause did not subside. It grew louder as a small figure came back out from behind the box car. No motorcycle this time. Just the petite, incredibly beautiful girl who had just thrilled the crowd with her talent. She waved and bowed down several times.

Gideon leaned back and looked behind me. “Megan took off.”

“I hadn’t even noticed,” I said.

“I guess once Rose is ready we can head over to Breakers,” Gideon said, still watching as The Enchantress took her final bow. “You never said who you were taking out tonight, Jacks.”

“You’re looking at her.”

Gideon and Rick’s faces snapped toward me.

“What do you mean?” Gideon asked.

“I’ve got a date with The Enchantress. Only, I know her better as Charli.”

Rick laughed. “You dawg, Jackson.”

Gideon blinked at me. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”

I put my hand on Gideon’s shoulder. “Brother, when it comes to beautiful women, I never kid around.”

Chapter 8

Charli

“How do I
look?” Rose held out her arms, and the tiny glass beads adorning her lilac flapper dress shimmered in the frail light of the tent. The new dress had a daring v-neck line and low drop waist that fit her perfectly.

“Beautiful, Rose. He’ll be stunned into silence.” I walked over to adjust her beaded headband.

“I’ve been waiting for the right occasion to wear this little extravagance since I bought it in Chicago.” She took hold of my hands. “I’m as nervous as a rabbit in a fox hole, Charli. I’m so glad you’re coming along. What were the odds of both of us making dates with two brothers?” She frowned down at my faded frock. I was still wearing my black ankle boots. “You’re not wearing that are you?”

“To tell you the truth, I’m kind of tired. I forgot how exhausting opening night could be. I was planning to cancel.” All day I’d thought about the date, and all day I’d been convincing myself not to go. There was something about Jackson that worried me. I liked him, which was the source of my worry. Liking him wasn’t something I needed.
Like
came with all kinds of complications. This wasn’t the kind of life where you allowed yourself to like someone. I didn’t need the disappointment or the heartbreak.

Rose looked ready to cry. “Charli, please, you have to go, or I’ll lose my nerve. My stomach is already churning with butterflies.” Her shoulders drooped and the thin strands of glass beads vibrated with the movement. “You’re right. I shouldn’t go either. It’s wrong. I’ll be betraying Paul’s memory.” Her eyes glossed with tears as she reached up to slide off the headband.

I stopped her. “It is not betrayal, Rose. You deserve to be happy again. Paul would have wanted it.” I sighed in resignation. “I’ll go, but I’m wearing this dress, even if it looks like a flour sack next to that lovely lilac confection you’re wearing. I’ll just change out of my boots and into some heels.”

Rose clapped with excitement. “Thank you, Charli.”

I sat on the cot to unlace my boots. “Where is Emma?”

Rose sat down to her mirror to put on some last touches of face powder. “Last I saw, she was flirting wildly with one of those scary looking men that Buck’s been making deals with. Do you know your stepfather has five crates of moonshine piled up in his tent? Now he’s got some notion of starting a fight ring with gambling and everything. It won’t be long before the federal marshal comes in and shuts this whole thing down.” She spoke almost animatedly about the possible demise of the show. For Rose, it would be a hardship, but it would give her an excuse to leave the life of an exotic dancer, a life she was never really suited for.

“That’s the last kind of man Emma needs to be throwing herself at.” I buckled the narrow strap on my black patent leather shoes. They had a small row of silver beads curled around the two inch heels. They were the one frivolous thing I’d allowed myself to buy that was new and fashionable.

The generator had been shut down, and only a few gas lanterns and the stars above provided light outside the tent. The carnival looked like a ghost town where an extremely messy herd of phantoms had washed through, littering every open speck of ground with paper wrappers, soda bottles and crumpled handbills. The crew would have to be up early to clean before the next wave of mess.

The two tall figures waiting near the main tent were easy to recognize, the Jarrett brother with unruly black hair, who was as tall and broad as Hector, the strongman, and the nearly as tall brother, whose straight posture, fine build and handsome face made him look as if he’d walked out of a fine mansion in Manhattan. Tiny red sparks trailed from the ends of their cigarettes as they waited for Rose and me to walk toward them.

“They are a fine looking pair, aren’t they?” Rose whispered.

“You at least look ready for a night out. My very non-spectacular dress is going to look sorrowful next to his crisp black suit.”

“I’ve seen the way that man looks at you, Charli. Don’t think he’ll be noticing your dress.”

Shyness was rare for me, but one glance from Jackson’s intense blue gaze and my tongue deserted me. Rose, on the other hand, took hold of Gideon’s arm and led him confidently toward the exit. Stomach butterflies? They’d either flown off quickly or I’d been had.

Jackson and I walked behind them without a word, until he broke the awkward silence with small talk, something that we hadn’t tried yet. “You look very nice.”

“Thank you, but I’m feeling rather frumpy next to the rest of you tonight. I don’t really have glad rags for a night out.”

“I like the dress. Besides, I’m sort of relieved.”

I turned my face to him. “Relieved?”

“I’ve met you riding a giant horse through the forest with your dress hitched up your thighs.” He leaned his head closer. “Riding attire I heartily approve of, by the way. The next time I met you, you were wearing a man-eating snake like a scarf. A look, I’m not as keen on. And just an hour ago, I saw you again as you exploded out of nowhere on a shiny red motorcycle wearing not much more than a sequined handkerchief. Again, my hearty approval on that particular outfit. I wasn’t completely sure what would happen on this fourth occasion. Sweet and pretty, I like it.”

“Glad I didn’t shock you too much this time. But if we want to be accurate, this would be our fifth encounter. We met when our truck was pulling into town. And
that
brings us back to the first few times I saw you, equally interesting, but I don’t feel the need to describe those moments or comment on your attire . . . or the lack thereof. I’m sure you remember it all well enough.”

“I do.”

Gideon and Rose were a good fifteen feet ahead.

“Turn left onto the road,” Jackson called to his brother. “There was no room to park when I got here tonight. Why didn’t you tell me you were The Enchantress?”

“I guess it never came up.”

“It never came up because never in a million years would I have expected it.”

“But you knew The Enchantress was a woman?”

“Yes but— I guess I was expecting someone a little less—”

I peered up at him questioningly. “A little less—?”

“Well, less womanly.”

I laughed. “That’s what might be referred to as ignorance.”

He was quiet at first, and I was about to apologize for once again shooting stinging words at him. Then he laughed. “I’d say you’re right on that. I’ll have to work at being more open-minded about things in the future.”

We reached the car. The rest of the carnival attendees had gone home and, aside from a few unseen critters moving around in the dried shrubbery, the roadside was deserted. Rose and Gideon seemed to be thoroughly enjoying each other’s company, and I couldn’t have been happier for her. She needed a little romance in her life, something to keep her from dwelling on her broken heart.

Jackson opened the door for me, and I climbed into the backseat. He walked to the front to crank the motor for Gideon and then scooted onto the seat next to me. Rose hopped into the front seat, and we were off.

Rose turned back and winked at me. The grin plastered across her face made the whole night out worth it. “Are you planning on dancing tonight, Charli?”

I looked over at my date. He was waiting for a response.

“I don’t know. I’ve forgotten how tiring opening day can be. Especially when my act comes at the end of it all. I was just sort of imagining myself sitting at a table, listening to music and sipping on a Mary Pickford. Do they make them at this place we’re going to?”

“The bartenders at Breakers have been running juice joints for awhile. I’m sure they know how to make one.” Jackson smiled at me. “I should have figured you for a sweet drink kind of girl. Although, I suppose it would be stupid, or
ignorant
, to figure anything about you. There seems to be a surprise around every corner.”

“No more surprises tonight.” Oncoming headlights splashed light into the dark cab of the car, illuminating Jackson’s face and reminding me just how incredibly handsome he was. It took me a second to gather my thoughts again. “Tonight it’s just little ole me in my frumpy dress and slightly fancy shoes sipping sugary, sweet drinks.”

He looked down at my feet. “I do like those shoes. But I think you could end off those gams with just about anything, and they’d look fine.”

I blinked up at him. “My goodness, you sure are practiced at those sugarcoated compliments, aren’t you?”

Gideon’s laugh rumbled off the front windshield. “She’s got your number, Jacks. You’ll have to try a different tack.”

Jackson shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed, which was probably not something he was used to. For a second it seemed his brother’s comment had shamed him into silence. I was wrong. “Not a problem. I’ve got more tacks than a sailor in a hurricane.”

Laughter filled the car. Charm and fine looks was a lethal combination, and Jackson Jarrett had both in quantity. I would have to keep my feelings guarded and not let my feet leave the ground. No matter what happened between us, I needed to remember that in six weeks I’d be packing up and leaving the charming and fine looking man for good.

***

The melodic but rambunctious sounds of brassy instruments, bass strings and drums vibrated the walls of the dark, somewhat dank speakeasy. Jackson explained that the building had been a library at one time, but a fire had consumed all the literary contents, leaving behind only the brick walls and charred skeletal remains of bookshelves. What was once a burnt out shell was now several good sized rooms lined on all sides with round tables. Several gleaming counters stretched down the middle of the large front room.

The patrons were dripping with glad rags. Men were clad in fashionable wool and tweed coats, starched white shirts and every style of hat. The lights above reflected off the black and white polished patent leather of their shoes as they leaned over counters and relaxed back on the chairs. The women’s shimmery jewel-toned dresses glistened with silk adornments and glass beads that quivered as they chatted, laughed and took sips from stylish glassware. The aura of camaraderie was palpable. Everyone there, no matter who they’d walked in with, had the same sense of community, a group of young people mocking the rules handed down from the stout chinned men on Capitol Hill. We were all part of the same clandestine group who believed our rights had been trampled. Toasts and glasses were lifted all over the place in a show of freedom.

Jackson spoke quietly to the man at the door, who let us in without so much as a second glance. We were then led to a table in a corner close enough to see the band but far enough not to have to scream over each other for simple conversation.

Jackson pulled a chair out for me. Gideon did the same for Rose. Jackson sat down and leaned over. “I ordered you that Mary Pickford.”

“Thank you. Do you come here often?” I asked. “It’s just the table came suddenly available, and they let us in without the usual password.”

“I don’t come here all that much, but I work for the owner.” He clamped his mouth shut. It seemed he wanted to take back what he’d just said.

It took me only a moment to put together the puzzle. “That man, Griggs, he’s the owner?”

Jackson nodded. The evening had been nice thus far, and I decided to drop the subject. Jackson didn’t look as if he was keen on talking about his relationship with Griggs. And, truthfully, neither was I.

Even though she’d done three dance shows, Rose was anxious to cram onto the small dance floor between the crush of bodies twisting and gyrating to the beat of the music. It took Gideon three whiskeys to loosen up enough to agree.

Jackson and I both looked at the overcrowded dance floor with the same grim enthusiasm. I had no real desire to leave my chair or my extremely tasty drink, which I sipped with slow delight. More than one woman had stopped by the table to say hello, and, each time, Jackson had quickly introduced me as his date. It took off some of the irritating edge of having a seemingly long string of pretty, well-dressed girls flounce over to interrupt.

Jackson pulled out a cigarette and offered me one. I declined. “Do you mind if I have one?” he asked.

I swept my gaze pointedly around at the smoke clouded atmosphere above our heads. “I don’t see how one more can hurt.”

It was his faint smile that I found the most appealing. It always gave an impression of a man who liked to laugh and smile but who’d seen enough sadness to keep him from taking things too lightly.

He took a long drag on his cigarette, leaned back on his chair and eyed me through the stream of smoke. “Who taught you to ride a motorcycle?”

It was a question that came up often, and even though it always carried with it that terrible memory, I’d learned to answer it without going into too much detail. “My mother used to be the stunt rider for the show. After she died,” I said the words quickly, plainly, as if I was mentioning the weather, “I stayed with Buck. I had nowhere else to go. My real father died of a heart attack when I was five. At first, Buck tried to sell off the sphere. There was no one to ride in it, and it was a drag on profits. It takes two trucks to move the thing. As a teenager with no real skills except helping the other carnies clean-up after the show, I was a drag on the profit as well. Buck was going to have the sphere dismantled and destroyed, which felt like a stab in my heart. It had been my mother’s stage. I decided to continue her legacy by learning to ride. With a little help from Dodie, our show mechanic and master fiddler, I managed to learn the tricks and pick up where my mother left off.”

He took a sip of his whiskey. “Master fiddler? Was that the man playing before you performed? He was talented. Unfortunately, the crowd made it hard to hear him clearly.”

I was absurdly thrilled that he had noticed Dodie’s playing. It gave Jackson another layer that I hadn’t expected. “That’s him. Dodie’s had an interesting life—”

“Jackson Jarrett!” A man who was clearly drunk stumbled toward the table. He was in his early twenties with a long, narrow face and physique to match. His lids looked as if there were weights on them, and he used our table to keep upright.

“Harold, either this room is tilting or you aren’t walking straight,” Jackson said. “You look and smell as if you’ve been swimming in a tub of gin.”

“Something like that.” With a shaky arm, the man managed to find his forehead for a military salute. With some effort, he trained his unsteady focus on me. “You do realize that you are sitting with a war hero.” His words were long and stretched but quite comprehensible.

And they made Jackson stiffen. He sat up straighter on his chair. “Harold, you ought to find a ride home. Where’s Betty?”

Harold’s eyes closed for longer than a blink, and I half-expected him to fall face first onto the table. He opened them again. “Betty closed the bank on me.” He waved his arm, and the movement nearly swept him sidelong into the next table. “She wants to get hitched. Told her I didn’t need to walk no middle aisle for any woman right now. We’re through.” He swayed on his feet for a second and held onto the table edge for support. “Our Jackson, here, earned himself a shiny hero’s medal in France.” He tried to point at Jackson but gave up and lowered his hand again to hold onto the table.

I looked over at Jackson. His jaw was clenched tight. “All right, Harold, go dry up somewhere, would ya? Why don’t you ask the barkeep for a cup of Joe, eh?”

Harold’s gaze swept my direction. Again, the movement nearly toppled him sideways. “See, he doesn’t think it’s a big deal, our Jackson.” He pointed sloppily at Jackson again. “But those bleeding boys you dragged out of those ditches thought it was a big deal.” Harold pressed his hand against his side. “He even took a bullet pulling them out of there.” I thought back to the first time I’d seen Jackson. Rose had brought up the scar that she was sure was a bullet wound.

Gideon and Rose returned to the table. Jackson seemed more than relieved to have the conversation interrupted.

“Big six!” Harold leaned over to get a full look at Gideon and stumbled back. “How are you doing, big six?”