Tomorrow's Dreams (15 page)

“Oh, no. You're not old at all. At least you don't look old.” She paused her simpering long enough to sweep him with a calculating glance. “By the way, how old are you?”

“I turned thirty-six last month.”

About twenty-five years younger than Effie. Penelope glared at Seth, momentarily forgetting that she was trussed up like a violent maniac at Bedlam. The man was a shameless flirt.

Effie twittered at his response and resumed her coquetry. “Why, you're just entering your prime, Mr. Tyler.”

“Seth.”

Effie preened. “Seth. And you may call me Effie.”

His expression blandly polite, Seth looked over Effie's head at Penelope, inquiring, “Say, Miss Effie. Is that a Brennan's Patented Wife Silencer Miss Leroux is wearing?”

“You're familiar with Mr. Brennan's invention?” Effie's eyes brightened at the prospect of a discussion on patented devices.

Seth walked around Penelope, circling like a vulture around a particularly tasty carcass. “I've seen them advertised,” he replied, pausing to examine the device's rigging. Fixing her with a goading stare, he added, “Not that I have need for such a device. My women never have reason to complain.”

Penelope gasped at his audacity. Well, she was a woman, and she certainly had her share of complaints about the conceited scoundrel. However, when she tried to open her mouth to voice her displeasure, the gravity defier silenced her every bit as effectively as one of Mr. Brennan's patented devices.

Effie, on the other hand, completely missed Seth's sly innuendo. Shaking her head, she replied, “This particular device happens to be Mr. Keeley's Gravity Defier.” When Seth lifted one eyebrow in question, she elaborated. “It's supposed to keep the skin from sagging and promote firmness of the facial muscles.”

Seth's eyebrows shot up in amazement. “Certainly a youthful beauty like yourself has no need of such a thing!”

Penelope didn't miss the way he excluded her from his flattering assessment. Really! The man would try the patience of Job. Infuriated by his slight, she yanked the jaw strap so hard that it cut into the tender skin beneath her chin.

“Oh, no. We were just conducting a scientific experiment.” Effie blinked twice, the embarrassment of Penelope's dilemma finally dawning on her. Flushing, she hurried to her aid.

Seth joined Effie in examining the gravity defier. Lightly touching one of the straps, he asked, “Have you drawn any conclusions as to the device's effectiveness?”

“I'd have to compare it to Eppington's Facial Firmer before I could say for certain.” Effie pursed her lips as she gingerly disengaged a skein of Penelope's hair from one of the buckles. “And of course there is that ageless wonder contraption. What is that thing called?” She glanced up briefly.

Seth shrugged. “I'm afraid I'll have to plead ignorance on that particular invention.

Muttering several unflattering remarks as to the extent of his ignorance, Penelope gave the jaw strap another vicious tug.

“Do hold still, Lorelei,” Effie chided, her face perfectly reflecting her dismay as she fidgeted with the buckle. “However did you manage to get your hair so tangled in the device?”

Penelope's only reply was a muffled, “Ouch!” as Effie inadvertently pulled out a few strands of hair.

With a defeated sigh, the elderly actress stepped back and surveyed the situation. “This is impossible. Aside from cutting the knotted hair, I don't see how we're going to get you loose.”

Penelope gasped, appalled at Effie's suggestion.

Frowning, Seth tested one of the buckles. After a moment he concluded, “It's not so bad as all that. I think I can remove the device without cutting her hair.” He leaned over Penelope's shoulder to peer at her face, his expression properly deferential. “That is, if Miss Lorelei has no objections?”

Penelope stared at him out of the corner of her eye, not a bit fooled by his obeisance. But before she could make a sound, Effie chimed in, “Such gallantry! Why, I'm sure Lorelei will be forever in your debt if you save her hair. After all, a woman's hair is her crowning glory.”

As much as Penelope hated the idea of being further indebted to Seth, she didn't see how she had any choice in the matter. Not if she wanted to be released from the awful gravity defier with her “crowning glory” intact. Miserably, she nodded her agreement.

“Good decision,” Seth whispered, keeping his voice low enough to be out of Effie's earshot. “We can't have the Toast of the West looking like a plucked hen.”

Penelope let out an indignant squawk, a sound that came out comically resembling that of a chicken being relieved of its feathers. Chuckling, Seth began to free her hair.

His touch was gentle, and despite her anger, Penelope relaxed by degrees. Lulled by the low drone of Seth and Effie's conversation, she eventually closed her eyes and let herself lean against his chest.

He smelled good. His usual woodsy scent was underlaid with notes of sweat and tobacco, creating a bouquet as undeniably masculine as Seth himself. Instinctively drawn to his fragrance, she pressed closer. His body was hard, unyielding in its strength. Even through the layers of their clothes she could feel his powerful muscles ripple as he worked.

Just the thought of the sculpted perfection beneath his expensive jacket and crisp linen shirt sent an unwelcome surge of excitement racing through her body. To her discomfiture, the vision of Seth as he'd looked the first time she'd seen his bare chest popped into her mind.

It had been almost four years ago during a visit home to San Francisco. Unaware of Hallie and Penelope's plans to entertain friends in the rose garden, Seth and her brother had doffed their shirts and challenged each other to an impromptu boxing match. When the women had discovered them, they were half-naked and heckling each other in the crudest of terms.

Normally unflappable, Hallie had dissolved into helpless laughter, while their guests either squealed with shock or expressed self-righteous indignation at the men's ungentlemanly behavior. Penelope, who was leading the chattering group, stopped abruptly in her tracks, shamelessly gawking at Seth's bare chest.

He'd looked magnificent. Standing amid the colorful roses, his tawny skin slick with sweat and his honey-colored hair tumbling damply around his broad shoulders, he'd reminded her of a sun-drenched Viking raider bent on wrecking havoc.

He'd certainly wrecked havoc on her emotions. Captivated by the blatant masculinity of his body, she'd let her gaze slide from his powerful shoulders and chest, down the muscular planes of his stomach. There wasn't an ounce of fat anywhere. He had unbuttoned the top of his trousers, probably when he removed his shirt, and it was with unmaidenly interest that her gaze moved downward. Unable to look away, she'd wantonly wondered how he looked completely naked. Was the rest of his skin as smooth and silky as that of his chest? Was he golden everywhere? Lost in wonderment, she'd stared for the longest time.

It was Seth himself who had broken her trance. As he leaned over to retrieve his shirt, he'd looked her straight in the eye and given her a conspiratorial wink. True to form, he seemed to be enjoying the feminine attention. His expression was playful, almost mischievous … until he traced her line of vision.

In that instant, as he captured her startled gaze with his all-knowing one, she saw what other, more worldly women had seen in him. Finally she understood the covetous way those women looked at him; she knew the reason for their enamored whispers.

His appeal was magnetic. Irresistible. Seth Tyler exuded a dark, smoldering sensuality that made her mind reel with all sorts of improper thoughts. If Penelope lived to be a hundred, she'd never forget the way he'd looked at her, his gaze hungry and full of yearning, his lips curved with seductive promise. He'd made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world. And in that heated moment, Penelope knew she wanted Seth Tyler. She'd been overwhelmed by his virile appeal then …

… Just as she was now. She shuddered as Seth massaged a particularly sensitive place behind her ear. As she savored the feel of his fingers against her skin, she fleetingly wondered if he was as affected by their close proximity as she was.

Seth was. Embarrassingly so. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so aroused. Well, actually he did remember. It was the last time he'd kissed Penelope.

Mumbling an inane response to Effie, who was excusing herself to go speak with a clerk at the far side of the shop, he released another strap. The stiff leather left an angry red mark across Penelope's cheek. Disturbed at seeing her beautiful face marred in such a careless fashion, he stroked the newly exposed skin, gently coaxing the blood back to the surface. To his supreme discomfort, she moaned softly in response and briefly pressed her backside against his sex.

The unconscious sensuality of her action made Seth's belly spasm with urgency, and it took all his control not to yank her against him and grind his groin against her rounded posterior. Never in his life had he wanted a woman as badly as he wanted Penelope. Never was there a woman he had less chance of having.

Stifling an oath, he jerked his hips away from her skirts, feeling perilously close to disgracing himself. Damnation! Why, after two years of telling himself that he no longer loved her, did he still desire her so?

By the time the last strap fell loose, Seth was seriously considering going back to the hotel and ordering a bath … one with ice. As he set aside the leather contraption, he noticed for the first time that three roughly dressed men had gathered at the window and were watching Penelope with avid interest. Apparently they recognized her from her performances as Lorelei Leroux.

Grinning down at Penelope, who lounged against him, head lolled forward and eyes closed, he quipped, “Curtain-call time. Take a bow, Lorelei Leroux.”

“W-what?” She raised her head, blinking rapidly.

Seth pointed to the men. “Your audience awaits you.”

She glanced vacantly toward the window and then back at him. Abruptly she returned her gaze to the window. Her eyes flew open so wide that, for a moment, Seth thought her eyeballs would pop right out of her head.

“By the audience's smiles, I'd guess that this was one of your better performances,” he drawled. Pressing his lips close to her ear, he added, “I personally liked the part where you lollygagged against me and moaned. Quite effective, as you can see.” Cheating his back to the spectators, he glanced down at the bulge in his trousers with a significant lift of his brow.

Though Seth hadn't thought it possible, her eyes widened even more at the sight of his obvious arousal. “You're insufferable!” she hissed, jamming her bonnet over her matted hair. “And for the record, I wasn't lollygagging!”

He laughed. “You have your definitions, and I have mine. As for being insufferable, well, there is a certain part of me that feels that way at the moment.”

Pointedly ignoring his jest and the men outside, Penelope marched toward the counter. The store was mercifully empty of customers, and the pharmacist, who was having an animated conversation with a clerk, seemed uninterested in the whole gravity-defier fiasco. Apparently mishaps with patented devices were a regular occurrence at the shop.

Just as she was about to request her purchases, Seth grabbed her elbow and pulled her aside. “Not so fast, Princess. As much as I enjoyed participating in your little experiment, it wasn't the reason I came into the shop.”

“Really?” She sniffed. “I thought bedeviling me was one of your missions in life.”

Seth's lips curved into a naughty grin. “I distinctly remember you doing all the bedeviling.”

She fixed him with a glower, ignoring his banter. “Just tell me what you want and go away.”

He removed something from his pocket, then lifted her hand and slipped it in her palm. “My hotel room key,” he said in a low voice. “As my valet, it will be your job to wake me at seven.”

Penelope opened her mouth to protest the impropriety of his demand, but he swiftly cut her off. “Unless you've changed your mind again and would prefer that I wire your brother?”

Her mouth clamped shut. If her brother came to Denver, he'd ask questions. He'd pry into her affairs and those of the company, something which would prove disastrous, for she knew, beyond all doubt, that Adele would dispose of the baby to avoid being exposed as the kidnapper and extortionist she was.

Having no choice, as usual, Penelope nodded. “Is that all?”

“Not quite. There is a matter of my question. A question a day keeps your brother away. Remember?”

How could she forget? Glancing around to make sure that Effie was occupied elsewhere, she hissed, “All right, then. Ask your blasted question.”

With leisurely deliberation, Seth's gaze swept her length, pausing to focus on a particularly worn area of fabric at the elbow of her jacket. “What time to you leave for the theater?”

Self-conscious beneath his scrutiny, she pressed her arm close to her body to hide the flaw. “Around seven? Why?”

He nodded and refocused his gaze on the balding fringe at her shoulder. “I'll be at your boardinghouse at seven sharp. You can answer my question while I escort you to the Shakespeare.”

It was going to be tricky enough sneaking in and out of his hotel room every morning without the added risk of arousing Adele's suspicions by accepting Seth's escort over Miles's. With that in mind, she demurred. “That's impossible. Miles always walks me to and from the theater.”

“Not anymore. I don't trust that sniveling jackass any further than the stretch of his mama's apron strings.”

Penelope inhaled sharply, infuriated by his highhandedness. “Our bargain didn't include me being at your beck and call at all hours,” she retorted.

“That point is debatable.” He shrugged. “However, since I have another engagement and don't have time to argue, I'll make a deal with you.” The calculating gleam in his eyes sent a frisson of uneasiness snaking down her spine.