He wished he knew the true nature of Blight’s goal. Did he hope to force Tessa into such impossible situations that she would voluntarily withdraw? Would he fairly judge the two candidates for the position? David snorted and rubbed his eyes. That much was clearly impossible—if Blight were an impartial judge, he’d have already offered the position to Tessa. She worked in the department in question, knew it inside and out, and had established relationships with the staff, not only in her own department, but elsewhere. She seemed to know people on every floor. She was even friends with Henry, the lift operator.
She was eminently more qualified than the weasel. He supposed the trick would be to ensure she received the position she deserved—even if Blight sabotaged her efforts—without lending credence to any suspicion that she had been given the promotion because of her friendship with him.
Friendship.
He smiled. He would write soon to Matteo and admit he finally understood. A deep and abiding connection with another soul could indeed form quickly and without warning. David had always appreciated beautiful women, but all others paled in comparison to Tessa. He dozed on the balcony, a small smile on his face as he envisioned hers.
The following day was an uneventful yet busy one for Tessa, as much as David could ascertain. He stopped in at lunchtime to find the department swamped with people. This time, she didn’t let Mr. Gibbons bully her into taking more than a fifteen-minute lunch, standing in the employee rest area next to her cabinet. He couldn’t even entice her to the store’s café on the main level.
David spent the afternoon telegraphing his associates and going about the business of advancing his timeline. There were details yet to confirm, and his rental home was nearly ready, but he put everything away at the end of the business day to meet Tessa in the department store lobby.
He spied her exiting the stairway, where she was waylaid by no fewer than three shopgirls who apparently had questions for her. She paused, smiled, offered information, and then finally reached him by the doors. A becoming flush tinged her cheeks. They’d not had occasion to talk alone for more than a few snippets of conversation since the day before. Did she regret the kiss? Did she resent him? Did she hope to repeat it?
He took her hand and kissed her fingers, and she swayed closer, which he interpreted as a very good sign. “I told Max and Valentine I would treat you to dinner this evening on North Pier, if you’ve no objections. Afterward, we could gather some more of those ridiculous bits of miscellany for Blight.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I will enjoy dinner. I may even enjoy gathering the stray items, but thinking of that man is still causing my blood to boil.” She tucked her hand in his arm, and they left the building. “This week will be over before I know it, and I will either have proven myself or find myself working for Grover Welsey.”
He stilled on the sidewalk. “You will work for him?”
She nodded. “That seems to be the natural course. If he is advanced to Mr. Gibbons’s position, I will work under him and assuredly be demoted from my responsibilities as the assistant.”
He exhaled and, when she tugged on his arm, began moving again. “You cannot work with that man.”
“I could request a transfer to a different department, but I enjoy being with the girls in LGR.” She sighed. “I will ponder that over the weekend, if necessary.”
He was quiet as they strolled down the street to a relatively empty spot where he could hail a cab. He would die a thousand deaths before allowing the weasel a position anywhere near Tessa, let alone in a supervisory capacity. The smarmy man lacked integrity, that was abundantly clear; David hoped it would be a short matter of time before he could fire him altogether.
David instructed the hansom driver to North Pier, and he settled in beside Tessa. He laced his fingers with hers and settled their joined hands on his leg. After a moment, he realized he was bouncing his knee restlessly as she frequently did.
“I shall work it through,” Tessa told him quietly. “I can manage him. It would be a disappointment, but I would devise a plan for myself.”
“That should not be an issue to solve.” He glanced at her, knowing she would balk at his interference. “I will take care of it.”
“No, you will not.”
“He abuses women in stairways.”
“Nobody will believe it.”
He looked at her flatly. “Everybody will believe it. Anybody who has spent even a moment in his company will believe it.”
“We are putting the cart before the horse. Perhaps it will not be an issue.”
He pursed his lips, stewing.
“Why are you helping me?” she asked, and the question caught him off-guard.
“Because I l—like you. I enjoy your company. I respect you, and you make me laugh.” He looked at her, trying to gauge her mood, the direction of her thoughts. His heart beat a little harder. What was she attempting to not say? “Are we not friends?”
She wiggled her fingers still wrapped in his. “Are you very familiar with all your friends? I know, I know.” She waved her free hand. “You are Italian. But still I wonder.”
What response would least likely send her fleeing? She was accomplished and determined to further her prospects as a woman of independent means. The thought of scaring her away was not one he relished.
He finally posed the question itself. “Which answer will make you the most comfortable?”
Her mouth lifted just a bit. “I would hear the truth, above all else. I suppose I am wondering how much of my . . . emotion I should invest. Such casual familiarity is not customary for me.”
“You believe I view you casually?”
She shrugged. “I do not know what to believe.”
“What do you want to believe?” He felt as though he walked on slippery banana peels.
She exhaled in frustration. “The truth! I would know the truth, and yet I suppose I am an inexperienced, naïve schoolgirl for even having the awkwardness to ask.”
He looked at her carefully and realized her eyes held an element of something he’d not seen in her: fear. “Tessa Baker, you are the only woman I have ever met who has caused me to consider my future—my true, permanent future. You do not know me well. You have preconceived notions of my past, some of which may be justified. You also have goals for your life, and you will probably accomplish more than you can even imagine now. I would not expect you to allow anything to interfere with that; perhaps at some future date, however, you may find a way to blend other elements into that life, as well.”
She bit her lip. “So much is happening right now, I hardly know what to think.”
“Perhaps you needn’t think quite so much. Take one step at a time.”
“But I do not like not knowing what to expect.”
He smiled. “Suppose you simply leave your heart open to possibilities?”
“I do not want it to get broken.” She looked away when she whispered it.
He lifted their joined hands to his lips and kissed hers. “I would be the last man on earth to do it.”
Chapter Nine
Tessa eyed the strongman contraption dubiously. The hammer alone probably weighed more than she did, and the scavenger hunt stipulated she must wield it on her own.
“It is quite heavy,” David said, having rung the bell three times already. “I suppose that might seem daunting.”
She glared at him and grabbed the handle. He smirked at her, not bothering to hide it, and she realized she’d been had. She thrust his coat at him—she’d held it while he exhibited his admittedly impressive prowess—and narrowed her eyes.
The crowd around them cheered, and she lifted the large hammer. She maneuvered herself into place and swung the thing experimentally, knowing full well she would never be able to arc it up and over in a large sweep.
She moved closer to the mechanism she was supposed to hit and dropped the hammer down onto it, still maintaining a grip on the handle. She was met with a chorus of good-natured lau
ghs and boos, and she glanced at the onlookers with a smile.
She sighed and looked back at David. “I cannot bring myself to admit defeat, but I’ll never manage proper form.”
He stepped onto the platform and took the hammer, his hand brushing against hers. “You require a bit of extra help, that’s all.” He grinned at her, and her heart thudded against her ribs. Since his veiled declaration of affection earlier in the carriage, she’d thought of little else.
“Now, then.” He nudged her back into place, encircled her arms with his, and set her hands close together on the mallet.
The crowd cheered and whistled, and she felt herself blushing furiously. He placed his hands on the handle, one above, one below hers and lifted, swinging the heavy mallet slightly, like a pendulum.
She looked over her shoulder, and he lowered his mouth to her ear. “Would you prefer to try it alone again?”
His breath was warm against her skin, and she shivered, shaking her head. “You are scandalous and an incorrigible flirt.”
Her lips twitched as he raised his brows, all innocence. “Having never engaged in such activity, I cannot imagine what you mean.”
She snorted a laugh, and he winked at her.
“Now, relax your arms. Let me guide you. We shall swing back in a wide arc and come around on top of it.”
She nodded.
“By ‘relax your arms,’ I mean to say, do not do anything at all other than keep your hands on the mallet, or we shall both require shoulder splints.”
She laughed again, as did several people standing next to the game.
“We will swing twice, like so,” he said, demonstrating. “And then on the third, we ring the bell.”
She tipped her head to the side, eyes wide. “This suddenly seems very foolhardy.”
“Nonsense. One. Two. And three!”
She kept her arms as limp as possible and allowed him to do the work. He shortened the arc considerably to adjust for her height and reach, and she wanted to slow the moment. The length of him pressed against her back from head to toe, his arms completely enveloping her, his quick inhale as he hefted the weight for both of them. He was warm and solid and so very much alive.
The mallet head came down on the contraption, and the large rubber pellet shot upward. It didn’t reach the bell, but it was certainly a better result than she’d achieved on her own. She laughed, the crowd cheered, and she noticed every touch, every sensation associated with him. He handed the mallet back to the game master but left his other hand on her hip.
She drew in a shaky breath. He was turning her insides to mush.
“Yes, please initial the back of this ticket.” David laughed as the game operator shook his head. “We need verification that she did indeed swing the mallet.” David turned his attention back to her and smiled, still lingering close, touching her in a deliciously familiar way—as though they were together, as though she belonged to him and he to her. She wanted it to be true so badly it felt like an ache.
He tilted his head. “Are you well?” He took the ticket from the bemused operator, nodded his thanks, and accepted his jacket from an onlooker who had held it for him. He drew her away from the crowd and looked at her closely. “Did I hurt your arm?”
“No, no.” She shook her head and drew in a deep breath. “I feel as though the sand is shifting beneath my feet.”
He studied her in silence.
“I am . . . completely lost. At sea.”
He lifted the corner of his mouth in a gentle smile. “Do you swim?”
“Some. Not well.”
“I have a very strong stroke. All you need to do is stay on the surface and work with me. Not so much unlike that, yes?” He motioned with his chin to the strongman game.
She felt her eyes burn and looked away from him, embarrassed. She exhaled through pursed lips and chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I am so overwhelmed.”
She saw him shrug into his coat from the corner of her eye and looked at him as he held her hand and led her away from the carnival and onto the promenade. It was late, and she would be tired come morning, but she didn’t want to go home, didn’t want to go to sleep. Even confused, she didn’t want to be anywhere but with him.
“Walk with me onto the pier; it’s quieter there.” He nodded toward South Pier.
She nodded, and he laced their fingers together. Late-night revelers thronged the promenade, and she breathed a small sigh of relief when they reached the pier. Activity still flourished farther down as a small band played for an open-air dance, but midway along the wide wooden bridge, there were spots absent people and glaring light and noise.
He released her hand and leaned forward on the wooden railing. She breathed deeply and sighed, standing close to him, wanting to be near and not knowing how to articulate it.
He looked to the side at her, his blue eyes serious. “I will wait for you. I am not searching for a bride. I did not come here looking to start a family, but I did come here hoping to move to a different place in life.” The light Italian accent—she would never tire of hearing it.
He examined his forefinger, picking at a splinter. “I suppose what I am saying, Tessa, is that I do not just want a wife. I want you. I am not looking for the sake of looking. If you were to refuse to see me again after this moment and leave me here, I would not refocus my efforts on finding someone new.”
She studied him—his handsome profile, thick hair, solemn expression.
He cleared his throat. “I am not asking for anything from you, other than to know that I am building my life here, I am not going anywhere, and I very much would like you to consider getting to know me better. I do not expect you to leave your work. I do not expect you to rearrange anything in your life, except perhaps to allow me to plead my case.”
She laughed, a quiet exhalation. She leaned on the railing next to him and turned her face into the ocean breeze. “I want a family of my own. I want a home and a husband and children. I also want to continue to work at the store, and I do not know how to reconcile the two.”
“Must one negate the other?”
“David, I do not know a man on earth who would countenance a wife working anywhere other than at home. I want to work at least a few hours during the week.” She lifted her shoulders. “Unless I am single or widowed, it is not done.”
“Do you know another thing that was simply ‘not done’? Women working as shopgirls. It was unheard of half a century ago. And something ‘not done’ now? Women working in supervisory positions in retail, in business, anywhere. And yet?”
She turned toward him fully, one arm on the rail, the other hand on her hip. “Do you honestly mean to tell me that you would have no objections to having a wife who worked outside the home?”
He smiled. “You’ve not met my mother.” He paused. “Anyone I marry will presumably spend her time sponsoring charity events and attending social gatherings. This is time spent away from home. Why should it matter to me if that time is spent in a department store?”
She snorted. “Because you’re a count, for one thing!”
He rolled his eyes. “Cara mia, I could not care less.” His eyes roamed over her face, settled on her lips, and then her eyes. “I am not in a rush; I certainly do not mean to cause you a moment’s distress. It is only that . . .” For the first time, he seemed vulnerable. “I did not expect you,” he admitted quietly. “I find myself rather at sea too. You are not the only one with a heart at risk of breaking.”
“Mercy,” she murmured, and her eyes stung. She leaned into him on impulse and touched her lips softly to his. He returned the gentle kiss but remained still, following her lead. She pulled back and touched her forehead to his. “And I would be the last woman on earth to do it.”
Chapter Ten
Tessa passed the next three days on a cloud. Even Grover Welsey couldn’t dampen her mood, although she noticed that Wednesday’s emergency assignments from Mr. Blight were ridiculously easy in comparison to the fiasco
Welsey had created for her on Monday.
Wednesday’s tasks included securing extra lengths of certain fabrics that were housed in storage containers at the shipping docks and handling an imaginary squabble between two shopgirls in the children’s department that began in the employee room and moved into the store proper. She admitted feeling a slight advantage with that scenario. She knew both shopgirls, had helped them a few months back with housing issues, and her solutions were guided by the fact that she could work with what she knew of their personalities. She crossed five items off the scavenger list, beginning with the extracted tooth.
Thursday afforded them another break from emergency scenarios, but she used the evening hours with David, Max, and Valentine for locating the last of the trivial items on the list. She indeed found a bolt beneath the Ferris wheel, and the operator, who was with her during the search, was comfortable signing a paper to that effect. She added both paper and bolt to her growing collection of oddities that ranged from candy wrappers to puppet hair.
They watched a water polo match and obtained signatures from each member of the winning team. David covered her eyes when the men emerged from the water in dripping wet bathing suits. She couldn’t deny the thrill she felt that he of all people would be jealous of her attention to other men.
They attended an informal production on Middle Pier, after which she jotted a summary of the plot onto the back of the printed program. She obtained signatures from each cast member, and “for luck,” the leading lady kissed the paper with her bright, red-rouged lips.
It was Friday now, early afternoon, and she had yet to receive instructions from thefifth floor. Mr. Gibbons checked personally to be certain she’d not been missed—either accidentally or intentionally—but all had been quiet on that front. The department itself, however, was a madhouse, and she’d not taken a proper lunch.
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