In truth, she felt anything but, and for a brief moment that betrayed everything she believed in, she longed for the days when young couples were chaperoned and a girl was protected—from scandal, yes, but also from herself. "Does Lucas work for you?"
"No. We're partners in a couple of things, but he has other business interests."
"Did you leave the North End together?"
His expression took on a sardonic cast. "Not exactly. I went to Harvard, and Lucas went into the army. But we got together afterward, and about three years ago he was out on the West Coast on some business for himself and accidentally ran into Vanessa. Only their work separates them now, and only when there's no other alternative."
"That's nice. I suppose they'll be married soon."
"You'll have to ask them."
He fell silent, guiding them both around the pond, leaving her to ponder what he had said.
Arabella liked him for remaining friends with another man through many stages of life, from childhood to adulthood. And, she mused, the friendship was strong enough to allow a third person into their circle, another old friend, a girl for Lucas. Surely that spoke of a certain steadiness in Jake. But what was she trying to convince herself of anyway? That a man who could maintain a long-term relationship with a man could also have one with a woman, a loving one? Inside her muff her hand fisted. Jake had a history with women that proved otherwise. And what did it matter? She wasn't seriously interested in him. She would forget him as soon as she returned home. For now she should have fun. The issue resolved, she forced herself from her introspection and heard the music. "What is that song the band is playing? I don't think I've ever heard it before."
"It's called, 'I've Got a Crush on You.' It's by George Gershwin."
"I wonder why I've never heard it."
"I'm not surprised. It was a featured song in George's musical, Strike Up the Band, that closed out of town a couple of years ago. He gave me the sheet music so the musicians I hired could play the tune here."
She blinked. "He must be a very good friend of yours."
He grinned. "George is reworking the musical and hopes to bring it back next year. But there are lots of other great shows on Broadway now. Why don't we go?"
She stopped herself before she could blink again. "To New York?"
"Why not? Broadway should appeal to you."
It probably would, she thought. And Jake appealed to her even more, but she wasn't ready to become another in a long line of Jake's girls. The excitement would be incendiary… and in the end leave her in ashes. She shook her head. "Thank you, but no thank you."
"Oh, come on. We can drive down, say on the thirteenth, and stay at the Waldorf."
She lied without a qualm. "I already have an engagement for that date."
He tightened his hold on her waist and angled his blades against the ice, bringing both of them to a sliding stop. Then he circled to in front of her. "With whom?"
She feigned an air of nonchalance. "Someone interesting."
He frowned. "Doing what?"
She glanced at the nails of one hand. "Something fascinating."
She looked so pure, so untouched, he thought, dressed in her white velvet-and-fur coat. Sweet baby curls of white gold escaped her white cloche and lay against flawless ivory skin. She looked like an ice princess, pure and chaste. But her wit was quick and sophisticated and her eyes were wickedly golden, and no virgin had ever heated his blood the way Arabella did. He laid his hands on her shoulders and placed his thumbs beneath her jawline, tilting her face closer to his. "Fight me," he said softly. "Run from me. It won't do any good. You will be in my bed soon, and I'm going to make you forget every lover you've ever had."
A traitorous thrill raced through her, but she had to correct him. "I've never—"
He laid a finger over her lips and gently moved them back and forth. "Shhh. Sooner or later it's going to happen. And if I have my way, it's going to be sooner."
"Sir." Marlon's dignified drawl cut through the charged air.
Irritated by the interruption, Jake jerked around to see his majordomo standing on the ice in his shoes. "What is it, Marlon?"
"Mr. Calloway is preparing to leave, but he would like to have a moment with you in your study before he does, if it would be convenient, of course."
Jake smiled thoughtfully. At last he would find out what was on the government agent's mind. It should be interesting. "Have you told Lucas?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. Wait right there and I'll help you off the ice."
"That's not necessary, sir."
"Wait." He looked back at Arabella. "Will you be at dinner tonight?"
She nodded. "Unless Kenneth decides he wants to return home early."
"He won't."
His confidence sent a chill down her spine. "Jake?"
He pushed off, gliding toward Marlon, but he stopped and looked back. "Yes?"
She opened her mouth to ask him not to get Kenneth involved in any poker games, but then closed her mouth again. Kenneth would never forgive her if he found out she had mentioned such a thing to anyone, much less Jake. "Nothing. Never mind."
His brows drew together. "You look worried. What is it?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. Go on. I—I'll see you at dinner."
He hesitated, started away again, then stopped and skated back to her. And right there in the center of the frozen pond he kissed her until her cold lips were warm and the chill she felt had vanished.
Chapter 4
"Marlon tells me you're leaving," Jake said, walking into his study and addressing Noah Galloway, who was sitting in one of the two leather chairs in front of the big desk. Lucas followed on Jake's heels and chose the second of the chairs.
Noah nodded. "The roads are clear now." He paused. "Although I understand there were several guests who left last night in spite of the weather, I prefer safer driving conditions."
Jake's lips slanted with an appreciative grin. He dropped down into the chair behind the desk and leaned back. Noah had an intelligent face, and brown eyes that spoke of knowledge he would never tell. It was Noah's job to put him in jail. It definitely made for an interesting relationship. "You know, Noah, you're too smart to work for the government forever. You should quit and work where you'll make decent money."
Noah grinned. "I appreciate your concern over my employment, Jake, but it suits me. Besides, I meet a lot of interesting people in my work."
"I have to give you that. Didn't I see you talking with Sheila Howard last night?"
"Yes." Noah smiled. "I'll probably be seeing her again."
"Congratulations," Lucas said.
Noah cleared his throat. "Yes, well… Jake, I want to thank you for allowing me to be here. When I called, I wasn't sure you would."
Jake gestured, moving his hands outward. "Why wouldn't I?"
"I think we both know the answer to that."
"Well, since we do, perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me why you wanted to come."
Noah studied the crease in his trousers, his forehead ridged with thought. Finally he looked up, first at Lucas, then at Jake. "I wanted to try to get a complete picture of you. I've heard of SwanSea, of course, but I wanted to see for myself how you lived. I wanted to see you away from your work, at ease and among friends."
Jake's voice went toneless. "Like I was an insect under a microscope."
"I'm sorry. It's my job."
"I believe I mentioned that you should change jobs."
"And I told you, it suits me."
Jake stared at him for a moment, then glanced at Lucas. "So, Noah, what did you learn from this study of yours?"
"Primarily that you never let your guard down. You have a strange assortment of friends and acquaintances. You have a fabulous house that you treat as if it were a shanty. In short, Jake, I learned that nothing about you adds up."
Lucas took out a cigarillo and lit it. "What sum are you trying to reach?"
"The sum of
Jake. And you too. You're almost as much as an enigma as he is. I need to know which way the two of you will jump in a given circumstance."
"Why?"
"Because I'm about to present you with a proposition, and I need to be able to trust you. My career could go down the drain if you failed me."
"I'm intrigued," Jake said, idly toying with a pen.
"I'm scared," Lucas drawled.
"No you're not. I don't know why, but you two don't scare."
Jake flung the pen onto the desk. "That's enough of trying to dissect us. Just tell us what the proposition is."
"All right. You are as aware as I am that we have absolutely no evidence linking either of you to anything illegal. I know you're running a highly successful bootlegging operation. But what I know and what I can prove are two different things. Now, word is you two grew up with Wade Scalia. The word is also out that he's rekindling a rivalry with you, only this time it's not a kid's game. And, fellahs, I have to tell you, the last thing I want or need on my hands is a gang war."
"As far as I'm aware," Jake said, toying with the pen again, "you've got nothing to worry about."
"What exactly is it you want from us?" Lucas asked.
"I want to use you to put Scalia away."
Jake exchanged a look with Lucas and saw an answering flash in his clear blue eyes.
Unable to read the look that had passed between the two men, Noah went on. "Scalia's deep into the rackets. If we could put him away, it would be a major coup. Now, you know him—"
"We knew the kid," Lucas said. "We don't know the man."
Noah waved an impatient hand. "Still, he feels a definite rivalry with you two, particularly, I understand, with Jake."
Lucas chuckled. "He never got over the fact that Jake wouldn't let him win at King of the Mountain."
"The point is, I don't want blood from here to New York because—whatever his reasons are—he wants your territory."
Lucas sent Jake a puzzled look. "What territory is he talking about?"
Jake pushed back from the desk and stood. "It doesn't matter. The answer is no. I'm sorry, Noah, but I'm not interested."
Noah stared at him for a long, speculative moment, then at Lucas. "What about you?"
"I'm with Jake."
He levered himself up from his chair. "Then I guess it's time I was on my way. Jake, thank you again for your hospitality."
"You're welcome anytime."
Noah gazed around him, a wry expression on his face as he took in the opulent furnishings and the rows of citron wood shelves packed with leather-bound books stamped with fourteen-karat lettering. "Somehow I don't think I'll be back. But, Jake, Lucas, if you change your minds, call me."
"Good-bye, Noah."
"Have a safe trip."
Lucas waited until Noah had gone, then asked, "Are you sure about turning down his offer, Jake?"
"What are you talking about? Do you really want to stop? You brought me the whole idea of our operation in the first place, and you're making money faster than they can print it."
Lucas blew out a final stream of smoke, then ground the cigarillo out. "Yeah, that's true. I've made a lot of money, more than enough for what I want. And I've made some good investments, including choice parcels of land out in California. I can quit right now. I'm set for life."
Jake sat back down and studied his old friend.
"You're getting tired of being away from Vanessa, aren't you? I don't blame you. I know you two want to make your home out there. Look, you can quit anytime you want, you know."
Lucas shrugged. "Yeah, I know. And even though we've never talked about it, I also know why you won't quit. Your old man is practically apoplectic over your participation in the little sideline we have going, and it would make him too happy if you stopped."
Jake grinned. Lucas knew him better than anyone on earth. "But my reasons shouldn't affect you. You can quit today if you want, and I'll continue paying you your percentage."
Lucas shook his head. "We've been through too much together. I would never bail out on you. Besides, I wouldn't feel good about leaving you with this, Jake. You enjoy the knife's edge too much. Every now and then you need me to pull you off before the blade slices into you."
Jake's grin faded. "You're closer to me than any brother ever could be, and I'm damned glad you're staying. But, Lucas… there's no way I'll get hurt."
Candles lined the center of the long mahogany table, their flames reflected in the gleam of the silver and the brilliant shine of the crystal. A score of footmen in gold-buttoned black uniforms hovered discreetly, ready to spring into action. Arabella viewed the scene, thankful and relieved that the lengthy dinner was drawing to a conclusion. Much to her dismay, she had been placed at the foot of the table with Jake at its head. This placement, she knew, would mark her in the eyes of the other guests as Jake's new girl. She had tried to get Marlon to switch her place, but he had been adamant in an extremely polite, unyielding way. It was Mr. .Deverell's wish she be placed at the opposite end of the table from him, and therefore that was where she would sit. In the end, she had decided to brazen out the situation, and count her blessings that Randolph Bruce had left for Boston in the early afternoon.
By evening the number of guests had dwindled to about forty, with only twenty-six coming down to dinner. The others had chosen to dine in their rooms, requiring a small break in their merrymaking.
Arabella sipped her wine and eyed Jake. He was lounging in the big chair, lazily smiling at the marcel-waved beauty next to him who was leaning toward him, her hand on his arm, speaking softly. An untouched plate of food and glass of wine sat in front of him.
He seemed relaxed, but Arabella could sense the tension in him. His command of the dinner table and everything happening around him, even when he didn't seem to be paying attention, seemed so obvious to her. Suddenly, as if he knew she was watching him, Jake turned his head and gazed at her. One dark brow arched and his smile deepened, then he returned his attention to his dinner companion.
Vexed, Arabella angled her body toward the United States senator on her right. "I'd be most interested to know your opinion of President-elect Hoover. He has said he will carry out 'the ideas of the American people,' but I can't help thinking that sounds a trifle vague. I know you're from the same party as he, and that very probably you are a confidant of our new president. Perhaps you could explain his plans to me more in depth."
The rotund man with bushy eyebrows beamed at the opportunity to take center stage. "My dear, I'd be glad to. Herbert and I have had extensive conversations on this very subject…"
From the other end of the table, Jake smiled to himself. It had been a whim to have her seated opposite him, but now he was very glad he had. She had risen to the occasion and had presided from her place of honor with an elegance and beauty and grace that amazed him.
Her hair was unadorned and drawn back in gentle waves to her neck, where it was softly rolled. A wide collar of pearls circled her long, lovely neck. The bodice of her dress was a transparent shell of white silk chiffon that fell from the shoulder to the dropped waist without a side seam. He'd marveled at the dress before dinner. Brilliants of some sort were scattered over the sheer shoulders and patterned around the hips. The skirt was made out of a heavier white silk and thickly embroidered in pearls. Beneath this astonishing dress she wore a deeply cut, simple white silk underslip. A Poiret, he imagined, and one of the most tantalizing yet completely ladylike dresses he'd ever seen. His palms tingled from his need to slide his hand between the transparent shell and the slip to her breast.
He stood and all eyes went to him. "When everyone is ready, I believe Marlon has coffee and spirits waiting for us in the drawing room." He strode the length of the table to her and held out his hand.
Because everyone was watching, she accepted, rose, and as she had intended, everyone else followed her example, rising and, most important to her, resuming their conversations.
Jake started toward the
door, still holding her hand, but she pulled away. "I'd like to speak with Kenneth before I go into the drawing room." She'd observed her brother closely during dinner, gratified to see him drink only water. Now might be the last opportunity she'd have to talk with him before returning to Boston.
"Here he comes now," Jake said. "I'll wait for you."
"I'd like to speak to him privately."
"About leaving early?"
"We'll be leaving tomorrow as planned."
"I doubt it. Not you, at any rate." He brushed his thumb across her lips. "I'll meet you in the drawing room in a few moments."
Her lips were still tingling from Jake's touch when Kenneth walked up, his expression brooding. "It seems that despite my warning, you are involved with Jake. You always were a headstrong girl."
"I'm not involved with Jake or anyone."
"That's not what it looks like."
It wasn't what it felt like either, but she couldn't say so to her brother. Her feelings for Jake were something she was going to have to work out alone. She hooked her arm in his, and they began to stroll toward the door. "We're still leaving in the morning, aren't we?"
"Yes. I really don't want to stay any longer, although most of the others will be staying on. Jake virtually runs an open house here."
"But you enjoyed our stay, didn't you?"
"Well enough. Why do you ask?"
She shrugged with what she hoped was an appropriate insouciance. "I had hoped to spend more time with you while we were here."
He frowned at her. "We live in the same house, Arabella. What's with you?"
They were in the great entry hall now with its forty-foot ceiling and Louis Comfort Tiffany-designed staircase that climbed a story then branched in opposite directions to climb another story. At the top of the stairs there was a twenty-foot stained-glass window crafted in vibrant green, purple, gold, and blue, and representing a peacock's head and body. Then the breathtaking jeweled colors were brought into a marble mosaic that swept down the staircase and onto part of the hall below, portraying the vivid plumage of the peacock's tail. The staircase, she remembered, was the reason she had chosen to bring Jake the peacocks.
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