"Take your purse."
The sudden light of humor in his eyes surprised her. "Why?"
"Because my tipster said this place is going to be raided at eleven o'clock."
Chapter 6
With a lopsided grin for Jake, Lucas folded the newspaper he'd been reading and tossed it aside. "Randolph Bruce says that you and Arabella Linden are a hot item."
Vanessa lazily stretched, sending the sleeves of her dove-gray wrapper sliding down her lovely arms. "Randolph is a louse. I don't know why you put up with him, Jake."
The three of them had just finished dinner and were lounging in armchairs in front of the fireplace in Jake's hotel suite.
Amusement tugged at the corners of Jake's mouth. "He serves a purpose, you know that."
"Sure, I know. You make certain Randolph sees and hears what you want him to, he prints it, and Edward Deverell reads it. But Randolph is still a louse."
"And in this instance Randolph may also be right." Lucas took a moment to light a cigarillo. "You've been out with Arabella almost every night for the past two weeks. And knowing you as well as I do, I'd say you've either fallen hard for her or you have some other plan in mind. I think it's both."
Vanessa moved down in the chair and lay her head against its back. "I almost feel sorry for the girl."
Jake looked at Vanessa in surprise. "She said she didn't think you liked her."
"I don't have to like her to feel sorry for her. She's mad for you, Jake."
Was Arabella really in love with him? he wondered. The thought staggered him. He had never considered the possibility before, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Other women had been in love with him, but they were different from Arabella…
Being in love with a woman was a foreign idea to him. Desire, on the other hand, was an idea with which he could deal very easily. Or it had been… until he had met Arabella. He was still troubled by that night in the conservatory. Since they had been going out in Boston, he had deliberately kept things light between them, giving himself time to try to figure out what it was that had stopped him from taking her.
And the status quo obviously suited her. She seemed completely at ease with him, flirting and bantering, glittering with beauty and life. No, she couldn't be in love with him. And his contentment to allow their situation to remain the same was rapidly coming to an end. The continual and growing ache in his body reminded him constantly that he was going to have to have her soon.
"She's going to get hurt, Jake."
"Arabella? No, no. She's too sophisticated not to know the score." The knowledge made him feel better. "Besides, what is all this? Except for a few extremely sarcastic and extremely pointed remarks, you two have never shown much interest in who I've taken out or how often."
Lucas exhaled a heavy stream of smoke. "Arabella seems different."
"And you seem different with her," Vanessa added.
Jake lifted his hand in a gesture of concession. "I couldn't say how I act with her, but I will say she's not like any other woman I've ever been involved with."
Lucas studied the end of his cigarillo. "I guess that's what we're trying to figure out—just what your involvement is with her."
"Why? Look, this is nothing for you two to worry about."
Vanessa reached over and touched his arm. "We're not worried. Just interested and concerned. For you. Besides," she said, her voice turning light, "I'm going to have to be leaving soon, and I won't be around to give you the benefit of my sage advice."
Jake's brows shot up. "Is MGM giving you problems?"
She nodded. "It seems this year for the very first time there's going to be some kind of awards ceremony at the Roosevelt Hotel. It's to be called the Academy Awards. And the whole idea was Louis B. Mayer's. Seems he feels films need a more dignified image."
Lucas chuckled. "I can't imagine that."
Vanessa sent him a playfully fierce look. "Anyway, since Mr. Mayer is my boss, I've got to go back. The ceremony isn't going to be held until the middle of May, but the studio wants me back in California as soon as possible for promotion and a new film. I'm going to try to put it off for another couple of weeks though."
"Why? Sounds like something that would be good for your career." Jake glanced at Lucas. "You're going with her, aren't you?"
Lucas shook his head. "I don't think I'd better. There's been another message from Wade through Ram. He's really serious, Jake. And the eighth customer in about four weeks has gotten in touch. Wade's men are trying strong-arm tactics, trying to get them to change suppliers. I've got everyone on the alert. I've also beefed up the guard on our best customers."
Jake uttered a mild expletive. "You'd think Wade's own rackets would keep him too busy to worry about our little operation."
"Well, obviously that's not the case."
"Maybe not, but I don't understand what Wade Scalia has to do with your staying here. You can't be that worried about him."
"Dammit, Jake. Is it going to take a Howitzer blowing up next to you to make you understand he's out to get you? He's waited for years to be in the position where he can finally one-up you."
Jake spread out his hands. "He's hijacked one shipment. No one got hurt. What do you want me to do? Retaliate in some way? That would only up the ante, and you know as well as I do that he would come at us again. Then we'd have to retaliate for his retaliation, and then we'd be smack in the middle of the war that Noah Calloway is so eager to avoid." He paused. "On the other hand, I know you're against giving him a percentage of our business." Grim-faced, Lucas nodded and Jake went on. "The only alternative I can think of is to ignore him and hope he'll eventually realize we are not going to budge from our position."
Lucas sighed and ground his cigarillo out in the ashtray. "You're right, you're right. I guess I just keep thinking there's a fourth alternative, one we haven't thought of yet."
"If you come up with something, let me know. In the meantime, dammit, go to California with Vanessa."
"No, I wouldn't feel good about it."
"Well, I know you're not going to feel good about watching her train pull out of the station without you."
Vanessa spoke up. "It's all right, Jake. I understand. Lucas would be miserable out there worrying about you." She smiled. "Besides, I'm going to expect daily telephone calls keeping me updated on you and Arabella."
Jake groaned. "You two aren't going to let up on this, are you?"
"The thing is," Lucas said with a grin, "I believe you started out with one thing in mind and it's changed into something else. Only I don't think you realize it yet. I don't have to tell you that anything you do is fine with us. We just want to make certain you know what you're doing."
"I do," Jake said. "Of course I do."
The next evening Jake's words returned to him. He had taken Arabella to the same speakeasy they had gone to on their first date, and they were in the same dimly lit, secluded corner booth. She was wearing a gold sequined and beaded dress with tiny, narrow straps. Her hair was hidden by a small, close-fitting evening cap that dripped identical golden beads onto her forehead and around her face. And every time she moved, light played over her skin and heat skidded through him.
He could barely keep his eyes off her, much less his hands. Lucas had been right. He had a plan in which Randolph Bruce played a prominent part, but his plan and his desires were getting all mixed up. It had been hell holding himself back these last couple of weeks, being close to her but never allowing himself to go past a certain point. He had never been so careful with a woman before, and he didn't know how much longer he would last. She was so vibrant, so alive, so beautiful. Every time he looked at her, he felt a primitive urge to possess her, to make her his own, no matter the cost to him or his plan.
Being with her without making love to her was wearing on nerves he hadn't known he had. And he didn't think he could continue escorting her out every evening, making sure they were seen when what he really wanted to do was to keep her home with hi
m, undress her slowly, and make love to her all night long.
Arabella smiled at the waiter as he whisked her empty plate away along with Jake's full plate. "I don't know why you bother ordering dinner, Jake. You don't even take one bite."
"Maybe I'm hungry when I order, but by the time the order arrives, I'm so engrossed with you, I forget all about food."
"Applesauce."
"You talk so prettily, Arabella."
"Horsefeathers."
He chuckled, and Arabella smiled back at him, feeling a distinct tug in the region of her heart. She was falling deeper and deeper in love with him, until it had reached the point she wasn't sure she would be able to walk away from him again as she had at SwanSea.
Sadly, she was no closer to understanding him. They had spent a lot of time together over the past couple of weeks, though hardly ever alone. He made no declarations of love as so many of the men she'd dated over the years had. And although he touched her and kissed her often, it was usually when they were out at one night spot or another. In addition, though he made no secret of the fact that he wanted her, he hadn't tried to seduce her. Her senses were in a constant state of upheaval, her mind in a continuous state of confusion.
And she remembered the day he had come to her home to invite her out and said that it would only be dinner, unless she wanted more…
"Oh, there's Myriah," she said, pointing toward the dance floor, where a young woman was doing a sedate fox trot with her partner. "Heavens, look at all those strands of beads she's wearing. She takes pride in adding one more strand for every new boyfriend. But if those beads ever begin to twirl in the wrong way and tangle together while she's doing the Charleston, it's my opinion she's likely to strangle herself." She shrugged. "Oh, well, at least she'll die knowing she was well loved."
Jake grinned. "Or at least frequently."
Arabella chuckled.
He reached out and encircled her throat with his long fingers. "Your laugh plays me as if I were a musical instrument."
A thick strand of desire curled through her, and she stared at him, not sure what to think or say. He had just admitted that she affected him. And after all, she knew he couldn't be dating any other woman, not as much as they went out. If only he could come to love her…
He pulled his hand away, leaving her skin feeling cold and deprived. She smiled at Jas, who was across the room, then made a sound of dismay. "Randolph's here again. Why is it that he's always around?"
Jake shrugged. "He goes where the people he writes about go."
She toyed with her champagne glass. "Do you read his column?"
"Occasionally." He grinned. "Usually Edward keeps me informed of its contents, at least when my name appears."
"You and I have been in there quite a bit lately," she said carefully.
He took a drink of his Scotch. "Yes, I know."
"Don't you mind?"
"Not particularly." He glanced at her and saw that she was frowning. "Is Randolph printing untruths?"
"Actually I don't know."
He set down his glass and shifted around to her. "What do you mean? What's bothering you, Arabella?"
"Yesterday's column stated that we were a hot item. The problem is, I don't know if we are or not."
The simple, direct statement affected him as no amount of coyness would have been able to do. "I would say it's fairly accurate," he said carefully. "After all, we're out together practically every night."
"But not alone. Never alone."
"I thought that was the way you wanted it. If it's not, I'll be happy to change it."
"What I'd like is to know how you feel about me."
"It's not obvious?"
"You shower me with attention, Jake, but it's all very… very lighthearted. You treat me as if I'm a—a doll."
"You want me to treat you like a woman?" He slipped his hand beneath her skirt and ran his hand upward until he passed the top of her rolled stockings and found the expanse of soft, silken thigh.
She gasped. "Jake!"
"I thought you knew. I've been wanting to do much more to you and with you ever since we started seeing each other again here in town. But I've been holding myself back, waiting for some sign that you were ready for more."
She tried to deal with the excitement and shock washing through her as he skimmed his hand back and forth over her skin, drawing closer and closer to the edge of her panties. "Jake, for heaven's sake, there are people around us."
"No one can see. We're back in this corner. Besides, the tablecloth is a shield."
"But you can't—"
He hadn't intended to do this, he thought, and felt himself hardening. His long fingers glided even closer to his ultimate objective until at last he was able to stroke and probe her sweet tenderness.
He heard her give a soft gasp, and he saw her eyelids drop with a sensual languor. Every muscle in his body clenched. Her reaction, he thought, was a mere hint of how responsive she would be to him when he finally had her all to himself, naked, and beneath him. Suddenly he was impatient with her clothes, the people around them, everything. He slid his fingers into her, and the little cry she gave went straight to his loins, making him hurt with need. "I want to fee! all of you, without your clothes," he murmured huskily, stroking her. "I want to be inside you in a different way, a better way. Tell me you want the same thing. Lord, you're burning and damp and ready. You want me, I know you do. I can feel how much. Say it, Arabella, please, say you want me. I need to hear it."
There was an obstruction in her throat. There was heat running through her veins. There was a wonderfully strange kind of pressure building inside her, making her want to move her hips against his hand. Through a haze she could see people moving about and dancing, she could hear the band playing some peppy tune. But, heaven help her, Jake was right.
Desire was pounding through her with the force of thunder, and she was burning, burning with need for him. Helplessly she reached out for him and touched his face, not knowing what she would say until she heard herself say it. "Jake—"
"Let's leave," he said roughly. "Let's go back to my hotel."
"Well, well, the lovebirds," Randolph Bruce said.
The restless motion of Jake's hand stopped, and slowly he eased his hand away from her.
"Can I tell my readers that we'll be hearing wedding bells soon?"
With every nerve and cell in his body shrieking for Arabella, Jake took a long drink of Scotch. This was the moment he had been waiting for. Just for an instant he wondered if he was doing the right thing. But he wanted this damned "courtship" to end. He wanted to get her out of there and back to his hotel. "You can tell them anything you like, but there won't be any wedding bells." Then he turned and kissed her fully and passionately on the lips.
He heard Randolph chuckle. "I'll tell them that. See you later."
Jake broke off the kiss. "Let's get the hell out of here." The stricken look in Arabella's eyes hit him in the solar plexus. She was hurt, and strangely enough he could feel her pain. What had he done? "Arabella—"
She was stunned. In her world, the correct order of a man and woman's relationship was flirtation, then if they cared to carry it further, courtship, and then if they fell in love, marriage. She had hoped… "Jake, exactly what have you and I been doing these last couple of weeks?"
"Nothing yet."
"Yet?" She couldn't seem to stop her voice from quivering, and she felt sick to her stomach.
Dammit. Impatiently, he thrust a hand through his hair. For some really stupid reason, he hadn't foreseen this moment when she would question him. "I've made no secret that I want you, Arabella. Badly. But I'll never marry you. I'll never marry anyone. My decision not to marry shouldn't affect us though. I won't let it, and I won't let you let it."
At the moment she couldn't decide if she was more angry, astounded, or hurt. In actuality, she was feeling all those emotions to the point that she could barely think. "But why?"
His mouth tightened,
and he realized he could still taste her. "Let's get out of here. We'll go back to my hotel."
Arabella sat there for a moment longer, simply looking at him. His face was hard and shadowed, his eyes opaque. She had given her heart to him, and unaware, he had handed it back to her in pieces. She reached for her purse. "I'm leaving, but I will be taking a taxi."
What two lovebirds, whose names have the initials JD and AL and who are seen billing and cooing nightly at nightclubs all over town, like their love affair just as it is—without marriage? It is official, babies. There will be no wedding bells for these two modern kids.
Kenneth hurled the paper across the room. "That bastard!"
In an ivory crepe georgine and satin dressing gown, Arabella sat composedly at the opposite end of the breakfast table. "Yes," she said in agreement.
"Jake's been squiring you around town all this time and making people believe you're having an affair." His balled hand came down on the table, rattling the china. "Lord, this is all my fault."
Trying to maintain an air of normalcy, she took a bite of toast. In truth, she was fighting against exhaustion, having been unable to sleep a wink all night. "Don't be silly, Kenneth. You didn't go out with him. I did."
"Yes, but I gave up warning you about him after making only a couple of stabs at it. I should have kept trying to get through that thick skull of yours."
"You pay me the most delightful compliments, Kenneth."
Kenneth didn't respond to her listless attempt at teasing. "Dammit, Bella, I've been too caught up with myself lately, and I didn't pay attention to what was going on right beneath my nose."
Her coffee cup landed back in its saucer with a dangerous clink, but her tone and manner remained cool. "Kenneth, please. I'm really not up to this."
"Oh, hell, Bella, I'm sorry. But I'm so angry, I can't think."
"Well, force yourself to think. Everything that has happened between Jake and me, even that odious article in Randolph's column, is water under the bridge. I'm going to forget it and I suggest you do the same." She glanced down at her hand still on her coffee cup and saw it trembling.
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