by Patti Berg
That movie title roused Trevor’s curiosity, as did the name she’d mentioned.
“Who’s Rock Hudson?” he asked, leaning over her shoulder.
‘The star of the movie,” she whispered in irritation.
“No, no, I wasn’t talking to you,” she said into the phone.
“Robert Taylor was the star,” Trevor whispered back. “It should have been my movie—me and Irene Dunne, but...”
Adriana frowned, cutting off his words with her glare and her attempt to brush him away, but he didn’t move. How could she possibly buy and sell Hollywood memorabilia when she had her facts all wrong?
“I look forward to seeing you, too.” She hung up the phone and swiveled around in her chair.
“This is my business, Trevor. I can’t make money if you bother me while I’m trying to negotiate.”
“How can you possibly make money when your information’s all wrong?”
Adriana smiled indulgently, shaking her head as if he was the one who was wrong—which he wasn’t.
“Robert Taylor was in the first version of Magnificent Obsession,” she said. “Rock Hudson starred in it in 1954.”
“Never heard of him.”
“The rest of the world has. I think we’re going to have to bring you up to date on what’s happened in the past sixty years.”
“And maybe we should bring you up to date on what happened in the thirties.”
“I know all about the movies of the thirties.”
Turning back to her desk, Adriana scribbled a few notes on a tablet, then tilted her head and looked back at Trevor.
“I didn’t know that you auditioned for the Robert Taylor role.”
Trevor leaned against her desk and shrugged slightly. “I didn’t actually audition, but I let everyone, including Irene Dunne, know I wanted the part. Unfortunately, Jack Warner wouldn’t loan me to Universal.”
Smiling, Adriana closed her notebook and rested back in her chair. “I suppose there are some things I could learn from you—about the movies.”
“Thousands, more than likely. But not today.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to teach you that Saturdays were made for fun, not for staying cooped up in the house, and definitely not for working.”
“My business doesn’t operate just on weekdays.”
“I suppose I could go out by myself.”
“That’s not such a good idea.”
“Why? Do you think I’ll get into trouble?”
“Of course not. But someone might see you.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t like to be seen. Not me. ”
He pulled her from the chair and moved in close. He could smell the sweetness of her perfume, could feel her muscles tense as he trailed his palms lightly over her arms.
Still, she didn’t pull away.
“Since you’re so worried about how I’ll handle myself in public, go out with me. Let me show you how to enjoy yourself.”
“I enjoy making money, which I won’t be able to do if you keep dragging me from my work.”
“You seemed a somewhat willing accomplice yesterday.”
“Did I have a choice?”
“You could have said no to me.” A slow grin crossed his face as he brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “Of course, very few women have ever said no to me.”
“So I’ve heard,” she mumbled, backing out of his arms.
The number of women in his life seemed to bother her tremendously. Of course, not one of them had interested him the way Adriana did.
“I suppose I could take you shopping,” she said as she straightened the papers on her desk.
“I had more than that in mind.” He took a step toward her, backing her against her desk. “I want to go dancing.”
“I don’t go dancing.”
“Yes, I know. You work... but not tonight. I’m taking you out on the town.”
“I need to work. I have a client flying in tomorrow.”
“That’s tomorrow.” Trevor touched her shoulders and lightly trailed his fingers down to her hands.
“Tonight I’m taking you dancing,” he whispered. “First, though, I want you to show me that shop of yours that occupies so much of your time.”
“You might find it boring.”
“Nothing you do is boring. I want to learn everything about you.” He drew her hands to his lips and kissed them lightly. “There are so many places I want to take you.”
A tinge of fear mixed with excitement filled Adriana’s eyes. “Maybe I’ve been there already.”
He shook his head slowly. “Never with me.”
oOo
Trevor leaned against the Mercedes parked at the curb and contemplated the front window of Adriana’s shop. A nearly perfect likeness of Clark Gable dressed as a Southern gentleman stood before a mural of an antebellum mansion. Next to him was a beautiful, dark-haired Southern belle, and he hadn’t a clue what the scene was supposed to represent.
“I recognize Clark Gable,” Trevor said, “but who’s the woman?”
“Vivian Leigh,” Adriana told him. “Gone With the Wind came out late in 1939. It was just in the planning stages when you disappeared.”
“Gone With the Wind,” he repeated. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s one of the biggest money makers of all time.”
“That’s no surprise. Gable had a unique way of picking the winners.”
Trevor pushed away from the car. “So, what’s inside?”
“A world full of wonderful things.”
It was dark and quiet when they stepped into the shop, but when Adriana turned on the lights, the glamour Trevor remembered came into view.
Mannequins in the likenesses of Ginger Rogers, Fred Astaire, Ronald Colman, Rudolph Valentino, and Errol Flynn graced the floor, dressed in roles Trevor remembered so well: Ginger in flowing white, Fred in a tux, dancing together in Flying Down to Rio. That was the kind of elegance he longed for; Colman as the stand-in prince in Prisoner of Zenda; Errol as a pirate in Captain Blood’, and Valentino as The Sheik.
“Pretty impressive,” Trevor said, walking about the shop, his hands clasped behind his back as he inspected one costume after another. “I don’t see any mannequins of me. I would have thought since I was your favorite that you’d have my likeness everywhere.”
“I’m only a collector where you’re concerned. I don’t sell anything that belonged to you.”
He sat down in a high, flare-back wicker chair and rested his hands on the rounded arms. “Why?”
“You’ve asked that same question half a dozen times.”
“I want to know, Adriana. Why this fixation for a man old enough to be your grandfather?”
“You weren’t old in the movies. You were handsome and fun and daring. You never got sick, or mean, or old, and you never died. When I was little, I wished my father was like you. When I got older, I quit seeing you as a father figure.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
Adriana pulled a long white gown from one of the racks and held it up in front of her. “Do you like this?” she asked.
Trevor nodded. It looked sinful and seductive, and it would look much better on Adriana than on a hanger.
“It’s a 1931 Molyneux. I used to imagine myself dressed up in a gown like this, dancing with someone like you.”
“Your father never danced with you?”
Adriana shook her head. “My father didn’t approve of dancing. He didn’t approve of much of anything, actually. That’s why I fantasized about you. If he didn’t know what I was dreaming about, he had no reason to get mad.”
Adriana shoved the dress back on the rack. “My father died, I got older, but the fantasies didn’t go away. They just got stronger. Pretty soon I decided the fantasies were better than real life.”
He understood that feeling full well. He felt best on a soundstage, acting out the roles of men who weren’t anything at all like him, men who lived completel
y different lives.
Trevor got up from the chair and pulled the white crepe gown back off the rack. “I want to go dancing, Adriana. I know the ballrooms are gone now, but there must be someplace around where the music is nice and slow and the atmosphere’s elegant and refined.”
She shook her head, but he wasn’t going to accept no for an answer. He held the gown in front of her. “Dress up for me, Adriana. My world’s gone away, but you can make it come back again—for tonight anyway.”
A soft smile curved her lips. “Will you wear a tux?”
“If you have something you think might fit.”
“I have an entire wardrobe full of things that should fit you like a glove.”
“Let me guess. They’re mine.”
Adriana nodded. “Harrison always hoped you’d come back. I hoped you would, too, but never in my wildest dreams did I actually think it would happen.”
“I’m here, Adriana. I’m not a dream, and I don’t plan on going away.”
oOo
It was well past 10 P.M. when they arrived at the Regal Biltmore. The valet helped Adriana from the car, and she and Trevor walked into a world nearly as opulent and majestic as the one she’d grown up in at Sparta. Marble floors, high-vaulted ceilings carved and painted by master craftsmen. It was warm, inviting, and beautiful, and Adriana felt more elegant than ever before as she climbed the stairs on the arm of a dream.
All eyes were on them as they strolled through the Main Galleria toward the Crystal Ballroom. The Molyneux gown dipped much too low in the front and even lower in the back, and it hugged every nonexistent curve she owned before it swirled at her feet and trailed behind her on the floor. Trevor had draped a rope of pearls around her neck and insisted she wear silver three-inch heels when she was opting for white. He’d made the wiser choice, just as he had when he’d suggested black tails and tie for himself rather than the white dinner jacket she had wanted him to wear. He looked debonair. He looked like a fantasy come true.
It was a stroke of luck that she remembered the announcement she’d received that the hotel was recreating the flavor of the twenties, thirties and forties as part of their seventy-fifth anniversary celebration, and ballroom dancing was just a portion of the festivities. The evening couldn’t be any more perfect.
Trevor’s eyes glistened in the light of the chandeliers as they stepped into the ballroom. All about them were glittering mirrors, ornate ceilings, and beautiful men and women dancing to the strains of music from another era.
“Is this familiar at all?” she asked Trevor, as they were led to a table not far from the dance floor.
“I received my Oscar here. Some of the best bands in the country used to play in this room, and we’d all come to listen and dance. I hardly ever sat down.”
He ordered champagne as soon as they were seated, then moved his chair closer to Adriana’s and listened intently to the orchestra.
He was going to be terribly disappointed when he asked her to dance. Why hadn’t she practiced when she watched those old home movies? Why had she been too afraid to ask Harrison for dancing lessons?
All Trevor wanted this evening was to dance, and she didn’t know how. Would he leave her and find a beautiful woman in the room, someone willing to spin around the floor in his arms?
“Dance with me,” he said when the music slowed.
“Couldn’t we just sit this one out?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about how you’d feel in my arms. I don’t want to think about it any longer.”
Adriana felt the heat of embarrassment rush into her cheeks. “I’m afraid you’re never going to know how I feel dancing in your arms because... well... I don’t know how to dance.”
The cleft in Trevor’s chin deepened, as did the dimple to the right of his lips. “That’s easily remedied.”
He pushed from the table and pulled her chair back. With his hands resting lightly on her shoulders, he bent over and whispered into her ear. “All you have to do is hold me tight, Adriana, and let me lead the way.”
Chapter 12
Dancing, in Trevor’s mind, was the closest thing to making love. Holding a woman was heaven. Guiding a woman, moving rhythmically together to the gentle strains of soft, sweet music or the passionate crescendos that came hard and fast took his breath away. Just pulling Adriana close and leading her to the dance floor was like lifting her in his arms and carrying her to his bed. Her fingers trembled, she was hesitant, she looked at him with confusion, a mixture of want and desire and just a hint of wonder.
Slowly he guided one of her hands to his shoulder, the other he tucked close to his chest. Only twice before had they stood just inches apart, and both times she’d looked at him with frightened eyes, like a lamb facing a lion, wondering when it would be devoured.
Those times he’d been crazed. He’d acted like a madman.
But not this time. This time he wanted her. This time he needed her, and he knew it showed in the depth of his eyes.
“This isn’t so bad,” he whispered. “Is it?”
She shook her head. “I’ll probably step on your feet.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just hold me tight and don’t take your eyes off mine.”
Her back felt soft and smooth and cool under his hand, and he guided her closer, gently gathering her against his body. He could feel the slow rise and fall of her breasts as they lightly grazed his chest. The warmth of her breath against his neck sent a slow burning desire through his body, inflaming his heart and his soul.
He might miss many of the things about the life he’d lived before, but he realized that his life would mean nothing—no matter what decade he was in—if Adriana wasn’t beside him.
Sliding his hand farther around her waist, he swayed with her in his arms, not even bothering to move his feet.
“You’re not dancing,” she said, her blue eyes twinkling with just a touch of mirth. “Isn’t the object to move around the dance floor?”
“One step at a time, Adriana, and this is the first one.”
“Do we have to move on to the second?”
He teased her ear lightly with his lips, and whispered, “Each step is just a little nicer. But let’s not rush. I’m in no hurry—no hurry at all.”
He inhaled the sweet fragrance of her perfume, marveling at the feel of soft skin against his rougher face. He’d held women close before, women just as soft, just as sweet-smelling, but he’d never ached with want the way he did right now. His heart had never thundered in his chest. His mind had never thought beyond the moment, but right now he was thinking of how it would be to grow old with this woman, teaching her something new every day of their lives.
Slowly he pressed his right leg against her left one, and just as slowly she moved with his lead. Left foot forward, right foot back. A slight turn to the right. A little sway. Right foot back, and she followed him. With each movement he held her closer, with each step she relaxed a little more, until they were dancing cheek to cheek, breast to chest, hip to hip, perfectly in sync as if they’d been designed to be two parts of a whole.
He hummed softly to the tune the band was playing, vaguely remembering the way Fred Astaire had sung the song to Ginger Rogers in Swing Time. He couldn’t quite remember the words, but he gave them a shot, singing them softly in Adriana’s ear. “When the world is cold and I’m awfully low, I will feel a glow just thinking of you...”
‘I didn’t know you could sing,” Adriana whispered when Trevor went back to humming.
“I can’t, and no one ever asked me to.”
“I liked it,” she said with a faraway smile.
He pressed his hand against her back again, at the same time his right leg pressed her left, and hummed more of “The Way You Look Tonight,” thinking how perfect the words he had remembered were. He did feel a glow while thinking of Adriana, and dancing had never felt so wonderful, even though she’d stepped on his toes a time or two.
“I’m beginning to think you l
ied to me, Adriana.”
“About what?”
“The fact that you’ve never danced.”
“But I haven’t. This is the first time.”
“No one would ever know.” He tilted his head to see her face. “It’s a shame you’ve never tried before. I think you were made to dance.”
She smiled softly. “Do you think so?”
“It’s either that, or you were made to be in my arms.”
She laughed lightly. “And how many women have you fed that line to?”
It wasn’t a line—not this time. How could she ever believe that, though, when all anyone had ever known about him was his playboy image. He’d hidden behind that facade for a long time, using it to mask the anguish of not knowing how to love.
He didn’t want to hide anymore.
“I deserve that, but I want you to know, Adriana, that everything I say to you is true. No one else ever felt the way you do. I never felt this way, either, like I could hold you forever.”
Under his fingers he could feel her muscles tense. He felt her pulling away, but he pressed his hand against the small of her back and held her close. “Believe in me, Adriana. Please believe in me.”
He swept her around the floor, holding her tight, his gaze locked on hers. Around and around the room, in and out, between other couples, until the music slowed again and he just stood with her in the middle of the dance floor and swayed.
“Why do you find it so hard to believe that I could care for you?”
She attempted to turn away, but he captured her cheek with the gentle touch of his hand.
‘Tell me.”
“I read somewhere that you’d seduced a thousand women.”
Trevor grinned at her words. “Oh, at least that many.” He winked. “Maybe more.”
Once again he kept her from pulling away. He’d meant to tease, but apparently she hadn’t understood. Damn! He was making a mess of everything.
“A lot of things have been written about me. A lot of truths. A lot of half-truths. I can’t justify anything I did back then.”
“Just tell me the truth now, Trevor. Are you trying to seduce me, too?”
