An Innocent Abroad: A Jazz Age Romance (13 page)

“She
worked for me. She was a dancer in my club.” Part of the floor show, until his
attention had guaranteed her a solo spot and her name in lights. How she’d
played him.

To change
the subject, he asked, “Are you claustrophobic, Mrs. March?”

“No.
Why do you ask?”

“Making
polite conversation. No reason.”

“Other
than the fact that the light is fading and we’ll be in complete darkness soon?”

“You’re
a remarkably astute woman.”

“Not astute.
I’d have to be blind not to have noticed.”

“In
which case, you are a remarkably calm woman.”

She
inclined her neck, gracefully accepting the compliment, though she could have
no idea that it was the highest compliment he could bestow. In his experience
women were rarely reasonable. They were exotic, capricious, demanding.
Traitorous.

“And
you are not afraid of the dark?” he asked.

She
shook her head.

“Is
there anything you are afraid of?”

“I’m
not particularly fond of big horses.”

He
threw his head back in laughter. “I’m glad to know you’re human, at least. I
was beginning to wonder if you were some kind of paragon.”

The
light was now so dim he could only just make out her smile as she too shrugged
out of her jacket. “It must be nearly dinner time. They will most certainly
have discovered by now that this lift isn’t working. There must be a queue of
people wanting to use it.”

He
didn’t answer. Knowing the elevator was stuck and getting it working again were
two very different things.

“How
long will the air in here last, do you think?”

Since
the temperature had already risen by at least a few degrees, he didn’t imagine
it’d be more than another hour. If that. He undid the top buttons of his shirt.
It made no difference whatsoever. The air in the cabin was as still as the
grave. “They’ll get us out of here long before we run out of air.” He injected
as much positivity into his voice as he could muster. Though he didn’t truly
believe his own words.

It was
full dark now. He couldn’t even make out her outline against the wall.

“At the
risk of sounding like a weak female, would you mind very much...?” Her voice
floated, disembodied, in the darkness.

“Yes?”
he prompted.

She
cleared her throat. “Would you mind sitting next to me? The darkness is
strangely disorienting, is it not?”

He
crawled across the space between them, feeling ahead for the opposite wall. His
hand grazed her knee. She shifted, and the air swirling around her gave him a
sense of her position in the blackness. He leaned against the wall beside her,
leaving a little space between their shoulders. It was too stifling to sit
close, though he could still sense her presence as if they touched, like a
pulse in the darkness.

“It’s
very warm in here, isn’t it?”

“Feel
free to unbutton your blouse if you need to. Your modesty will be safe, Mrs.
March.”

Though
he could see nothing, the rustle of cloth and the slide of silk was enough that
he knew when she not only unbuttoned her blouse but removed her stockings, too.
If this was to be his last moment on earth, then God was especially cruel. To
tempt him with a beautiful woman, bare-skinned, smelling as sweet as a summer
rainstorm, and to torment him with the knowledge that he could neither touch
nor taste.

“Jennifer.”

“Excuse
me?”

“I
think we’ve progressed beyond the point where the use of first names would be
an impertinence.”

Nicely
put. He liked a broad with a bit of class.

“Tom.
I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.” He reached tentatively for her
knee. His hand rested on the smooth skin below her hemline, and this time she
didn’t move away. Instead, her hand slid into his, elegant, slender fingers
soft against his palm.

“In
case I don’t have the chance to say this again: thank you, Tom.”

“For
what?”

“For
being here. Being stuck here with you is infinitely preferable to being stuck
here on my own.”

“I’m
glad I could be of service.”

“I knew
you were a gentleman.”

He
didn’t feel much like a gentleman right now. There was nothing at all noble
about the sensations running through him. Electricity had nothing on the surge
of lust that had swamped him at the touch of her soft skin.

Right
now, it was taking every ounce of his willpower not to run his hand up the
inside of her thigh. What did she wear under that dowdy tweed skirt...cotton,
or silk and lace?

When
he’d first noticed her, he’d have sworn she was a no-nonsense cotton-briefs
type of woman. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

The
elevator groaned, sending a vibration rolling across the floor.

“What
was that?” Her grip on his hand tightened.

Another
groan, followed by a distant rumble. “It’s the machinery. They’re trying to get
it started.”

About
damned time too. Hope surged through him. And frustration. If...no
when
...they
were rescued, real life would still be out there waiting for him. There were
worse things than slow suffocation.

“I
wonder where Lucy is. She must be very worried by now. She’ll have dressed for
dinner, but she won’t go up to the dining room without me.”

“The
sister-in-law you’re traveling with?”

Tom
felt rather than saw her nod, as if the air current shifted around her.

“She
likes to think she’s older than she is, but she’s still just a kid.”

“You
love her.” It wasn’t a guess. Perhaps it was the fact that in this pitch dark
every nuance in her voice rang clear, for there was no mistaking the affection
in her tone.

“She’s
very lovable and completely unaffected. She’s growing up to be a real beauty,
but she doesn’t know it.”

“A rare
treasure.” He couldn’t prevent sarcasm from coloring his tone. All women worked
their assets to their best advantage. He’d thought Bee was lovable and
unaffected when he married her. Looks could be deceiving indeed.

The
cabin lurched, and she clung to him. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and
she leaned into him. It was nice to be needed by a woman. Not for a leg up in a
career, or for his money, but for strength and reassurance. Jennifer March made
him feel like a man again. Not a sap who’d been taken for a ride by a pretty
face and a pair of shapely legs.

A sharp
crack sounded above their heads and they both looked up. A sliver of grey light
appeared in the ceiling, widening slowly. A muffled voice penetrated the
soundproofed box that not so long ago had felt like a coffin.

He
removed his arm from her shoulder. Even more reluctantly, he extricated his
hand from her clasp. “Our rescue is at hand.”

She
pushed herself up against the wall, and he followed. The sliver of light turned
the hot, heavy air around them murky.

She
fumbled with her buttons. “So silly of me, but my fingers don’t seem to be
managing.” She laughed, sounding a little breathless.

“May I
assist?” He didn’t wait for her agreement. Unerringly, his fingers found her
neck, and slid down the smooth column of her throat to the edge of her blouse.
As he slowly, carefully did up the buttons, her pulse raced beneath his
fingers.

“Thank
you.” Definitely breathless now. No less than he was.

“Everyone
all right in there?” A man’s voice penetrated the gap above their heads.

“We’re
fine. Just very pleased to see you,” Tom lied.

“How
many of you are in there?”

“Two.”

“Is
Mrs. March with you?”

“I am.”
Her voice was as unruffled as ever. Did nothing faze this woman? Even the
electric spark that still pulsed between them?

“We
have a young lady here who’s been searching all over for you. She’ll be
delighted to hear you’re all right. Can you hold on a little longer while we
pry this roof panel loose?”

Jennifer
laughed softly. “Do we have much choice?”

“Good
show.”

In
silence they watched as the workers above their heads cut through the strong
steel roof, the dim light floating down from the elevator shaft above growing
gradually wider, the air growing gradually sweeter.

Slowly,
inextricably, the outside world seeped into their cocoon as other noises and
voices grew audible above them. Tom squared his shoulders in readiness to face
the world.

At last
the gap was large enough to admit a head. A tousled mop of hair emerged,
framing a round cherub’s face, more boy than man. “As you’ve no doubt guessed,
the elevator’s stuck between floors, and the doors are blocked by the walls of
the shaft. We’re going to pull you up out of the cabin. Once you’re up here,
it’s one big step up to the doors on this floor.”

A rope
sling descended through the gap. “Time to blow this joint.” Tom grabbed the
sling and held it out to her. “Ladies first.” She paused, eyeing the sling
skeptically. At least there was sufficient light now to enable him to read her
expression.

“I
guess there’s not much point trying to retain my dignity, is there?” Her soft
laugh caressed his skin as he helped her slide the sling under her arms.

“You’ll
always be dignified,” he said softly, then louder: “You can take her up.”

Slowly
the rope winched higher, lifting Jennifer off her feet and towards the hole in
the ceiling. He averted his eyes, affording her that last chance at modesty.
His gaze fell on the crumpled silk stockings on the floor. Wouldn’t do to have
some ship’s engineer pick those up later. He shrugged back into his jacket and
stuffed the stockings into his pocket.

Then
the empty rope was again lowered through the hole. He grabbed hold, securing
the sling beneath his arms, and the men above heaved him up. The edges of the
hole were rough and scraped his shoulders, but at last he was through. Strong
hands tucked under his arms and hoisted him the rest of the way up, a little
less delicately than they’d done with Jennifer, he was sure.

He
picked himself up from the dirty roof of the cabin. “Thank you,” he said to the
two burly sailors who stood on either side. The tousle-headed one nodded and
gestured for him to climb ahead of them through the door that stood open at
waist height. He scrambled up, the bright electric light of the corridor
burning his eyes after the darkness inside the elevator.

“All
right there, mate?”

“Nothing
a cold shower won’t cure.” His eyes adjusted to the brightness. The corridor,
which at first impression had appeared crowded, no longer seemed quite so full.
Two men in officers’ uniforms flanked Jennifer, but mercifully there was no
watching crowd. For her sake, he was overwhelmingly relieved. Her reputation
would be safe after all.

“I was
so scared when I couldn’t find you.” A petite blonde had her head tucked into
Jenny’s shoulder. She seemed more in need of consolation than Jennifer herself.
This then must be Lucy.

“Are
you sure you’re okay?” A fair-haired man in officer’s uniform hovered
protectively beside the two women, his hand barely an inch from Jennifer’s
waist. Tom swallowed back an irrational urge to swipe the man’s hand away.

“I’m
fine, Colin, really I am. Please don’t fuss.”

Colin.
The name settled in Tom’s gut like a planted fist. Not only a concerned
officer, then. Someone she knew. Someone she was on first-name terms with.

“You
didn’t come to any harm?” Over her shoulder, Colin eyed Tom, taking in the
unbuttoned state of his shirt, his disheveled hair, the grime he’d managed to
collect inside the shaft. In contrast, Jennifer still looked immaculate. And
just as buttoned-up as the moment he’d first laid eyes on her. But he knew
different. Beneath that prim blouse beat the heart of a red-blooded woman.

There
was a touch of impatience in Jennifer’s voice now. “Of course not. What harm
could I possibly come to inside a lift?” She shrugged off the hand Colin laid
on her arm. Perhaps the strain had finally taken its toll. It was the first
crack in her composure Tom had seen.

Then,
as if sensing where Colin’s gaze had settled, she turned and found Tom. She
smiled. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, Tom. I’m truly grateful.”

Lucy
looked up. Baby blue eyes swam with tears of relief. She was indeed pretty, in
a baby doll way, all golden blonde ringlets and big eyes. He wondered
fleetingly if Jennifer’s late husband’s eyes had been the same shade of blue.

Colin’s
gaze dipped. He didn’t bother hiding his smile when he spotted the gold band on
Tom’s left hand. “Your wife must be worried for you, sir.”

“I
doubt it.” Tom turned on his heel, and put as much distance between himself and
them as quickly as he could.