Jared chuckled dryly. “You have a rather naïve faith in the basic goodness of others. Men who prey on young women are everywhere.”
He watched the shadowy figure flick a cigarette into the gutter and slink down the deserted street, staying close to the shadows. The fog concealed the man, but he seemed unassuming in stature. He walked with an unusual gait, as if one leg was shorter than the other. Jared turned back to face her. “It would be wise to remember that.”
Grace’s hands stretched to the small blaze in the grate. She seemed to be analyzing his warning. “So am I to believe that you prey on young women, Mr. de Warre?” Finishing her drink, she turned and set the glass firmly on the coffee table.
“There are a few doting fathers who would believe so.” Jared turned from the window and put his full attention to the female before him. Grace Hathaway was neither a shrinking violet nor a society belle, for that matter. He liked what he saw.
“Horse feathers,” she said. “I’ve not heard of you deflowering any females in the neighborhood.”
Not yet
, he thought. Her statement was bold for such a tiny slip of a girl, but he suspected steel ran through that supple backbone. A no-nonsense type. He wanted to find out just how far the steel ran and if it melted.
It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. Even longer since he’d enjoyed one. Jared realized he was looking forward to kissing her. Soon.
Bathed in the soft firelight, she looked incredibly soft and sensual. He wanted to draw her lips to his own and swallow her crooked smile. He wanted to feel the length of her pressed hard against his body.
Stunned again by the wave of desire that washed over him, he decided his self-imposed celibacy of late hadn’t been such a good idea. He wondered whether she would respond or play coy like most nightclub denizens these days who sparked censorship by dressing brazenly and acting the same. Either way it would be interesting to find out.
“I’m offended by your lack of confidence in my innate charm,” he chided in feigned disappointment. He tossed down the last of his brandy. “But since the day is beginning to dawn, I’ll walk you to your door, keeping you safe from assorted villains and ne’er-do-wells before my reputation in the neighborhood is in shreds. I believe the fog is beginning to lift.”
After slipping on his loafers and buttoning his shirt, Jared held out his hand to Grace. “After you, Miss Hathaway,” he said as he guided her toward the foyer, his hand on the small of her back. Jared savored the feel of her beneath his fingers. She would be soft and infinitely sweet, he decided.
It had definitely been too long.
On the way home, Grace chatted about the neighborhood until they reached the steps of her brownstone. Her home appeared smaller than his but of the same style and well maintained. The last of the summer blooms still flourished in the many pots on her porch. Jared sensed the feminine touch that was absent from his life. She made him very conscious of the differences between them. He dwelt in shadows. She seemed to be the very nourishment her plants needed to thrive.
He wondered if Grace had a man in her life, who should be protecting her, but he had a gut feeling that she was a woman who took care of others instead. She had the confidence of someone who had taken on adult responsibilities at a young age, not unlike himself.
“Would you like me to come in and check the house for you?” he asked.
“Oh, no. Really. It isn’t necessary.” She fumbled in her purse for the key. “See, the door is locked. Everything is secure. I think I just got spooked earlier, with Zia Bruna and those silly predictions.”
“Allow me.” He held out his hand for her key, unlocked the door, and dropped it back into her slightly trembling fingers.
“Thank you again,” she said edging past him into the foyer.
“I wonder if I might ask a favor, Miss Hathaway? Would you be willing to show me around the area, help me get the lay of the land, so to speak?” It was a weak excuse, but he wanted to see her again. He wasn’t sure why. If he had any decency, he would let this one alone.
The lift of her brows registered her surprise. She hesitated but then responded politely, “Of course I could. It’s the least I can do, considering the bother I’ve made of myself tonight.”
“Would tomorrow be convenient for you?” Jared asked, realizing that would be only several hours away. He was already looking forward to it.
“I work until five o’clock, but if you would like to come by then, I’ll be glad to give you the fifty-cent tour. D.L. Hollister & Company, Five Hundred Wabash, off Wacker Drive.”
Jared nodded his head and said, “Until then, Miss Hathaway.” He turned away as she closed the door.
Before descending the brick steps, he paused to inspect the porch light. He raised the glass on the new fixture and twisted the bulb clockwise. It illuminated instantly.
He wondered why anyone would want to harm someone like her. He had enemies and they were well deserved, but she seemed harmless. And who was the dark figure following her tonight? He would make some inquires. Until he got answers, he’d have Sallie’s men keep an eye on her place. Obviously the little minx needed some protection.
Jared glanced back at Grace’s front door, mildly surprised at his concern. He’d always been alone; another’s well-being was outside his realm of sensibility, but it brought back something in his psyche. A faint memory. A comforting song in another language, a rocking chair, the warmth of soft fabric.
He raised the collar on his jacket and strode toward home, dismissing the maudlin recollections. He was no longer a child, and those memories were best forgotten, buried deep by life’s realities.
Chapter Three
Grace leaned back against the foyer door for several moments trying to clear her head. De Warre’s effect on her was incredibly pronounced. Her heart raced. Her mouth was dry. She shivered from something that started in her lower extremities.
Lordy, lordy
. With a voice like thick honey, he probably had the uncanny ability to unravel any woman at will.
When he’d escorted her to the door and held out his hand for her key, she thought her knees were going to buckle. She hoped, for Pete’s sake, she hadn’t babbled. Even through her cotton sweater, Grace felt the heat of his hand on the small of her back. The foreign feel of such a casual gesture made her realize how long it had been since a man had touched her even in friendship.
She had tried to deduce something about the sort of man he was from the items scattered about his library. The titles of the books on the shelves were impressive. He seemed to be well read, interested in a variety of subjects. Or were the heavy tomes simply for decoration? An esoteric collection, to say the least. As unusual as the enigma he seemed to be.
Each of her neighbors had a different opinion of de Warre, though none of them had actually met him. Her own opinion, like that of the others, was based on what she’d read about him in the newspaper and rag sheets.
Indeed, she’d heard more about him than she had just admitted. His reputation ranged from prince to bootlegger, mobster to philanthropist. He was enormously wealthy, made his money in Montana copper, or the Nevada silver fields, or the Yukon. No one seemed to know for sure. The bits and pieces of information failed to create a complete picture. But whether he was Capone’s buddy or kin to Pope Pius himself, he certainly made an interesting specimen. So splendid. So completely male.
Grace set her key on the foyer table and started up the stairs. She had to admit he’d been the perfect host. Courteous, attentive, solicitous. Had she met him under normal circumstances, she might not have had the heebie-jeebies every time he came within three feet. She set her clutch purse on the oak dresser and sat on the chenille bedspread to remove her shoes.
Of course, they would never have met. She was a jeweler’s daughter trying to support herself and Zia Bruna. He was a wealthy businessman. In the real world, Grace knew they would never cross paths. Maybe she shouldn’t have accepted his invitation. She plopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
She’d felt overwhelmed in his home, and not simply by his presence. His library held oversized furniture and a towering mantel that pulled the eye upward to where a portrait of a beautiful young woman hung on golden cords. She sensed that he would not welcome any questions about the mysterious woman.
The lady wore a scarlet gown, outdated, 1890 perhaps, but the vibrant color and the indescribable expression on the woman’s face spoke volumes. The artist had captured the woman’s essence, her zest for life, her unsinkable spirit, her capacity for love and joy. As Grace gazed at the intense-eyed, blonde beauty captured forever in vibrant youth, she had recognized the fine features and realized she studied an image of his mother.
The woman in the portrait wore a stunning ruby-and-diamond necklace. To Grace’s trained eye, the rare design was one reserved for grand ladies and long-forgotten royalty. Her curiosity flared, and not just about the painting.
While she had to admit to herself he was an intriguing man, she was also apprehensive. She didn’t think he needed encouragement to take what he wanted. She’d need to be cautious. Life’s twists and turns had taught her well.
And something else she’d read about de Warre surfaced in her memory. Powerful. Ruthless. Deadly. He didn’t seem like a man who compromised or played second fiddle to others. She sensed an implacable and unyielding will. Probably from knowing he could obtain anything he desired.
They lived in different worlds, but she would allow herself this one small pleasure. He was attractive and pleasant company, and she’d been alone for a long while now. What harm could it do? Changing into her flannel nightgown, she sat on the boudoir chair to give her hair the mandatory fifty brush strokes.
Maybe she would even let him kiss her.
But she’d have to be careful. Men of honor were few and far between. A lesson she’d learned the hard way two long years ago.
Chapter Four
The tiny bell attached to the door of 500 Wabash Drive jingled as Jared entered D.L. Hollister & Co. at precisely five o’clock. He spotted his quarry at the jewelry counter. Grace glanced in his direction, smiled, and raised her hand in a small wave before turning back to her customer.
A wave of anticipation washed over Jared. He felt a slight quickening of his pulse not unlike that of the primordial thrill of the hunt once the prey was spotted. He wanted her.
Closing in on an adjacent jewelry case, Jared listened while a young man finalized the purchase of an engagement ring. Grace seemed quite knowledgeable as she described the gem’s attributes to her customer. Even if she wasn’t, her melodious voice and contagious smile inspired confidence.
Damn
, she would make a perfect employee for any of his vast holdings. Not that he had to worry about the efficiency of the ones he had. He was thought of as simply too dangerous to cross. Of course, the position he wanted her in had nothing to do with working for him.
He moved closer, examining several sapphires in the glass case, watching her covertly. Today her hair brushed loosely over her shoulders, pulled back on the sides into a golden clasp. The style emphasized the classic lines of her face and her flawless complexion. He noticed the feminine curve of her spine and the trim waist that was not evident last night under her bulky sweater.
“You’ve been swell, Miz Hathaway.” The young man preened. “Susie’s gonna think I’m the clam’s garters with this ring. It’s the berries.”
“I’m sure Susie will love it, Mr. Hardy. You’ve made a wise decision. The quality and clarity of the stones are excellent.”
“Call me Herbie,” he replied, hooking his thumbs around the suspenders that were holding up his plus fours and leaning one elbow on the counter. He shot Grace a wolfish grin.
In spite of his unavailability, the young buck was fawning over her! A disturbing impulse to grab the little pup by the scruff of his collar and hurl him into the street surprised Jared. For some reason, it fired his blood to witness Herbie trying to...well, to
seduce
her!
Handing her customer the jewelry box, Grace smiled. “Thank you, Herbie, and good luck.”
The young man straightened and pushed back his shoulders. “Can’t be lollygagging. Got to get to Susie’s digs, but I just wanted to say, Miz Hathaway...” Herbie hesitated, a blush spreading across his smooth cheeks. “When I first came in here I thought maybe you were a high hat, but you’ve been really keen. I might be carrying a torch for Susie, but I just wanted to say you’re divine, Miz Hathaway, just divine.”
Grinning widely, Herbie tossed the velvet box into the air and caught it, then shoved it into his pocket. He doffed his newsboy cap at Grace and, with a wink, was out the door.
Jared’s lips thinned. The boy was irritating, but he didn’t blame him. Unlike most of his kohl-lined female acquaintances, Grace’s features were enhanced by daylight. She had a natural attractiveness that had more to do with the smile she wore than any paint she might apply to her face.
“Hello again, Miss Hathaway,” Jared said as soon as the door closed behind Herbie. “Or should I say
the divine Miz Hathaway
?”
Grace turned a delicious shade of pink. “Oh, Herbie is a good sort. It has taken him over a year to save for Susie’s ring. Don’t you find that admirable, Mr. de Warre?”
Jared didn’t want to admit admiring anything about the little cake-eater, but he managed to grind out, “At least he has the good sense to recognize a beautiful woman when he sees one. You look stunning today, Miss Hathaway.”
The silky, crepe-de-chine dress Grace wore revealed every alluring contour of her body and flowed gracefully around the well-shaped legs revealed by her knee-length skirt. He could see the lines of her brassiere and satin slip through the bodice.
“I hope you were able to get some rest before you came to work.” He certainly had not. She had invaded his thoughts most of the day. He hadn’t expected to be so distracted by her memory. “If you’re tired, we could do this another time.” The polite offer was out before he realized he would be disappointed if she canceled.