Katie Rose (23 page)

“You look beautiful. Now let that boy answer the
door. You don’t want to appear too eager. And spray on some of my cologne. That’s right.”

Emily applied a discreet dab of perfume to the cleft between her breasts. Rosie cocked her head as she examined her protégé. “Now remember what I told you. Let him invite you back to his room. Act real innocent, like you haven’t any idea what he has in mind. Then when things get hot and heavy, tell him you need a few minutes alone, that you’re overcome by passion. Men love talk like that.”

Emily looked up doubtfully. “You really think that will work?”

“Of course, honey. Now hold your shoulders high. That’s right. It makes your bosom look bigger.”

Emily made her way down the steps, trying not to fall. It was more difficult than she would have thought, for the shoes were just too small and she could barely take a full breath in the dress. She couldn’t imagine how women like Rosie put up with this all the time. Yet when she entered the parlor, Thomas’s expression was worth every moment of discomfort.

“Emily?” Thomas got to his feet, his mouth falling open in surprise. Emily came to him, her hands outstretched as Rosie had instructed, and gave him the full benefit of her smile.

“Hello, Thomas.” Her voice sounded sultry, even to her own ears. That, she had also learned from Rosie.

“You look … wonderful.” There was a burning in his eyes as he took in the sight of her. “It amazes me to see the two sides of you. It’s almost as if there’s the
Emily I know every day, and then this exotic woman that you keep in hiding.”

Emily smiled at his compliment She noticed that he had changed from his minister’s garb to a suit, which looked unbelievably good on his lean frame. His coat was black with satin-covered buttons, and his trousers were a gray stripe, subdued and very stylish. He wore an immaculate white shirt and a gray tie, which had been knotted in the newest fashion. Yet he appeared very much the country gentleman, elegant and extremely masculine.

Emily felt her heart flutter. “You look very nice, too. Decided to put away your preaching garments?”

Thomas smiled, and she noticed again how the crinkles around his blue eyes deepened. “Just for the night. I didn’t think the good Lord would find too much fault if I took a lady out to dinner in proper dress.” He let his finger trace a line from her earring to the neckline of her gown.

“No, I don’t think so.” Emily swallowed, trying to ignore her body’s reaction to his touch. Lord, but his hand felt like a flame! She shivered in spite of herself, and was sure she saw his smile widen.

“Oh—this is from the sale of the paintings. I wanted to give it to you before we went out.”

Thomas extended a wad of bills to her and Emily gasped at the thickness of it. “Why, Thomas, this is incredible!”

He nodded. “I told you they would go over well. My intermediary was very successful. Apparently you just had to get to the right men. You know, ones with wives or sweethearts who don’t understand them.”

Emily looked up, her eyes alight as she caught his insinuation. “Thomas, you didn’t! Why, that’s almost blackmail!”

“I beg your pardon, but a man of the cloth would never engage in anything so despicable. Now, Miss Potter, are you ready?”

Emily put on her hat, the smart black one that looked perfect with her dress, then picked up Rosie’s lacy shawl. Thomas extended his arm, and with pleasure Emily slid hers through the crook of his elbow.

Just before they left the house, Emily heard Rosie’s voice again and was barely able to choke back a reaction. “Remember what I told you, honey. Wait until things get hot, then get him out of that room. Your answer lies there.”

“Are you all right?” Thomas asked, turning to look at her in concern.

“Fine.” She waved at the air. “Just fine.”

It was impossible for a woman to be so beautiful.

Thomas sat across from Emily in the dining room of the Hotel de Paris, sipping a wine that could only be called excellent, and savoring the beef burgundy, scalloped potatoes, almond beans, and French pastries. In spite of the good meal, he found he couldn’t take his eyes off Emily, nor could he remember enjoying an evening more.

The duality of her personality still astounded him. By day she looked like a schoolmarm, all dowdy clothes and spinsterish spectacles, but at night the temptress emerged, dazzling in a burgundy gown that dipped daringly low in the front, and a hat that could only be an Emily Potter original. He didn’t know much about women’s millinery, but he knew enough to recognize quality and genuine artistic ability. The hat she wore tonight was obviously for
evening, and it complimented her dress, drawing one’s eye to her face, setting off her upswept hairstyle to perfection. She was so talented, as sure of herself with satin and feathers as she was with her magnifying glass and logical discourse.

His gaze lowered. A froth of black lace had been discreetly added to the neckline of her gown, but it hid little of the smooth expanse of creamy skin that gleamed like rose petals. The lights caught her hair, giving it a reddish cast like polished wood, and those silver eyes seemed to twinkle merrily. And her conversation was as interesting as she was lovely, for Emily could talk of many things. Even if most of them included poisons, famous murders in the last decade, and outlaw legends, he was fascinated. This was Emily Potter.

His eyes fell to her enticing cleavage again and he frowned, aware that she’d caught the attention of other men in the room. Emily saw his look and her brows drew together questioningly. With his wineglass, he indicated her dress.

“I was just admiring your gown. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that one before. Isn’t it a little … bare for Boston?”

“Oh, this isn’t mine,” Emily said with that forthrightness he so admired. “This belonged to Rosie.”

“Rosie?” When she nodded, he stared at her incredulously. “Emily, isn’t that a little strange, to borrow a dead woman’s clothes?”

Emily appeared to have a sudden coughing fit and had to swallow hard, catching her breath. When she could speak, she giggled like a young girl.

“I suppose. But to me, Rosie is as alive as ever.”

“I see,” Thomas replied, though he didn’t see a damn thing. Aware that a man across from them was trying desperately to look down her dress, he scowled. “Maybe next time you could borrow something a little more discreet.”

“Oh, Thomas, don’t be a bother,” Emily waved her hand dismissively. “This dress is in the latest style, and is no more low-cut than any other woman’s here.”

“Not that there
are
many others,” Thomas remarked dryly. Still, when his gaze ran over Emily, he felt the familiar sexual tension between them begging to be alleviated. The first time he’d kissed her had never left his mind. If anything, the memory was burned like a brand into his brain, making every innocent brush of her skin a lesson in torture.

He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. Thomas truly wanted to do the right thing, but he had to have this woman, had to know the depths to which he could take her. He had to see her eyes half-closed again, in that innocent enjoyment of seduction, as her body trembled with a passion that still left him stunned.

As if she knew what he was thinking, she looked at him through lowered lashes and spoke softly. “I want to thank you again for the other night, and your help selling the paintings. You really have become a true friend to me, Thomas.”

That word again. Thomas shifted uncomfortably, wondering if she knew what she was doing to him, wondering if she was enjoying it. He drank
deeply of his wine, hoping to kill the hunger inside of him, but moment by moment, it just grew stronger. It was time to lay his cards on the table, Thomas thought. He had to know where he stood.

“You’re welcome. Emily, I am proud to be called your friend, but I was hoping for a deeper relationship with you. Especially after what we’ve shared.”

He waited for her response, and when it came, he wasn’t disappointed. She lifted her face and looked directly at him with an expression he’d never forget.

“You mean that night, when we kissed at the bordello, and … you did other things.” When he nodded, she continued softly. “I’ve been thinking about that, too, Thomas. I know I told you I couldn’t make love to you unless you told me the truth, but I’m starting to see things differently.”

“You are?” It was his turn to have a sudden coughing fit.

Emily absently twirled her wineglass. “Yes. I’ve come to realize that you are following your own line of inquiry for your own reasons, just like I am. I can only hope the day will come when you trust me enough to confide in me. Until then, I have only two choices. I can continue to pretend that I only want friendship with you, or …”

“Or?” Thomas’s mouth was suddenly parched, and the word was little more than a rasp.

Emily lifted those gorgeous silver eyes and looked directly into his heart. “Or I can spend the night with you.”

For a second, he couldn’t breathe. Thomas stared
at this beautiful woman, the anticipation nearly killing him. To his astonishment, she rose and gave him that Mona Lisa smile that nearly made his blood boil. Laying her slender hand on his shoulder, she said, “I choose the latter.”

“Are you sure?” He asked hoarsely, unable to believe his luck, but wanting to make certain she knew what she was doing.

Emily nodded truthfully. Even with all of Rosie’s coaching, it was a conclusion she’d come to by herself. She wanted to experience everything this man had to give her, to know the full pleasure she could find in his arms. If there was one thing her life as a spinster in Boston had taught her, it was that being proper and approved of meant wretched loneliness. And Emily had had a lifetime of that.

Now she wanted to live.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Thomas picked up her wrap and signaled for the waiter. Just as he was placing the lacy shawl around Emily’s shoulders, the man who’d been devouring her with his gaze all evening approached.

“Excuse me, but I felt I had to make an introduction. Ewert Smith, attorney at law. You aren’t perchance Miss Potter?”

“Yes, I am,” Emily said, surprised.

“Thomas Hall.” He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you. Now if you don’t mind, we’re on our way out.…” But the attorney barred the doorway. His eyes wandered over Emily’s bosom, and his ruddy face deepened in color.

“Well, well. I’m very surprised you’re still here! Haven’t changed your mind about selling the house, have you?”

“No,” Emily said firmly. “I believe I told you that in my letter.”

“I know. But I figured, you being a flighty female and all, you’d have second thoughts when you saw the place. You don’t look the worse for wear, though. That is truly a magnificent hat. And I could swear I’ve seen that dress before, as beautiful as you are in it.”

“Excuse us, Mr. Smith, but we’ve got an engagement,” Thomas interrupted.

Ewert turned to Thomas and grinned, patting him on the shoulder. “Now I know why you’ve taken such an active interest in the lady. It’s no secret—everyone in town knows that the good Reverend Hall has taken Miss Potter under his wing.”

Emily glanced up, aware of an odd tension in the air. Forcing a smile, Thomas spoke in that tight, barely controlled tone she’d heard several times before.

“Your interest is very kind, Mr. Smith. Now, as I mentioned, the lady and I have plans.”

“I can imagine. Good day, Reverend Hall. Miss Potter. Oh, and Miss Potter, I’d like to call on you soon, see how the house is coming along. You wouldn’t mind that, would you?”

“No,” Emily answered before she could think.

“Good. I’m looking forward to it.” The man put on his derby, then sauntered out of the room as if he’d already made a conquest. Thomas’s face darkened
and he silently took Emily by the hand. Outside, he walked toward the boardinghouse, his expression menacing as Emily tottered to keep up with him. Finally she stopped in the middle of the street, her toes aching in the tiny shoes.

“Thomas! I can’t run that fast.”

He stopped, managing a rueful smile as he noticed how breathless she was. “I’m sorry, Emily. That man just got the better of me. The way he leered at you.… I was ready to belt him.”

“Thomas! Why, you’re jealous!”

Her words appeared to hit him like a brisk slap in the face. Thomas gazed at her in astonishment, then, unable to argue with her logic, he began to chuckle.

“You’re right. I guess I am jealous. I’m jealous of any man who looks at you like that, who wants you … because I want you.”

A thrill of feminine pleasure coursed through Emily, and when Thomas reached for her in the dim light and pulled her into his arms, she simply sighed in satisfaction. No man had ever wanted her like this before. No man had ever been jealous of her, especially not a man like Thomas. It was a heady experience, and she felt as if she were dreaming, and if she pinched herself, it would all be over. She leaned against him, focused on his mouth traveling to her throat, pressing feverish kisses there.

“Emily, my God, I can’t wait to have you. Let’s go upstairs to my room. Unless you’d prefer Shangri-La?”