SpeakeasySweetheart (3 page)

She couldn’t resist a glance in his Caddy to see if he’d
left the keys. No such luck. Not that she thought he’d let her drive off in his
car, but she wasn’t in a forgiving mood. Sasha paused at the corner, peering
from side to side. Which way had they come from?

Left, right? Right?

God, she was confusing herself, and Blaze’s quiet, attentive
presence at her side only increased the pressure. After a minute’s
deliberation, she chose an arbitrary direction, trying not to read too much
into Blaze’s reaction—or lack thereof. He was still silent.

Her fury was starting to ebb somewhat. Still, he’d thought
she was Cornell’s…what, prostitute? Her lips compressed, Sasha plowed forward,
fascinated despite herself by the scenes of Jazz Age…what was this city? New
York. It had to be New York. Blaze had even said as much but the words hadn’t
sunk in.

A paperboy barged past, hustling down the street. There
wasn’t much traffic at this early hour, a few cars and a horse-drawn wagon. She
resisted the urge to stroke the animal as they passed. They probably didn’t do
that kind of thing in this society.

By the time they’d walked a few blocks, she was ready to
level with Blaze. She turned a grumpy gaze upon him, catching his eye immediately.

“Tell me why you assumed I was Cornell’s whore.”

“He slept with and became quite close to his last two
singers. They weren’t very good.”

“
In bed?
” That earned him another glare.

“No.” He had the temerity to laugh. “Honey, I have no idea
what they were like. I only know they were bad singers.”

“Were?”

“They’re dead.”

That sent a chill through her. Dead. Would she be dead if
she’d stayed at the club? Forced into Cornell’s bed? Or would she have clawed
her way back through that strange little door, returning to her own time?

Maybe they would all have followed her. Mr. Asshole and
Cornell and Blaze and Louella, all tumbling into the future and surprising the
living fuck out of that crazy old professor and the rest of the students. And
her ex.

A hysterical giggle burst forth. Sasha brought both hands up
to her mouth. She was going nuts. Absolutely nucking futs, as her parents used
to say in the good old days before the divorce.

“Sasha.” Blaze’s strong arms enveloped her, pulling her
aside into the relative privacy of an alleyway. “Come on, baby.”

She pulled herself together enough to take a deep breath and
level an accusatory glare at his chest. “Am I to infer from this conversation
that you think I’m a bad singer too?”

“
No
.” The denial was so strong she believed it right
away. “That’s what made me sit up and take notice in the first place. You’re
different from the rest.”

“Is that what made you kidnap me?”

Blaze shook his head. “I need information on Cornell.
Thought a singer of his would be the best way to get it. Besides, I couldn’t
live with myself if another one died.”

A car rumbled past. Sasha waited until the noise had
subsided before speaking again. “What have you got against Cornell?”

“He killed my brother.”

She wasn’t expecting
that
. “I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as he’ll be.” His eyes darkened a shade.
“Maybe you should tell me what you were doing singing at his club if you’re not
close to Cornell.”

“Singing’s a hobby for me, all right?”

“Why so defensive?”

“My dad—” She stopped short. How much of her troubled
adolescence
did
she want to confide to this relative stranger?

“Yes?” His firm encouragement shoved aside the last
resistance in her soul.

“My dad said I’d never amount to anything that way. He said
I should give up singing but I kept going without telling him. I paid for
lessons with money I earned from odd jobs.”

Her music teacher had been completely gaga for early twentieth-century
music, so Sasha had learned some odd songs. Still, her voice fit the music well
and it had given her a temporary escape from dreary everyday life. She’d thrown
herself into learning the music of the era, impressing her teacher and giving
herself a much-needed confidence boost.

“Seems your dad was wrong. You have a gorgeous voice.”

She searched Blaze’s eyes for any trace of sarcasm or false
flattery. Finding none, she inclined her head. “Thank you.”

Sasha’s stomach rumbled, distracting them both. Blaze raised
an eyebrow. “Does Cornell bother to feed his girls? When did you last eat?”

“I had a few bites yesterday evening.” Party food, mostly.

“When was your last proper meal?”

“Lunch yesterday.”

Blaze took her arm with a disapproving grunt. “We’ll go to
my sister-in-law’s.”

Sasha had to admit she was a touch relieved when Blaze led
her decisively out of the alleyway. It was getting cold and her pride wouldn’t
have let her give up and return to his apartment without an epic struggle. And
the streets of New York City in the twenties were a bit intimidating,
especially as morning traffic began to increase. There seemed to be no rules
and very few guidelines. Intersections were nightmares to navigate, with
vehicles sometimes missing each other by feet or mere inches.

Safely guided by Blaze, she allowed herself to take in the
sights of the city. She’d lived in the suburbs all her life, so the hustle and
bustle held a certain fascination. And this was nothing like the New York City she’d
seen on her high school trip. She was curious to see what the first subway
lines looked like.

They hadn’t gone far before Blaze turned down a side street,
leading her up a set of stairs to a large brown door. The building wasn’t quite
as grand as Blaze’s but it was well-kept.

“They always do a good spread on Saturday morning,” Blaze
said.

“I take it you’re a frequent visitor.”

His teeth flashed in an unrepentant grin. “I’m a terrible
cook. Besides, Mary is used to putting on extra. I have a lot of hungry men in
my family.”

That would take some getting used to. Sasha was accustomed
to solitary, hurried meals. Her father preferred to eat in front of the
television with a can of beer always at hand.

Sasha repressed a sigh. This thing with Blaze…it wasn’t
long-term. She couldn’t start thinking of them that way. Besides, this was a
rebound relationship, wasn’t it?

The door opened, and for a moment Sasha was convinced they’d
gone to the wrong house. Who was the old man peering at them? His face wreathed
in a sudden smile and he opened the door wide.

“Blaze is here!” he shouted over his shoulder. Then, more
loudly, “And he has a
young lady
with him!”

Self-consciously, Sasha stepped inside. Blaze’s warm hand
came to rest on the small of her back, reassuring her somewhat.

“No car today?” the old man inquired.

“We walked, Uncle Declan.”

“Walked? I’d have thought you’d want to show off your new
car.”

Sasha tried not to blush. “He already showed me. Last
night.”

Uncle Declan grinned and Sasha realized just what she’d
given away.

“Last night, eh? Well, come on in and have some food.
Table’s set,” the old man said.

Introductions
. Sasha braced herself. She’d never met
her ex’s family, nor had he met her father, so this was entirely new territory.
Stiffly, she allowed herself to be guided through to the kitchen.

The little boy sitting at the table had blue eyes the same
color as Blaze’s. He waved, hastily swallowing his mouthful of toast. “Morning,
Uncle Blaze!”

He was cute but Sasha had to harden her heart. After today,
she wouldn’t see them again. So she smiled and nodded in all the right places,
and sat and devoured toast, bacon and eggs while listening to the rest of them
talk.

When Mary, Blaze’s sister-in-law, pulled her aside after
breakfast, Sasha tried not to be too touched when the other woman handed her a
bundle of clothes.

“Blaze said you had to leave a bunch of your things behind
because of the police raid,” Mary said. “We’re of a size, so I thought you
could use a few spare outfits.”

“Thank you.” Sasha accepted the small bundle. “I really
appreciate it. I didn’t bring much with me to the city.”

Mary began clearing dishes. “No, no—don’t help. You’re a guest.
Say, where are you from?”

“I’m from Maine.” That was true enough. Sasha handed over
the plates to Mary. “Is it true that Cornell killed Blaze’s brother?”

Mary spared her a quick glance before turning back to the
sink. “Yes. He shot Sean two years ago. He denied it, of course, and the police
don’t have enough evidence.” Her voice dripped scorn.

He’s bound to go out in a blaze of glory
. The backstage
girl’s words came back to her, igniting a spark of worry.

“Blaze has been chasing Cornell for two years, then?” Sasha
asked carefully.

“Oh yes.” Mary’s voice turned bleak. “He won’t stop. He’s
obsessed with getting him…one way or another. That’s why we’re so surprised to
see you. Blaze hasn’t had a woman overnight since Sean died.”

The masculine voices in the other room rose to a higher
level, punctuated by the shrill giggling of the little boy. Mary dried her
hands on a towel, rolling her eyes. “Best see what they’re up to before they
cause too much trouble.”

Sasha followed more slowly, deep in thought. So Blaze hadn’t
brought home a woman for two years. Yet here she was, and he didn’t seem too
put out by her presence. But how long would it last? And was he just using her
to get closer to Cornell?

Blaze’s attention was immediately drawn to Sasha as she and
Mary entered the room. Mentally, he kicked himself. He was becoming far too
besotted with the girl.

In the middle of the room, his nephew giggled as he turned
another cartwheel. The boy had been capering around doing handstands and other
acrobatics, amusing everyone but coming perilously close to knocking over vases
and lamps.

Mary swooped in, putting a quick stop to the fun. Against
his protests, she whisked the boy away for some quiet time. Blaze watched Sasha
as she looked after the departing boy. Would she want children?

She didn’t seem like the overly maternal type but her
expression held a fleeting wistfulness that hinted otherwise. He wondered if
she ever got as lonely as he did. Or did her singing provide her with a focus
in life?

Privately, he had to admit that avenging Sean’s death had
been his only goal for the past two years, almost to the exclusion of
everything else. For the first time in ages, Blaze paused to wonder if he might
be better off with someone else in his life.

He loved playing drop-in uncle, part-time brother, loving
his family while keeping his personal, bachelor life fully to himself. Sasha’s
presence in his apartment last night had been a welcome change.

Still, he told himself he shouldn’t get used to her. After
all, his main goal was the demise of Cornell.

“We should get going,” Blaze said.

“So soon?” Dougal, his brother, gave him that disappointed
look he’d been perfecting over years. Blaze fought the urge to roll his eyes.
His family of all people should understand how busy he was.

“How’s business?” Blaze asked gruffly. He and his brothers
owned several restaurants in the area. They’d made enough to branch out, invest
in other areas, but Blaze didn’t have much to do with the day-to-day running of
things. He settled the books, acting as family accountant and making more than
enough money to live comfortably.

Dougal seemed pleased that he’d bothered to ask. “Things are
going really well. We had a good review printed in the local paper last week.”

“Great. Well, we’d best go.” Blaze motioned to Sasha.

“Are you two going back to your apartment? Why don’t you
spend a day at Coney Island?”

Blaze narrowed his eyes at Dougal. What was his brother
playing at? He hadn’t been to Coney Island since he was a near-penniless young
teenager staring at the rides he couldn’t afford.

“Maybe,” he said shortly.

“I wouldn’t mind.” The sound of Sasha’s voice made him
realize she hadn’t spoken all throughout breakfast.

Dougal looked smug. Blaze glared briefly at him. Just
because
he
was happily married didn’t mean he had to interfere in his
younger brother’s life.

“I’ll think about it. Let’s go. Thanks for the grub,
Dougal.”

Sasha descended the stairs at his side, clutching something.
He sneaked a curious peek. What were those? Clothes? Blaze frowned, feeling
slightly guilty. He should have thought of her comfort sooner. How much of her
stuff had she left behind at that speakeasy?

Would Cornell be looking for her? The thought brought him up
cold. Without really thinking about it, he took her hand. She was his to
protect.

“What’s Coney Island like?” Sasha asked.

Curse Dougal for putting ideas in her head. “It seemed like
a slice of heaven when I was a boy.”

“And now?” she prompted.

“Wouldn’t bother with it. More important things to do.”

“Your nephew might like to go.”

“Dougal can take him. The kid’s lucky; he’ll have money to
spend. I always wanted to go on the big wheel.” Blaze clamped his mouth shut
before he started babbling. Coney blinking Island. Hadn’t thought of that place
for years.

Sean had loved it there. His favorite thing had been the hot
dogs. They’d almost always been able to afford a nickel each for a hot dog,
even if most of the rides had been beyond their means.

“Come on,” Blaze said abruptly. “It’s cold out and you don’t
have a jacket. Let’s hurry.”

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Next time I’ll just take your car.”

“Over my dead body.”

The look she gave him was so concerned that he instinctively
put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She was shivering, whether
from nerves or the cold, he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Can you drive?” he asked.

“Yes.”

That was another thing he’d have to keep an eye on. She was
just feisty enough to zoom off in the Cadillac if provoked too far. He’d seen
her eyeing the car this morning during her fit of temper.

Not that he minded her spirit, but he couldn’t let her
walk—or drive—off alone in the city. Not before questioning her. And definitely
not before figuring out whether Cornell was after her.

Sasha was shivering in earnest by the time they got back to
his place. He led her up the stairs and inside, rubbing her arms to relieve the
chill.

“Where’s your coat?” he asked. Had she brought it with her
in the car? He couldn’t remember.

“I left it back at the speakeasy. I gave it to one of the
girls.” She spoke through chattering teeth.

Blaze stifled a curse. “Anything important in its pockets?”

“I…” She trailed off, going all distant on him. “Some
photographs and loose change, I think.”

“Photographs of you?”

“And my former boyfriend,” she said.

“Does the fellow give you any problems?” That came out more
belligerently than he’d intended. He softened his words by pulling her close.

“Not anymore.” She laid her cheek on his chest, submitting
quietly as he cuddled her.

“Come on. Let’s get into bed,” he said.

“Again?”

Blaze couldn’t quite hide his amusement. “To get you warm,
sweetheart.”

She allowed herself to be led into the bedroom. He couldn’t
help but respond to those sultry eyes, his trousers uncomfortably tight around
his burgeoning cock. Sasha was the sexiest woman he’d ever been with, so damn
sexy he was throwing his day-to-day life out the window just to spend more time
with her.

But he didn’t begrudge a second of it. Even though he knew
he should.

Sasha reached up, stroking the stubble on his cheek all the
way to his chin. Her shivering was subsiding, her focus on him—only on him.
God, he liked that. When she tugged his trousers down he was hard and ready for
her touch.

He wasn’t prepared, however, for the sensation of her silky
mouth closing over the head of his cock. Blaze’s hands went to her immediately,
stroking her long hair from her face as she enveloped him in her warm, wet
heat.

Slowly, almost excruciatingly slowly, she took all of him.
Impressive. Blaze jerked as she pulled back, tongue swirling. His balls were so
tight they ached.

She was rapidly pushing him toward the point of no return,
something a woman hadn’t done to him so quickly since his misspent youth. He
sucked in a deep breath as she allowed her teeth to lightly scrape along his
shaft. She was good.
Too
good.

“Sasha,” he warned, his voice going hoarse.

She flicked a mischievous look his way and kept going. Did
she know how much she was affecting him? Blaze tightened his grasp on her hair
as she increased her suction, drawing him deep. He wasn’t going to last—

He grumbled another, incoherent warning, but her velvet
mouth remained wrapped tightly around his cock, refusing to give it up. Moments
later he filled her mouth, her throat working as she swallowed all he gave her.

This time, he
did
shout her name. God help him.

Sasha shuddered as Blaze’s fingers worked their magic,
clinging to his shoulder as her second orgasm overtook her. The taste of his
semen still salted her mouth.

She’d thought he would roll over and be content to hold her,
but unlike her ex, he insisted upon reciprocation. And he was
very
thorough. She was exhausted by the time she curled up at his side, head resting
on his shoulder.

Last night had been riddled with half-formed nightmares,
leaving her sleep-deprived. She blinked open her eyes, found Blaze’s blue ones
absorbed in watching her.

Well, of course he would watch her. He’d kidnapped her.
Sasha figured she should probably think this situation through. But for the
first time in her life she was letting it all go. And having fun in the
process.

“So sleepy,” she mumbled.

“Go to sleep, then.” The amused command made her lips quirk
up but she was too tired to really smile. And his skin was so warm against her
cheek.

When she woke, her cheek was resting against the impersonal
surface of a pillow. She blinked away the last vestiges of sleep, suddenly
panicky that Blaze wasn’t there.

“Good evening, sweetheart.”

The sound of his voice reassured her, calming the panic. She
wasn’t alone, adrift in a strange city and strange time. She had Blaze. The
fact that he’d effectively put her in the situation by kidnapping her didn’t
escape her, but given Cornell’s reputation, would she really have been able to
make it back through the dressing room door? What if Louella or one of the other
women had followed her?

Besides, Mr. Asshole had been ready to bodily throw her onto
the stage. Not to mention she’d still been in denial about the whole situation.
She’d thought it was a lark, a private theater club hidden inside a little
Maine college. How wrong she’d been.

If only her ex could see her now, contented in the bed of
another man. A caring man, someone who looked after her needs.

Yet when she raised her head to meet Blaze’s eyes, she
sensed a subtle difference in him.

Sasha sat up in the bed, drawing her knees to her chin
defensively. Why was he looking at her so sternly? He rose from his chair and
began to pace.

“I’ve arranged for food to be delivered in an hour—your
supper.”

Her
supper. So he wasn’t eating with her? A grim
thought gave her pause. Was there another woman in his life? She was too proud
to ask, choosing to stay silent.

“I should be back before midnight,” Blaze continued. “My
downstairs neighbor will know how to contact me should you attempt to leave the
apartment. I suggest you stay in. I have a radio in the sitting room for your
entertainment, and books of course.”

“Where are you going?” Sasha silently cursed herself. She
hadn’t meant to ask.

“Word on the street suggests Cornell is receiving a shipment
of bootleg liquor somewhere in Queens. I’m gonna go see if that’s true.”

“Why?” In for a penny, in for a pound.

His expression grew stony. “Because Sean died in a similar
situation. Cornell’s a double-crossing bastard. He shot my brother and took the
goods. Didn’t even wait until he was cold. If I can catch him doing the same
again, maybe the police will listen this time.”

“I didn’t know he was so cruel. I’m sorry about Sean.”

“You didn’t know?” His gaze raked her. “Any fool on the
street could have told you about Vincent Cornell’s reputation before you walked
into his goddamn club. Guy kills anyone who looks at him wrong.”

“I didn’t talk to anyone before I walked in,” Sasha said
stiffly. She wasn’t about to try to explain the door to Blaze. Not when he was
in such a bad mood.

“Well, baby, next time you get a job maybe you should check
references a bit more vigorously.”

Sasha swallowed the pain of his comment, forcing herself to
watch impassively as he jammed a fedora over his dark hair and pulled his shoes
on. He walked out the door without another word or glance her way.

She sprang out of bed the moment the latch clicked. Pulling
the blanket around her, she paced obsessively, then forced herself to calm. The
window in the sitting room had a good view of the street below, so she moved to
stand near it.

Blaze had taken the Cadillac. Smart move. She would have
ransacked the apartment until she’d found the keys, then taken off. Unless the
downstairs neighbor was a sprinter, he wouldn’t be able to keep up.

If Cornell was as nefarious as Blaze made out, surely she
could find the speakeasy she’d been taken from. Sasha glared at her reflection
in the window. Why did that notion feel like such a betrayal to Blaze?

“I’m not tied to him,” she said out loud. “I can leave.”

But she couldn’t. She had no idea where Cornell’s speakeasy
was located.

Her thoughts turned to the twenty-first century. If all had
gone normally, she would be driving north right now, all her possessions packed
into her little hatchback. She’d get to Dad’s around late afternoon, probably
finding him half-sloshed already. Then it’d be a matter of applying for jobs
while keeping her mind off her ex.

Sasha smiled fleetingly. After meeting Blaze, thinking about
her ex wasn’t very high on the list. In fact, Blaze had probably ruined her for
anyone else.

Shedding the blanket, she went into the bathroom. Thank
goodness she’d gone back to a time that had indoor plumbing. Even if it was a
bit slower—and cooler—than she was used to, she was able to run herself a bath.

After twenty minutes of soaking, Sasha toweled herself off
and got dressed in clean clothes. The soap was decidedly masculine-smelling,
lending her skin an unfamiliar, if pleasant, scent.

She jumped as someone knocked on the door. Was it Blaze?

No, idiot, he’d have let himself in with the key
. She
berated herself, striding across the room to admit a rotund woman bearing a
large tray. Immediately, the woman pressed the tray into her hands.

“Pasta for you,” she said, speaking in a heavy Italian
accent. “Enjoy, Mrs. O’Rourke.”

Sasha nearly dropped the tray. “Uh, thanks.”

Mrs. O’Rourke!
Before she could pluck up the courage
to correct the woman, the door closed, leaving her alone again. She bore the
tray to the table and tucked in. Despite the large brunch earlier, she was starving
and the pasta and accompanying garlic bread tasted superb.