A Dance with Indecency (4 page)

Chapter 5

Elise paced the length of the bedroom of her lavish suite at the Grand Plaza Hotel, biting nervously at her manicured nails. She’d just been picking morosely at her room service dinner; everything tasted like sawdust in her dry mouth. Her head was awhirl with the revelations of the previous night...and with the fact that it was already late in the evening, and Harry had not yet called on her. He hadn’t even sent her a message!

She wondered if she’d been too curt in her goodbyes the night before. Had she left him too cold? Too frustrated? Perhaps he now thought that she would be too much trouble to bed, too much work.

Elise paused in her pacing and buried her face in her hands.

When he’d revealed that he felt remorseful about breaking her college girl heart, she’d been bowled over. It’d turned her thoughts upside down and inside out. Had he been telling the truth about his feelings? Had he truly regretted the way he had treated her former self? Or was that just part of his philandering persona—a ruse to establish an emotional connection with a potential mistress?

Elise sank into a plush chair, her head in her hands. She just didn’t know! And now her entire plan for revenge teetered on uneasy convictions.

A sharp knock sounded on her door. Elise stood and strode through the parlor to the suite’s grand double doors. Pulling them open, she discovered a ruddy-faced young bellboy.

“Yes?” she asked brusquely.

“A Mr. McMahon is requesting that you join him in the foyer, Madame Rousseau.”

“Harry McMahon?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the boy answered politely.

Her mind raced, confidence surging once again. Perhaps she could win this game yet! He’d come to her after all.

“Tell him that I will be down shortly,” Elise said, quickly shutting the door.

She rushed across the room and threw open the doors to her wardrobe. She rifled through the hangers, pulling out dress after dress. She needed to pick something that would make her absolutely irresistible. After a few minutes, she’d found
the one
.

She shrugged out of her clothes and slipped on the dress. It slid across her skin in a cascade of silk. Elise stepped over to a mirror, eyeing her reflection critically. This flapper dress had thin straps and was slightly more fitted than was strictly popular—but it accentuated her slim waist and toned limbs. The ivory bodice was embellished with strings of shiny, golden beads, and rows of thin golden strands dangled over the mesh skirt. The front of the dress was cut in a low V-neckline and the skirt was very short, elongating her lithe, long legs. To complete the look, she fastened a golden butterfly clip in her black hair, pulled on a pair of satin gloves and looped a long string of pearls around her neck.

Perfect, she thought to herself as she grabbed her purse and headed for the door, trying not to act too excited.

Harry was leaning against one of the Corinthian pillars in the lobby, ignoring the admiring glances he was receiving and trying hard not to appear like he was searching for a glimpse of Elise Rousseau. He fingered the cuff of his expensive jacket and began counting backward to still his eagerness. He’d had a busy day preparing for this evening, but it would do him no good if he seemed overly desperate.

The familiar clack of stiletto heels approached, and he looked up with a dazzling smile. Elise strode toward him briskly, a coy smirk on her full lips.

“Why, Harry darling,” she said with a flirtatious lilt in her voice. “I didn’t expect you to come calling today.”

“How could I resist?” Harry asked, touching the brim of his hat and taking her gloved hand.

“And what disreputable activities do you have in mind for tonight?” she asked as they walked through the foyer.

“Wait and see,” he told her as he held open the door.

“Always full of surprises, aren’t you?” She laughed and stepped into the warm summer evening.

It was a perfect night, she mused to herself as Harry helped her into his car. Night had not fully descended upon the city, but the street lamps and building lights had already been lit. New York was cast in pale blue and lit by hundreds of thousands of bright lights. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

Harry sped through the streets, once again stopping in front of his towering hotel. Elise arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Another petting party?” she asked as he opened her door.

“Not even close,” he said, smiling secretively.

She took his hand and he pulled her from the car. Placing his hand at her back, he leaned in to whisper at her ear.

“You’ll never guess what I have planned.”

His confident, self-satisfied smirk was at once irritating and intriguing. Elise arched her brows. As he turned to march into the hotel, she matched his pace—now genuinely curious. They walked through the lobby and toward the elevators with arms linked, both completely oblivious to the fascinated stares fixed upon them. Indeed, they cut a striking image: two of the most talked about figures in the New York social scene, dressed to the nines and promenading through a hotel. They were the objects of much envy and gossip—not that either cared at the moment.

Still smiling, Harry directed the elevator attendant to take them to one of the highest floors of the hotel. He hummed softly to himself, leaving Elise to wonder about their destination. The excitement in his eyes seemed genuine, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he had up his sleeve this time. His enthusiasm was contagious, and she felt the treacherous stirrings of interest in her chest. Once the elevator doors opened, he led her through a myriad of snaking corridors until they reached a set of heavy double doors.

“Ready?” he asked with all the eagerness of a schoolboy.

Elise nodded, fighting the traitorous flutters of excitement in her stomach. Harry pushed the double doors open, at once revealing a scene that made her insides clench giddily. Harry walked forward, ushering her in. Elise took a few slow steps, her wide eyes struggling to take in everything at once.

A stone terrace. Wrought-iron decorative railings. A plate of buttery croissants and two mugs of coffee on a small café table.

Harry had brought her to the Café de la Paix.

Except this was not Paris. This was New York. And he had done something uncharacteristic of the arrogant, uncaring sod she thought him to be. Elise turned bewildered eyes on to her beaming host. He grinned and marched over to another table covered in a sheet. He tugged away the cover with a flourish, revealing a miniature Eiffel Tower.

“Just in case you weren’t sure,” he announced happily.

“You’ve brought me to Paris,” she murmured, still taking it all in.

“
Oui
,
madame
,” Harry said in a mock French accent as he walked over to the table and pulled out a chair. “Now won’t you have brunch with me?”

She smiled softly.

“Isn’t it a little late for brunch?” she quipped, her tone light.

Harry feigned a frustrated grimace.

“I work all day to put this together for you, and this is the thanks I get?”

“All day?” Elise laughed. “You worked all day just to bring me something that I miss?”

Harry inclined his head to the side, gracing her with his most dashing grin.

“I would do anything to win your favor,
madame
,” he said.

Elise willed her heart to stop hammering in her chest as she slowly walked over to where he waited. With a wry upturn of her lips, she sat down and watched carefully as Harry circled the table to sit opposite her. When she did not make a move, Harry cheerfully plucked a pastry from the pile and set it on her plate.

“Freshly made!” he told her with a wink.

Elise tore off a piece of the crumbly croissant and brought it to her lips, struggling against the tremor in her hands and not trusting her voice. In front of her, Harry blithely sipped his coffee with a bright grin. Elise swallowed nervously, her chest tight.

This was not the man she had hated for so long.

Harry McMahon did not remember her favorite things. He did not make thoughtful gestures. He did not go to great lengths to make her smile. And most of all, Harry McMahon did not fill her stomach with giddy butterflies.

But Elise found that she
was
smiling. And her stomach
was
completely aflutter.

Damn him
, she thought.
Damn him.

She lifted her gaze to his face and felt all the pent-up longing and aching tenderness she had once had for him rush from her stomach into her chest. Her eyes wandered across his face: his carefully combed dark hair, his golden skin, his warm, brown eyes and his square jaw. There was a sweetness in his expression that made her heart warm, an intensity in his eyes that made her cheeks glow and a sharpness in his smirk that made her thighs tingle. Feelings long forgotten rose to the surface.

This was dangerous, she told herself. Oh, so dangerous. The color drained from her face as she realized what was happening—she was on the verge of falling in love with him...again.

Harry glanced at her from over the rim of his coffee cup—just in time to see her go perfectly pale. He dropped the cup into its saucer and was kneeling by her chair in an instant. He placed his hands over her small, trembling fingers.

“What is it, Elise?” he asked urgently. “What is wrong?”

Elise shook her head and refused to meet his eyes. He took her chin between his fingers and peered up into her downcast face.

“Please,” he coaxed. “Tell me what is bothering you.”

“It’s just s-so wonderful,” Elise stammered out weakly.

“Wonderful?” His tone was hopeful.

“Yes,” she replied honestly. “I would never have expected you to do something like this just for me.”

Harry stood and gently drew his fingers across her porcelain cheek, and she looked up at him with her large, luminescent blue eyes. In the moonlight, she looked so small and fragile—gone was the jaded, irreverent flapper girl with whom he’d wanted to cavort frivolously. No, this was the image of a beautiful, vulnerable young widow—a woman he wanted to shield, to protect, to treat as a most precious treasure.

And she was so familiar! There was something about her that made him feel at ease, something that made him feel that they’d know each other for years—he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

Harry wished he could shake the treacherous thoughts from his head. He was supposed to be seducing her...not the other way around!

“Let’s finish our treats,” he said, his smile tight as he walked back to his seat.

As he picked up his mug, he mulled over their situation. He needed money. She had money. And to get her money, he would have to make her
need
him. Harry gently drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

But who said that he had to
hurt
her to get what he wanted? Surely he could take her heart and her money...and make her happy at the same time. And why not? They could enjoy each other’s company as long as it pleased them to do so. And when they were done, they could go their separate ways—he would just make sure his debts were paid before he let her go.

Harry nodded once, his decision made. He looked up to find Elise watching him, an aching hunger in her eyes. She seemed even more beautiful with such an unguarded expression. He smiled and fought the urge to lunge across the table and kiss her senseless.

“So,” he said instead. “What do you think of my mini-Paris?”

“It’s the cat’s meow,” she replied with a delicate laugh.

And so began a long conversation that stretched until almost midnight. Harry and Elise traded both playful taunts and serious opinions—each so caught up in their banter that they completely forgot about their ulterior motives. It was only when it finally became so dark that they could hardly see each other in the lamplight that their conversation reached a lull.

Harry stood, brushing the pastry crumbs from his trousers. He held out a hand to Elise.

“Shall we go?”

“Where?”

“On a midnight drive across the bridge,” he answered as he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “And perhaps you’ll allow me to show you off at another party.”

“Another petting party?” she asked dubiously.

“No,” he said as they made their way back to the hotel lobby. “This is a much classier event.” He paused to look her up and down. “And you look absolutely perfect.”

As they stepped out of the hotel, Harry waved to the valet. The car rolled up to the curb within a few minutes, and Harry opened the door for Elise. She slid into the luxurious seat with a sassy grin.

“Do you want me to put the top up, Mr. McMahon?” The valet asked politely.

“Don’t bother,” Harry said as he let himself into the driver’s seat. “It’s a perfect night for a topless drive.”

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Elise, who laughed and batted his shoulder playfully.

And then they were off, speeding through the streets with the wind whipping through their hair. As they neared the bridge, the air grew crisper and cleaner, with just the slightest edge of cold. Harry turned onto the bridge. The wide lanes were completely empty, and they sped along alone on the massive structure. Elise titled her head back to feel the rush of cool air on her skin. Her eyes followed the thick steel suspension cables up to the sky.

“Harry!” she exclaimed suddenly, her hand grabbing his elbow. “Stop the car!”

Surprised, Harry veered off to the side. He slowed the car to a stop at the side of the bridge.

“What it is?” he asked, turning concerned eyes to her.

Elise reached upward, pointing.

“Look up,” she said wonderingly. “The stars!”

Stars?
he thought.
What could be so spectacular about the stars?

Somewhat confounded, Harry looked up. And felt his world shrink. Above them, the heavens stretched out in a midnight canvas, illuminated by bright pinpricks of light. The stars blinked down on them, their brightness clear now that they were free from the lights of the city behind them. It was fantastic.

They both leaned back in their seats, content for a moment to stare up at the wonders above. And then a slight shiver ran through Elise. She turned her head to the side and reached out to cover his hand with hers. He sat up and met her hooded gaze.