A Dance with Indecency (6 page)

“What?” she asked as she basked in the warm afterglow.

“What on earth are we going to do about your dress?”

Chapter 7

Elise puttered around her suite at the Grand Plaza Hotel, occasionally stopping to wring her hands nervously. A few days had passed since that crazy day in the rose garden at the McMahon estate. She flushed pink just thinking about the brazen way that they had reaffirmed their passion for one another—and the shameless manner in which they’d reentered the mansion. Her dress irreparably torn, she’d donned Harry’s coat, wrapping it tightly around herself to preserve what modesty she could. They’d giggled all the way to his rooms.

And then they’d spent the last few days getting to know each other—over drinks, during walks, at parties and while making love. Harry had proved a surprisingly considerate lover, constantly showering her with gifts and affection. It had only taken a few days for Elise to remember why she had fallen in love with him four years back, for beneath his polished exterior of a rich playboy heir lay a deeply sensitive and thoughtful man.

Elise did not know how long their affair would last—but she was enjoying herself and planned to do so for a while yet.

She paused in front of a floor-length mirror, studying her reflection and adjusting the way her hat sat on her hair. She’d pulled out all the stops again in this outfit: a silky lilac dress embellished with embroidered flowers. To complement the dress, she wore a purple headband trimmed with black netting. She gazed approvingly at her reflection; the color was a perfect contrast to her dark hair and pale skin.

There was a sudden rapping on her door. She frowned; she hadn’t been expecting Harry for another hour. The knocking resumed insistently. Elise strode over the door and peered through the peephole. All she could see was Harry’s face in profile—and he did not look happy. He seemed to be furiously speaking with someone else, but no matter how she shifted, she could not see who it was.

So, she opened the door.

Three rough-looking men barreled suddenly into her room, pushing Harry along with them. They slammed her door shut and fanned out into the suite.

“What is the meaning of this?” Elise demanded indignantly.

“Well, good afternoon to you, too,
madame
,” one of the men slurred sarcastically.

Harry grabbed the lapels of the nearest goon, his expression fierce.

“Listen here, you scum,” he snarled. “I told you to leave her out of this. I’ll get you your money.”

The goon knocked his hands away and laughed.

“From where?” the ruffian asked with a hoarse laugh. “You haven’t been able to pay up for our liquor for weeks!”

“Harry?” Elise asked, her eyes wide. “What is this about?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” the bootlegger said, swaggering over to Elise.

“Tell me what?”

“What a piece of work!”

The criminal guffawed and turned to his buddies. Then he grabbed the cuff of Elise’s sleeve, fingering the material between grubby fingers. Elise flinched away, her doelike eyes searching out Harry.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” Harry snarled, taking a threatening step forward.

The bootlegger’s face turned ugly. He grabbed Elise’s upper arm, flicking out a knife. He pulled her close in a parody of an embrace, flashing the knife. Elise felt herself wilt, her knees weak.

“I won’t hurt her,” he promised with a dirty grin. “If you get us what you promised us.”

“I will,” Harry said with an angry growl. “But she has nothing to do with this. So let her go now.”

“Nothing to do with it?” the bootlegger exclaimed incredulously. “Isn’t she the rich widow? The one with all the dough?”

Elise blanched and felt her chest tighten painfully. Her eyes sought out Harry’s panicked gaze. His eyes were pleading with her silently, his handsome face contorting in remorse. And then realization slammed into her like a cold wave.

“You were using me,” she whispered numbly. “You were going to use me to pay your debts.”

Harry swallowed anxiously, feeling the weight of his sins crashing down around him.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But that was
before
.”

“Before?” Her voice sounded far away, even to her.

“Before we got to know each other,” he continued desperately. “Before I found out who you really were.”

Harry watched as Elise’s face crumpled, tears welling in her beautiful eyes. He knew in the pit of his stomach that they were beyond repair now...and it was all his fault. He’d hurt more than he’d ever hurt anyone before. Frustration, anger and regret climbed his throat, filling his mouth with the acidic taste of failure. This was the last thing he’d wanted...the very last thing.

“Stop it,” he said quietly, straightening to his full height.

“I’m sorry?” the bootlegger asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.

“I said, stop it!” Harry repeated authoritatively. “Leave her out of it.”

“And where do you suggest I get my money then?”

Harry met his eyes squarely, determined.

“Don’t take anything from her. It’s not her problem,” he told them decidedly. “I don’t have enough money for you now, but if you don’t want to wait...well, you know what you have to do.”

The bootlegger pushed Elise away, and she sagged against the wall. He stepped toward Harry, casually swinging the knife around by its handle.

“You do know what you’re saying, don’t you, pretty boy?” he drawled. “You’ve heard what I do to people who can’t make good on payments, right?”

“I have,” Harry said resolutely. “But I can’t let you assault Madame Rousseau any further. I won’t let you.”

The bootlegger shrugged indifferently.

“How noble,” he said sardonically.

He gestured to his henchmen, who grabbed Harry on both sides and began to pull him toward the door. Harry cast an apologetic glance over his shoulder at Elise.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he was pushed away. “Just forget about me.”

Elise stared as the bootleggers hustled Harry toward the door. She felt her heart drop into her feet. She hadn’t heard the horror stories herself, but she knew enough to know that Harry was in mortal danger.

I
can’t let this happen
, she thought frantically.

She jumped to her feet, her hands outstretched.

“Stop!” she shouted.

All the men turned at her raised voice.

“Leave him alone,” she demanded, straightening her spine.

“Madame,” the bootlegger said with a scornful sneer, “unfortunately this man owes me quite a bit of—”

“How much?” she interrupted.

“What?”

“How much does he owe you?” she asked curtly.

“A grand,” he said.

“A what?”

“A thousand dollars,” he repeated impatiently.

Elise quickly marched over to her jewelry cabinet. She pulled out handfuls of her necklaces, bracelets and rings. Stalking over to the bootlegger, she poured a small heap of gold and precious gems into his hands.

“Will that cover it?” she asked, her tone businesslike.

The man turned the chains and baubles over in his hands and then passed them to one of his colleagues. He looked Elise up and down, his eyes calculating.

“Half,” he said with a greedy grin. “That would cover only half his debt.”

Elise’s lips thinned angrily, but she walked back to her cabinet and pulled out another two handfuls of jewelry. She handed the treasures to the bootlegger and watched as he stuffed her prized pieces into his pockets. Then, he jerked his chin at Harry’s guards who pushed him away.

“Nice doing business with you,” the bootlegger said, tipping his hat and turning away.

Both Elise and Harry stood stock-still as the criminals filed out, slamming the door behind them. Silence hung like an awkward cloud, and neither could look at the other. Finally Henry spoke.

“Why did you do that?” he asked quietly.

Elise looked up at him suddenly.

“I couldn’t let them...” She stopped, tears welling in her eyes. “I wouldn’t let them hurt you.”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair and paced the length of the room.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you?”

Elise tried to sound flippant, but her laugh turned into a choked sob. Harry was at her side in two long strides, wrapping his strong arms around her slender frame. He pressed his face into her hair and tightened his hold.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his voice haggard.

“I know,” Elise said, leaning into his embrace. “I know.”

“We can’t fix this, can we?”

His voice was tinged with sad finality. He knew he’d broken her heart...not once, but twice. They pulled away slightly, their eyes meeting mournfully. Elise gently traced the lines of his face with her fingertips.

“No,” she said faintly. “I don’t know if...I don’t know if I could ever trust you again.”

Harry smiled ruefully and cupped her cheek in his palm.

“But you still like me, don’t you?”

He tried to keep his tone light, and Elise smiled softly.

“I’ll always like you, Harry.”

He leaned forward to press his forehead to hers.

“Thank you, Elise.”

He touched his lips to hers gently, ever so gently. She let her lids flutter shut as their lips moved in slow, delicate patterns. The kiss was tender, tingling with a slow-burning need. Elise lost herself in the kiss, allowing herself to drift away in the simple sensations. But it couldn’t last forever.

When Harry pulled back, his cheeks were wet with her tears. And then she opened her eyes and met his.

“Goodbye, Harry.”

Chapter 8

Elise sipped her coffee, leisurely watching the many people passing by on the street. It was summer in Paris, and the bright weather had attracted many weekend tourists. The Café de la Paix was particularly busy, but she still had her favorite table, which was close enough to the street to get a good view, but still in the shade of the tall buildings. From her vantage point, she could heard a smattering of languages: French, Spanish, Italian...even a little American English. The familiar accent made her nostalgic; New York was far, far away, but her thoughts often drifted back to the bustling city of her youth...and to her most tumultuous love affair.

Elise sighed, setting down her coffee mug. She’d returned to Paris on the next ocean liner, swearing to leave her memories far behind. But six months after leaving, she still found herself wondering what had happened to Harry...and what might have been between them if she’d stayed. To be sure, he’d once again managed to break her hear that day—but remembering their last lingering touches, she’d known he’d truly regretted his actions. She knew in the depths of her heart that he hadn’t meant to hurt her—but it didn’t mean that she could stick around. The wound had been too fresh, and so she’d done the only thing she could: she’d escaped. Now, however, she wondered if she’d done the right thing. After all, they’d both had ulterior motives at some point, and they’d both been trying to play the other for a fool. But after having such a good time together, she was sure they had put the past behind them.

Oh
,
well
...

She exhaled and tucked a stray lock of her black hair behind one ear.

“If you sigh one more time,” someone said in a deep baritone, “people will start to think you’re not happy here.”

Elise frowned. She knew that voice, and she knew it well. She spun around in her seat, her blue eyes searching. A familiar figure stood leaning over the wrought-iron fence, a wry smile on his face.

“Harry,” Elise breathed in disbelief.

“Good afternoon, Elise,” Harry said genially, touching his hat in greeting. “May I join you?”

“Please do,” Elise said with a genuine smile.

Harry circled the café’s fence and strode over to her table, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Elise stared as he pulled out a chair and sat, pulling off his hat and setting it on the table. The six months had not dulled his good looks; his hair still shone, his eyes were inviting and his features were handsomely chiseled. But there
was
something different about him.

“How have you been, Elise?”

“I’ve been well,” she answered. “And you?”

“I’m better now,” he said with a shrug.

“And what brings you to Paris?” she asked playfully. “Hoping to start a hotel chain here?”

“No,” he answered with a slow smile.

“Then what?”

“Well,” he said, “I’ve left the hotel business.”

“Why?” she asked incredulously.

“It wasn’t for me anymore,” he answered with a secretive smile. “Instead I’ve been traveling abroad—I need ideas if I’m to write a book.”

“Writing!” she exclaimed excitedly. “How marvelous.”

Harry nodded. He’d left behind his family fortune—his father had been less than pleased. But Harry felt the need to leave in order to finally put the past to rest and to reinvent himself.

“You don’t think it’s silly?” he asked hopefully. “To want to start fresh?”

“Not at all,” Elise answered, shaking her head. “Just take me for example. Sometimes starting over is the best thing you could choose to do.”

“That’s how I felt, too.”

“So,” Elise asked with an encouraging smile, “what inspired you to leave your old life behind for writing?”

“Have you heard of Fitzgerald? He just published a book about New York. Fantastic story—you should read it,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “But anyway, it inspired me to start writing as well.”

“That’s wonderful, Harry,” Elise said, beaming. “I am so pleased for you.”

Harry drummed his fingers against the tabletop.

“But that’s not the real reason I’m in Paris,” he confessed, reaching over to cover her hand with his.

Elise felt her heart begin to race, a familiar flutter beginning in her stomach. She swallowed nervously.

“Then what is?” she asked, almost afraid to hope.

Harry smiled and then lifted her hand to his lips, gently pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“You are,” he announced boldly.

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed, her eyes wistfully gazing at his sincere expression.

“Is that all you have to say?” Harry teased. “After I crossed an ocean to find you again?”

“How do you know I’ve even forgiven you yet?” she huffed. “You were a right blockhead, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” he admitted with a salacious grin. “But I know a few ways that I can make it up to you.”

He flipped her hand over and planted an openmouthed kiss on the underside of her wrist, his tongue darting out to lave her pulse point. A shiver of delight raced up her spine.

“Naughty,” she tutted, pulling her hand back with a wink.

“You’ve no idea how naughty I want to be with you,” Harry said. “And besides, I’m sure Paris has all sorts of outdoor
locations
, if you know what I mean.”

Warmth pooled between her thighs, her mind already racing. She barely heard the scrape of the chair as Harry pulled his seat around the table so he could sit right beside her. But she definitely felt his palm slide up her leg as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“And I know you like the outdoors, Elise.”

She grinned mischievously. His lusty gaze was full of seductive promise. They couldn’t undo the wrongs of the past, but they could press forward into the future—and who knew what pleasurable diversions they might uncover together?

“Indeed I do,” she said, her eyes dark with desire. “And I think we should start exploring, don’t you?”

* * * * *