Stepping back, she perused her reflection. Damn if she didn't look terrific-and nearly unrecognizable. She inched the top of the full-sleeved blouse to the edge of her left shoulder, leaving it there. On the right, she nudged the thin material off the shoulder. Tucking the blouse into the skirt, she wrapped a chain belt around her waist, attaching an empty jewelry pouch into which she then slipped her cell phone, a key to her parents' house and some money. She gave the skirt a shake. The folds swirled around her ankles.
Jen topped the outfit off with large gold hoop earrings, a four-strand gold jangle necklace and a shawl in blending shades of black, sand, dark green and a splash of magenta.
Lifting her arms she swept the shawl in an arc and settled it over her shoulders.
Now she was ready.
Her parents were waiting for her in the foyer. "Oh, I'm sorry, am I late?" She hadn't bothered to look at the clock.
"Not at all, we just came down," her father answered. "And may I say you look fantastic, Jennifer." He always called her by her full name.
"Yes, you do," her mother agreed. "Very effective."
Jen gave them a brilliant smile, giving silent thanks for the candid explanation her mother had offered her concerning the situation with the Terrells. "Thank you," she replied, shifting a glance from one to the other. "And you two look absolutely fantastic."
Her father opened the door to usher them out. "The car's right out front. Off we go to the Halloween gala."
For the last time, Jen thought to herself. She was never going to the Terrells' party again. It was time to make some changes in her life. She was going to figure out what she wanted to do about Marsh, about her living situation, about everything.
After tonight, her life was going to be totally different. One way or another.
Ten
The dance, the last of more than she could recall, finally ended. Her breathing a bit heavy from the fast-paced number, Jen smiled at her surprisingly spry elderly partner as he thanked her before walking away.
It was hot in the room. The place was jammed. Jen was sweaty and tired of the party. She was tired of dancing, too. It was time to get out of there.
Lifting a corner of the shawl she had tied around her waist, she dabbed at perspiration dampening her neck. She was smoothing the shawl back into place when she felt a long-fingered hand curve around her waist.
"You've danced with just about every man here tonight."
His voice was a rough whisper close to her ear. "I think this one is mine."
A chill chased the heat from her neck all the way down to the base of her spine.
Marsh.
"Not talking to me?" He nipped gently at her ear.
Jen had to swallow. He was pressed against her back. Talk to him? She could barely breathe. "Why...why didn't you tell me you were going to be here?"
"It was a last-minute decision." His arm moved, turning her to face him.
He looked dangerous, and delicious. He had dressed as a gentleman of years past, out for a night at the opera or theater. He was wearing what she'd wager was his own hand-tailored tuxedo, black tie and pleated, blazing white shirt. He also had on a silk top hat, a long black cape with a stand-up collar, and held a silver-handled black walking stick.
Breathtaking.
He started moving against her sensuously, suggestively, enticing her to dance with him. She raised her gaze to his. His eyes glimmered with intent like sun-struck silver.
"I watched you dancing." He lowered his head to murmur against her ear. "You dance very well. Will you dance with me?"
Dance? She could barely move. His hard body pressed against hers was sapping all the strength from her. She felt light-headed. She had to get out before she made a fool of herself by collapsing at his feet.
"No, I don't want to dance." Jen hardly recognized her own voice it was so dry and shaky. "I want to get some air."
Marsh moved back a bit to look into her face. The smile he gave her was positively wicked. "With me?"
"I just want to leave, please."
"I can't resist a lady who says please."
Keeping his arm around her waist, Marsh turned and headed for the front entrance, sweeping her along with him as he strode toward the door.
"Wait." Jen halted abruptly as she came to her senses. "I must tell my parents I'm leaving." She turned out of his embrace only to feel his arms slide around her waist as he turned with her.
"I'll come with you," he said.
"Marsh," she began.
He set his brows into an arrogant arch. "You're ashamed to be seen with me?"
"No, no." Jen shook her head. She wasn't ashamed, just terrified of what he might say to her parents. "I just, well, I believe they are having a conversation with friends."
He didn't bother to respond as he piloted her toward the pair standing near the long buffet table.
Jen braced herself as he came to a stop before her parents. "Mother," she managed, pausing to wet her lips. "I'm leaving now."
"I see," her mother responded, a suspicious gleam in her eyes. "Aren't you going to introduce your friend?"
"No need," her father said, a friendly smile on his face. He extended his hand. "Marsh, I'd like you to meet my wife, Celia."
"A pleasure," Marsh said.
Celia arched a brow. "Are you escorting Jennifer, Mr. Grainger?"
"Yes, ma'am," he responded in a tone of respect.
"Mmm," she murmured again, eyeing Marsh up and down.
Jen's stomach clenched in apprehension.
Her father laughed. "Celia, I think you need a glass of champagne. Run along, Jennifer." He turned a stern look on Marsh. "You will take care of her." It was not even close to a question.
"Yes, sir," Marsh answered at once.
Nodding, her father murmured good-night and, taking Celia's hand, led her away.
Marsh was chuckling as he took a stunned Jen to the door. "Do you have your car?"
They were outside. Jen drew a deep breath. The air had turned cold. It hit her flushed skin like an Arctic blast chilling her exposed flesh. Loosening the filmy shawl from around her waist she drew it around her shoulders. "No, I came with my parents."
"Good." Taking her hand, he led her to his car, a sleek black Lincoln parked right in front of the large house.
"You left your car here?" Jen said, sliding into the passenger seat when he opened the door for her.
He slid behind the wheel and slanted a look at her. "I wasn't planning on staying."
"Then why bother to come at all?"
"I came to collect you...and you know it."
The grin he flashed created a shudder in her lower regions. Now, even with the chill air, Jen felt hotter than she had in the house, and it had nothing to do with the thin shawl.
"Where are we going?" she said, turning to look out the window. "My parents live in the other direction."
"I know where your parents live, Jen," he said. "We're going to my place here in town. We'll be there in a few minutes."
"I didn't know you had a place in town." The thought that she and Marsh would be alone soon, at his place, a place that presumably had a bedroom, was almost more than Jen could bear. She simultaneously wanted to flee from him and tell him to drive faster.
Jen glanced out the window. They were in the heart of the city, tall office buildings looming over the car. Marsh turned onto a ramp leading to the private underground parking lot of one of the tallest buildings. Inserting a card into a pad on the chain-link gate, the gate silently slid open, and silently closed again after he drove through.
She knew at once where they were. This parking lot, the building towering overhead, contained the corporate headquarters of his business. Grainger Building in bold brass letters arched over the double front doors at the main entrance. She had passed it many times.
"You live here?" she asked as he pulled the car into a spot marked Private.
"No." Marsh shook his head as he swung open his door. "I keep this place for when I have to be in town for business reasons."
Although he circled the car, Jen was out before he got to her. "Convenient."
"Come along," he said, lifting the cape to swirl it around her shoulders. "You're shivering."
Warmth from his body intensifying the shiver, Jen moved with him to the door. He inserted another computerized key card into a barely noticeable slot. Shiny brass elevator doors parted with a soft swish.
Inside he pushed an unmarked button. The door swished shut and the car began to rise...quickly.
The penthouse, Jen thought. The car came to a smooth stop and the doors again softly swished apart.
Marsh's arm still firmly around her waist, he took her with him when he stepped from the car.