can hear whatever you say standing right here. I have another call. What do you want?”
“I want you.”
“Mr. Hornsby, I’ve worked here for going on three years, and you’re the first member of this club to break club rules and harass me. I suppose you know that my contract provides for redress in such an event.”
“Oh, come now. You can’t prove a thing. Besides, I’ll make it worth your while.”
“That’s impossible. Not if you owned every ounce of gold in Fort Knox. And don’t be too sure that I can’t prove you got out of line.” She let the door slam behind her, aware that eventually Duff Hornsby’s shenanigans could force her to leave Allegory.
She went back to her station and saw the light flashing for the lounge that Warren frequently used. She got a glass of ice water, a pot of coffee and a coffee service, arranged them on a silver tray and entered the lounge.
“I’ve been ringing you for the past ten minutes,” he said. “I was afraid that you didn’t come to work today. How are you?”
Thank God for the serving table beside the door, for it seemed that her arms and legs turned to rubber and she quickly set the tray on the table. “I’m…fine. I hope you had a…an enjoyable weekend.”
“I had a lonely weekend, and it lasted forever.”
What was she to say to that? Her weekend hadn’t been a rousing celebration, either. “I’m sorry to hear that, sir. I brought you some coffee.”
Even from the distance, she couldn’t miss the warmth of his gaze. “Thanks for your thoughtfulness. It’s just what I want. I’d ask for a vodka comet, but I don’t want it badly enough to drink it alone.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” She poured the coffee, put about two tablespoons of milk in it, placed it on the cocktail table in front of him. Shock reverberated through her system when his hand covered hers, and, unable to do otherwise, she stared into his eyes. Eyes bright with warmth, affection and, yes, riveting desire.
“Would you p-please g-give me b-back my h-hand?”
“Don’t ever call me ‘sir’ again, Jackie. My name is Warren, and that’s what I want you to call me.”
She looked down at him, and at his restive and agitated demeanor. If I don’t get out of here, we’re both going to explode.
“I’d better go. If you want something else, just ring.” She didn’t wait for his reply, but walked out as quickly as she could and closed the door.
She returned to her station, saw that Ben had called her and, instead of calling him, she went to the bar. “What is it, Ben?” she asked trying to sound normal.
“Hornsby’s in the main lounge, and he wants these drinks.”
“Ben, what am I going to do about that man? He keeps hitting on me, and I can’t stand him. He’s so sure that nobody will believe he’d harass a cocktail waitress. But Ben, he actually propositioned me.”
“I’d believe it. The guy’s gray suit on the outside and pure trash on the inside. Don’t let that jerk upset you. I’ll send Jack in with this.” She thanked him and, on her way back to her station, glanced toward the main lounge and saw Hornsby huddled with Mac. Birds of a feather, she said to herself as she got ready to deliver another order.
Warren Halcomb had been aware of Jackie’s reaction to his touch, and knowing that he made her tremble had excited him. But at that moment, he’d had more self-control than she, for if he had stood and put his arms around her, she wouldn’t have moved until his tongue was deep inside her mouth.
Long after Jackie had left, Warren sat alone in the private lounge, leaning against the back of the leather chair musing about her. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her, or at least he thought so, but he couldn’t be sure. Maybe she had merely been frightened that he would take advantage of her. He’d certainly had the opportunity, for no one would enter a private suite other than a waiter or waitress called there to give service. But she was safe with him, she should know that by now.
What a mess!
He got up and went to the bar hoping for a glimpse of her. He found Ben squinting his eyes over a tattered copy of Tolstoy’s War and Peace. Ben looked up, saw Warren and lay the book, open and facedown, on the counter.
“Can I get you something?” he asked Warren.
He wasn’t going to pour out his intimate thoughts to any man, including Ben, whom he’d taken into his confidence on many occasions. “I was considering a vodka comet, but I think I’ll just head home.”
“We’re having stuffed crown of roast pork and drawn lobster for dinner tonight. You can’t get a better choice. Makes you wanna eat two dinners. If you don’t have an engagement…” Ben didn’t say more. They had a strange friendship, but Ben never allowed himself to get familiar with Warren. Too bad, Warren thought. In different circumstances, they could have been as close as brothers.
He rarely ate at the club more than the required four nights each month, and Ben knew it. “Thanks, buddy,” he said, ignoring Ben’s concession to rank. “Two of my favorites, but I can’t stay tonight. Thanks for letting me know.” Ben nodded, poured some vodka and aquavit over shaved ice, drained it into two glasses, added a few drops of lime juice and handed one glass to Warren.
“I know you don’t drink by yourself, so I’ll toss this one back with you if you like.”
Warren smiled. “I would indeed like it, Ben, and I appreciate the gesture. First time I decide to drink alone, it’ll be the last time I taste alcohol.”
“Can’t say that I blame you. It’s a habit that can quickly get out of hand.” The light flashed for service in one of the lounges, Ben turned to the business at hand. “You have a good evening,” he said to Warren over his shoulder. Warren had noticed that Ben never put anything or anyone ahead of work, and that probably explained why the man had succeeded at Allegory, Inc. In addition to his salary, the members tipped him twenty percent of the cost of every drink ordered, and he received a two-thousand-dollar bonus at Christmas. All of which allowed him to live comfortably in an attractive home in upscale Ardsley, New York, and send his two daughters to Princeton University.
“See you tomorrow,” Warren said, and with no reason to linger, he left without seeing Jackie again.
At eight-thirty on Thanksgiving Eve, Jackie started to the bar for an order and stopped. “Oh my goodness!” she said and groped toward the wall as darkness engulfed her surroundings. A few minutes later, she heard the guard’s voice over the loudspeaker. “New York’s in a total blackout. You can’t use the elevators, so take the stairs. I’ll have a light in the stairwell in a couple of minutes.” As she felt her way toward her dressing room, she heard a clicking sound and breathed deeply in relief when a faint light appeared.
“There you are.” She’d never been so happy as when she heard Warren’s voice, because she couldn’t see who held the light and had considered the possibility that she might have to deal with Duff Hornsby in the darkness.
“You don’t know how glad I am that it’s you and not—” She caught herself and didn’t finish the remark.
“May
