“Go on.”
“You know the rest. Or virtually all of it. After I graduated, I worked as a salesgirl in retail stores, gradually being promoted until I applied for the position at Mason’s two years ago.” Hurriedly, Kathleen switched the subject away from the job she had so recently given up. “What about your family? By your name, I take it you are of Scandinavian descent.”
“Yes, my father was Danish. He was first-generation American. His parents came over from Denmark when he was an infant. My grandfather was a watchsmith. My grandmother never even learned English. All I remember about her is her white hair pulled back into a tight bun and her home-baked cookies, which were the best I’ve yet to taste.”
“Maybe that’s because you were young,” Kathleen suggested with a smile.
“Maybe.”
“Your parents? What did your father do?”
“He was a hard man, determined. He worked his way through college, served in the war, and then came home and married my mother. He worked for Boeing in Seattle, where I grew up. He was a big, brawny guy, with a fierce temper. But I’ve seen him weep over a sentimental movie.”
“You speak of him in the past tense,” she commented gently.
“Yes. He died ten years ago. Mother, who is as petite and soft and timid as Dad was boisterous, still lives in the Northwest.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their food. Kathleen was surprised that she was able to eat, after all, and did unladylike justice to her plate. The dining room at the Crescent was reputed to combine good country cooking with elegant service. Erik complimented them on achieving that as he dunked yeast rolls into the rich natural gravy of his fried chicken, which he declared surpassed any other.
Kathleen declined his offer of dessert, but was persuaded to eat one of the remaining rolls dripping with rich, thick honey as they sipped their after-dinner coffee.
When Erik was presented with the bill, her suggestion that she pay for her half was met with a glowering look.
“But it was Edna’s idea that we come.”
“Ms. Haley, I’m all for equality between the sexes—to a point. Buying a lady her dinner is one of those points. I’ll pay the bill.”
She could tell by the strong set of his jaw and his firm tone of voice that the issue was closed.
“Where is the lounge with the dance floor?” Erik asked as they left the dining room and traversed the lobby.
“We don’t have to go there,” Kathleen protested quickly.
“Oh, yes, we do. Edna will want a full report, and I’m afraid I’d lose favor if I didn’t dance with you at least once.”
By the determined look on his face, Kathleen knew it was pointless to argue, so she said, “It’s downstairs.”
He ushered her down the broad staircase with the carved banister to the basement, where a quiet cocktail lounge had been hollowed out. It was an unsophisticated room, barely more than a tavern. Behind the bar, animated neon signs flashed the names of various beers. Few people were in the lounge on this weeknight, but there was a three-piece ensemble playing music in front of a tiny dance floor shrouded in darkness.
Unaffected by the small crowd and the fact that no one else was dancing, Erik took Kathleen’s hand and led her onto the floor, drawing her into the circle of his arms.
The group played slow ballads. They danced twice in the traditional way, though Erik’s arm around her back held her to him possessively.
On the third song, he raised her hands and placed them around his neck, putting both his arms around her waist. He dipped his head close to hers and whispered into her ear, “I like it better this way. It’s like making love to music.”
Kathleen’s breath was suspended for a moment when he drew her closer. His readiness to make love was apparent as he pressed against her. He nuzzled her hair with his nose, treating it to the sweet scent. His mouth brushed across her ear as he whispered her name. Then it came to rest on her lips, parted them and kissed her tenderly. “You feel so good against me. I love the way your body moves with mine. I love the way you look, and smell and taste.” His tongue made quick, darting forays into her mouth that made her cling to him in desperation, wanting more.
It was several long seconds before she realized the music had stopped and the trio was putting down its instruments to take a break. Kathleen pushed away from Erik shyly.
“You’d better get that hot little number home quick, buddy Looks to me like she’s primed and ready.”
The stranger’s intrusive words abruptly brought them back to earth.
Chapter Five
Kathleen swiveled around toward the obnoxious, nasal voice and saw two young men sitting at one of the small tables. They were propped back in their chairs, their expressions stupidly insolent. Cowboy hats with feather hatbands were tilted back on their heads.
Her face flooded with hot color. Turning away quickly and not waiting for Erik, she raced for the door. The crash of furniture against the hardwood floor brought her to a jolting halt.