“Would you look at him? Showing off the factory with such a grandiose air—as though he might bequeath it to her!” Johnny glared through the narrow band of windows that served as a supervision post in Edgar’s suite. On either side of him, Blythe and Daphne watched Edgar and Tess as well. The conveyors clacked along, bearing specialty chocolates, Pinwheel Pops, and every sort of sweet imaginable as factory workers sorted and sacked, yet he had eyes only for the couple in red and black.
“No different from the way he escorted me around when I answered his ad,” Blythe replied in a nostalgic tone. “Ten years it’s been. I was as awed by him then as I am now. As amazed by his magic as Tess Bennett is.”
“Same for me, five years ago,” Daphne chimed in. “Edgar Penney has an ageless, childlike appeal about him. My own appearance changes with the years, yet he seems no different from the day I came here.”
Johnny rolled his eyes. “And what we’re watching doesn’t bother you? Anyone can see he’s more than smitten with Mrs. Bennett!”
“Is that a green streak in your voice, Johnny?” The flaxen curls at Daphne’s temples quivered with her suppressed laughter. “Matter of fact, he intends to leave his factory to Blythe and me because he has no heirs—and because we’ll carry on his traditions with the orphans.”
“How do you feel about sharing your inheritance with another woman?” Johnny snapped. “Not to mention how cozy this bedroom will be with three of you pleasuring him! He’s putting Tess in the adjoining room, you know.”
Blythe, the older and more gracious of the two Penney Candy girls, placed her hands on his shoulders. “Johnny,” she murmured, “it’s not like you to sound so critical. We certainly can’t complain about our pay or the living conditions.”
“Speak for yourselves,” he spouted. “You’re not living like a monk in a whorehouse!”
“Really!” Daphne’s lips pursed in a pretty pout. “I never dreamed you considered Blythe and me—”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.” Johnny inhaled to steady his temper, yet that only made him more aware of the lemon verbena soap she and Blythe had bathed with. Thoughts of them splashing in Edgar’s big tub together only irritated him more, because he couldn’t recall how Tess Bennett smelled. But her kiss was absolute heaven.
“You have no idea what it’s like to live with two beautiful women who parade around half naked—or romp with Ed—while I must keep my hands and my . . . urges to myself,” he explained. “It damn near kills me some days. I had to cut seven extra holly leaves yesterday because you two were playing hide-and-seek with him while I worked.”
“But we love having you here, Johnny. You could play with us,” Blythe replied. Her golden hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, still damp from her bath. “While Edgar takes wonderful care of us, I feel better knowing there’s another man in the house, you know? It’s such a rambling place we’d not be aware of an intruder until it was too late.”
“An intruder?” Daphne pulled her filmy white robe more closely around her shoulders. “Who would ever think of—”
“People realize how wealthy Edgar Penney is,” the other blonde pointed out. “But I’m not really afraid of strangers getting inside, for he’s devised ingenious safeguards. What I meant was that Johnny’s become such a part of our family that we’d miss him if he were to go. He’s a rock of reality in this world that runs on Edgar’s make-believe and magic.”
“Thank you, Blythe.”
“Go? Where would you go, Johnny?” Daphne draped an arm around his shoulders, which meant one delectable breast brushed his chest. Her eyes didn’t quite focus when she looked at him.
Johnny sighed. These lovelies had caught him in a conversational trap, and he’d never intended to offend or upset them. He’d never considered them whores, either. They’d escaped difficult lives to accept Edgar Penney’s job and generosity. Not their fault that Ed took his pleasure as seriously as he did his business. What woman would refuse such a sweet deal?
Will Tess see this place for what it is? A playhouse for adults who indulge their fantasies? A playpen for pretty blondes who . . .
He glanced through the window again, down into the vast expanse of the factory, where a man in red had his arm around a blonde in black. It looked far too intimate already. “I’m concerned that Mrs. Bennett will be lured into this candy-striped cave before she realizes the consequences,” he said sadly. “Edgar will catch her with his flattery and keep her with his opium. Just like he has the rest of us.”
Two pairs of blue eyes widened. Two pretty blond heads tilted at coquettish angles as Daphne and Blythe considered what he’d said.
Blythe let out a sad-but-wise sigh. “I’ve always known about Edgar’s addiction, but I’ve been a willing victim, Johnny.” Her grin quirked. “Nobody’s making me stay. I’ve banked plenty of money to live in the real world, if I cared to.”
“Oh, don’t leave me!” Daphne whimpered. “I’m so happy here, and . . . and where would I go? This will always be home to me, Blythe, so I want you to stay, too. And you, Johnny. Please? Please?”
The younger blonde had always been more susceptible to quicksilver moods, and her very round, very wide eyes suggested she’d been hitting the hookah. Daphne had been abandoned by a man who’d beaten her nearly to death, so Johnny understood why she wanted to stay here with Penney, out of circulation: She probably feared that “intruder” would be the beast from whom Ed had rescued her.
And what was Tess Bennett’s story? There was more to her tale than a deceased husband and daughter—although a double dose of death might drive any woman to desperation. Her telegram had suggested a strong, playful spirit, yet still he saw those sad blue eyes peering out from beneath her black cloak. His heart swelled with the need to protect her. To honor her.
Who are you kidding? Before Penney showed up, you were seducing her.
Yes, there was that. Yet Tess appealed to him in a deeper, more sacred way. Any woman who’d left home with only the clothes on her back to answer an advertisement that took her far from the life she’d known had a backbone. She deserved better than to become one of Penney’s playthings. She should have another family. People to love, who loved her in return.
Stirred by the intensity of this emotion, Johnny tightened all over. He suddenly wanted to be the man who made up for the husband and child Tess had lost—the friend, the lover, who saved her from growing old as a Penney Candy girl, only to be eclipsed when Edgar brought in yet another perky, petite blonde.
And where is THIS coming from? You’ve sworn to never let another woman wrap her strings around you like a noose.
Daphne still leaned on him, pleading with Blythe. In her high, childish whine, he heard the fate he could not allow Tess Bennett to know; he heard the call to get out of this house and become an artist who lived up to his abilities. His calling.
Johnny trembled at the thought. And for once it felt like an adventure—a quest to follow his star rather than a random twist of fate. Tess would inspire him to seek out the cathedrals and theaters where his stained-glass creations would capture the imaginations of more than Edgar Penney and his girls.
After all, how many people would ever see the artwork he’d lavished upon the walls of this recluse’s hideaway? How many months of his life had he devoted to Ed’s whims, when he could’ve been creating art that mattered?
Once more he observed the couple strolling the aisles of the busy candy factory. His heart thumped harder as he realized what he must do. Tonight.