“Where shall we go?” Roger asked as he seated Evelyn in the passenger seat of the sporty car. “Maison?”
Evelyn shook her head. She could definitely not show up at Jack’s club again with Roger. Especially since this was much closer to a date than their last appearance had been.
“Want to try someplace new?”
“Sure,” she said eagerly. Part of her felt guilty—she and Tug were supposed to go out together tonight. But she certainly couldn’t bring Tug along in this situation. She felt troubled as she worried about how to tell Tug that Roger wasn’t really interested in her. Especially if she intended to date him herself. And she still hadn’t figured out what her intentions were exactly—there was still Jack to think about. Evelyn put Tug and Jack, from her mind, intent on figuring out what exactly Roger White was about. She’d deal with everything else later.
“I know a place,” Roger told her as he guided the little car away from the curb.
The air was brisk and cold, and Evelyn pushed herself against Roger’s side out of necessity, but then found that she liked the way it felt to nestle against his strong body. The streets were empty until they got a bit closer to midtown, where groups of people walking on the sidewalks and standing in groups gave away the locations of various clubs.
“Where are you taking me?” Evelyn asked, smiling up at the handsome man next to her.
“Well, there’s a new club,” Roger told her. “It’s not as fancy as Maison. And the owner…well, I’m not so sure about him.”
“What do you mean?” Evelyn asked.
“He’s only there part of the time.”
“It must be a well-run operation then,” Evelyn said. “If it can go on without him.”
“The owner likes to think so.”
“He sounds arrogant.”
Roger laughed. “He’s been called worse,” he said, as they pulled up to an awning reaching out over a descending stairway on East 54th Street. “Here we are.” He helped Evelyn out of the car and down the stairs, where he knocked on the door. A panel slid open and a pair of dark eyes appeared.
“Oh hey, boss,” came a gruff voice from the other side. The panel snapped shut and the door opened.
“Come on in,” Roger said, smiling widely. “We call this place The White House.”
Evelyn’s head spun as Roger helped her out of her coat. She smiled and nodded, trying to process what he was telling her without actually telling her. “The guy at the door called you ‘boss,’” she said, thinking out loud.
Roger grinned at her and took her arm, guiding her to the bar. Martini glasses appeared before them. “Gibson?” Roger asked.
“Sure,” Evelyn said, still feeling flabbergasted. “You own this place?”
Roger was clearly enjoying his revelation. He smiled and nodded. “Part owner. A fella I knew at school last year is my partner. He graduated and is here all the time. I’m the flighty part-time owner. Totally unreliable.”
“Not quite the strait-laced college boy you pretend to be.” Evelyn sipped at her drink as her mind formed a new image of Roger White.
“Sure I am. Ivy League, cardigan-sweater wearing. The whole nine yards!”
“And owner of a gin joint.”
“Guy’s gotta have a little spending money, right?” Roger winked one of his dark brown eyes, and Evelyn felt her insides begin to melt. The combination of the heady alcohol and Roger’s nearness were making her warm. She looked around, taking in the small narrow space, the low lighting, the trio playing in the corner. Roger was right—it wasn’t as fancy as Maison. But it didn’t need to be. It was cozy and comfortable, not flashy and fast. “What do you think?” Roger’s face was close to her neck, and Evelyn shivered at his hot breath just under her ear.
“I love it,” she said, meaning it. She turned her head as she said it and found Roger still leaning toward her, dangerously near. He smelled of gin and vanilla, and the closeness of his full lips and strong jaw weakened whatever resolve Evelyn had. Roger was staring at her mouth, making her self-conscious. Without thinking, she pushed her lips against his. Immediately, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him, against his firm muscled chest. His lips were soft and he kissed her tentatively at first. But Evelyn couldn’t help pressing herself against him, sliding off her stool and coming fully into his arms. His other arm went around her shoulders and she pulled him against her, her hands on his muscled back. She parted her lips against his, and his tongue drew a tentative line along her bottom lip.
It wasn’t like kissing Jack. Jack was decisive and insistent, claiming her, taking her with every touch. Roger’s kiss was softer, more tentative, but no less masculine. He was taking her along with him, not simply taking her. She wanted more.
They kissed for what felt like hours, until Evelyn heard a dim voice breaking through the swirling mists of ecstasy in her head.
“Boss. Boss!”
Roger pulled away, his arms still around her. “What?”
“Raid!”
Just as the bartender said it, a hard insistent rapping came at the door. The bartender sprang into action, and Evelyn heard a loud crash of breaking glass. She jumped, turning to find that the shelf behind the bar, previously stocked with liquor bottles, was now completely empty. The rapping at the door became louder as Roger swept through the small space with a box, sweeping glasses from tables as the bartender followed him, dropping teacups and saucers around.
Evelyn felt a cold fear crawling through her veins as she anticipated the raid. She’d be hauled down to the police station, her parents would be notified. It would be the end of her happy free days. Her father would keep her locked up after this.
The box disappeared and Roger was at the door, pulling it open. He turned and gave Evelyn a reassuring smile. Four policemen sauntered in, clubs out and malice in their eyes, as they looked around the small space. Evelyn was surprised to find that her own drink was gone, replaced by a teacup and saucer. She looked around as the policemen did, surprised to find herself in a teahouse that was almost convincing in its innocence.
“Gentlemen,” Roger said, waving an arm toward a small table in the back. “Can I get you some tea?”
“White,” said one of the men, removing his hat and swiveling his head, taking in the small space. “Mind if we look around?”
“Of course not.”
The man who’d spoken to Roger let himself behind the bar and bent down, rubbing a hand over the wet floor. He smelled his fingers as he stood. “Gin?” He looked around himself. Roger remained quiet. “Where ya keepin’ it, White?”
“The tea?” Roger asked innocently.
“Don’t play games with me. Show me.”
“All right.” Roger stood and went behind the bar. He lifted several teapots and placed them on the counter. “We don’t have a proper kitchen,” he said. “Just this space here.” He pointed at a burner on the counter under the bar where a silver kettle sat.
The policeman ignored him and began tapping on the wall with his stick, running his hands over the shelf and pushing on things. “You won’t get away with this for long, you know.”
“Of course not,” Roger agreed.
“We’ll be back,” the cop said.
“I hope you’ll come back when you’re off duty,” Roger suggested.
The cop raised an eyebrow.
“We are a favorite teahouse of the 28th Precinct,” Roger told him. “In fact, I think Officer Boyle is enjoying a spot right now.” He waved at a ruddy-faced man in the corner.
“Is he now?” the officer said, turning to look at the off-duty officer trying to become invisible in the far corner.
“I think he enjoys the specials we offer our local protectors. You’ll never pay for a cup at my teahouse, sir.”
“Is that right?” The cop still looked skeptical, but he was signaling the other men toward the door. “We’ll see,” he said, looking around him one last time.
The cops left, and Roger closed the door behind them, flashing a triumphant grin at his barkeep. “Nicely done, Charlie.”
“It’s this design of yours, Rog. Makes it easy to drop everything in a jiff.” The bartender was running a hand along the empty liquor shelf.
“It drops to the basement downstairs,” Roger told Evelyn. “We own that space, but you can only access it through the garden apartment next door.”
“But don’t all the bottles break when they fall?” Evelyn asked.
“Sure. Haven’t solved that problem yet. But it keeps us in business,” he said.
New drinks appeared on the tables and the night picked up where it left off. Evelyn gulped at her drink, her nerves firing with a combination of stress and a newly stoked desire to know more about the suave college boy her parents had introduced her to. Shortly after midnight, Roger helped her back into her coat and out to the car.
* * * *
“I’m sorry about all the excitement,” Roger said, putting an arm over her shoulders as she shivered in the chilling air.
She smiled up at him, still working to understand this new version of Roger White. “I guess it’s good to be scared out of your wits now and then,” she said. “Reminds you that you’re alive.”
Roger leaned toward her, his breath warming her neck as his lips pulled into a sultry grin. “I can think of a few other things that serve to remind us we’re alive.”
Evelyn wanted to chide him for being inappropriate, but the truth was, he was right. The nearness of the handsome and suddenly intriguing man had her body dancing with desire, her skin tingling and her muscles clenching. A hot dampness had started between her legs, and she was practically squirming on the seat. Instead of pushing him away, as she probably should have done—or at least as her mother would certainly have told her to do—she reached an arm up around Roger’s neck and pulled him closer.
The full soft lips grazed her own, igniting a fire inside Evelyn. Roger lifted a hand to her cheek and dragged a thumb across her lips.
“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” His voice was rough suddenly; lower. “Will you let me kiss you?”
“God, yes,” Evelyn breathed; the fact that he asked her had incensed whatever nerves weren’t already tingling in his presence. She pressed her lips to his.
A warmth spread through Evelyn, despite the frigid air, as Roger’s lips moved against her own. His kiss was soft at first, but after a moment his arms pulled her in closer to his body and a low moan escaped him as he took her lower lip between his teeth, tugging slightly. His tongue found hers, darting teasingly between her lips before finally entering, deepening the kiss until Evelyn found herself practically crawling into Roger’s lap. She wanted him to touch her, wanted to feel the strong protective hands on her body, on her breasts, between her legs. She was humming for him; throbbing. And that was when he stopped kissing her and sat up again behind the wheel.
“Miss McKenzie,” he breathed. “You are incredible. I’d better take you home before we have the police over here again.”
Evelyn looked around, having almost forgotten that they were in an exposed car in the middle of the street. She would have pulled her dress off right there if Roger had pushed her to. She’d never wanted a man quite as much—even Jack Taylor, she realized.
“We don’t have to rush home,” she said, her mind trying to find a way to continue the kiss.
“I’ll be honest, Evie,” Roger said. “I’d like to see you again. Properly.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
“Do you think Jack will mind?”
Evelyn sat up straight in surprise. So he knew about Jack. “I don’t think he has a say.”
“He might feel differently.”
“He might,” she agreed. They left it at that.
She snuggled back under Roger’s arm and they didn’t speak for the remainder of the ride. As he pulled up outside her house, the lights in the parlor still glowed and masculine voices rang out. Their fathers had waited for them.
“I’d better get you inside. I have a feeling your father will not be especially pleased.” Roger helped her from the car.
“Thank you, for everything,” Evelyn said as they mounted the stairs. Roger had one hand on her back and held her other hand. She felt so right next to him that she didn’t even consider what her father might be thinking. Though she’d stopped worrying about that the first time she’d snuck out of his house to go drinking with Tug. The night she’d met Jack.
Roger gave her a dashing smile as she pulled the door open, and they rushed in out of the cold.
“Evie!” her father boomed, his voice merry. “Did you kids have fun?”
Evelyn felt relief and surprise mingle in her—her father wasn’t angry?
She walked around the parlor door, nodding and smiling as she took in her father. He was leaned back on the couch, his feet on the low table and his face red. His shirt, like Mr. White’s, was unbuttoned at the top, and he wore a drunken smile. So they’d had a good night, too.
“We did,” she said.
Roger sat down across from her father, nodding at his own. “Looks like you gentlemen have had a good night as well.”
“We have, son,” Mr. White said.
“Well, I wondered, sir,” Roger said, speaking to Mr. McKenzie, “would you allow me to see your daughter again? I’m rather taken with her.”
Mr. McKenzie beamed. “Of course, Roger.”