An array of popping flashbulbs momentarily blinded Jenny when Kathryn took Forrester’s offered hand and unfolded herself from the backseat of his Packard limo. Her heavily beaded gold gown slinked obediently behind as it landed with a solid thud at her feet, following her step to the curb.
Her hair was up, exposing her graceful neck and shoulders, making her seem taller and even slimmer than usual.
She enveloped Forrester’s arm at the elbow and smiled like she truly cared when he covered her hand with his. They made the short journey up the red carpet like a deliriously happy Hollywood couple arriving at the Oscars on the big night.
She was a walking statuette, Jenny thought, as she watched from over Bernie’s shoulder in the crowded photographer’s row. He leaned in to take his shots, and for a few fleeting moments, she had an unobstructed view.
“Wow, she looks gorgeous,” Bernie said over his shoulder, as he reached in his pocket and secured a new bulb to the flash harness on his camera.
“I didn’t know she would be here,” Jenny said, transfixed but dismayed to see her new lover all over Forrester.
Bernie turned in disbelief. “Jenny, he’s one of the chief contributors … one of the reasons this foundation even exists.”
“I know.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He grinned and turned his attention forward, waiting for the next car to arrive. “I don’t know what you were thinking either, but I know what you were thinking with.”
She slapped him playfully on the back. “I’m going in.”
“Sure, leave me here, slaving away, while you go inside and knock back champagne.”
“Gotta love the perks,” she said with a wave as she blended into the throng of well-dressed people entering the large hall.
She took the coupe of bubbly offered upon entry and worked her way to the second-floor balcony for a better view. Making herself comfortable, she leaned on the railing overlooking the ballroom and watched the city’s top dignitaries mix and mingle with the celebrity and stuffy medical set, all in the name of charity.
It wasn’t hard to spot Forrester. He was the one surrounded by the small tribe of drooling men in black-tied monkey suits, as the beautiful woman on his arm quickly became the center of attention.
Kathryn held a coupe of champagne in one hand as the other alternated between the crook of Forrester’s elbow and the air into which she drew very animated gestures to embellish whatever story she was telling. Jenny watched curiously. This was a woman she’d never seen before. Kathryn was smiling and laughing, unabashedly fawning over Forrester when she wasn’t playfully touching the arm of some other man in the group, all under Forrester’s watchful and approving eye.
He smiled proudly, his hand on the small of Kathryn’s back, just above her scandalously low-cut dress. It made Jenny want to turn away in disgust, not sure if her revulsion was his arrogance or Kathryn’s masquerade—if it was a masquerade. If it was, she was good. Too good. Frighteningly good. It was unsettling, but she couldn’t turn away. She kept waiting for a slip, just a glimpse of the woman she called lover the night before.
Perhaps drawn by the intense stare, or perhaps by happenstance, Kathryn looked up and found Jenny’s uncertain green eyes boring into her. There was a momentary pause, long enough for recognition, but not long enough to elicit a reaction. Kathryn went on with her flawless performance and never again lifted her eyes above room level.
Jenny got the drift—she was to be ignored. She also didn’t like it. Her reaction was foolish, and she caught herself immediately. She didn’t know what she expected, but Miss Jekyll and Miss Hyde was not it. She closed her eyes, admonishing herself for being selfish, and tried to put herself in Kathryn’s position. Forrester was a dangerous man, and Kathryn had warned her about the complications of a relationship. Assignments always come first, she reminded herself, as they should.
Jenny pulled her eyes from the scene and spotted Bernie at the bottom of the stairway, accepting his own coupe of champagne. She left the irrational jealousy at the top of the stairs and descended to greet him.
He hoisted his glass to hers as she negotiated the final step. “Cheers, cutie.”
“Cheers. Did you get some good shots?”
“Honey, good shots are all I take. Come on, help me—” He grabbed her hand. “It’ll be just like old times.”
Jenny didn’t mind the distraction, and she slipped easily into her typically charming self, seamlessly arranging photo ops for her friend. They managed to avoid her uncle, but all good things must come to an end, and as Jenny caught a fleeting glimpse of Kathryn and Forrester, a large form stepped into her line of sight and she heard Bernie utter, “Uh-oh,” under his breath.
“How did you get in here?” Paul demanded sternly.
Jenny wrapped her arm around Bernie’s bicep in defiance. “I’m Bernie’s guest.”
Paul cut his eyes to him. “You are fired, Roth!”
Bernie had his camera in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other, and Jenny knew he would have dropped either one, or both, had she not immediately given him a reassuring squeeze and stepped between him and her uncle.
“Uncle Paul,” she said in controlled anger, “if you fire him over this, I will never speak to you again.” She paused for dramatic effect. “And you know I mean it.” The two stared at each other, each daring the other to back down.
No words passed between them, and Jenny considered this a victory. She stepped aside, making room for the apology. Paul’s gaze drifted past her shoulder, and his eyes fell on the half empty glass in Bernie’s hand. The apology was issued Paul Ryan style. “Don’t you need two hands to take pictures?”
“Yes, sir,” Bernie said, handing the glass to the nearest waiter before making himself scarce.
Jenny watched Bernie’s back disappear into the crowd before turning to her uncle again. “What is wrong with you?”
He reached for her arm. “You’re getting out of—”
“Paul,” a deep voice came from behind, with an accompanying hand on the shoulder. “So good to see you. How have you been?”
Her uncle turned, revealing Forrester’s stout frame to her view and two familiar hands wrapped around his arm. Jenny hoped no one would move so she wouldn’t have to face Kathryn, not sure she could pull off casual indifference at this close range.
“Marcus, a pleasure.” Paul extended his hand and smiled graciously, as if nothing had happened and Marcus Forrester was his best friend.
Jenny eyed her uncle with contempt and wondered if she was the only one who could carry an honest emotion from one moment to the next. Bodies shifted as they greeted, and Jenny caught sight of Kathryn’s eyes, which were firmly fixed on Paul with a distinct if-looks-could-kill glare. Jenny’s confusion was interrupted by the continuing courtesy of introductions, with Forrester all but brushing Paul aside as he extended his hand in her direction.
“This must be your lovely niece. Jenny, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, politely returning the nicety, “pleasure to meet you.” Her stomach churned as their palms met. She was touching the man who had taken countless lives, if not directly then by proxy, and touching the hand that does God knows what with the woman she now calls lover. She released his hand with a misleading smile and joined the ranks of the emotional chameleons.
“I believe you know Miss Hammond.” He stepped slightly to the side and extended his hand in presentation.
Jenny knew he thought them to be lovers, and his crooked smile seemed to condone it, as if they needed his permission and he had graciously agreed, making him the master of their fate. She hated that he thought he was in control. She briefly entertained taking Kathryn in her arms and kissing her right there, in front of him, in front of everyone. Show them how Kathryn craved her touch, begged for it, even. Instead, she stood mute while he had the audacity to present her like a prized cow.
“Yes,” Kathryn said. She offered her hand quickly. “Jenny. Hello.”
The way Kathryn said hello, warmly, with detached innocence and no hint of their recent intimate past in her voice or manner, calmed Jenny immediately, and she momentarily overcame her revulsion for Forrester. She accepted her hand and smiled in relief. “Kathryn.”
Jenny noticed Forrester and her uncle watching with interest. Forrester looked like the cat that ate the canary, and her uncle looked like he’d like to punch something.
Bernie appeared, holding up his camera, eager to show the boss he was doing his job. “A picture, folks?”
Her uncle briefly glared at him for the interruption before putting on a fake smile for the lens.
As the group stood shoulder to shoulder for the photograph, Jenny choked on the irony of the situation. Not so long ago, she would have given anything to be face to face with the evil man to her right, to know intimately the woman by his side, and to feel the satisfaction of knowing the work she was doing could change the course of world events. But instead of a sense of accomplishment, the weight of the responsibility pressed on her fragile calm and she realized the seriousness of her position. She silently thanked Kathryn for her cool example, for without it, she was sure she’d have fallen apart.
Bernie slipped away with his captured images, and her uncle turned to Forrester to excuse himself. “Good to see you again, Marc.” He turned his false smile to her. “Jenny, may I speak with you for a moment?”
She passed her champagne glass from one hand to the other and stood her ground, purposely disregarding the implication of his outstretched hand. She had no desire to publicly humiliate him, nor did she want to listen to his heavy-handed monologue of what she could and couldn’t do. She felt it best to defuse their volatile situation and avoid a confrontation altogether.
She put on an artificial smile of her own. “Why don’t we just enjoy ourselves this evening, Uncle Paul? That other matter will wait until tomorrow.” She placed a conciliatory hand on his arm for good measure, an action that saw him tense visibly.
Despite her best acting, the discord did not go unnoticed, and Forrester stepped into it. “So, Jenny,” he said as he put his arm around her shoulder and led her into the milling crowd.
Kathryn exchanged silent daggers with Paul as Forrester walked away with Jenny.
“What were you thinking, Paul?” Kathryn whispered sternly, when she was sure they were out of earshot. “You hired us to keep her away from Forrester, and you bring her here? I recall getting the third degree from you for less.”
“I tried! She wasn’t supposed to be here.”
Kathryn shook her head and then turned to catch up with the pair.
“Please,” Paul said as he reached out, eliciting a warning look. He pulled his hand back, warning noted. “Just—” He glanced in Forrester’s direction but, evidently, didn’t know how to finish what he wanted to say. “Please.”
There was something in his eyes. It was more than just fear. It was desperation, far out of proportion to the danger posed in the crowded room. Kathryn nodded and quickly took her place at Forrester’s elbow.
“It really makes no fiscal sense,” she heard Marcus say as she joined the pair.
“That really depends on which side of the line you’re standing,” Jenny said with an aggressively polite tone. “Don’t you think?”
“The double-edged sword of the union,” Marcus said, catching her up on the conversation.
Kathryn affected disinterest with a raised brow. “Oh, my, I leave you alone for a second and already you’re talking business.”
“I’m sorry, my dear.” Forrester put his hand around her waist and she dutifully melted into his side.
“No, no … go on. Don’t mind me.” She smiled innocently, as if it was all beyond her. “Something about fiscal sense and double-edged swords.”
Jenny looked for a sign from Kathryn—a look, a wink, something behind her eyes—anything that would give her direction. There was nothing, not even a hint of what she should do or how far she should push.
“Your young friend was disparaging the incentive pay system,” Forrester said. “Somehow increased production has become un-American.”
“Is that so?” Kathryn said.
Her expectant stare matched Forrester’s, and Jenny could only assume she had carte blanche to continue.
Forrester was a charismatic man, Jenny noticed, with piercing eyes that seemed to question one’s very existence. He was deceptively jovial, a facade that made her feel that she could spar with him all day, without repercussions, but she was well aware of his reputation. Men had disappeared for less. She decided restraint would be prudent, despite Kathryn’s casual posture.
“I’m only saying that increased production should mean increased pay, without the yoke of performance-driven threats undermining the working environment.” Forrester wanted to break the back of the union in favor of cheaper labor and more profit for himself. Despicable in general, but unconscionable during wartime, when production had to move like a well-oiled machine. “That doesn’t seem so unreasonable, does it?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Forrester said with a patronizing grin.
Jenny agreed, especially when the man had planted thugs on the inside, infecting the workforce like Trojan horses designed to destroy the union from within. She held her tongue about his loathsome behavior and accepted the verbal pat on the head gracefully, expecting nothing less. It might have made her angry a few months ago, but she no longer felt it her mission to single-handedly bring this man down. He would get his one day, and with that surety in mind, she affected a pleasant grin and supplied him with some food for thought before dropping the matter.
“Aren’t you wary of the War Labor Disputes Act? If this strike goes on much longer, the government will come in and take over your plant for the war effort. How much fiscal sense will your strike make then?”
“You’re in trouble now, Marc,” Kathryn said with an easy grin, as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
“I see that,” he said, his eyes never leaving Jenny. “Perhaps, then, we could apply the War Housing Appropriations Act and have the government take over your very large, mostly unoccupied home to house those government workers as they arrive to overtake my plant.”
Jenny’s grin widened at the comeback, appreciating the dry humor in which it was imparted. “If the government finds it necessary to appropriate my home for the war effort, I will gladly relinquish it.”
Forrester smiled. “But until then, I don’t see you handing over the keys voluntarily.”
Jenny bowed her head under the weight of her guilt, and his point, which was well taken.
Forrester raised his chin triumphantly and then softened to her plight. “We all do what we can, Jenny, what we think is right.”
Jenny couldn’t disagree, and as she lifted her head, she saw Forrester and Kathryn both staring at her as if they expected something. She could only assume now was the time to grovel. “You’re right, Mr. Forrester, I apologize. I’ve been terribly rude.”
“Nonsense.” He straightened. “The only thing you need apologize for is calling me Mr. Forrester. Call me Marc, and don’t ever apologize for your opinion. People might think you don’t mean it.”
“Oh, I mean it.”
“Of that I have no doubt.” He smiled a queer sort of crooked smile and tightened his hold around Kathryn’s waist, indicating their departure. “Will you excuse us?”
Jenny stared at their backs as they walked away, her heart pounding in her throat, unsure whether she had just made a mistake.
Kathryn never looked back.
Jenny cursed under her breath and washed it down with a sip of champagne.
“Well, well,” Forrester chided, as they moved into the main hall, “she’s lively.”
“She’s not shy,” Kathryn said dryly, revealing no hint of sentimentality.
“No doubt how she bewitched you, darling.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say bewitched, but she does have her charms.”
Forrester agreed with a knowing half smile. “I like her. Too bad you are so possessive of her charms.”
Kathryn stared straight ahead and refused to acknowledge his remark. He knew their arrangement made her personal life off limits. Forrester quickly gravitated toward a business associate and held out his hand in greeting. “Dr. Anderson.”
A distinguished looking gray-haired gentleman, who Kathryn had met on several occasions, extended his hand at the invitation, and it was dutifully shaken. “Marcus.” He moved on to Kathryn and leaned in, kissing her cheek. “Kathryn.” The man’s wife was neither as forward nor as gracious.
“Miss Hammond,” she said with a nod, making no attempt to hide her disdain. She turned to Forrester and brought up his wife to drive home her point. “How is Alice, Marc?”
“Alice is well, Beatrice, but I have to inform you that we are divorcing.”
Kathryn cut her eyes to Forrester in shock, recovering moments before Dr. Anderson’s stunned wife found her tongue.
“So sorry to hear that,” the elderly woman said tersely, placing the blame at Kathryn’s feet with one flick of her disapproving eyes. “She’s a delightful woman.”
“Yes,” Forrester said. “Very dear to me.”
“Come, Bea,” her husband said, and then wisely led her away, his eyes relaying his apology. “Cigars in the lounge later, Marc?”
He nodded. “See you then.”
Kathryn watched as Forrester’s eyes narrowed at the couple’s retreating forms.
“Bitter old broad.”
“When did this happen, Marc?”
He patted her hand. “My dear, I’m sure she was born that way.”
Kathryn glared at him, not amused.
“Just this week,” he said. “It was time.”
“Why now?”
He looked at her strangely, apparently confused by her concern. “It was always a marriage of convenience. You know that. Does it really matter to you?”
She pretended to think about it. “I didn’t think it would … but it does.”
She let the first hint of emotion come from him, unsure how he would react. The smile that split his lips told her what she wanted to know, and she matched it with one of her own, adding a loving squeeze to his arm to sell her contrived delight.
Jenny surveyed the room from the second-floor balcony again. She thought it best to stay out of Forrester’s sight for a while. Her stomach was in knots again, wondering if she’d gone too far, wondering if her behavior would endanger Kathryn.
She realized, perhaps for the first time, how serious the repercussions of their love affair could be. Kathryn knew and had tried to warn her, to no avail. Jenny sent a silent apology to Kathryn for her impetuous naiveté and hoped it wasn’t too late to tell her she truly understood. Suddenly, Kathryn’s trepidation became hers as well, and Jenny knew their affair would never be the relationship she’d hoped for. At best, it would be a few stolen moments here, maybe an entire night there—if they were lucky. It occurred to her that her declaration of just one night of fun might actually have been more prophetic than manipulative, sure that she’d failed her first public test miserably and proved what Kathryn had tried to tell her all along.
“Hey, you,” Bernie said in her ear from behind, causing her to jump.
“Jimminy, you scared me.”
“Sorry, Bug. How’d it go? What did your uncle say? What did Forrester do? How did your girlfriend react?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure she’s not going to be my girlfr—”
“I know,” Bernie interrupted, as he glanced downstairs, looking for the couple in question. “Did you see how she was hanging all over him? Making with the doe eyes? Nobody’s that good.”
She didn’t hide her disappointment when she cast her eyes to him.
“Sorry,” he said.
“That’s okay.”
They both leaned on the railing and listened to the soothing sound of the orchestra drifting up from the ballroom.
“So, how’d it feel to finally be that close to Forrester?”
“God, it was a disaster, Bernie.”
“You didn’t lose your temper, did you?”
“Well, no, but in the span of about three minutes, I managed to become quite disagreeable.”
“You always was an ornery cuss,” Bernie drawled with a nudge.
“And how is Cal?” Jenny joked.
Bernie grinned. “He’s Mr. Wonderful, and don’t change the subject. You were disagreeable … not surprising.”
“Well, somehow I topped it off by invoking the War Labor Disputes Act.”
“You threatened him?”
“No,” she shot back. “I was merely pointing out that if he wasn’t careful—” The possibility that he had misconstrued her comment as a threat paralyzed her for an instant. Her heart found its way to her throat, and her eyes quickly flashed to Bernie in alarm. “Oh, God.” She immediately searched the room, wanting desperately to see Kathryn again, if only to see that she was all right. “I didn’t mean it as a threat, Bernie, I swear.”
“Of course not. What did your friend do?”
“She was noncommittal, so it was probably okay, right?”
Bernie nodded, but that turned into a shrug. “Of course she would be noncommittal.”
He responded to her stricken look. “I mean, of course it was okay. She’s not going to let you shoot your mouth off if it’s going to get you in trouble, right?”
She agreed but wasn’t sure Kathryn could have done much to stop her at the time.
Bernie followed her troubled glance around the room. “What are we looking for?”
“I haven’t seen Kathryn or Forrester in a while. I’m worried.”
“I’m sure she’s fine.” She didn’t respond, so Bernie did what Bernie does—he tried to fix it. “Tell you what. I know one of the waiters, so I’ll see if there are any closed-door meetings going on. Okay?”
“Would you? That’d be swell.”
“Sure thing, sweetie.”
She took his hand as he turned to leave. “Be inconspicuous.”
“Oh, Jenny Bug,” he said, shaking his head. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?”
She wanted to say I wish I knew, but she just smiled the confident smile he expected and sent him on his way.
Jenny’s growing unease over both Bernie’s and Kathryn’s extended absence drew her down to the main floor. She slipped past mingling couples, smiled pleasantly at those she recognized as her father’s colleagues, and walked like she had a purpose, to avoid extended bouts of small talk that she was too distracted to conduct.
She spotted Bernie across the room wearing a helpless expression on his face as he pointed to her uncle’s back, but there was still no sign of Kathryn. Her uncle was oblivious as he conversed with the mayor and his wife. Bernie motioned to a spot across the room, and Jenny nodded in agreement, hoping he had good news for her.
She furrowed her brow when he approached and threw his hands up in recognition, as if she’d been the one missing, but then she realized he was reacting to something over her shoulder.
Jenny felt a warm hand brush across her back and a welcome voice whisper, “Well done,” in her ear. Kathryn squeezed her elbow for emphasis before continuing on her way, as if she hadn’t said a word.
Bernie arrived, laughing as he thumbed over his shoulder. “I found her. She was dancing in the courtyard with Forrester.” He turned and watched the back of Kathryn’s head as she made her way toward the musicians in the corner of the large ballroom. “I guess you were right about her not being your girlfriend. Those two are a couple, and I’ve got the photos to prove it.” He held up his camera. “I thought it would take a crowbar to separate them.”
That news would normally upset her, but the relief that Kathryn was fine, and the pride in knowing she’d taken the right tact with Forrester, made her oblivious to her surroundings. She exhaled a relieved breath and took a sip of champagne in celebration. How quickly things changed, and how incredible that a few words and one touch from Kathryn made everything all right.
Bernie nudged her as Forrester walked by, following Kathryn’s path to the small orchestra. Jenny drifted forward as if caught in his wake until Bernie’s hand on her arm urged discretion. They stopped a respectable distance behind and watched Forrester gently lift Kathryn by her waist until she was perched comfortably atop the grand piano. She thanked him with a dazzling smile and a lingering hold on his trailing hand. The room buzzed at their obvious attraction, and Jenny drained her glass of champagne to bear it.
Forrester stood back, almost blocking Jenny’s view, and crossed his arms as if admiring his property. Jenny bristled and moved slightly to the side, treating her annoyance to another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
“He’s getting a divorce, you know,” Bernie whispered.
“What?”
“Fresh from the rumor mill.”
“Is it reliable?”
“From the man himself.”
Over the top of her glass, Jenny studied Kathryn’s smiling face. She seemed so relaxed, so genuine. Jenny didn’t know how she did it. If not for their brief encounter, she would have serious doubts about her intentions. Instead, she just marveled at a professional in action.
Kathryn turned to the conductor and nodded, touching off an orchestral swell of strings and woodwinds that fashioned itself into “The Nearness of You.”
Kathryn’s beautiful voice filled the room, and the piano player followed with a delicate interpretation of the melody, a perfect complement to Kathryn’s rich, soulful vocals.
Jenny felt Bernie staring at her and knew exactly what he was thinking. She was idealistic and foolish when it came to love. She gave her heart too easily, believing love would conquer all. He knew, because he was the same. He probably wanted to tell her she was playing with fire. That no matter what Kathryn Hammond’s intentions were, it wouldn’t change the fact that she would always be second fiddle to a powerful, dangerous man like Marcus Forrester. He also knew it would be futile to try to talk her out of pursuing her, so he stood silently beside her like a good best friend, watching Kathryn gaze lovingly into Forrester’s eyes as she sang a love song meant for her.
Jenny smiled, her eyes never leaving Kathryn’s. Bernie may have thought she’d be upset at such a display, but she shifted slowly to the left, moving out of alignment with Forrester, and Kathryn’s focus shifted with her. Bernie’s gasp signaled his comprehension: the song was meant for her.
Jenny watched Kathryn’s gaze drift as far as she dared without being obvious, and then she closed her eyes, something she never did when she sang at The Grotto. Jenny did the same.
The music was intoxicating and Kathryn’s voice seductive. She could almost feel Kathryn’s hands on her, the way they had been last night. Her soft kisses, her gentle caresses, her strength, her surrender, and her sounds … it all came rushing back, the song a soundtrack of remembrance and desire.
“She’s making love to you,” Bernie whispered in her ear.
“Mm,” she said absently.
The song ended far too quickly, but for those few minutes, Kathryn was hers again, and she was in heaven. When the applause started, she opened her eyes and Kathryn did the same a beat later. Forrester was there to fill her vision. He eased her from her perch, and she showed her appreciation by smiling her affection and kissing his cheek as she slid down his body until her feet gracefully found the floor.
“How does she do that?” Bernie asked.
It was a scene Jenny had no desire to see, so she turned away and nursed her glass of champagne. “Are you done with photos?” she asked, changing the subject.
“No, but I do have to go to my bag to get more film. Care to join me? Maybe you can cool off.”
“Cool off?”
He eyed her splotchy chest. “Don’t look now, but your one-night stand is showing.”
She looked down and attempted to cover it with her hand. “Oh, good grief. Here—” She handed him her glass of bubbly. “This is not helping.”
“Never a cold shower when you need one,” Bernie said with a laugh.
“I’ll have to settle for the next best thing. I’ll see you later, hon. Thanks for holding my hand tonight.”
“Anytime, sweetie.”
She walked away and heard him say, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
She stopped and turned. “Think about that, Bernie.”
“Good point,” he said with a grin and finished her champagne.
The spacious ladies’ lounge was empty when Jenny entered, and for that she was thankful. She went into the washroom, took one look at her flushed reflection in the mirror and shook her head as she turned on the cold water and let it run across the corner of a hand towel. “Get a hold of yourself, Jenny,” she said to herself as she brought the cool, damp towel to her chest and then her rosy cheeks. She held it to the back of her neck and closed her eyes, trying very hard not to give in to her body’s vivid memory of the night before. She found closing her eyes did nothing to diminish Kathryn’s presence in her mind or the effect she was having on her body. She knew it was a futile attempt to ignore what she really had no desire to forget, so she tossed the towel aside and laughed it off.
She moved into the lounge and sat at the wall-length vanity, gazing into the mirror and smiling at how easily she was undone. She wondered how Kathryn stayed so indifferent. For a moment, she thought perhaps she was indifferent, but the song told her otherwise. There was nothing indifferent about that or the sensual energy behind the performance. Desire washed over her again, and she decided she really needed to think about something else. Quickly.
She turned again to Kathryn’s cool example. “Indifference, Jenny,” she whispered to her determined face in the mirror. “Embrace it.” She took a deep breath and smoothed her hand down her abdomen in an attempt to still the burning ache at her core. She exhaled forcefully, convincing herself she’d been successful. “Indifference.” The dark lust in her eyes told her she wasn’t nearly as victorious as she pretended.
Only one thing could get Kathryn out of her mind at that moment: her uncle and the sting of his harsh words from the afternoon. She must have found some measure of truth in his accusation or it wouldn’t have struck such a nerve, but that was the past. She lifted her chin. She was a member of the OSS now. They came to her. She didn’t get the job because of her family or as a favor to someone else. They picked her. Little did she know what would become of her application to the Office of War Information. Someone deemed her abilities valuable, and she would not disappoint.
Kathryn was another matter. Kathryn chose her because … well, she had to admit, she practically dragged the poor woman, kicking and screaming, into their night together, but she had no regrets, and she hoped Kathryn felt the same. She chuckled. So much for thinking about something else. Tonight, all roads led to Kathryn Hammond. In fact, ever since she met her, all roads had led to Kathryn Hammond.
Jenny surrendered to the inevitable and stared into the mirror, where she wore a satisfied grin. Her eyes scanned every nuance of her reflection and found an attractive woman in a black halter column dress sporting the confidence of one blessed with a preternatural ability to know the future and her place in it. Of course, she didn’t know the future, and her future, in particular, was never more uncertain, but she wasn’t afraid—far from it. The more she pondered her transformation, the more empowered she felt. Indifference, coming right up. Yes, indeed.
The chatter of voices, followed quickly by a group of women entering the lounge, derailed her self-congratulations, and she pretended to arrange her hair until her arousal was under control.
“Honestly, Mother, what makes you say such a thing?” a college-aged strawberry blonde complained as they gathered at the next section of mirror and powdered their faces.
“It’s disgraceful. He’s a married man.”
Jenny had no doubt who they were talking about, and she preened just a little longer so she could eavesdrop on the conversation.
“Soon to be a divorced man, Mother.”
“Ha, that’s what they all say,” the older woman’s friend said.
“Oh, you hush, Sylvia,” the daughter said. “You’re divorced, so there.”
“Yes, divorced because of a trollop like that. I have every right.”
Jenny’s eyes snapped to the woman’s reflection at the insult, and she quickly brought them back to her own mirror, trying hard not to let her displeasure show. Indifference repeated in her head like a mantra.
“Didn’t that woman kill someone or something?” the mother asked.
“No dear, she was found innocent,” Sylvia said erroneously.
Jenny stewed, lamenting the result of only reading the headlines.
“You two really need to spend more time educating yourselves and less time in the beauty parlor,” the daughter said, eliciting an eye roll from her elders and a silent nod of agreement from Jenny.
“Your father and I sent you off to be educated, and look what we got in return … a sass-talking smart aleck who’s forgotten how to speak to her mother.”
Jenny just barely suppressed a chuckle as she dug in her purse for her lipstick.
“Oh, Mother, you are so terribly dramatic. Where’s your sense of romance, your appreciation for the arts, the—”
“World’s oldest profession?” Sylvia said under her breath.
The daughter exhaled in frustration. “Ugh, hopeless, the both of you.”
Jenny was oblivious to the comings and goings of the other patrons as she kept one ear on the young woman’s futile attempt to extract at least an acknowledgment of Kathryn’s undeniable vocal talent from her uncooperative audience.
The gossiping group suddenly went silent, and Jenny looked up to see the object of their chatter, and her affection, enter the room. Kathryn took her breath away. The room had filled significantly since Jenny last took notice, and she watched in the mirror as a few women praised Kathryn with offered hands and others ignored her completely until they were behind her back and then began whispering.
It made Jenny furious to think these people had disparaging thoughts about her friend, and it only underscored her awareness that the general public had no idea what it took to keep them safe. The grace with which Kathryn carried her tarnished reputation only added to the list of wonderful attributes and made her a personal hero. Jenny was starting to get that warm and fuzzy feeling again, and she was sure it wasn’t going to get any easier to hide as Kathryn spotted her and headed her way.
“Beautiful rendition tonight, Miss Hammond,” the college girl said as Kathryn arrived.
“Thank you.”
“Yes,” the two older women said with false admiration, “beautiful, and what a lovely dress.”
Jenny silently cursed the hypocrites as she got up from her seat and held out her hand. “Would you like to sit down, Miss Hammond? I’m through.”
“Yes, thank you.” Kathryn sat and tucked her long legs under the extended vanity as the two older women eyed her apprehensively.
Jenny ran her hand across her bare shoulders before heading for the exit. “Lovely song.”
She knew Kathryn watched her retreating form in the mirror with indifference.