Elissa’s breath came in gasps. She scurried down side streets, searching the bustling sidewalks for Cole’s tall frame and mesmerizing gait. Nothing.
Brakes squealed. She shivered.
The hair not imprisoned under her hat succumbed to the wind’s fury, whipping against her cheek. She’d forgotten her overcoat, her thin, trendy dress a weak defense against Mother Nature. Hustling, her shoes scuffed against each other. Blamed pigeon-toed feet. She ignored the shame and set her sights on the first target.
Flannigan’s.
County officials should be ashamed of their continual blinded eye toward speakeasies, but today she was mildly thankful. The odds of a Prohibition agent raiding Flannigan’s was about as high as her respect for a bootlegger. Zero.
Her fingers wrapped around the tarnished door handle, and she squeezed her eyes shut, praying for bravery. After one more inhale of frigid air, she straightened her shoulders and strode in. A wall of cigarette smoke assaulted her. She blinked, clearing her vision. Her mouth parted at the sorry lack of lighting and an even sorrier lot of men with their heads drooped over beer mugs. It was only nine o’clock in the morning, for goodness’ sake.
“Pardon, miss.” The bartender called from behind the bar. “Only escorted females are allowed here.”
Ha! A speakeasy with a touch of propriety. What irony.
“I can be her escort.” A fellow cackled and slapped his palm on the counter.
“I’m … uh … looking for my …” What? Childhood hero? Teenage heartthrob? Adult nemesis? “Friend.” Her gaze darted around the dingy room. A few pool tables. Several mismatched chairs. No Cole. “He’s not here.” She turned on her heel and marched out.
The cold blasted her flushed face with an unrelenting vengeance. This could be a lost hope. There were over five hundred speakeasies in this alcohol-obsessed city. Could she visit all of them? Something kicked in her pulse, and her jaw clenched. She’d give her best effort.
Adam’s vehement declaration of Cole’s past had only endeared the man more to her. He had faults. Just like her. She wasn’t influenced by alcohol, but she was controlled by perfectionism. It had swayed her decisions until she hardly recognized herself. Last night, her will sided with pretense, but at this moment, she wasn’t sure. The line hazed daily, her emotions a constant tug-of-war.
She grimaced and plopped a hand on her hat, the pins which had given her fits earlier now losing the battle against the elements. Which gin joint should she storm into next? The establishment on Rose Street, The Steel Fountain, served the upper class. Would Cole go for that one? Or would he find a place more obscure, tucked away? She changed her direction toward The Thirsty Hound, picking up the pace and weaving between strangers. If Frank hadn’t openly raved about it years ago when the prohibition began, she never would’ve known it lurked behind Great Allegheny Medical office.
She ducked under a drugstore awning, collecting her thoughts before venturing behind the popular healthcare building. The trolley bounded past, screeching along on the brown ribbon of rails, but a million streetcars couldn’t deflect her attention from the handsome man opposite her.
Cole.
He stood on the diagonal corner, his gaze on the traffic, no doubt waiting for a break. Even from this distance, his face appeared hardened. She squinted. Was his hand in a fist? Her breath froze in her chest, and it wasn’t due to the biting chill.
She’d provoked him. Led him on. Practically had thrown herself at him last evening and then walked in this morning on another man’s arm. The shame enflaming her chest burned right to her stinging eyes. She had to get to him. Traffic slowed, and Cole jogged across the street and into The Thirsty Hound.
The padded stool creaked as Cole sat at the counter. He nodded at the elderly man four seats down and then checked his watch. Nine-fifteen. He could slip this in, and no one would notice. That was, if he—
The bell jingled above the door, and a familiar blonde stood, cheeks flushed and hat tipping to one side. He leaned over, getting a better glimpse. Yes, it was her.
Elissa caught sight of him and ran over. Since he’d returned, he’d hardly seen her scurry, let alone dash. His pulse throbbed. Thoughts pummeled his brain as to why she was here and why she was in such a state. None of them good.
He stood, and she almost collapsed into him. He cupped her elbows, steadying her, and took in her heavy breathing and panicked expression. “Elissa. What’s wrong?”
Her pale fingers strangled the lapel of his jacket. “I’m here, Cole. I’ll help you through.” Desperation saturated her shaky voice, and pale circles rimmed her pleading eyes. Had she not slept any either?
His fingers skimmed up and down her arms. “Where’s your coat?” He increased the pressure in his touch to chase away the chill rolling off her.
“I had to find you.” Elissa’s intense stare remained fixed on him. Grant it, he loved her attention, but not the edginess choking her voice.
“Spark, let’s get you a drink to warm you up.” He nodded toward the man at the counter. “Two, please. And make it strong.”
Elissa gasped and jumped back, her hat flopping. “Cole Parker, I will not have a drink with you.” Her bottom lip pouted.
Was she fighting tears?
“I came to help. That’s why I searched for you. I barged into Flannigan’s, but you weren’t there. And then—”
“Elissa.” He stepped toward her and peered into her face. “What are you talking about? Did you say you went into a speakeasy?”
Her face reddened, and she stared at his collar. “Yes.”
The realization hit stronger than the aroma of the place. He gripped both of her trembling hands. “Close your eyes, sweetheart, and take a deep breath.” He could’ve instructed her to simply look around, but this way might calm her more.
To his surprise, she listened. Thick lashes lowered, concealing those beautiful blues. Her chest rose, and then her eyes popped open. “Coffee?” Her gaze darted about, taking in several customers sipping from their mugs and gawking at the scene Elissa and he created. “I thought this was a …” She tugged her hands away and placed them on her cheeks. “When I read your note, I believed you were … well, I didn’t know for sure, but I didn’t want you to ... um … falter.”
His heart sank.
Of all the people in the world to discover his failure, why her? The one whose opinion mattered as much to him as the air in his lungs? It hurt, imagining how much she had knowledge of. He shoved his fists into his pockets and took his own advice, breathing in. “This used to be a gin joint, but now it’s a café.” It’d required agents on a state level to make this establishment dry because the city ones were too enamored with padding their pockets with hush money. “Come sit.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. He still had ten minutes. “We need to talk.”
The coffee cups were already on the counter behind them.
She took the seat to his right. Her flushed coloring waned to soft pink, dusting her cheeks and nose. He braced himself for the loaded questions about his past, but she didn’t speak, only fussed with her appearance, tugging the hem of her sleeves, centering her belt, and cutting a quick glance to her stockings. Her gaze landed on the women’s lounge door, and he saw the struggle in her eyes.
“You look gorgeous. Trust me.”
“Don’t lie to me. I know I’m a mess.” She huffed a hair from her forehead. “But … this isn’t about me.”
This, meaning Cole and his problems. More like, past problems which shadowed his present and now threatened his future. “What you imagine a mess, I consider breathtaking.”
Her face pinched.
He fought against a wince. His truth, she’d mistaken as arrogant charm.
A shiver rocked her body.
“You need to get warm. Here.” He handed her the coffee. “And to show you how much I like you, I’ll give you all the cream.”
Her brows lifted in obvious surprise, and her mouth curved into a fragile smile. “I wouldn’t think you’d remember.”
“What? That you’re a creamer hog?” He chuckled and handed her the small, ceramic pitcher. A few drops spilled in the process. They reached for the napkin dispenser at the same time, his hand stilling on hers. “So you know, I remember a lot. An awful lot.”
Horror flashed across her face, and she pulled her hand away, the spilled cream forgotten.
Had he said something wrong? “I meant that as a compliment.”
“Oh.” She stiffened, her back poker-straight. With her lips mashed tight, she poured sugar into her mug, stirred for a second, and then poured some more. She glanced up and scowled. “Don’t judge me.”
He lifted both hands. “If you want to turn your coffee into liquid candy, far be it from me to judge.”
She sighed, and her shoulders sagged. “I need this after the morning I had.”
Morning, right. The image of Elissa hanging on Kendrew’s arm burned through his thoughts. How could she have kissed Cole with a raw passion rendering him senseless and then a handful of hours later cozy up to another man? “Would you like to compare mornings? Because I’m confident mine was rougher.” And would probably turn even more so, considering the way she’d dashed into the coffee shop. How much did she know? Who had leaked the humiliating details? She obviously hadn’t been aware of them last night. So it was some time this morning. Her father had given his word not to disclose Cole’s past. “Kendrew? Did he tell you about New York?”
She swallowed and gazed at a spot on the counter. “Yes. In Father’s office.”
His jaw tightened. The clinking of mugs and indistinct chatter from other patrons filled the silence between them. Knowing Kendrew would be sitting at his orderly desk, smirking like the devil when Cole returned, didn’t help cool his broiling temper. What was his agenda? Make Cole look like a drunken beast and Kendrew the noble-hearted hero? And how had he even known about Cole’s life at the Dispatch? He squeezed the handle of his mug and couldn’t care less if it crumbled into ceramic dust beneath his grip.
“Are you angry with me?” Her voice was quiet. So much, Cole had almost missed it.
However jerky Kendrew had acted, it wasn’t Elissa’s fault. She had come to rescue Cole to the point of invading speakeasies. Despite the dark mood brewing, a smile tipped his mouth. “No, Spark. You’re not to blame.”
The fault sat heavily on Cole’s shoulders. He’d been the one who couldn’t control the cravings, who’d sunk deeper and deeper into its clutches. But then … he’d found mercy. Found a Savior who’d carried a cross on His shoulders in order to remove the burden from Cole’s.
Her gentle hand rested on his forearm, and he met her eyes with a courage not his own.
“Is it true, Cole? You were fired from the Dispatch because of alcohol?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” Her gaze held concern, but no judgment. How he loved those eyes.
“I imagined I could control it, but it was the other way around.” He forced himself to take a swig of coffee even if it turned to acid in his stomach. “I’d black out for hours. And the last time, I almost didn’t wake up. Some cable car driver on his way home from work found me in a dank alley, hypothermic and fading fast.”
She pressed her palm to her mouth.
He conjured up a smile. “It’s not pretty. But I discovered redemption on the hospital bed. Brokenness, remember?”
Tears glossed her eyes. For him. His heart both ached and swelled. Did she care more than she let on? He’d reasoned her kiss last night had been a response to all the heavy emotion, but maybe it’d meant something more. It sure had for him.
“I can’t say it’s been easy, but I’ve been dry for four months. You can report that to Kendrew if you’d like.” He offered his handkerchief.
She shook her head. “Adam won’t be too enthused to hear anything from me.”
“Why’s that?”
She traced a coffee ring with her fingernail, avoiding eye contact. “I told him we aren’t right for each other.”
Hope. That elusive word had taunted him for the past week but now rose in his chest with a touch of confidence. No other woman had ever been right for Cole besides her. Not like he hadn’t had opportunities, but he’d been raised with enough morals not to toy with females’ hearts. Though he’d bet money that Elissa would disagree.
He rubbed his brow, lessening the strain. He glanced over and caught Elissa staring, confusion swimming in her eyes. “Sorry, Spark. The past twenty-four hours are catching up to me. I haven’t slept much.” Sterling had commandeered most of Cole’s night, from dealing with Jeffrey to another inspection of Shelby’s office, and then a visit to police headquarters.
She lowered her gaze to her lap. “I didn’t sleep either.”
“But you weren’t all over Pittsburgh with your save-the-world cousin.” Cole muttered into his mug before downing the last drops. At least he hoped she hadn’t been all over Pittsburgh. After the charade she’d pulled yesterday, he couldn’t be certain.
Her mug clinked on the saucer, and she gaped at him. “Did you tell Sterling what happened last night?”
“Not all of it.” He winked.
But she didn’t laugh. Or frown. Her features froze, and her knuckles were as white as the napkin she strangled. “Am I in trouble?”
He eyed her coffee. She hadn’t taken a sip yet. “From Sterling? No. But I had to tell him about us being in the Shelby building. And also about the men you scared off.” Men who remained unknown. At headquarters, Cole had strained his eyes over hundreds of mug shots. No luck.
Her shoulders lowered with an exhale. “Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you. By the way, I’m getting you a gun lighter in case you need to save my life again.”
Her gentle smile warmed him more than a thousand cups of coffee. “Cole, I know what you were trying to do. Jumping out first so I could escape. It was heroic.”
The admiration in her eyes caused him to fall for her harder. “Was it almost as chivalrous as the Fourth of July at Glenwood Park?”
She whipped her mug from her lips, eyes rounding.
“What’s the matter? Too hot?”
She shook her head and fingered a lock of hair. “I’d rather not talk about that day.”
“Suits me.” He flashed a smile. “Only remember, you’d be bald if it weren’t for my resourcefulness.”
“You dumped your punch on me.” She snapped.
“Because you caught your hair on fire.” He laughed. “I solemnly swear to be your rescuer every time you twirl a sparkler like a baton.”
Her eyes dulled, and the corners of her mouth pulled into a grimace. “I don’t view it with the same humor as you.”
The hurt in her tone bruised him. “Elissa, it was an accident. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
She scoffed. “You have no idea.”
He leaned close, his shoulder brushing hers. “Then tell me.”
“You were there, Cole.” Her eyes blazed layers of fire. “My hair had to be cut. Everyone made fun of me. Shadyside Slob all over again. And you added to the shame by giving me a nickname forever reminding me of my infernal clumsiness.”
“Spark?”
She nodded.
His chest caved. He’d hurt her. “How come you’re just now telling me?”
“Because.”
So many unknowns hinged from that one word. Her closed-in posture and averted stare announced she wouldn’t give any more clues to the mystery.
But she should know … “The name Spark wasn’t from then.”
His words snapped her stiff, the napkin she held falling to her lap. “Of course it was. You hadn’t called me that until after the incident.”
“Only because it gave me the freedom to do so. I admit I allowed you to believe the nickname stemmed from that, and I’m sorry for the deception. My pride was too thick back then. But the reality was, I’d been calling you that for years … in here.” He tapped his temple. “Since the moment at Howe Springs, you were my spark of hope. Still are.”
The full force of her gaze penetrated his, stretching into his heart and wafting the embers of longing into a blaze. He had to convince this girl he was in it for the long run. And maybe he should start with the words she needed most to hear. “Elissa, the day when I left—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Parker?” A reedy feminine voice floated over his shoulder.
He twisted on his seat.
Irene Harper stood an arm’s length away, complete with a burgeoning smile. “I believe you were expecting me.”
Elissa bristled beside him, and the sizzling moment between them extinguished.