In the Shadow of Love Read online

  “I don’t want to go to the police,” Jenny said. “I think I’ve done enough antagonizing for today, if you know what I mean.”

  Kathryn did know what she meant, and she was right. Going to the police wouldn’t accomplish anything. It must have been the shock of finding Jenny in such dire straits that blinded her to the fact that the police should be kept out of it. She mentally shook her head. All rational thought seemed to flee where Jenny was concerned.

  Forrester was behind the strike, she knew. It was an attempt to break the union, and a little money thrown at some disgruntled employees went a long way toward stirring up already high emotions. She hoped no one got her tag number in all the excitement, but only time would tell, and she would cross that bridge with Forrester if and when the time came.

  Jenny was silent, and Kathryn glanced over to see disgust and disappointment clouding her face. “Are you okay?”

  “I shouldn’t have been there in the first place. What happened was my fault.”

  Kathryn bristled. She shouldn’t have been there, that was true, but there was no justification for a three-hundred-pound thug to attack a defenseless woman, let alone one she was growing fond of. Just the thought of the man’s brutal hands on her brought on a flash of rage, and she couldn’t contain it. “That guy had no right to attack you!”

  Jenny turned away. “Please don’t yell at me.”

  “I’m not ye—” Kathryn cut herself off, realizing she was doing just that, and reeled in her emotions. “Sorry. I just—” She bit down on the nonexistent excuse. She couldn’t admit that she was entirely too protective and liked the job.

  “I just want to go to work and forget this ever happened,” Jenny said. She adjusted her collar and fiddled with a button hanging from a rip in the fabric, not really comprehending why it wouldn’t stay fastened. They both looked down at the torn, bloody shirt.

  Jenny gave up trying to make it look presentable and cursed under her breath.

  Kathryn faced forward and put the car in gear. “All right, let’s find you a new shirt, clean that up, and then I’ll take you to work. Okay?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “My place.”

  Chapter Three

  The distinct smell of ammonia filled the air as Jenny followed Kathryn into her apartment, which was a shame, because she was looking forward to experiencing every nuance of her living quarters, and she was pretty sure ammonia potpourri was not the norm.

  Kathryn’s was the only apartment above a three-car garage in the short but deep building tucked in between two taller buildings on Jane Street, in Greenwich Village.

  A long expanse of honey-colored hardwood flooring defined the living room area, and Jenny followed the line of its planking until it was interrupted by a rolled-up carpet and a bucket with a mop handle protruding from it in the center of the room.

  “Sorry,” Kathryn said, sliding it to the side with her foot. “Real glamorous, huh?”

  “Well, there’s more to life than glamor.”

  Kathryn gasped and put a hand to her heart. “Say it ain’t so.” She grinned as she slipped off her shoes and then tilted her head toward the long hall. “Come on, let’s get you a shirt.”

  Jenny slipped off her shoes while she pulled her pale green blouse from her skirt. The apartment was bigger than she thought from the outside but not as big as it could have been because of a beautiful grand piano taking up a good portion of the living room. It was a Steinway, with a hand-rubbed satin finish on its mahogany body rather than the customary black lacquer high gloss. The warmth of the wood blended beautifully with the warm hues and cool color accents of the living space.

  She entered the bedroom after Kathryn, who went to the closet and opened the door.

  “Pick anything you like. I need to make a quick telephone call, and then I’ll get the first-aid kit.”

  * * *

  After Kathryn left the room, Jenny unbuttoned her shirt and took in the space with curious eyes. The walls were a soft yellow that complemented nicely the muted flowered drapes that adorned the windows. An antique armoire with a full-length mirror was on the far wall, and adjacent to that was a vanity with a collection of small glass bottles dotting the surface. She smelled traces of Kathryn’s perfume, which made her remember their first meeting in the ladies’ room of The Grotto. That seemed ages ago, and she realized she didn’t know Kathryn any better now than she did then, only that there remained an undeniable pull whenever they were together. Whether they were on good terms or bad, she wanted to be near her.

  She heard the low murmur of Kathryn’s voice from the living room and remembered that voice telling her that she’d gotten to her. It had been a month since that confession, and Jenny had given up hope that Kathryn would contact her to explore that further. Kathryn was in a tough spot because of her assignment to Forrester, so she’d left it up to her to renew their friendship. When she didn’t, Jenny understood it was just too complicated, or perhaps she still couldn’t forgive her for the gun incident.

  Fortunately, she’d been so busy with her new job that she didn’t have time to dwell on the loss of their friendship and the potential relationship she’d felt forming between them. Seeing her again, though, Jenny sensed no trace of the anger that had torn them apart, and she had renewed hope for their future, one that found her standing in Kathryn’s bedroom with her shirt unbuttoned.

  Continuing her glance around the room, she noted a dresser and a matching set of nightstands residing on each side of a woven bamboo headboard that loomed over a very comfortable looking bed. She quickly turned her attention to the closet before her mind went some place her body might not be welcome.

  She let her shirt fall from her shoulders, which left it hanging listlessly from her elbows. As she leaned into the closet to make a quick selection, Kathryn came back into the room.

  “I don’t know whether I have a Band-Aid big eno— whoops,” Kathryn stopped short, looking up from the box in her hand. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s your house.” The scene was a mirror of one that had occurred at her house, when she walked in on Kathryn putting a shirt on, but Jenny waited in vain for the continuation of that scene. “Isn’t this where you say you’re not used to seeing half-naked women in your bedroom?”

  Kathryn smiled but avoided looking her way as she crossed the room and set the first-aid items on the nightstand beside the bed.

  “You’re right,” she said, sitting on the bed and making eye contact. “I’m not used to seeing half-naked women in my bedroom.” She leaned back on one elbow and crossed her legs. “If there’s a woman in my bedroom, she’s usually completely naked.”

  Jenny was momentarily stunned at the inviting gaze and its accompanying smirk and decided two could play at that game. “Is that a prerequisite? Because I could—” She stuck a thumb under her bra strap, lifting it slightly off her shoulder.

  Kathryn laughed and patted the soft white material of her seashell-embossed duvet cover. “Here, let me take a look at that.” She sat up and reached for the first-aid items.

  Jenny gave up on the closet and obeyed, walking the few steps to the bed.

  Kathryn handed over a sterile gauze pad and the antiseptic. “You clean. It’ll hurt less if you do it yourself.”

  Jenny sat and took the items, soaking the pad with antiseptic. She sucked the sting through her teeth as she applied the cleanser to her wound. “Says you. Ow.”

  Kathryn echoed the hiss. “Sorry.” She tore open another gauze square and picked up the roll of white medical tape.

  “Damn,” Jenny said as she dabbed at the cuts. Two tracks of raised welts crowned with two short ragged gashes were still trying to bleed. “I think this is going to leave a scar. Jerk.”

  A flashback of the attack washed over her. His filthy hands were on her face and she couldn’t free herself. The momentary panic sent a jolt through her system. Her chest tightened and her breath caught.

  Kathryn’s hand gen
tly touched her shoulder. “What is it?”

  “I hated feeling so helpless.”

  “It’s an awful feeling.”

  Jenny nodded, keeping her emotions in check. Remembering Kathryn’s strength during the attack gave her strength now, like victory would always be possible, even when it seemed hopeless. “The way you took care of that guy, I can’t imagine you being helpless.”

  Kathryn smiled. It was an odd smile, Jenny noticed, all knowing and melancholy because of it. Her eyes widened, and then she mentally slapped herself as the story she’d heard about Kathryn’s imprisonment by the enemy overseas hit her like a brick. How could she have forgotten that! Of course she knew what helplessness felt like. Jenny could hardly believe it was true. It was so far removed from the woman sitting on the bed beside her getting ready to tend her wounds that it was impossible to picture her in such dire circumstances. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “For what?”

  Jenny was glad Kathryn couldn’t read minds. “For messing up your day.”

  Kathryn chuckled. “If rescuing a pretty girl is the worst thing that happens in my day …”

  Jenny’s eyes lifted, and she sat a little straighter. Kathryn called her pretty.

  She cut off a strip of white tape and attached it to a folded piece of gauze. Jenny reached for it just as Kathryn leaned in to position it over her chest.

  “Oh,” they both said simultaneously as their hands collided.

  “I thought …” Jenny said, flustered, thinking that Kathryn was handing her the bandage.

  “No, I … oh. Here.” Kathryn offered the bandage, now hanging limply from her finger.

  “No, no,” Jenny said.

  They played hot potato with the dressing for a moment, both insisting the other do the deed until, finally, their hands were a tangled bundle of tape, gauze, and fingers.

  Kathryn laughed. “Nuts.”

  “Shit,” Jenny said, as they both gave up on the mangled dressing.

  Kathryn gently peeled her fingers free. “Here, let me make you a new one.”

  Jenny straightened out the tape. “It’s okay, I’ve got it.” She placed the bandage firmly in place over the wound and tried not to lament the lost opportunity of Kathryn’s hands between her breasts. She almost laughed out loud at her desperation.

  “Are you sure you don’t want someone to look at that?” Kathryn asked. “That’s a lot of blood for such a small wound.”

  “It’s fine. I’m a slow clotter.”

  A faint crease of worry appeared in Kathryn’s brow, and Jenny tried not to shake her head. Kathryn had one heck of a maternal streak hidden beneath that cool exterior. It was flattering, but, at the same time, annoying, because it made her feel even younger than her twenty-four years, and appearing younger was not the impression she wanted to give.

  “You need to relax. It’s just a scratch. It’ll heal in no time. Look …” She turned, letting one side of her draped shirt fall from her shoulder, purposely exposing most of her chest in an effort to prove she was no mere child. “Clean bandage, no blood.”

  * * *

  Kathryn couldn’t help but grin as Jenny playfully leaned her ample bosom in her direction. It was obvious what she was trying to do, and she had to hand it to Jenny for her tenacity. Nearly at heaven’s gate less than an hour ago and here she was, on the make already.

  She found it endearing, as she did most of Jenny’s seductive antics, and she turned her head before the blush creeping up her neck reached her face.

  She gathered the discarded bandage wrappers. “Pick out a shirt.”

  Jenny stood and shrugged her blouse over her shoulders. Kathryn could tell Jenny was disappointed that she didn’t want to play.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to play. It actually took a great deal of restraint not to gently cradle her breasts in her hands and place soothing kisses on each one. She missed Jenny. She missed her honesty, her ambition, her kindness, and, yes, her endless attempts at seduction, but most of all, she missed her starry-eyed optimism. She didn’t let tragedy and guilt define her as she had. She allowed purpose to carry her forward, with hope at her heels trying to keep up. Kathryn’s purpose carried her forward into darkness. Jenny was the light leading her out.

  It was selfish. She could only drag Jenny down with her. She’d told herself that over and over. For Jenny’s own good, when her assignment to her was over, they would be over. The longing for her would cease. It was a product of her own making, after all—the legend she’d created to draw Jenny into her web while she completed her assignment. She’d done it dozens of times, but this time was different. The longing didn’t cease. She pretended it had, because she was good at pretending, but the moment she saw her in danger, all the lies fell at her feet and Jenny was her beacon of hope again.

  Staring at her back while she gazed into her closet with her hands on her hips, Kathryn wanted to embrace her from behind and kiss her soft neck. “I missed you,” she’d say, and Jenny would turn in her arms for a long-awaited kiss. Kathryn closed her eyes and admonished herself. Hold her in your heart, not in your chains. She took a silent deep breath and let it out slowly before getting back to the matter at hand.

  “See anything you like?”

  “Crisp white shirt or crisp white shirt?” Jenny said with a smile.

  “Hm. Not exactly the back room at Loehmann’s, is it?”

  “And for some reason, I thought it would be.”

  “You’ll be disappointed to know my taste in clothes is pretty pedestrian, I’m afraid. Sorry.”

  Jenny chuckled. “Hm, I must have missed that day. You’re always so impeccably dressed. I was expecting evening gowns and tailored suits and such.”

  “You want to wear an evening gown to work?”

  “No, I just—” Jenny looked over her shoulder, and Kathryn smiled to let her know she was kidding.

  “The gowns aren’t mine. They belong to The Grotto.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Mm. I have a few, but there’s no need to keep them here. The others, Nicky gets from various designers around town. I’m just the prêt-à-porter singing mannequin.”

  “Nice work if you can get it.”

  “No complaints from this working stiff. The bulk of my personal wardrobe is at Forrester’s estate right now.”

  She would wear a set of clothes out there, and more often than not, Forrester would have a set that he preferred laid out for her. Her clothes never seemed to make it back home. She hadn’t realized how empty her closet had become.

  “I’ve all but moved out there, it seems.”

  It had been Forrester’s idea. Part of their new arrangement. Taking into consideration her penchant for independence, he offered her free rein of one of the guesthouses on the estate. She thanked him for his generosity, but if she was going to have free rein, she knew she would be most effective in the main house.

  She convinced him that the only reason she wanted to be at the estate was because he was there, a statement that seemed to warm his icy, murderous heart. She would reside in the main house, separate bedrooms, he insisted, with an adjoining door. Mi casa es su casa, he announced proudly. She thanked him again but informed him that when he was away, she had no desire to stay in an empty house, adding flattering musings about the weight of his absence making the house cold and unwelcoming.

  He ate it up, commenting on her strength while being drawn in and boosted by her apparent weakness for him. Her life was hers, he assured her, except—reminding her of their agreement—that his needs took precedence, to which she replied, “As they should.”

  “I don’t spend much time here anymore. Marcus has been quite the homebody lately, so I’m glad he’s out of town this week. It gives me a chance to give this place a little attention.” She looked around with affection. “It’s not much, but it’s home, and I miss it.”

  Jenny turned her attention back to the closet at the mention of Forrester’s name, and Kathryn sensed she didn’t
like the casual use of his first name. She made a mental note to refrain from doing that in her presence and rose from the bed to help find her something to wear.

  Unable to resist, she casually brushed her hand along Jenny’s lower back as she passed. “Let’s see what we have here.”

  Jenny flinched at the touch.

  “What is it?”

  “Ticklish.”

  From the wince and sharp intake of breath, Kathryn knew she was lying, and she dared her to do that again with a pointed glare.

  “I got slammed into the truck door handle,” Jenny admitted.

  “Let me see.”

  “Kathryn—”

  Another glare had Jenny lifting her shirt to expose her back.

  The area was already starting to discolor. “Dammit, Jenny, where else are you hurt, and don’t you dare lie to me.”

  “In order of appearance … chest, pride, back, skinned knee, elbow, scraped palm,” she held it up. “That’s all.”

  Kathryn looked up from the upheld palm with wary eyes.

  “I swear.”

  “That back injury is nothing to play around with, Jenny. There could be internal dam—”

  “Internal damage to the kidney,” Jenny interrupted. “I’m well aware of that. I will be ever vigilant for unusual abdominal bloating, lightheadedness, and God forbid, blood in the urine. Will that make you happy?” She paused. “And did I mention a bruised ego to go with that wounded pride?”

  Kathryn knew Jenny was trying to lighten the mood, but concern and lingering anger over the man’s attack got the better of her. “Just because you’re a doctor’s daughter does not make you a doctor.”

  Jenny pulled down her shirt and looked away.

  Kathryn didn’t think her concern was unreasonable, but she realized she could have expressed her anxiety in a less confrontational manner. She smiled regretfully and pulled back the hand she was going to place on Jenny’s shoulder as an apology. “It doesn’t make you a nurse either,” she said with a softer voice and a teasing lilt. “But you talk a good game.”