Engaging Deception, page 18
“I can’t believe you already knew Marlowe.”
Of all the bad luck. Marlowe was a fine chap, but not the sort of man one expected to court his employee. “I’m glad to see him, but you would’ve been fine without him,” Maxfield said. “The invitation would’ve stood for you alone.”
“What kind of girlfriend is Miss Dennis if she doesn’t care if another woman tags along?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say that Olive wasn’t another woman. She was a friend who helped with the children. But he caught himself before uttering such a ridiculous statement. With a nod at the car ahead of them, he said, “She’s with Marlowe. She must not mind too much.”
The clicking noise slowed as they neared the top of the ride. The view was spectacular. Max looked to see if Olive was impressed but found her messing with her belt instead.
With one hand clutching at the rail, she tugged at the end of the strap with the other. “This buckle seems to be bent.”
“These rides are brand-new. They should be fine.” But he couldn’t help but eye the bent buckle that had cinched her skirts tight over her lap. Sure enough, the strap was sliding out every time Olive moved.
When she pulled the strap tight again, the prong on the buckle inverted. Now the belt was worthless. It wouldn’t do its job at all.
He looked about but there were no attendants at the apex. Ruby and Marlowe had their backs to them and could offer no help in any case. The tension was building around them as the cars slowed, leaned over the crest, and the passengers saw the giant drop before them. Ruby screamed her playful cheer, oblivious to the fear that was crushing Maxfield.
Olive’s knuckles were white as Ruby’s car disappeared from view. Max covered Olive’s hand as they topped the edge and looked down at a terrifying drop. Slowly at first, the car started to descend, but it quickly picked up speed. The tempo of the clack-clack sound from the wheels along the track increased until they were flying along. The force of the first drop pressed them against the backs of their seats, but that safety wouldn’t last long.
The first turn came so suddenly that Maxfield couldn’t keep her from slamming against the side of their car. He winced at the thought of the bruise it would leave on her arm. Then, without warning, the car swooped in the other direction, throwing her against him. She was like one of Stella’s rag dolls being tossed around by Leo when he was tormenting her.
Maxfield felt a panic growing inside of him. Olive tightened her grip on the bar in front of them. She planted her feet against the floor in an attempt to brace herself but the whole front of the car was open. If her feet slipped, she could easily drop beneath the bar. Shouldn’t Marlowe be here? Wasn’t he supposed to be responsible for Olive? But Maxfield didn’t trust anyone else with her. She was his responsibility.
They were roaring toward another turn. Maxfield gave his own belt a strong tug, and finding it secure, he wrapped his arm around Olive’s back. When the turn tried to rip her away from him, he stretched his other arm in front of her and caught hold of her waist. His grip was stronger than any belt strap. Especially when it meant protecting this lady.
When she relaxed her hold on the bar, he was able to nestle her firmly against him. Finally, she was secure and not going to slam into anything.
“I hope you understand,” he yelled over the rushing wind. “Who would watch the children if you fly out?”
She leaned her head back against his shoulder and tilted her face to the wind. “It’s the only logical solution,” she said.
Her hearty squeal at the next dip delighted him. He was caught off guard by her reckless exhilaration. Now that she was safely in his arms, she was enjoying the ride with abandon. Maxfield’s heart skipped a beat. Should he be surprised? Wasn’t that how she’d kissed him?
They were taking another turn, both on the ride and in his heart. He tried applying logic to the situation. These feelings were false, brought on by a dangerous situation and his instinct to protect, but couldn’t he embrace falsehood for just a moment? Could he acknowledge how nice it felt to hold Olive and look after her when she’d done so much looking after him?
He shifted his hold so it was more comfortable for both of them, and allowed himself to appreciate the thrills. He lifted his head to share her exhilaration. He squeezed her closer as they slung around another curve. They were both breathless with laughter as they were hit with each unexpected turn. It would be the best roller coaster ride of his life.
As they approached the end of the line, the car jolted and her head knocked against his, smashing his lip, but it didn’t dim his happiness. She rubbed the spot on her head as she looked up at him with shining eyes. Maxfield felt his heart drop to the bottom of his chest as the car coasted to a stop. How could she trust him again? Would she ever give him a chance?
He still held her tight, unaware of anything beyond happiness and contentment, but as the car slowed and people on the sidewalks came into focus, he realized that his happiness and contentment were decked out as a fetching woman being held in his arms, and there would be some who would not appreciate his discovery.
With a guilty look at the car in front of them, Maxfield lifted his arm from around her. “We made it back safe, didn’t we?” He was still buckled in place while she was sitting in the middle of the bench.
“Not entirely unharmed,” she replied. Again she looked up at him, not having moved back to her spot. “I’m afraid your lip is going to swell.” She leaned closer, her eyes on his mouth. All he could think about was the last time she’d come so close.
Now it was Maxfield who had white knuckles on the safety bar. He couldn’t release it, for who could say where his hands would go? He felt like he and Olive were still racing through the clouds in the runaway roller coaster instead of sitting in the terminal as people disembarked around them.
“Miss Ruby, look over there! I say, I think that’s a bear!”
Maxfield looked up in time to see Marlowe take Ruby by the arm and swing her away from them. He straightened in his seat as Marlowe cast a glance over his shoulder. The eye contact with Maxfield communicated his old friend’s warning. Get away from Miss Kentworth before Ruby sees you.
Max unfastened his belt, stepped onto the platform, then reached back for Olive. She swayed a tad as she reacquainted herself with solid ground. Max reached to steady her, a quick hand on her waist before it could be noticed, then drew back. He bit his lip then winced in pain. The sooner he could get Marlowe with her and get safely at Ruby’s side, the better. Else he was going to make a mistake and give his heart to the wrong woman.
CHAPTER
18
“I never thought Joplin would have a venue to rival the streets of Paris but, when evening falls and these lamps are lit, it is stunning. The quaint streets, the majestic homes, the wide avenues, every care has been given to provide a natural environment for romance. A perfect end to a perfect evening.” Marlowe had kept up a cheerful monologue on their walk from Schifferdecker’s Electric Park, never requiring Olive to say a word.
What could she say? She was confused. Immediately after declaring their kiss a mistake and promising to never relive it again, Maxfield had held her in his arms, reminding her how his nearness felt. Now, her normally jovial employer was as silent as she.
He hadn’t said anything about the magician performing at the gazebo. No comment on the dance troupe from Hungary. For their remaining time at the park, Maxfield had parsed out his words with caution.
Olive had to stop thinking about him. It was unhealthy. Having left the park behind, they were nearly to the iconic Keystone Hotel that anchored Joplin’s skyline. With jokes, teasing, and finally pouting, Ruby had tried to pry some levity out of Maxfield, but he seemed as unable to concentrate as Olive. Thankfully Marlowe pretended not to notice that two of their party were uncommunicative and the other was growing bitter.
“We might as well call it a night,” Ruby said as they walked to the front of the hotel. “After that dinner at the biergarten, I don’t have room for dessert.”
“I’ll see you up. Good evening, all.” Without a glance at Olive and Marlowe, Maxfield took the brass handle of the glass door and swung it open for Ruby in haste to make his escape.
Instead of taking his cue, Ruby paused in front of Olive for a moment before settling on her words. “You should bring Marlowe around again sometime soon. He is a lovely companion. You’d be a fool to let him get away.”
Olive felt sick to her stomach. Marlowe had been a lovely companion, but he wasn’t the one who had caused the turmoil in her heart. She’d been so foolish to deny the attraction she’d felt for Mr. Scott. She’d thought she was too intelligent to fall for a man who was out of reach, but she’d been lying to herself. A few moments alone, a few awkward colliding gazes, and she was overcome with the roaring realization that she was hopelessly besotted by Mr. Scott.
“Thank you, my dear,” Marlowe crooned. “Lovely of you to say.”
Maxfield waited for Ruby to pass before following her inside the hotel without another word to Olive and Marlowe. He knew. He had to know how she felt, else why would he have been so quiet? And how could she live with the embarrassment? She’d go home, berate herself over the weekend, pretend to be sick to buy herself some time, and maybe by the next time he requested her help, she’d be able to trick herself into thinking that what she felt tonight was a fluke. That she’d experienced a temporary weakness brought on by the spinning roller coaster and too many sparkling lights.
It wouldn’t be hard to convince herself that it was futile. If only she hadn’t seen signs of interest in him as well.
Marlowe was watching her, a wry smile twisting his mouth.
“You look just like your brother when you do that,” Olive said. She brushed her hair away from her face. “Come on. You have to walk me home.”
“Just a moment.” Marlowe was watching something through the glass doors of the hotel. “There. The elevator. It’s gone. Let’s go inside.”
Olive propped her hand on her hip. “I’m not going to your room, Mr. Buchanan. Surely you know that.”
His smile turned to disapproval. “You insult me, madam. I only wanted you to come enjoy the aquarium in the lobby.”
“I’ve seen it before.”
“But I have no familiarity with it, and I feel a sudden desire to have the fish identified.” After an agreeable evening, her companion was demonstrating his wealthy, entitled expectations. No matter how Olive stared at his sudden change in manners, he refused to yield. “The fish?” he said.
“Very well,” she said. “Let’s look at fish, shall we?” Ignoring his offered arm, she pushed through the door and marched past the elegantly dressed patrons to stand in front of the lit aquarium. “I see some blue fish. That flat one looks yellow. And there’s a seahorse.” She turned to Marlowe. “I’m sorry. If they were perch or catfish, I might be able to help, but that’s as good as I can do.”
“Don’t agitate the specimens, my dear.” But Marlowe wasn’t interested in the fish. He was still watching the elevator. “It seems I was mistaken. I thought our objective tonight was to get Max to notice you, but it appears that he’s been noticing you for some time. Why have you hidden this from your family?”
Olive tapped her foot. “I’d go home by myself, but Graham and Willow would be furious with you for allowing it.”
“Just another moment. It’ll be worth the wait.”
Worth the wait? She covered her forehead with her hand as Marlowe’s purpose became clear. Why had she let Willow talk her into this? Marlowe Buchanan was just as treacherous as the rest of her family. “He’s not coming back,” she said. “He’s walking his lady to her apartments. He’ll stay and visit with her parents. He’ll reminisce about the day and probably laugh at how we ruined their evening alone. He’ll do anything to spend more time with her and will only part reluctantly . . .”
Ding. The elevator doors opened.
Olive and Marlowe both turned to see a worn and weary Mr. Scott holding his hat by the brim in front of him.
“That didn’t take long,” Marlowe said.
Mr. Scott looked uneasily at Olive. “I didn’t expect you’d still be here.”
“I prevailed upon Miss Kentworth to appreciate the fish with me. We hated to end the evening so early.”
She was Miss Kentworth now? Why was Marlowe treating her like a stranger?
“It’s not early,” Olive said. “I’m ready to go home.”
“Are you?” Marlowe adjusted his bow tie. “I was going to order some refreshments and enjoy this fine hotel where I’m staying. I suppose by the time I walk you to your neighborhood and sally back, the restaurant will be closed, though. It’s a pity.”
Olive glared at him, but Marlowe was unabashed. “Take me home, first,” she said through clenched teeth. “Skipping a meal won’t kill you.”
“I’ll take you.” Mr. Scott put on his hat. “I can walk by your house on my way home.” He kept his eyes on the door, refusing to look her direction and making it clear that she was being pawned off on an unwilling escort.
“You would do that?” Marlowe grabbed Mr. Scott’s hand. “Thank you, sir. It’s not that I want to abandon her company, but since I’m staying here at the Keystone . . .”
“Don’t mention it,” Mr. Scott said. “Are you ready?”
Ready to throttle Marlowe Buchanan and all the Kentworths that put him up to this. Olive gripped her skirt to keep from swinging a fist at him. “Fine. You can walk me home.”
“Thank you for a delightful evening,” Marlowe called.
Olive didn’t respond but slammed into the door of the Keystone, flinging it open, as she marched outside. She’d never felt as inadequate as she had tonight next to Ruby. And if, by some miracle, Mr. Scott had some interest in her, it would surely be squelched by Marlowe’s ham-fisted behavior.
The tepid air did nothing to cool her ire. Mr. Scott probably thought her escort didn’t care for her at all. Or even worse, he thought that she and Marlowe had conspired to arrange this time alone with him. Which was the furthest thing from the truth. She’d rather be anywhere than walking with Mr. Scott right now.
“How long have you known Mr. Buchanan?”
Olive turned. Mr. Scott stepped into the circle of light thrown by the electric streetlamp on the corner. His worn smile had softened after an evening of moodiness, but he watched her intently.
“We’ve met once before. I can’t believe he came with me tonight.”
Mr. Scott blinked. “Only once? You can’t be serious. What is this all about?”
The night air swirled around her, cooling her damp neck. “I wanted to have a day out and didn’t want to be a third wheel. He was in town, so . . .”
“But Marlowe Buchanan?” He laughed. “Do you know how many women would give their eyeteeth to spend the day with him?”
“Look, I can walk home from here by myself. Thank you for your offer, and I’m sorry that Mr. Buchanan put you in this position.”
“It’s Mr. Buchanan now?”
“Yes, Mr. Scott, it is.”
“Call me Max. I thought we settled that, Olive.”
“The only thing that is settled is that I shouldn’t have presumed to accompany you and Miss Dennis. We have nothing in common. We don’t have the same upbringing, we don’t have the same manners, we don’t have the same understanding of the world. If it was as painful for you as it was for me, I’m sorry to have submitted you to it.”
Mr. Scott tucked his chin and looked up at her. “‘Forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forth to those things which are ahead.’”
“Then let’s press onward. And home.” Quickly, before either of them said something they would regret.
Olive didn’t like this. She didn’t know how to interpret his mood, which had swung wildly all evening. All she knew was that she didn’t want their association to end. It couldn’t end. Every uncomfortable encounter and misunderstanding damaged their relationship. She valued him too much as a friend, as a possible mentor, to risk losing him because she’d hoped for more.
He moved past her on the sidewalk, walking slowly. Olive stepped to his side.
“How’s your arm?” he asked. “Is it sore?”
“More than likely it will be.” She took a deep breath before asking, “And yours? Did you sustain any injuries?”
“Me? Nothing of importance. I was happy to be of service.” He looked at the stars, then said, “I hadn’t seen Marlowe in years. The two of you seemed to complement each other well.”
They were back to Marlowe? Why couldn’t he find something else to talk about? The dangerous streets of Joplin didn’t seem as dangerous as this. “He seemed to get along with Miss Dennis as well,” she said. Then clutched her fist against her stomach. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was uncouth. I didn’t mean anything—”
“But it’s true. Marlowe has the happy ability to make anyone feel comfortable.”
“As do you.”
“But I might have wished that my date hadn’t found him so charming.”
“You’re jealous?”
“No, and that’s what concerns me.”
Olive couldn’t see his face, but he said it with a nonchalance that confused her. They’d reached her house. Forgoing the front porch, Mr. Scott walked to the fence and looked over it into the backyard. He pointed at her Tudor birdhouse. “So you made that?”
Olive had had enough of subterfuge for one night. “Yes, I made that, and it’s not a kit.”
“You designed it? That’s incredible. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to get a better look.” Without waiting for her answer, he opened the wooden gate and went into the backyard. Olive paused before following him on the rock pavers.
Absent were the white sheets that had rolled in the wind like ocean waves. Instead, the clotheslines slashed through the night sky bare and ugly. Still, she couldn’t help the shiver that ran through her at the memory of what had transpired there.
