Warmth rose in Mary’s chest, as energizing as the singing. “I’d like that very much.”
14
Boston
Saturday, June 14, 1941
Jim bounded up the stairs to Mary’s apartment and rang the doorbell.
Within seconds, the door swung open. “Oh, Jim! I’m so glad you’re safe.”
He just stared. Mary wore a dress of silver-blue, just like her eyes. Starry clips held up her night-dark hair. She was stunning. He cleared his throat. “You got my message.”
“Yes, Yvette told me.” She headed across the room. “Dining at the Normandie and dancing at the Totem Pole Ballroom. I’m so excited. I’ve always wanted to go there.”
“Mm-hmm.” He followed her inside. So much for being suave. Why didn’t he tell her she was stunning instead of staring at her like a fool?
“Pardon me. I need to switch purses. Are Arch and Gloria waiting in the cab?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll only be a moment.” She leaned over a little cabinet and rummaged inside.
Why hadn’t he noticed her figure before? Really noticed it? The curves of her legs, her hips, her waist, her—well, everything was just right.
“We’ll have lots to talk about tonight, won’t we?” Mary pulled items from one purse and stuffed them into another, her skirt swinging around her knees. “Goodness, when I heard they’d found a bomb on your ship, my heart stopped. I’m thankful no one was hurt.”
“Mm-hmm.”
She glanced at him. “Are you all right?”
“All right?”
“You’re quiet.”
Because she’d addled his thinking. He wrangled up a smile. “The shakedown cruise was a lot more eventful than expected.”
“You poor thing.” She glided over to him, her brow furrowed, her red lips pinched into a bow. “Are you sure you want to go out tonight?”
Not at that moment. At that moment, he wanted to close the distance between them and greet her properly. But assaulting her with a kiss wouldn’t be suave. Instead, he offered his elbow. “Nothing I’d like better than an evening on the town with a beautiful lady.”
“Thank you. Let me get my wrap.” She swished past him to the coatrack as if he hadn’t complimented her at all.
Jim followed and helped her with a little cape thing. Either Mary didn’t realize how much he’d meant that compliment—or she did realize and chose to ignore it.
On the cab ride and over dinner at the Normandie, Gloria prattled about the big bands and the new movies and even the latest on the Boston Red Sox—how Ted Williams was batting over .400 and how Lefty Groves was heading for his three-hundredth win. Impressive for a woman, but not what Jim wanted to discuss. Mary kept looking at him with concern in those starry eyes and questions perched almost visibly on those pretty lips.
After dinner, they walked next door to the Totem Pole Ballroom. A huge dance floor faced the stage, which was flanked by two colorful totem poles. Surrounding the dance floor were the ballroom’s famous couches, with velvet upholstery and high backs and sides. Emory Daugherty and his Tom-Tom Boys played a lively rendition of “Cherokee,” and Arch and Jim led the ladies to one of the couches.
Jim sat and crossed his ankle over his knee. If only the couch had a low back, he could drape his arm behind Mary’s shoulders. That would be subtle.
Arch leaned over and grinned at Mary. “Our amateur sleuth can’t wait to give us yet another interrogation.”
“It’s true.” Mary smoothed her silvery skirt. “Wait—anotherinterrogation?”
Jim clasped his hands over his knee. What else could he do with them? “We came in late last night. We spent all day talking to the FBI, the Navy brass, and folks from the Navy Yard. I must have shown them where I found the bomb a dozen times.”
Mary gasped. “You found it?”
