Page 29 of Air Affair

She walked over to the building with the bathrooms, which were some distance from the stables, and attended to her needs. As she walked out again, a strong hand grasped her elbow.

“Rory.” That voice.

“Hank.” She grinned.

“You didn’t come all the way out here to see little old me, did you?” His smile melted every bone in her body.

“Of course not,” she lied. “I’m here to race horses with Evelyn.”

“Oh really?”

He took her in his arms and bent her backwards. His lips consumed hers with a desperation and fury that left her breathless. It was a kiss unlike any other she had experienced, sending lightning bolts all through her body but especially to the core of her desire. She wished he could lower her to the ground and have her right there. Their tongues twined in a carnal dance until she saw stars. Then, as suddenly as he’d embraced her, he released her. She glanced around and saw two grooms walking their way.

Breathless and flushed, she stepped back to a safe distance and cleared her throat.

“I sent you an invitation, princess. I hope you’ll accept.” There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“An invitation? To what?” Lord, she wanted to see him again, but did she dare go out in public with him after that run-in with Edward? Her father would have a fit.

“No one will suspect a thing. I promise,” he said as if reading her mind.

She nodded and smiled, anticipation thrumming in her veins.

“Until next time, Hank.”

He tipped his hat at her and disappeared.

She licked her lips, relishing the taste of him. Until next time indeed. But how soon would that be?

10

On June twenty-fifth, Hank stood outside the Flatiron Building in his best suit, chatting with his army friend Walter Amboy as he waited for Rory. The modern lines of the triangular skyscraper jutted into Madison Square, parting streams of pedestrians like the prow of an enormous ship.

“Thanks for doing this, Amboy.”

“Yeah, well, I owe ya. If you hadn’t taken Marge to the hospital that day, God knows what would have happened. Be careful, though. This could cost me my job if you get caught.”

Hank put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I promise we won’t get you in trouble.”

Walter straightened his doorman’s uniform. “That her?”

Hank’s head whipped around, and he stopped breathing. There she was, getting out of a cab. Her dress was cream silk draped with black chiffon, the square neckline revealing her décolletage. Her blonde curls were pinned up, and she wore a wide black ribbon in a band around her head. The bow dripped down her back, inviting him to unwrap her like a present.

Walter whistled low. “Jesus, Hank. Where’d you meet a lady like that?” he murmured under his breath.

“Belmont Park,” Hank answered absently, unable to tear his eyes away from Rory.

“I’ve been to Belmont Park,” Walter said in an awed whisper. “I ain’t seen nothing like her.”

Finding his feet at last, Hank walked up and offered her his arm. Even her light touch on his arm made him ravenous.

“Welcome to the Pilots’ Benevolent Association fundraiser,” he said with a sly smile. “You look ravishing.”

“Thank you. Your invitation was quite creative, you know. My family didn’t suspect a thing.”

Her scent of magnolias wafted his way. He wanted to bury his face in her neck and breathe deep.

“So what are we doing? Something more fun than a boring old fundraiser, I hope.”