Jake exhaled slowly. “I know. But I’ve got to recover that diary before I can think about what I want to do next.”
He lined up the tee shot and sent the ball sailing down the long fairway, straight toward the green.
“How the hell do you do that?” Luther said. “You should have become a professional.”
“Too hard on the nerves,” Jake said. “Mine are already exhausted, remember?”
“Yeah, I did hear something about that.”
Chapter 27
The Paradise Club lived up to its reputation as an eternally midnight realm steeped in intimate shadows and dark glamour. The velvet-covered booths were arranged in semicircles that rose in tiers above the crowded dance floor. Small candles burned on each table, giving off a warm, flickering light that enhanced the drama and encouraged flirtation. Cigarettes sparked in the darkness.
The members of the orchestra wore white dinner jackets and black bow ties. A large, mirrored sphere hung over the dance floor, its faceted surface scattering light across the dancers, who appeared to be gliding and swaying through a storm of sparkling jewels.
The music blended with the hum of low-voiced conversations and the occasional ripples of laughter. The French doors that lined one entire side of the room were open, allowing the night air to cool the space and help dissipate the cigarette smoke.
“How will we know if Paxton is here tonight?” Adelaide asked.
She and Jake were seated at a table that was in the last tier of booths. She was well aware that it was not considered a prime location, but it had two major advantages: It provided privacy while simultaneously allowing a view of the dance floor.
She was sure they were the only ones in the club who were not drinking cocktails. They had both ordered sparkling water. They had a long evening ahead of them. Becoming intoxicated was not on the agenda.
“According to Luther, Paxton always sits at Westlake’s table,” Jake said.
“Yes, but what if she doesn’t show up?”
“I was told that her assistant called earlier to make sure that Miss Westlake’s table would be ready, as usual.”
“All right. How will we know when she arrives? Will Mr. Pell send someone to inform us?”
Jake was amused. “You’ll know when she arrives the same way you know when she enters the tearoom.”
“In other words, she’ll make an entrance,” Adelaide said.
“Management will ensure that she does. The ma?tre d’ will escort her and whoever she’s with to one of the booths at the edge of the dance floor.”
Adelaide smiled. “Can I assume that this isn’t your first visit to the Paradise?”
“I’ve spent some time here in Burning Cove over the years, so, yes, I’ve been in the Paradise. But I’ve also been in a few other nightclubs around the world. Take it from me, they all have a lot in common when it comes to how they treat their celebrity guests.”
“The celebrities pretend they want to be incognito but of course what they really want is to be noticed,” Adelaide said.
“Even if the stars don’t want to be noticed, the studio publicists go to great lengths to make sure that they are.”
“When you think about it, being an actor or actress must be a very stressful career.”
“There’s a price for everything,” Jake said.
“Yes.”
Jake studied her from the opposite side of the small booth. “What did you do before you became a tearoom waitress?”
She hesitated and then decided there was no harm in telling him some of the truth. “I was a librarian. I worked in a research library that specialized in the botanical sciences.”
“Did you enjoy the work?”
She brightened at the memories. “Oh, yes. The library is very highly regarded. The collection is excellent. My colleagues and I conducted literature searches for scientists and medical researchers from around the nation. It was fascinating work.”
“And now you’re in Burning Cove working in a tearoom.”
She tensed. “My parents died. I was alone. No family. I felt that I needed a change.”
She held her breath, afraid that he would press her with more questions. Should have kept my mouth closed, she thought.
But Jake simply nodded in understanding. “I know the feeling.”
She relaxed. “Some people think I’ve lived a sheltered life. They think I’m na?ve. My parents were always afraid that some man would take advantage of me.”
Which was, of course, exactly what had happened, she thought.
“Maybe a dose of na?veté is the price you pay to be a good, decent person,” Jake said. “Seems like the only alternative is to become cynical like me. I can’t really recommend it.”
Adelaide picked up her sparkling water and looked at him over the rim of the glass. “I may be inclined to be na?ve but I’m not stupid. Once I know for certain that I can’t trust someone, I never make the mistake of trusting that person again.”
“Sounds like a reasonable policy to me.” Jake raised his glass and touched it lightly against hers. “To na?veté and lessons learned the hard way.”
The orchestra launched into a slow, smooth dance number. Adelaide watched couples drift out onto the floor and into each other’s arms. There was a time when she had danced with Conrad Massey in the same romantic fashion. Na?veté didn’t begin to excuse the huge mistake she had made with Massey. She had been a fool.
The thought reminded her again of the man in the dark blue coat she had glimpsed in the shopping plaza that afternoon. She had been unable to get the memory out of her head. She tried to tell herself that she had imagined the similarity between Conrad Massey and the stranger on the street. Paranoia is a sign of mental instability. But she could not convince herself that she had not seen the bastard.
“Will you dance with me?” Jake asked quietly.
Jolted out of her grim thoughts, she turned away from the view of the dance floor and saw that Jake was watching her with a brooding intensity.
“What?” she said.
“I asked you to dance with me.”
“Why not?” She summoned up what she hoped would pass for a bright, vivacious smile. “The damage has already been done, hasn’t it?”
His ascetic face, illuminated in candlelight, became even more forbidding than usual.
“Damage?” he repeated in very neutral tones.
“I’m sure that by tomorrow morning what’s left of our cover story will be in tatters, anyway. It’s not exactly customary for boarders to go out to nightclubs with their landladies.”
“Right,” he said. “The damage has been done. Let’s dance.”
It sounded like an order, not a request.
She steeled herself. It wasn’t as if he were asking her to marry him, she thought. He was simply suggesting that they dance together. Nevertheless, for some inexplicable reason, it felt as if accepting the offer was a risky venture.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I would be delighted to dance with you.”
She slipped out of the booth before she could change her mind.
Jake got to his feet, offered her his arm, and led her down the aisle to the dance floor.
Together they moved into the shower of sparkling lights cast by the mirrored ball. She caught her breath when she felt Jake’s strong, warm hand on the bare skin of her lower back.
“Nice dress,” he said. “What there is of it.”
She nearly choked on a burst of nervous laughter. “Thank you.”
Somehow it was easier to relax after that. She discovered she liked dancing with Jake. She liked it a lot. For a few minutes she was almost able to forget about the man in the straw hat and the blue linen coat. Almost.
A ripple of awareness washed across the room, dampening conversation and causing heads to turn.
“Vera Westlake has arrived,” Jake said. “I told you we wouldn’t be able to miss her entrance.”