Grave Phantoms
Page 56

He trailed behind her, sighing heavily. When she stooped to inspect the beads around a gown’s hem, he finally said what they were both surely thinking. “So . . . you went to see Sylvia this morning.” His voice sounded calm. He quickly wiped away the sweat blooming on his forehead while her head was turned.
“Uh-huh.” She stood and ran her fingers along the dress’s neckline.
“That must have been interesting.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Lots to talk about.”
“Uh-huh.” She squinted at the price marked on a hanging manila tag.
He tore off his hat and ran his hand over the crown of his head. “Why did you go to her?”
“I needed her help tracking down the captain. You always say telephone operators are . . . helpful.”
He didn’t like the way she enunciated “helpful.”
“So that’s all?” he pressed. “She just gave you the radio station address?”
“We may have discussed some other things”
Dammit. “If you wanted to know something, all you had to do was ask me. Have I ever held anything back when you’ve asked?”
She whipped around to face him, her face livid with anger. “No, but apparently I haven’t been asking the right questions, have I? Twins? At the same time?” She whacked him on the arm with her handbag. “What’s”—whack!—“the matter”—whack!—“with you?!”
When she reared back to hit him again, he grabbed the handbag. “Stop it.”
“I will not! How am I supposed to feel about that? Is this your typical Saturday night entertainment?”
“No! Jesus, Astrid!” Shoppers began watching them, so he lowered his voice and let go of her handbag. “That was not typical. That was absolutely a-typical. I’ve never done anything like that before, and damn sure haven’t done it since.”
“Not even two women, but”—she looked around, lowered her brow, and whispered hotly—“sisters? Honestly! That’s the most perverted thing I’ve ever heard.”
His coat suddenly felt like it was made of bricks; his shoulders dropped under the invisible weight. “I wasn’t even supposed to be there. Sylvia called me at the warehouse and caught me when I was about to head home. I’d just unloaded a shipment of rum and I was tired, but she made me feel guilty . . .”
“I’ll bet,” Astrid muttered beneath her breath as they waited for a nosy woman to pass. “Then what? They stuck a gun to your head when you walked in the door?”
“No.” Bo leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. “Sylvia was already half cut when I got there. Amy poured us all drinks. I had a couple.”
Oh God. Was he really telling her this? One look at her squared jaw and he wanted to race out of the store like a coward. He put his hat back on.
“I won’t lie. It was exciting—for all of ten minutes.”
“My, my. Virile and efficient. Aren’t you just the epitome of manhood.”
“The truth is, I didn’t actually go through with it, not with both of them. Only Sylvia. Amy was just . . . a bystander. Do you understand?”
“I don’t know if want to.”
“Look, I sobered up the minute it was over and couldn’t get out of there fast enough. It took months for Sylvia and me to get back to acting normal around each other and just be friends. And I haven’t so much as kissed her hand since—hers or anyone else’s. There’s been no one for years. Not. One. Single. Kiss. I swear it, Astrid.”
She considered this, her face softening slightly, but he could see her fighting it. He ducked his head lower to look into her eyes. She turned a haughty cheek toward him but didn’t pull away, so he spoke in her ear. “Can you say the same?”
The accusation vibrated between them. Her face twisted up. She tried to turn around, but he grabbed her shoulders. A nearby shopper gasped, and he looked up to see someone talking to a matronly store manager and nodding in their direction.
That’s all he needed, to get thrown in jail for accosting a blond woman in a department store. He grabbed Astrid’s hand and dragged her through round racks of clothes, behind the mannequins, searching for privacy. Three curtained doorways lined the wall, and a memory flashed back to him of Astrid’s naked body stepping from behind the changing screen.
He’d never been able to get that damned image out of his head.
Red curtains were drawn on two of the three fitting rooms. A white-haired attendant with a measuring tape draped around her neck was standing guard, waiting to help customers who needed tailoring. Someone called her, and she turned to answer. Seizing the moment, Bo pulled Astrid into the last fitting room and yanked the curtain closed.
It was spacious here, bigger than his own room back at the Magnussons’ home. Gilded floral wallpaper and two stuffed chairs circled a long mirror.
He released his grip, shook away the memory, and pinned her with his eyes. “Go on. Fair is fair. I told you about Sylvia and Amy. Now you tell me about Professor Luke.”
A low whine buzzed in the back of her throat as she backed away, heading toward the changing screen. “Bo . . .”
“Three months ago. You were practically bragging about it in your letters, throwing it my face! How do you think that made me feel? I prayed to every divinity in the universe that I was wrong—that nothing really happened. But now that I see your face, I know it’s true. You lost your virginity to a college professor you barely even knew!”