Chapter 25 New York City, 1928—Bastien
Bastien woke in the dark, his body cushioned by a soft mattress as he snuggled beneath a thick wool blanket.
His mind, however, was a jumble of thoughts and images, none of which made sense.
He knew only that he was safe. The knowledge was the single point of clarity in his confusion until the fresh smells of summer and sun-warmed sheets drifted over him.
Then, from beyond his personal cocoon, he heard a woman’s voice.
“Papa, it’s okay… He’s sleeping… His leg hurt, and he needed to rest without worrying about where he was or if he was safe… Yes, sir… We’ll be there around nine… Yes, he’ll bring his saxophone… I love you, too.”
Bastien knew the truth—Kaitlyn Kenzie McSorley was the angel of mercy who had soothed his soul while he rested in her arms. Her arrival had dramatically reordered his world, spinning his life on its axis for the second time in just a few hours.
Rolling onto his back, he drew a deep, restorative breath, straining to hear the light footsteps on the hallway boards, consumed with anxious anticipation for the moment the door would finally open.
When it did, he sighed, “My angel returns.”
“Is that who I am?” Her melodic voice flowed gently over the jagged edges of his memories.
He whispered, “For now and always.”
“For now? Yes. Always? I can’t speculate.”
She crossed to the other side and lay beside him.
“I woke up and remembered I hadn’t called Papa.
He knew we were together but was on pins and needles waiting to hear about our search.
” Bastien pulled her closer, and she lay her head on his chest. “I don’t know where to put my leg,” she said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Anywhere you want.”
She slung it over Bastien’s thighs. “How’s this?”
He cleared his throat. “It’s comfortable and sexy and—”
She kissed him. “I promise not to take advantage of you.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, his voice raspy.
“In case you’re wondering. I’ve never brought a man home with me before. But I knew I could trust you.”
“Because I’m a one-legged time traveler who can’t chase you around the apartment? Or because I’m Remy’s friend, and your trust in him extends to me?”
“Both.” Her eyes smiled, both warm and engaging. “I’m teasing. That you’re missing part of your leg doesn’t matter to me at all, other than how it affects you, like the pain you were having earlier. That bothered me, and I wanted to make it better somehow.”
“You are my angel of mercy.”
She trailed her fingers along his jawline, studying his features in the half-light as he studied hers. “Maybe,” she said, “but I’m limited in what I can do for you.”
He caught her hand and kissed her palm as he breathed her in. “You’ve done much more than any woman has since my injury. Maybe ever.”
She reclaimed her hand and tiptoed her fingers down his neck and shoulder, kneading the muscles as she explored. “I bet when you and Remy go out for the evening, you have women on both arms.”
For an instant, the veil lifted from her leaf green eyes, and what Bastien saw there struck him a physical blow.
Her gaze, raw and unfiltered, held a terrifying tangle of compassion and naked, untamed yearning.
On some level, he felt the cold sweat of fear, and on another, he knew he was the luckiest son of a bitch to be the object of that searing, authentic gaze.
“I can’t deny that was our modus operandi in the past, but now when we go out, we eat and connect like two old warriors. Women aren’t involved.”
“Remy doesn’t go out to meet women?”
“I didn’t say that.” Bastien chuckled in quiet satisfaction. “When he goes out to look for companionship, either a friend fixes him up, or he goes to a familiar bar where women know him and are always raring to entertain him.”
“He needs someone special.”
“I won’t disagree.” Being with Kaitlyn jolted Bastien into understanding his own deep need for someone special. Had this longing lived in him all along, brought to light by her, or was it the overwhelming force of Kaitlyn herself, his desire for her and no other, that created this yearning?
She moved her leg, adjusting herself against him, not provocatively, but to get comfortable on her side. His dick sprang to life. There was no hiding his erection now.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
He gave her a tender kiss and then smiled. “It happens. I can’t control it. He knows I have a beautiful, sexy woman in my arms and wants to be part of the action.”
A fringe of long lashes swept her cheek, hiding a vulnerable flicker, before lifting with the stark, unwavering focus of a drawn bow.
“It’s early yet. I wanted you to be comfortable.
” Her voice gained a hard edge of conviction.
“I didn’t set out to seduce—or to be seduced.
That would be out of character for me. But you,” she leaned in, the intensity of her gaze absolute, “you speak directly to my soul. Your presence has given my life new meaning, and in a way, I’m fighting to hold on to you.
I’m terrified that if I let you out of my sight, you’ll vanish.
Then all I’ll have left is a story to tell, like Papa’s.
And I don’t want that. I’m planting my feet and hardening my spine. I want to be in the story.”
Their eyes locked, a silent, desperate battle for clarity, mirroring the turmoil within them both. “Am I making any sense?”
The slight catch in her breath was a potent cocktail of spoken truths and telling omissions that fired his curiosity into a blaze.
Time, he realized with a jolt of panic, was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
Ambiguity was a fool’s game, a slow death.
He continued staring at her, the potential loss hitting him like a physical blow.
He pushed past his trepidation, the words a high-stakes gamble. “If I discover a way back to my time, do you want to come with me?”
She rolled onto her back and breathed in and out deeply. “Papa’s mother and brother left him, and he thrived, but if I went, he’d be alone, and I could never do that.”
He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his knuckles grazing her flushed cheek. “You answered the wrong question.”
She curled onto her side, resting her chin in her palm. “What’s the right one?”
“Do you want to go home with me? Not, will you go home with me?”
“Oh, I see the difference. I can desire to go to your time, knowing that I never would. Then yes. I want to go to your time.”
“If Remy and Patrick could come here to rescue Aislinn, they must have a brooch that allows them to travel back and forth. And if they can come and go, so can you.”
“If that’s possible, I’d go in a heartbeat.”
He doubted she’d be able to leave the future after experiencing the advancements, especially for women.
“Why are you grimacing? Are you in pain?”
“No, I’m okay.” His stomach growled, and he patted his belly.
“Your stomach disagrees with you.”
“That’s par for the course. But since I don’t have a car or any money, do you have a favorite restaurant where you’d like to take me to dinner?”
“I’m sure I can come up with something.”
“I heard you tell Tony we’d be there about nine. What time is it now?”
“Seven.”
He did a quick calculation. “That’s an hour to eat and thirty minutes to drive to the Lower East Side.
That gives us thirty minutes to get ready.
Can you do that?” He swept her against him, and the magnetic pull of their connection made him feel intensely physical and deeply emotional.
He held her, an anchor against the tide, not wanting her to move—ever.
“Depends on where we’re going. If we go to dinner, then to the saloon, and the evening ends there, I won’t dress up. If we go to the clubs after you play, I’ll wear something dressier, which will take me longer to get ready.”
“I’d like to go to Connie’s Inn, especially if Louis Armstrong is there. Do we need reservations?”
“It’s too late to get them, but I could call in a favor.”
“A woman who can call in a favor is my kind of woman.” A grin cracked his face, a raw, unnerving thing. He was terrified by the seismic shift within him, by the sudden, desperate pull that demanded more than just a fleeting moment—it demanded a lifetime, a future irrevocably tied to hers.
She tried to roll free, but he simply reached out and lightly pulled her back against him. “Where are you going?”
“To get ready.”
“Wait five minutes.”
A sigh of sheer pleasure escaped her, and her eyes fluttered closed.
Bastien couldn’t resist. He captured her lips with a soft kiss, losing himself there as heat surged through his belly and chest, neck and face.
He ran a finger along her lower lip before kissing her again, controlled passion rising between them.
“Hmmm. If I give you five, I’ll ask for five in return, and we’ll go back and forth until it’s nine o’clock. By then, Papa will call to find out where we are.”
“We don’t want to upset Tony.”
“He won’t care, Bastien, but I do. He wants you at the saloon. It’s important to him.”
A powerful ache bloomed in his chest, and he reluctantly let her go. “Go get ready. We’ll eat biscuits at the saloon. If we get into Connie’s, we’ll eat a big dinner there.”
She studied him for a moment, head tilted, concern flickering across her face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I was being selfish.”
She softened. “We’re all entitled to selfish moments.”
He shook his head. “Not at someone else’s expense.” His gaze dropped, then lifted again. “Tony gave me a lifeline last night. I can’t abuse it.”
She considered that, lips pressing together briefly. Then she met his eyes. “Give me forty-five minutes.”
His brows rose, hope creeping in. “Does that mean I can go back to sleep?”
She didn’t smile. “No.”
He fought the powerful impulse to keep her near and claim more fervent kisses. Instead, he let her set the pace. It was fine for her to control the tempo for now.
A playful smile danced on her lips as she flicked a kiss off her fingertips. “I’d love to hear you play.”
“Your wish is my command. But before I do that, I want to get the packages out of the car so I can wear a tux tonight.”
She pointed across the room. “I brought in all the packages and hung the suits and shirts. Your things and Papa’s created a confusing jumble. I couldn’t tell them apart.”
“Most of them are mine. I owe Tony a lot of money.”
“He doesn’t want your money.”
“I know, but I need to pay my way. It’s a guy thing.”
“Then, by all means, stand in Times Square and play your heart out. I’ll pass around a tin cup.”
“That’s not a bad idea. I could easily make enough money to pay for dinner if I timed it right.”
She headed toward the door. “I won’t have as much sympathy for you if you do that. Your leg will hurt again, and you’ll probably catch a cold.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
She turned to leave, but he stopped her. “Kaitlyn, why does it feel like I’ve known you all my life? I’ve never been so comfortable with a woman—ever. After I lost my leg, I never thought it would be possible.”
She hugged the door, giving him a dreamy gaze.
“I feel like I’ve known you all my life, too, and I think it’s because of Remy.
You wouldn’t be alive if he hadn’t been there to save you.
What he and Patrick did for Papa gave him a new life, resulting in a wonderful marriage and a child.
I’ve always loved your friends. And you get the benefit of that. ”
“So if they’d been assholes, I’d be sleeping on the street right now.”
She made a face. “No, more likely, you’d be dead, and I would never have been born.”
Bastien thought about that for two seconds. “Thank God Remy has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.”
“So do you, darling.” She laughed with easy contentment.
And as her light footsteps tapped a brisk cadence down the hallway boards, every muscle in his body urged him to go after her, stop her—and then what?
He had the sudden mental image of sweeping her off her feet, holding her lush body against him, then bending in and capturing her sassy mouth with a proper kiss, no more of this little pecking back-and-forth crap.
The echo of her laughter faded in the bathtub’s splashing water, but his mental image of her in his arms remained a burning light.