Page 29

“I think that’s enough driving for the day. Go ahead and turn it off.”

She turned off the ignition, then looked over at him, afraid of what she might see.

“Jack, I⁠—”

“Excellent driving today,” he interrupted.

So, they weren’t going to talk about this. Fine. She could pretend it never happened if he could. “Thank you for the lesson.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, staring fixedly into the middle distance.

“I’ll see you later, Jack.” She put a hand on his arm. He flinched, and she drew it back.

What a mess.

As she started to open the car door to get out, he jumped out of the passenger seat and rushed around the car to open it for her. He only flinched a little when she took his hand to get down. She let go as quickly as she could and hurried into the house without looking back.

Her sisters were in the midst of a loud argument in the parlor. Normally, she would intervene, but instead, she continued upstairs to the third floor and headed straight for her room, shutting the door behind her.

Slipping off her shoes, she sat down on the narrow bed with its pink-and-blue floral chintz bedspread. It took up the entire back wall of her small bedroom. She pulled open the blue curtains, tucked her knees beneath her, and turned to look out the back window. Her head rested against the frame as she stared out at the treehouse in the elm in Jack’s yard. The branch it was on stretched to the Pritchard yard too, and rope ladders hung on both sides of the fence. She’d gazed at that treehouse a thousand times, imagining a romance that wasn’t meant to be.

And today, Jack had almost kissed her. Why would he do such a thing? Or did he even do it? Everything was such a muddle. And what did it mean about her and Doug that looking into Jack’s eyes bowled her over in a way that even Doug’s kiss hadn’t? Maybe it was time to call things off with Doug. But what then? Jack was all wrong for her and always had been.

Her ridiculous infatuation with Jack had gone too far. She couldn’t afford to moon over a man who never showed the slightest interest in her except as a friend. And even if he was interested, which she didn’t think was possible, he was still Ernie’s best friend. Not to mention that he was a pilot. Her family needed her to choose someone safe, especially with Ernie and Millie both working in such a risky profession. Her brother had always been adamant that she stay away from pilots, as had Jack for that matter. And she agreed.

Falling in love with a pilot meant risking her heart every time he walked out the door to go to work. She already worried enough with her brother in the air every week. And then there was her family. Pop didn’t make much as a preacher. If it wasn’t for Ernie, they would have lost the house after Pop’s accident all those years ago. It was time for her to do her part for Mom and Pop, for Prudence and Verity. Marrying Doug would give them all security for years to come and take some of the pressure off Ernie.

Tears trickled down her cheeks, though she couldn’t quite say what she was crying over. This was all silly, really—a misunderstanding. There would be some awkwardness with Jack, but it would pass. They would be friends again. Wouldn’t they?

Taking a deep breath, she wiped away her tears. She had a date with Doug in the afternoon and needed to get ready. Climbing off the bed, she turned her attention to the tall, well-used oak wardrobe in the corner and started looking through her dresses. She wasn’t going to give Jack another thought today. Not a single one.

11

Oh Christ. Jack had been a whisper away from losing all control. Constance felt so right in his arms, and her soft lips were right there. And the way she looked at him…

Of course, she had no idea what she was doing to him. She couldn’t have meant anything by that look. Those big brown eyes of hers were going to be the death of him.

She was oblivious to the effect she had on men, and he’d gone to great lengths to keep it that way. Poor thing thought she’d done something wrong when the fault was all his.

Him and his depraved mind that couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like to kiss her beautiful lips, hold her warm body against his own, caress every curve, and make her his, fully his, in every way.

His pants tightened at the very thought.

Airplane engines, calisthenics, President Wilson…

“You. Will. Never. Touch. Constance,” he growled at his prick to no avail.

Ice blocks, the Himalayas, his parents, his grandparents, Ernie…

Breathing deeply, he managed to get his arousal to subside at last. But if he sat there alone, it was only a matter of time before his mind would wander down forbidden paths again.

He needed company, distraction, anything to get him out of his own head. Grabbing his chess board, he headed out to the car and drove into Manhattan to the American Flying Club on East Thirty-eighth Street. It was early in the day, but there was always someone hanging around, ready to shoot the breeze.

Parking his car on the residential street, he looked up to the white townhouse that housed the club. This place was practically a second home to him. Or a third home, if he counted the Pritchards’. Before the disaster with Myrtle, he’d been a regular visitor, but after the break-up, it became the center of his social life. He got out of the car and headed up the front steps.

The door opened before he had a chance to ring the bell. “Mr. Thompson! A pleasure to see you again,” said a young man with big green eyes, a face full of freckles, and bright red hair. One sleeve of his suit jacket was neatly pinned up to the shoulder. Not everyone made it through the war in one piece.

“Good to see you, Nick! How’s business?”