Perfect Timing. Джулия Кеннер
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frowned, wondering what was going on, when she once again saw Blythe and Tucker exchange looks filled with confusion and concern.
“Okay,” Sylvia said. “Enough. Why do you keep looking at each other like that? Am I talking crazy? You’re acting like I should be in the nuthouse or something.”
“This Louisa,” Tucker said. “What was her last name? Do you know?”
“Of course,” Sylvia said. “Louisa Greene. I told you. She owns the house.”
“She doesn’t,” Tucker said, looking at Blythe rather than at her. “There is no Louisa Greene. This house is owned by Irene and Carson Greene. Our parents.”
She blinked at that, trying hard to get a grip on reality. “Greene,” she repeated. “Your last name is Greene?”
“Yes.” He frowned at her, his brow creased with worry. “Miss, are you okay?”
She realized she’d put a hand to her head, and she could tell without a mirror that she was pale. “I…I guess I must just be a bit confused.” That was certainly an understatement.
“I imagine so,” he said. “As you can see, there aren’t any exhibit cases here,” he said. “They’re as mysterious as Louisa.”
“Right.” She licked her lips.
“I think you need a doctor,” he said. He looked up at his sister. “Can you go see if Anna’s managed to locate Dr. Williams?”
“Of course.” She bent down and gave Sylvia’s hand a squeeze. “Everything’s going to be fine, darling.” And then she floated out of the room, her short, beaded gown shimmering in the soft lighting.
“Flapper,” she whispered, her mind registering the clothes even before she’d realized. “Like in the exhibit room.”
“Pardon?”
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, as her heart started to pound in her chest. Her skin went cold, and she felt her insides start to tremble with a sensation that felt remarkably like an anxiety attack. Hell, maybe it was an anxiety attack. If the ridiculous theory trying to squeeze into her mind was correct, she had every reason to be anxious. “Oh, my God,” she whispered again.
“Are you all right?” His eyes were filled with so much concern that her heart nearly melted, and she was overcome with the urge to touch him. No, not just touch, but to kiss him. The urge was overwhelming for that matter, as if she might be sucked out of this world and into oblivion if she couldn’t find her footing in this man’s arms.
Prodded by some force she couldn’t control, she leaned forward, pressed her palms against his cheeks, and pressed her lips against his. Soft yet firm, his mouth moved beneath hers, first in surprise, and then in response. They kissed deeply, their tongues meeting and mating. Liquid lust pooled in her belly and between her thighs, her breasts tingling with desire, and her body weak with longing.
“Not that I’m complaining,” he said when they pulled apart, all too soon from Sylvia’s point of view. “But what was that for?”
“I needed to feel alive,” she said, only realizing as she spoke the words that they were exactly true. And that it had worked. The kiss had worked a magic on her, sending electric currents through every part of her body. Making her feel safe and alive and grounded.
She drew in a breath, still unsteady from the rush of desire. “Tucker, what day is it?”
“September tenth,” he said. “What day is the last you recall?”
“What year?” she asked, ignoring the second part of his question and tightening her hands into fists as she steeled herself for his answer.
“Nineteen twenty-three,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
But once again, she didn’t answer. Because even though she’d told herself that had to be the explanation—even though she’d expected to hear from his lips that she’d somehow traveled back in time—now that he’d said the date aloud she knew that she couldn’t open her mouth. Not right then. Not yet.
Because if she did, she’d surely scream again.
CHAPTER FOUR
DR. WILLIAMS bent over the girl, his hand clutching her wrist, his focus directed solely at his pocketwatch. The woman, Tucker noticed, also had a watch. Hers was strapped to a pink strip and wrapped around her wrist. An usual piece of adornment, to be sure. Like nothing he’d seen before, either among the women of Beverly Hills or during his European travels.
He’d almost pointed it out to Talia and Blythe, but something had caused him to hold his tongue, and by the time Blythe had looked at him, her eyes questioning and concerned, the timepiece had disappeared under the sleeve of the girl’s strange garment.
“Doctor?” the girl said. “Am I okay?”
Dr. Williams stood up, stroking his chin. “Your pulse is a bit fast, but not of a level to raise concern. Your pupils are responding properly to light and your reflexes are perfectly normal. Except for your dizzy spells and your inability to remember how you got here, I’d have to say you seem like a perfectly healthy young woman.”
“Thank you,” she said, with obvious relief.
“I do need to ask you some questions now, though. I conducted the physical examination, first, to rule out any injuries or illnesses. But now—”
“You want to check my head. I get it.”
Williams’s smile was gentle, and Tucker found himself grateful he was treating the woman with such care. Intellectually, he knew that was a ridiculous reaction. The woman had appeared mysteriously in his drawing room, dressed in dark clothes and unknown to any of his friends or guests. A logical guess was that she intended to steal from them, just as Jonathan had suggested. Their kiss, however, had told him otherwise. The press of her lips against his had been a reaction filled with need and desire, but also with honesty. And the longing that had fired his blood had been like nothing he’d experienced before.
Logic, therefore, had very little hold on Tucker at the moment. He was, quite simply, infatuated. More, he knew—from her face and from her touch—that she did not intend any harm for him or his family. She was in trouble. She needed him.
And, in truth, he needed her, too. He didn’t understand the depth of feeling that coursed through him, but he knew that it was real.
“Ask me anything,” the girl was saying to Dr. Williams.
“Do you know what your name is?”
“Sylvia,” she said, and Tucker couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t volunteer her last name.
“A pleasure to meet you, Sylvia,” Dr. Williams said. “Do you know our president?”
The girl laughed, a little nervously. “Do I look like a girl who moves in those social circles?”
Tucker laughed, and the doctor joined in.
“I don’t mean to be flip,” Sylvia said. “But I’m fine. Truly. Just a little dizzy. I was disoriented, but I’m better now.”
“But you came for Louisa,” Blythe said. “And we don’t know a Louisa.”
“I met her at a party,” Sylvia said. “Perhaps I misunderstood her last name. Or perhaps she was playing a trick on me.”
“Why would she do that?” Tucker asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Can you stand?” That from the doctor.
She drew in a breath. “I think so.” She started to climb to her feet, taking Tucker’s outstretched arm when he offered it to her. “Yes,” she said. “See, I’m much better.”