“Chicago, huh?” Hendrik offered a crooked smile. “I’d better get busy finding you a reason to stay.”

Heat again overtook my cheeks. I lowered my gaze and forced down more of my Chianti. Though Prohibition ended back in ’33, indulging never personally held appeal, yet that evening, when Hendrik splurged on the wine, I tried for a sophisticated air.

If nothing else, it helped tame my nerves as we sat close at the performance—full of enjoyable if relatively basic acts—and afterward when readying for our drive home. Parked on a side street behind the theater, we were seated snugly in his Model T when he asked permission for a kiss. A subtle waft of his Aqua Velva was even more intoxicating than the wine, the moment as exhilarating as a thousand fantasies I’d had of this very scene.

What followed strayed far from those visions.

Hendrik’s kisses were a bit more aggressive than expected—to be fair, we did flirt for years, and my attraction all evening had likely been overt—but that wasn’t what startled me most. It was that the reality of the encounter felt starkly empty. Something had doused every spark within me, a frustrating and confusing thing—obviously also to Hendrik, who didn’t take long to accept his cue to embark on our lengthy, awkward drive.

Silently I questioned what was wrong with me. I’d spent so much time longing for this handsome, athletic charmer who’d always been out of reach…

Or had that unconsciously been the appeal? Was that why any available fellows had failed to pique my interest?

Maybe, in truth, I was broken after all.

Chapter 23

“You’re late.”

I’d barely entered the house after leaving Hendrik, only to be greeted by Arie. Between the davenport and lamplit window, he stood in undershirt and trousers. His being home wasn’t a surprise; he bused back most weekends to work at the factory and help with perpetual house repairs. But typically he wouldn’t hover like a sentry on post. “Last I checked,” he said, “you still have a curfew.”

With his parents gone for the weekend to visit an ill friend, I hadn’t fretted over running an hour behind, and now Arie was trying to amuse me by playing the strict parent.

I wasn’t in the mood.

“Arie, please don’t. It’s been a long night. I just want to go to bed.” Grasping my purse with both hands, I turned for the hallway.

“First you’ll tell me where the hell you’ve been.” His raised voice, underscored by his language, snapped me around to find his expression just as sharp.

Good grief. He wasn’t fooling.

“I was…out. On a date. With Hendrik.”

“Yeah,” he said, impatient, closing in on me. “Saw your note. I want to know where.”

Flustered, I tried to remember. “I don’t know. Just some restaurant.”