Книга - Prohibited!

Prohibited!
Delancey Stewart


Darkest secrets of the Bright Young Things…In 1920s New York, uptown debutante Evie McKenzie can see that the world is changing. And while her parents may think she’s destined for a life of quiet conversation and polite society, she is determined to roar with the twenties - whatever the cost!Evie knows she should really be getting her beauty sleep and dreaming of Roger White, the straight-laced Yale graduate her parents have chosen for her. Instead, she’s been heading out to the local speakeasy…and into the arms of dangerously charming Jack Taylor.But when Evie discovers an unexpectedly wild side to Roger, he’s suddenly competition for smooth-talking Jack – and she has a decision to make. Should she appease her parents…or commit the ultimate rebellion? One thing’s for certain: Evie is going to have a lot of fun making up her mind…







The Roaring Twenties

In 1920s New York, uptown debutante Evie McKenzie can sense things are changing. She’s planning on going to college – being independent! But her parents are stuck in the old days, lining up a parade of respectable suitors, even though she’s just eighteen.

If he knew what she did at night, while she’s supposed to be getting her beauty sleep, her daddy would have a fit! His good little girl has been heading out to the local speakeasy Maison – and into the arms of dangerously charming bar owner Jack Taylor.

Evie believes her heart belongs to Jack, even though sometimes he seems a little cold. But then Yale- graduate Roger White, her parents’ choice, turns out to be a lot less strait-laced than she’d first assumed. Does this mean Roger is the right man for her? Or has Evie got a whole lot more living to do before she makes up her mind?


Prohibited!

Delancey Stewart







Copyright (#ulink_9ac18d5a-a395-51c8-8d42-588c4d23d22a)

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2015

Copyright © Delancey Stewart 2015

Delancey Stewart asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © June 2015 ISBN: 9781472094704

Version date: 2018-07-23


Contents

Cover (#u1cc614c4-82df-5022-8576-fcad4493e0e4)

Blurb (#uff034324-0d7b-56ca-8ab3-41fea910921d)

Title Page (#u27b9763d-86f3-5ca5-ba52-0a6bd5d1b81f)

Copyright (#uff9bd9e4-fbad-5f41-9912-aa6650517fe7)

Author Bio (#ub5fbc3ec-8edf-5417-bc67-29f47497a15a)

Dedication (#u0a94db50-27c9-5784-8eab-488cd9eab652)

Chapter One (#ulink_1be0a430-8dc3-518b-984f-c5bb4bed0b66)

Chapter Two (#ulink_a7ed6d4a-4a6c-5195-a87f-f033ad4d1c27)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


DELANCEY STEWART

writes contemporary romance and romantic comedy.

Stewart has lived on both coasts of the United States, in big cities and small towns. She’s been a pharmaceutical rep, a fitness trainer and a direct sales representative for a wine importer, but she has always been a writer first.

A military spouse and the mother of two small boys, her current job titles include pirate captain, monster hunter, Lego assembler, homework helper, and story reader. She tackles all these efforts at her current home outside Washington D.C.

Find her at www.delanceystewart.com (http://www.delanceystewart.com)


This book is dedicated to New York City and all of its inhabitants, past, present, and future. NYC is my favorite place in the world (so far) and I will never get tired of exploring its magic.


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_e227264f-5116-548a-a10d-00d80d2c4444)

Evelyn McKenzie didn’t mind the frigid air that blew up under her skirt as much as the possibility that old Buck’s eyes were seeing something they shouldn’t. Of course, that was the risk you ran when you decided to climb out of a second story window and down a ladder in your finest.

“Buck, I hope you haven’t got those cheaters aimed this way,” she called down as she gripped the ladder rung and started down. “Daddy would have a fit if he knew you’d seen me in a compromising way.”

“Miss, your daddy’d have a fit for lotsa things right now,” Buck said, helping Evelyn down the last few rungs and pulling her soft fur coat close under her chin. “The first might be that rouge you’ve got on your lips or the length of your dress. The last would be that old Buck is helping his one and only daughter sneak out to a gin mill in the middle of the night.” Buck shook his head as he helped Evelyn toward the car.

It was easy enough to ignore Buck’s stern tone. He’d agreed to help her, after all, and that was all that mattered in the end. Evelyn settled into the back seat of the car and squinted into a tiny mirror, touching up her lipstick while Buck got it started. She’d made him park all the way down 70th Street, so the racket from the car starting up wouldn’t wake her parents.

“You ready, Miss Evie?”

It was with only a shred of guilt that Evelyn nodded her head enthusiastically and watched Buck slide behind the wheel, his thick coat pulled tight around him against the chill November night. Buck wasn’t a young man, after all. But he’d always had a soft spot for Evie, and she knew that the old man would do anything for her—with the right type of persuasion, at least, and a flask full of that would be in his hands as soon as they got to the club.

Buck had been with the McKenzie family since Evelyn was born. He’d started as a butler, and as cars had come into fashion, he’d become the family driver. In reality, he was much more like an uncle to Evelyn, who had no brothers or sisters. Buck had been protector, friend, and playmate to the poor little rich girl as she’d grown up in the elaborate life her parents had constructed for her.

They crossed town quickly—there was little traffic at this hour—and Buck guided the car up behind a row of others parked along 53rd Street. Evelyn waited for Buck to open the door and help her down, and then skipped away from him toward a group of men gathered on the sidewalk.

“Be right back, Buckie!” she called.

He followed, just a few steps behind her.

“Gents,” Evelyn called to the men lingering outside a descending stairway. “Jack around?”

“Sure he is, Miss Evie,” one of the men said, tipping his hat and bowing slightly. “You go right on in.”

Evelyn knew that Buck was behind her, just as surely as she knew that as soon as she was out of his sight, he’d climb into the back of the car to wait for her to return, pulling his collar up against the frigid fingers of wind dancing tiny circles along New York’s sidewalks. And she knew both of those things as surely as she knew that Buck wouldn’t judge her for pretending—even for one night—that her life wasn’t preordained.

Stepping through the door at Maison was like walking into another world, and it was easy to forget all about her driver, her daddy, and pretty much anything else an uptown debutante should be keeping in her mind at midnight in New York City. None of it mattered once Evelyn had shed her coat and set eyes on Jack Taylor.

Jack Taylor was a beautiful specimen of a man. He was tall, but not lanky and thin. His dark hair waved perfectly from the part in the center and made the bright blue eyes sparkle under dark brows. Evelyn sat on a tall stool near the bar and watched him across the dance floor talking with the bandleader. She took in the perfectly pressed jacket and trousers, which hung on his body the way tinsel dressed a Christmas tree—as an accessory—and had the same thought she always did when she saw him. Here was a man who was perfect and complete unto himself. Anything he added to that package—from a hat to his patent shoes—was unnecessary. But the clothes did quite a bit to complete the picture, Evelyn thought, as memories of their first meeting began to play through her mind.

She’d come in the small hours, just as she had tonight. Her girlfriends Tug and Jane had gotten out, too, and it’d been their first time coming to Maison—or to any speakeasy. Jane, especially, was not the kind of girl to go against her parents’ wishes, and it had taken a lot of work to get her there. But Tug had been talking about visiting the clubs all year, ever since bumping into Texas Guinan in the ladies’ room at the Plaza. She had been enamored and decided that she needed to get out more, to expand her horizons.

“Women can do anything now, just look at Miss Guinan. She’s one of the most successful entrepreneurs in the city!”

Jack Taylor had overheard Tug’s excited banter about how easy it would be to run a speak, and had stood at the bar next to the small group of girls, a smile on his thin lips.

“I’m sure it’s really just about personality,” Tug said. “That’s what Miss Guinan said. She told me that it was about creating a dream—giving people what they want. What they know they aren’t supposed to have.”

“It’s called a fantasy,” Jack said, leaning in slightly with a wry smile. He exhaled then, still not looking at the girls, and a stream of smoke shot from his lips and lingered in front of them over the bar. “Excuse me, girls. I couldn’t help but overhear. Jack Taylor.” He turned to them then and took each girl in with an appraising up and down stare. His eyes came to rest on Evelyn and didn’t stray again. “Welcome to Maison. I’m the owner here.”

He’d bought them a round and explained that running a speak was about much more than personality, and that Texas Guinan—for all her bluster—was an excellent businesswoman. “She knows who to bribe and who to coddle,” he said. “In this town, this business is politics, pure and simple.”

Evie had watched him as he talked, her body igniting under the steady gaze of the handsome proprietor. Though he spoke to all three of them, his attention was fully on her and she’d never felt as exposed. The man before her, Jack Taylor, was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, and the way he looked at her made her feel as if his hands were already upon her. The icy blue eyes watched her, and with every second that passed, she ached for his touch. Being near Jack almost made her forget that she was practically promised to another.

After a time, he made an excuse to get away, and within minutes he had reappeared at Evie’s side.

“Would you like to see the rest of the club?” he asked, his breath hot on her neck as he spoke in a low voice in her ear.

“I shouldn’t leave the girls,” she said. Shock mingled with the intense heat that his nearness brought. She hadn’t been raised to be the kind of girl who would disappear with a man unaccompanied. But she hadn’t been raised to sneak out after midnight to visit illicit nightclubs, either.

“They’ll be fine. Toby, another drink for the ladies?” The ruddy-faced bartender jumped when his boss said jump, and drinks appeared in front of Janie and Tug within seconds. “I’ll bring your friend back in just a moment,” Jack assured them.

The girls’ eyebrows went up in question, and Evie smiled in response. “It’s okay, girls,” she said, taking Jack’s arm. His sleeve was cool and smooth under her fingers, but a heat emanated from beneath the clothing, from the entirety of the big man who was now close at her side. And under the fabric, she could feel the solidity and strength of that arm. The thought of his nearness caused a deep pull inside Evelyn, which had her blushing furiously, as Jack put his hand over hers, guiding her around the end of the bar and through a curtain into a back room. He opened one more door and led her into a small office, where a low couch sat against one wall.

“This is the heart of the operation,” he said in a low amused voice. The blue eyes were still on her, watching every breath she took.

“And you run the whole place yourself?” she asked. She wanted to come up with clever things to say, to show him her intelligence and pep. But words were not at the forefront of her mind with his face so near to her exposed shoulder.

As if reading her mind, Jack ran a finger over the skin on her shoulder and then let the finger trace the line of her dress strap. “I do run it myself, yes. It can be a…lonely operation at times.”

She’d shuddered involuntarily at the combination of his touch and the thought of him needing comfort.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he said. “I hope you’ll come visit us again soon.” He’d put his lips on her then, gently dragging them along the path his finger had traced, letting them glance over her skin, soft as a feather but accompanied by his hot breath.

Evie had felt like she might burst as tension coiled inside her, begging for some kind of release.

“I’d better return you to your friends, Miss…?”

“Evelyn. Evie.”

“I’m Jack.” He leaned in and let those perfect lips graze her own, lightly. It wasn’t a kiss—not really—more of a promise. Or a claim.

Jack returned Evie to her stool next to her friends who stared openly, mouths agape.

“Are you all right?” Jane asked, placing a hand on Evie’s forehead. “You’re awfully flushed.”

“I’m fine,” Evie breathed, swallowing the rest of her drink in one long swallow.

She had said she was fine, but she worried that Jack had ignited something within her that might never stop burning. And at that moment, she had felt willing to do almost anything to feed that hungry fire simmering in her belly.

Toby broke Evie’s recollection of her first night with Jack with an eager smile. “Evenin’, Miss Evie!”

She smiled back and then slid her flask across the polished bar top to him. “For my driver please, Toby,” she said.

“Sure thing.” He filled the flask and handed it back across to her. “You are looking particularly lovely tonight. Jack Taylor is a lucky man.”

She smiled. “I’ll be right back.” She ran back up to the top of the stairs, where Buck waited in the small crowd of men, beating his hands against his legs for warmth.

“Here you go, Buck.” She handed him the flask. “I won’t be long. Don’t get into trouble now.”

“That goes for you, too, Miss.” He dropped the flask into his coat pocket and she felt him watch her go back inside.

Jack had moved from the band platform while Evie had been outside, and a ridiculous anxiety at not seeing him made her jumpy as she returned to the bar. Toby had put a drink in front of her spot and gave her a wink as she wrapped her fingers around the cool glass. She swiveled her head, searching the small dance floor, the tables set around it. Where had Jack gone?

“Hello, gorgeous,” came a low voice behind her, hot breath on the back of her neck. Jack had a way of slinking around and appearing from nowhere. Evelyn supposed that was a useful skill for one running an illegal business. She’d been seeing him just over a month and still hadn’t gotten used to his sudden appearances at her side.

She tried to turn to face him, hungry for the bright blue eyes, wanting to feel them upon her, but his strong hands were on her upper arms, keeping her facing away from him. His lips landed on her neck, just along the knob of her spine, and she gasped at the sensation as his tongue grazed her skin. After another moment of exquisite torture, he released her and she turned.

“Jack,” she breathed.

“Darling.” He embraced her then, kissing both cheeks and smiling down at her. “I’m so glad you came tonight. It was beginning to be lonely here.”

Evelyn looked around. The eyes of several well-dressed women were on Jack, and she had a feeling that this man was rarely lonely unless it was by choice. “Well, I can’t stay too long,” she said. “But I did want to see you.”

“Wonderful,” Jack said. “Let’s find a more intimate space to talk.” A drink appeared in front of him, and he picked it up as he guided Evelyn to a low table in the corner. The lighting was dim and the sound of the band playing required the table’s occupants to sit close, heads together, in order to talk. It was perfect.

“Is your father still foisting suitors on you, darling?” Jack asked as they settled.

“I don’t want to talk about them,” she said. Since she’d debuted last year, her father had been single-mindedly dragging every marriageable man in Manhattan to the townhouse for Evelyn to meet. She’d never tell Jack that he’d finally settled on one and was pushing Roger White upon her with all the subtlety of an avalanche. “I’m so tired of taking tea and ear loads of baloney from my father’s favorite bachelors.”

“That’s no fun, is it?” Jack was smiling, but his voice was dark, laden with something deeper.

Evie looked up at him and felt herself warm. It was jealousy she saw burning in the blue eyes, she was sure of it, and surprised. She was never sure what she meant to Jack, and she never let herself get too close. He was just for fun, she reminded herself. A taste of something exotic before she was forced to live with vanilla every day.

Jack took her hand across the table. “You should marry one of ‘em. Settle down. Be respectable.” His words were saying one thing, but his thumb was rubbing small circles on Evelyn’s wrist, the blue eyes still blazing, and the message Evelyn got was far different from the one he spoke.

“I’m too young for that,” she said. “Times are different. My parents are just too pent-up in those stone walls to notice.” Her words were tougher than she felt. Though she had no intention of being married off anytime soon, she knew it would be an uphill battle with her parents on the other side.

Jack scooted closer to Evelyn, his hand still holding hers gently on the tabletop, while his other hand slid up her leg, feather-light fingers grazing her knee and skimming under the hemline of her skirt.

Heat began to climb Evelyn’s neck and she felt as if she wanted to squirm or jump—or climb into Jack’s lap—to relieve the tension that was building in her. As his hand came to rest high up on her thigh, the warmth of his palm spreading to regions just slightly higher and causing her whole body to vibrate, Jack’s mouth was hovering just inches from hers. Evelyn could feel his hot breath on her neck, her chin—a mixture of alcohol and peppermint. Her eyes landed on those thin, sculpted lips and, without thinking, she darted her tongue out to wet her own mouth.

Jack groaned and leaned in, his mouth meeting hers.

Evelyn gasped, her mind spinning. Jack had never kissed her before quite like this—not in public, not with such ardor. He’d grazed her lips, held her hand. She’d seen other couples kiss like this, but had never imagined that she’d sit in a public place—where anyone could see—and let a man kiss her so openly. While her mind fought, chastising her for the indecency of it all, her body responded, pressing itself into Jack’s arms. His hand climbed higher under her skirt, pulling her toward him as his mouth claimed her. The kiss wasn’t tentative. It was brutal and overwhelming, Jack’s tongue pushing into Evelyn’s mouth, sweeping through her defenses and owning her. She disintegrated under his hands, his will. And when he released her, moving away to adjust his tie, she leaned forward, spent.

If she’d wondered how Jack Taylor felt about her before tonight, she wondered no more. His eyes sparkled with the clear knowledge that she wanted him—badly. And Evelyn could see that he wanted her, too. She didn’t know what his long-term intentions might be, but she knew what was possible in the short term, and it both frightened and excited her.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said, taking a long draw from his drink. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Jack,” she breathed, trying to sound coy. Before she could find an appropriately clever thing to say, they were interrupted by one of the men who worked at the club with Jack.

“Cops down the street, Jack. Better move.”

“Get out of here, baby. Better keep your nose clean. Will you come see me again soon?” He was already standing.

“Sure I will.”

Jack pulled Evelyn roughly from the booth and kissed her once more, quickly, but with no less passion. Though her knees threatened to give out, Evelyn collected her coat and dashed up the steps to the street.

Buck was just pulling from the curb as she saw a group of policemen gather out in front of Maison. She hoped Jack would be okay.


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_7de8ef5e-41a9-51e1-86ed-016d8a41f248)

“Darling, it’s almost time to go, remember we’re going to tea at the …” Evelyn’s mother stopped in the door, her mouth hanging slightly open as Evelyn willed her eyelids to open.

“You’re still in bed? What on Earth?” Mrs. McKenzie rushed to her bedside, a pale hand extended and ready to pat her daughter down for signs of fever.

Evelyn batted the hand away and pulled her quilt higher over her shoulder. “I’m not sick. I’m just tired.”

“Oh, poor dear. Still not sleeping well? Shall I telephone the Whites and tell them we can’t come to tea? You shouldn’t be out in this cold, risking exhaustion and …”

“Mother, stop.” Evelyn’s mother had a tendency to work herself into a frenzy over the smallest shred of evidence that something terrible might happen. Once, when she found a mosquito bite on Evelyn’s arm as a child, she had quarantined the house and alerted everyone in the neighborhood that Evie had smallpox, essentially kidnapping the doctor and practically holding him hostage when he didn’t give her the diagnosis she expected. It took him an hour to convince her that her daughter would be fine, and by then Mrs. McKenzie had worked herself into such a state that she had to take to her own bed for several days afterward. “I’m fine, Mother. I just overslept.”

“Oh…oh dear, well …” Mrs. McKenzie stood up and wrung her hands, her small feet clicking against the hardwood as she paced in circles. She was not a woman who did well when things did not go according to plan.

“Mother,” Evelyn said, rising from her bed and shivering in the morning cold as gooseflesh climbed her limbs. “Give me ten minutes to clean up and dress. We’ll be right on time for tea, and I promise to be pleasant and charming and full of pep. But please, let me be for ten minutes.” She ushered her mother back to the door of her room as she spoke, and shut it behind her, leaving her mother in the hallway.

Evelyn moaned and put a hand to her head. “Oy.” Too much gin. A smile crossed her face at the memory of Jack’s hands on her leg, his mouth on hers. It was worth the headache. She swallowed a headache tablet, kept on her dressing table for just such an occasion, and set about the task of making herself look presentable for her parents’ friends and her future husband—if her father had his way. As promised, she was downstairs, dressed like a demure society daughter in a long blue dress, ten minutes later.

“You look lovely, darling,” her mother said, having recovered from her shock at finding Evie still in bed at 11 a.m. “Shall we go?”

“Of course,” Evelyn said, allowing Buck to help her into her coat as she gave him a quick wink.

“You look well today, Miss Evie,” Buck said, a smile in his voice.

“Thanks, Buckie.” She hoped he’d managed to get some sleep after he’d helped her back into her window the night before.

“I do hope you’ll behave,” Evelyn’s mother said. “Roger will be there.” She left it at that, but offered a raised eyebrow to Evelyn, which translated loosely to “be on your best behavior because I am about to parade you about like a marriageable show dog.”

Ever since her parents had gotten wind that the Whites’ son, Roger, would be graduating Yale at the end of the year, they’d practically forced Evelyn down the throats of his family. Evelyn, for her part, didn’t find Roger unattractive or less-than-compelling even. She kept her distance mostly due to her parents’ complete lack of distance. She’d only ever sat across from him at luncheons, made vague small talk at teas. And yet, their parents together seemed convinced that a ring would be in the offing in a matter of months. To Evelyn’s parents, she was already engaged.

“Very well.” Evelyn sighed. She was tired of being on show. She wasn’t sure she had ever truly been in love, but whatever lay between Jack Taylor and her was close enough for now. But how could she tell her parents that their dreams of marrying her into another wealthy Upper East Side family were about to be shattered by her desire for the proprietor of a gin mill? She leaned heavily into the firm seat of the car, replaying her ride home the night before. She’d swaddled herself in her fur, letting Jack’s scent engulf her as his cologne lingered on her throat, her arms. She wanted to lose herself in that man completely—his rough determination, sheathed in the perfectly tailored suits and elegance of the club. He was like a tiger concealed in fine clothing—she loved the ferocity she sensed just beneath the surface. The idea sent a thrill through her, and she sat up suddenly in the back seat.





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