Bitter Spirits (Roaring Twenties #1)(100)

She’d been performing in-home séances every weekend since the wedding, and was solidly booked with private sessions at the shop on weekdays. Admittedly, a few of them were pro bono, as she’d somehow ended up taking on half of Ju’s prostitutes as clients. First it was only Sook-Yin, with whom Aida had come to share a friendly, if not odd, relationship, then came others. They paid collaboratively in custom dresses. Not a bad deal, actually.

But between them and all the customers Mrs. Lin sent her way from Golden Lotus, and the ones Velma sent her way from Gris-Gris, Aida stayed busy. Exhaustion was taking its toll. She’d retired the lancet after that horrible night on Doctor Yip’s docked ship, which was a relief. Yet funnily enough, getting a business up and running was turning out to be more stressful at times than performing onstage.

Concerned about recent changes in her health, Winter finally put his foot down.

“The holidays were stressful,” she told Mrs. Lin, “and I have a lot of things to manage at home until the spring.” It wasn’t entirely untrue.

“Spring? Why so long?”

She would actually be on hiatus until summer, but she wasn’t ready to give Mrs. Lin the details yet. “Mr. Magnusson’s brother is coming back from Egypt today, and—”

“Oh, the archaeologist, very exciting. You will meet him for the first time.”

“Yes. I’m a little nervous about that.”

Mrs. Lin gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “He should be nervous to meet you. But I understand”—she narrowed her eyes suspiciously—“I think.”

“You have the phone number at the house and pier. Call me anytime you need me. And if Winter gives you any grief, tell him it’s an emergency.”

Mrs. Lin laughed. “All right. And you tell Bo Yeung the girls at the restaurant are missing his charming smile.”

“And his big tips, I’m sure.” Bo hadn’t spent much time at the apartment he kept in Chinatown since the fire in her room; lately, Winter had been keeping him busy at the pier. “I’ll tell him when I get home.”

With a smile, Mrs. Lin patted her hand, then bid her good-bye as she left.

Not a minute later, right on time, a silver Packard pulled up by the curb. Aida watched two boys go out of their way to walk around the big man who exited the driver’s door, and chuckled to herself as they looked over their shoulders to study him from a safe distance.

Winter strode to the door, pausing to tip his hat to the owner of a neighboring tea shop, where mah-jongg tiles clicked for hours every afternoon.

The bell above the door jingled when he stepped inside. Aida’s stomach fluttered at the sight of his giant body. Wearing a new falcon gray suit with a claret tie and his best winter day coat, he glanced down at the shop’s security protection as he wiped his feet on the doormat.

“How’s my good boy?” He bent to scratch the glossy brindle coat of a mastiff that spent days in her shop and nights curled up in front of the fire in their bedroom. The great dog had shown up one night at the pier with an injured eye. Though he’d never admit it, this won the dog Winter’s instant empathy, and after he nursed it back to health, he gave it to her with the promise that he’d dismiss the man he’d hired to watch the shop.

Not that she needed protection of any kind, really. After the brutal onslaught Winter led that night on Doctor Yip’s ship, not a soul in the city from Chinatown to the Presidio would think about touching one hair on her head.

He stood and gave her a beautiful smile. “Hello, Mrs. Magnusson.”

“Hello, Mr. Magnusson.”

“I don’t see your sign.” He nodded his head toward the door.

She held it up. “I need tape. I meant to walk up to Woolworths at lunch, but it became too hectic to get away.”

He sauntered around her desk, looking her up and down with an approving gaze. “How are you feeling?”

“A little tired, but good.”

His gloved hand spanned her ballooning stomach. Three months pregnant, she’d only barely started showing a week ago, and the black shift dress she wore covered the small bump, but it wouldn’t for long.

“You look very handsome today,” she said. Enough to make her pulse speed, especially when he was standing so close.

“Mmm,” he replied, preoccupied. “Your breasts are getting bigger.”

She looked down. “They are not.”

“Cheetah, there are few things I know with absolute certainty,” he said, sliding his hand up to cup one breast in his palm. “And one of them is the exact size, weight, and feel of your breasts.” He gave the one he was holding a gentle squeeze.

“Stop that,” she chastised. “People can see us from the sidewalk.”

“My property, my wife. They can look all they like.”

“My property,” she corrected. The shop had been purchased with money from Emmett Lane’s check, in fact. “And if you’re going to tease me, don’t be selfish. Hurry up and give the other one attention.”

He grinned down at her and fondled both breasts at once, sending a pleasant warmth through her. She shuddered appreciatively, then captured his hands and pulled them away as she stood on tiptoes to request a kiss. He chuckled against her mouth and obliged.

“Maybe we should shut the blinds and lock the door,” she said when he pulled away. “Take advantage of privacy while we have it. I’m not happy about your brother’s room being right below ours. I hope he’s a heavy sleeper.”