Grim Shadows (Roaring Twenties #2)(69)

A goddamn eternity.

He’d seen her briefly the previous afternoon at the museum. Too briefly. With her father recovering at home, she was handling both their workloads and juggling telephone inquiries about his health. No Oliver Ginn sightings, thank God.

She’d given him the canopic jar paintings and their list of names, since he had more time to decipher the last two jars. He’d narrowed one of them down to four possible names on the list, and once he had Velma’s magical protection in his hands, Lowe was eager to start looking for the crossbars. He’d do it alone if he had to, but he secretly hoped Hadley might be ready to continue the hunt with him. And because he was a selfish dog, he also hoped she’d soon be ready to continue putting their hands on each other.

Mostly, though—and this was the most pathetic part—he just missed her. God, was he actually moping over a woman? A cursed one, at that. With an entourage of dark spirits and a fear of being touched. Why was nothing in his life ever easy or normal?

Maybe he needed a drink.

A flickering candle cast shadows on the white linen tablecloth near his elbow. He measured his desire for a glass of gin against the effort it would take to brave the crowd at the bar. And while he considered it, his gaze fell on a woman who had stopped in the aisle a few tables down. She was accompanied by the club’s floor manager, and the two of them were scanning the room, searching for someone. Her back faced him, so he couldn’t see her face. Didn’t have to. The hem of her black dress was hiked up unevenly in the middle.

Only one ass he knew would cause a dress to defy gravity like that. And for one moment, he felt like one of those housewives who got chosen to participate in those radio game shows that are always giving away new electric washing machines for answering trivia questions.

He never knew he wanted a washing machine so badly.

Hadley turned around and her eyes locked with his. Her unrestrained smile made him want knock over tables to get to her. She gave him a little wave and ducked around club patrons to make her way toward him. Her boxy dress had short sleeves, and he suddenly realized he hadn’t seen her elbows since that night at the Flood Mansion. The ash gray bohemian silk scarf banded around her forehead and tied around the back of her jet black bob made him think of a dour fortune-teller who always gave depressing news.

God, how he loved her fatalistic sense of style. Curse or no curse, he didn’t give a damn. Every fiber of his being screamed, Her—she’s the one you want.

And damn, did he ever.

He stood as she approached the table.

“Mr. Magnusson,” the club manager said at her side. “She insisted—”

“Yes,” Lowe replied. “It’s fine, Daniels. Thank you for letting her in.”

The man nodded, a palpable relief winding through his posture as he took his leave.

“What are you doing here?” Lowe asked in a rush, suddenly worried her father’s condition might’ve taken a turn for the worse.

But she appeared to be in good spirits and relaxed. She squinted up at him and gestured toward the arch leading to the lobby, a beaded handbag dangling from her wrist. “If you’d like me leave . . .”

“Oh, no—I’ll chase you down if you do.” He tugged the handbag until she stepped closer, grinning. “What I meant to say was hello, and have a seat, won’t you? You look stunning. And please tell me how you ended up in the same speakeasy.”

“Astrid.”

“Say again?”

“I called your house. Your sister told me I’d just missed you and where you were headed.”

God bless Astrid and her big mouth.

He pulled a seat out for her, then quickly shifted it closer to his. She laughed and sat down, holding a long strand of faceted black beads against her breasts to stop it from clinking. She looked a little breathless. About as breathless as he felt when he smelled her citrusy shampoo as he scooted her chair under the table. “I haven’t been inside a speakeasy since college,” she said. “I had no idea this one was so big. Elegant, even. Are your friends here?”

“What friends? Oh, them. No, they’re meeting at Coffee Dan’s. I decided not to go. I’m here to pick up something from the club owner. Magical charms.”

“Oh?”

“The woman who owns this club practices hoodoo.” He leaned closer and spoke in a lower voice. Mostly to catch the scent of her skin, but he also didn’t want to shout all his secrets to a crowded room. “She created the warding spell on Adam’s vault—which is where he’s keeping, you know, important things for us.”

“How intriguing.” She removed her gloves and tucked them inside her handbag.

“I should ask about your father and your day, but I really want to kiss you, so I’m feeling conflicted right now. I’m so glad you’re here. Why are you here, by the way?”

“Let’s see.” She ticked off a list of answers with her fingers. “My father is grouchy, so I couldn’t have been happier to move back into my apartment last night. I came here to make sure you weren’t meeting up with Ruby. And I really wish you’d kiss me, too.”

No need to tell him twice. He pressed his eager mouth to hers, smiling as he kissed her several times in quick succession. Then he slid his hand around the side of her neck to hold her captive and lingered a little longer. He was just about to deepen the kiss when another female voice addressed him.