injured shin. He felt the outline of the weapon he kept there. "It's less complicated. Now, what's this about your name?"
Ivory was too established in the working life to let Grey's comment sting her heart or her pride. He rarely requested her services, and from what she knew, he rarely requested them from anyone else. There were still forty men for every woman in San Francisco. She would have known if he had been regularly going somewhere else for his carnal pleasures. "Edwards or DuPree?" she asked. "I'm thinking of changing it. DuPree has a certain... je ne sais quoi ..." She giggled when she saw one of his dark eyebrows arch dramatically. "You didn't think I knew any French, did you?"
"You're a source of constant surprises, Ivory." It was not usual for his flinty, blue-gray eyes to be touched by his smile. They were now. He held out his hand to her, and Ivory rocketed into his lap, blankets snapping around her like a clipper's sails caught in an updraft. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "DuPree is a good choice. Were you thinking of an accent?"
"But of course," she said deeply, imitating as best she could the throaty accents of two or three Frenchmen she'd met. "Foreign girls get more." Ivory looked to Grey for approval.
"Not bad." He set her off his lap suddenly as something teased his memory. He concentrated to retrieve it but it proved as elusive as all the others that had ever come to him over the last five years. Was it the accent? he wondered. The woman? Or both of them together that prompted the sensation that this was a familiar scene? There was a mild throbbing in his head now, and Grey realized Ivory was looking at him oddly. He stood and laid a hand lightly on her bare shoulder."Use DuPree. It has such an abundance of je ne sais quoi I won't be able to afford you."
Ivory was genuinely pleased by the possibility. Her cheeks flushed becomingly. In spite of current living conditions, Grey Janeway had amassed a fortune, even by San Francisco standards. If he couldn't afford her, she'd be a high-priced whore indeed. "You going to the wharf?" she asked, as he removed his hand. Ivory wished he had allowed it to linger there a bit longer. It wasn't often that she was touched with any sort of affection. His fingertips on her shoulder had felt a little like that. She was sorry to have the moment pass.
Grey nodded. "I'm expecting things to be delivered any day. I want to make certain I get them."
Ivory knew it was always possible that someone would try to take Grey's orders by bribing the cargo master. "That's some fancy palace you're building, Mr. Janeway. I've heard about the mirrors. Folks say you plan to put them right above the beds."
"Folks say that, do they?"
He sounded amused, Ivory thought. He was very handsome when he offered up that small, half smile of his. The problem was, he didn't make the sacrifice often. Her short, glossy black curls bounced as she nodded. "That's what I hear. It will be as splendid as any bawdy house back East."
"It would be more splendid," he said dryly. "If that was my intention."
"You mean the mirrors aren't going to hang above the beds?"
He almost laughed outright at her disappointment. "Why don't you wait and see?"
"Does that mean you'll be needing some girls like me, Mr. Janeway?"
This time Grey tapped Ivory on the tip of her upturned nose. It was a pretty face, he thought. With the exception of her well-shaped mouth, her features were not refined or exotic. She was just plainly pretty, but that was still worth something in San Francisco. "I believe I will, Ivory," he said. "But don't tell your friends. I intend being very particular about who works for me. And there will be certain conditions. You may not like them." She looked as if she was going to ask him to explain them now, so Grey shook his head before she opened her mouth. "Later, perhaps. I have to be going."
He ducked out of the tent into the bright morning sunshine.
* * *
The bay wharf hadn't been
Ivory was too established in the working life to let Grey's comment sting her heart or her pride. He rarely requested her services, and from what she knew, he rarely requested them from anyone else. There were still forty men for every woman in San Francisco. She would have known if he had been regularly going somewhere else for his carnal pleasures. "Edwards or DuPree?" she asked. "I'm thinking of changing it. DuPree has a certain... je ne sais quoi ..." She giggled when she saw one of his dark eyebrows arch dramatically. "You didn't think I knew any French, did you?"
"You're a source of constant surprises, Ivory." It was not usual for his flinty, blue-gray eyes to be touched by his smile. They were now. He held out his hand to her, and Ivory rocketed into his lap, blankets snapping around her like a clipper's sails caught in an updraft. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "DuPree is a good choice. Were you thinking of an accent?"
"But of course," she said deeply, imitating as best she could the throaty accents of two or three Frenchmen she'd met. "Foreign girls get more." Ivory looked to Grey for approval.
"Not bad." He set her off his lap suddenly as something teased his memory. He concentrated to retrieve it but it proved as elusive as all the others that had ever come to him over the last five years. Was it the accent? he wondered. The woman? Or both of them together that prompted the sensation that this was a familiar scene? There was a mild throbbing in his head now, and Grey realized Ivory was looking at him oddly. He stood and laid a hand lightly on her bare shoulder."Use DuPree. It has such an abundance of je ne sais quoi I won't be able to afford you."
Ivory was genuinely pleased by the possibility. Her cheeks flushed becomingly. In spite of current living conditions, Grey Janeway had amassed a fortune, even by San Francisco standards. If he couldn't afford her, she'd be a high-priced whore indeed. "You going to the wharf?" she asked, as he removed his hand. Ivory wished he had allowed it to linger there a bit longer. It wasn't often that she was touched with any sort of affection. His fingertips on her shoulder had felt a little like that. She was sorry to have the moment pass.
Grey nodded. "I'm expecting things to be delivered any day. I want to make certain I get them."
Ivory knew it was always possible that someone would try to take Grey's orders by bribing the cargo master. "That's some fancy palace you're building, Mr. Janeway. I've heard about the mirrors. Folks say you plan to put them right above the beds."
"Folks say that, do they?"
He sounded amused, Ivory thought. He was very handsome when he offered up that small, half smile of his. The problem was, he didn't make the sacrifice often. Her short, glossy black curls bounced as she nodded. "That's what I hear. It will be as splendid as any bawdy house back East."
"It would be more splendid," he said dryly. "If that was my intention."
"You mean the mirrors aren't going to hang above the beds?"
He almost laughed outright at her disappointment. "Why don't you wait and see?"
"Does that mean you'll be needing some girls like me, Mr. Janeway?"
This time Grey tapped Ivory on the tip of her upturned nose. It was a pretty face, he thought. With the exception of her well-shaped mouth, her features were not refined or exotic. She was just plainly pretty, but that was still worth something in San Francisco. "I believe I will, Ivory," he said. "But don't tell your friends. I intend being very particular about who works for me. And there will be certain conditions. You may not like them." She looked as if she was going to ask him to explain them now, so Grey shook his head before she opened her mouth. "Later, perhaps. I have to be going."
He ducked out of the tent into the bright morning sunshine.
* * *
The bay wharf hadn't been
Similar Books
