Incredible Dreams (10 page)

“Oh, you’re just a barrel of laughs, aren’t you?” Izzy slid her arms around Jack, enjoying the feel of his rock-hard frame. The office door swung open and she turned toward it but didn’t recognize the woman who came out, followed by Charlie.

“Izzy, I’m so happy to see you up and around.” The woman approached them and handed her a slip of paper. “This is the address you gave me when you sang the other night. Is there anything we can do for you?”

“This is more help than you know.” Izzy smiled, slipping the paper from her hand. “Thank you.”

“Are you up to singing tonight?” Charlie asked, all business-like.

“Yes,” Izzy said. “Yes, of course.”

“You go on at nine.” He reached for his towel and began wiping the counter down again.

“I’ll be here,” Izzy said with a nod. Jack offered his arm. She laced hers around his and let him lead her away. “Do you know where that is?” she asked, offering June’s paper.

He glimpsed at the address and studied it for a moment. “I’ve got a map in the car,” he said, opening the door. They ventured outside and he plucked the aviator sunglasses from his jacket and put them on to shade his eyes.

“Man, if we could just look it up on—” Izzy stopped and looked at him, fear of the unknown fueling her uncertainty.

“Look it up on what?” he asked, leading her to the car.

“Well, I was going to say, Google Earth. But truthfully, I have no idea what Google Earth is.” Anxiety escaped, frustration rose in her voice and she stiffened.

“Let’s not worry about that right now.” He opened the car door and coaxed her inside. “Let’s just concentrate on one thing at a time, see. We’ll go see your sister, find out what she knows, and go from there.”

His rational words made sense. Still, the whole concept of a sister sounded foreign.

The drive, although uneventful, served as a time-out of sorts, giving Izzy a chance to consider the gravity of her situation. She had a sister who, for the life of her, she couldn’t remember. And life in 1946 seemed like a foreign concept.

Jack parked along the sidewalk and Izzy glanced out the window at the address June had offered back at the club. A paved walkway meandered up the center of the yard and twisted through elm and maple trees, shading the three-story boarding house.

Jack sprinted around the Chevy and opened the door. Offering his hand, he gave her little tug and urged her out of the car. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

She wanted to say
yes
, but decided against it. “No.” She shook her head. “You don’t have to. I’m sure you have other stuff you need to be doing. Like your duties for the Air Force.”

He examined her face, his brow crinkling. “Air Force?” He repeated her words in a curious tone. “Not many civilians are familiar with the newly devised
Army Air Force
.”

Army Air Force
? That didn’t sound right, either. Unable to find the
right
adage, she shook her head, trying to dismiss the thought. “I guess that’s another one of those strange little things my mind likes fabricating.”

“Fair enough.” He brushed her hair back from her face. “Sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“No.” She struggled to get the words out. “I need to concentrate on my memory. And you are quite the distraction.” She fought the urge to smile, glancing past him toward the cozy, inviting yard and the boarding house hidden behind it.

“Well, I hope you mean that in a good way.” He may have tried to hide his nervousness, but she detected it anyway.

“The best.” She drew him closer. Enjoying the feel of his strapping physique, she let her hands explore his back, memorizing every inch of him. “I wouldn’t be opposed to your showing up at the club tonight,” she said in an inviting whisper.

He leaned back, far enough to gaze at her face. “I’ll be there.” With a wink and a kiss on the cheek, he was gone.

Izzy watched him drive away and disappear around the corner. Once he was gone, she turned her attention to the yard and the house in which she was supposed to live.

The latch on the gate creaked as she opened it. She scanned the yard, dressed in maple and elms. Stepping inside, she strolled toward the house. A variety of flowers dotted the landscape and hydrangea bushes with pink blooms lined the porch.

Nothing about the yard or the house seemed familiar.

She strode up to the porch, balancing her hand on the steps’ railing. A covered swing tempted her, but she pushed herself to go inside in search of a sister she couldn’t remember.

She opened the door and a small entryway expanded into a large living area. A young woman with dark hair sat poised on a couch, alongside two older women with hair the color of silvery-white clouds.

The girl hesitated a moment, but her composure crumbled in an instant and she jumped to her feet. “Izzy.”

Unfamiliar arms swallowed her up, but Izzy felt nothing. Harboring a bit of reluctance, she enveloped the stranger with a loose embrace.

“I was worried when I went to the hospital Sunday morning, and you were gone.” The girl’s voice cracked, and Izzy felt sorry for her.

But that’s all she felt. There was no recollection, no deep-rooted sibling love trying to escape.

“Where have you been?” Her
sister
scrutinized her with efficient curiosity and a shrewd glare.

Good, Lord
! Izzy tensed up, responding poorly to the interrogation drill.
What am I...twelve
? No wonder she’d chose to forget her. She couldn’t swear to it but she figured she had to be over twenty-one. “I couldn’t remember where I lived. So, I went to a friend’s house.” Izzy’s verbal response came with a carefree, vacant tone. She didn’t care and she wasn’t in the mood to coddle anyone, least of all a sister she couldn’t remember.

“A friend?” The girl pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow.

Intuition told Izzy that her ‘sister’ knew about the amnesia thing. “A newfound friend.” Izzy glanced at the couches, showing particular interest for the empty one. “Can we sit? I’m not feeling well.” She felt her face flush.

The girl shot a horrified glance her way and dragged her to the nearest empty settee.

Izzy wasn’t comfortable with the girl’s constant need to touch her, and still wasn’t in the mood to placate anyone. She searched her face. How would she take a
please don’t touch me
request? “I’m sorry, but I have no recollection of you.” She shook her head, funny-like. “What is your name?”

“I’m Jeannie.” The girl delivered a reassuring smile along with her name.

“Miller?”

She nodded.

“Who’s older?”

“Me.”

“By how much?”

“Two years.” She folded her hands across her lap, undaunted by Izzy’s interrogation.

They talked the afternoon away, and Dottie, the proprietor of the boarding house served cookies and tea to Izzy, Jeannie and Dottie’s friend Gladys.

Jeannie’s story included antidotes of their birthplace in Ohio and their subsequent decision to move out to California so Izzy could pursue her musical career. Jeannie, being well-versed in typing, shorthand and other office duties had no trouble finding work no matter where they chose to go.

During the course of the afternoon, Izzy also heard Dottie’s story of how she, as a young war bride, traveled from England at the end of World War One.

Jeannie’s story seemed just as foreign as Dottie’s. No matter how she tried, Izzy couldn’t muster any familiarity or connection with her supposed sister’s story.

That enhanced her desire to seek out Jack Baker.

CHAPTER 10

THE ONE PLACE Izzy didn’t feel out of place—besides wrapped around Jack—was on the stage at the Cool Cat. Songs that seemed foreign to her and resided just outside the voice of reason, poured from her heart like an old friend.

Later in the evening, the lounge packed with patrons, Izzy had just started to sing a song about love waltzing in the door. Right on cue, Jack wandered in. He took a stride or two toward the stage and stopped to watch her and listen to the words she sang.

With a smirkish grin crossing his face, Jack strolled to the end of the bar nearest the stage, winking as he sat down. He spoke to the bartender and then turned back to Izzy, his stare drilling into her soul. A reactive blush powdered her cheeks hot.

When the song was done, she left the stage and approached him with an unconscious smile.

The bartender placed a beer in front of him. “How’d the meeting with your sister go?” Jack wrapped his arm around Izzy, luring her closer and reached for the beer with his free hand.

“Not well.” She frowned.

“No recollection?” He scooped up the beer and took a leisurely swallow. She picked up on the uneasiness shining, momentarily, like a new penny on his face.

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “She filled me in on our childhood. Apparently, I was born and raised in Ohio.” Even as she said it, it sounded wrong.

“You don’t sound so sure of that.”

“I’m not,” she said with a delicate shrug. “She told me a lot of stuff, but none of it stuck.”

“I was hoping your sister would spark some familiarity for you.”

“She seems as foreign to me as Dottie, my very vocal and opinionated landlady.” Izzy bit back the frustration of having to share a tiny studio apartment with someone she didn’t know, even if she was supposed to be her sister.

“What’s wrong, Isabelle?” Jack massaged the small of her back. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s very uncomfortable, you know...living in such close quarters with someone you don’t know.” She tried to hide her discomfort without much luck, overlooking her willingness to spend all her time with Jack—a man she didn’t know.

“You want to stay at the bungalow for awhile?” The suggestion came to him in an instant, she could tell by the way it lit his face.

“Could I?” Her hope didn’t last long, once she thought about the bungalow’s purpose. “That’s probably not a good idea,” she said, shaking her head. “I might cramp your friends’ style.”

Jack chuckled. “I’ll talk to them. It’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” She wanted so much for that to be true. She longed for privacy. At least from everyone but Jack.

“Absolutely.” He smiled and gave her a wink.

“I’d like to at least let Jeannie know I’m going to be staying elsewhere for a while...and pick up a few of my things,” she added, thinking of the clothing she’d been offered at the bungalow. She needed something that was more to her taste. She wasn’t quite sure what that was, but the things at the bungalow weren’t it.

“I’ll wait until you’re done,” he said, settling in for the duration.

Izzy had two more songs to sing, and Jack waited patiently while she performed them. While she was on stage, a man entered the club and seemed to recognize Jack, heading straight for him. She sang, and watched the two men as they talked.

From time to time, Jack’s companion would sneak a peek at her and then quickly turn his attention back to Jack—who never did look at her. Jack did point in her direction once, and then back at the guy, who laughed in response.

Izzy sensed the tension building between the two men. It looked as if their conversation started to take a turn when Jack’s faced tensed and he stood, towering over the other guy forcefully. Jack’s acquaintance leaned back. A flurry of hand gestures followed from both men.

Up on stage, Izzy hesitated and contemplated, for a second or two, about breaking the boys up. She had no doubt that Jack could handle himself, but other worries lingered in the back of her mind. Fights between men never turned out good. It usually led to someone storming away, or worse yet, somehow getting hurt, and she feared that Jack might turn out to be that someone.

She started to sing the next number with trepidation shaking her voice. Jack didn’t leave. The other guy was the one to walk away and that pleased her, strengthening her voice.

Izzy finished her last song of the night and she and Jack left the Cool Cat together. He was all pleasantry and smiles, never mentioning the guy who came in, the beef they’d had or what they’d disagreed on.

She fought her curiosity, keeping quiet, as Jack opened the car door for her. It was better to let it go. Sooner or later, she had to trust him. If it was something she needed to know, Jack would tell her. Her head told her to drop it, but getting her memory back might prove easier.

J
ack and Isabelle strolled up the steps to the porch surrounding the boarding house. He hesitated, glancing at the swing. “Perhaps, I should wait for you out here?”

She didn’t object. “Okay. I’ll just be a minute.”

She disappeared inside and he took a seat on the swing. It creaked slightly, so he made a conscious effort to remain still. Reflecting on the evening’s events, he thought about the encounter he’d had with George Hadley. The jealousy he’d felt over Hadley’s reaction to Isabelle had surprised him, churning the tension, twisting and knotting it in his stomach. For the first time, Jack didn’t like hearing anyone talk about, look at or think of a woman—a particular woman—in that way.

The front door to the boarding house eased open and Izzy stepped out. He glanced up and got flooded by the idea that he might be falling for her. If he was, there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not that he wanted to.

Gathering his wits, he rose and moved toward her. “Ready?” He offered his arm and she took it. “No arguments from your sister?” he asked as they traipsed down the steps.

Isabelle shook her head. “She was sleeping. I decided not to wake her. I left her a note instead.”

Jack chuckled at the audacity of her statement and the simplicity in her tone. He moved her quickly through the yard and out to his car. He wanted to get her out of there before her sister had a chance to wake up and remove Isabelle from what she thought were the clutches of a man whose intentions were lustful at best.

He settled Isabelle into the car, eased the door shut and trotted around to the driver’s side. Jack tried to limit his anticipation by climbing inside and starting the engine. On the verge of making a clean getaway, he shifted the car into gear and pulled away from the curb.

Isabelle rested her arm along the back of the seat. “Who was that guy earlier this evening?”

Uh oh, here it comes
. He was well aware of Hadley’s lure over women. They all thought he was the cat’s meow. Jack hated the thought of losing Isabelle to him, but if it was going to happen, it was better that he found out now.

“His name is George,” he said, defeat entering his tone.

“A friend of yours?” Her tone was as placid as her expression. Nothing about either gave her away.

“More like acquaintance.” Jack glanced at her, wishing she preferred him to George. “He’s quite the ladies’ man.” He let his attention travel back to the road.

“You guys seemed to be immersed in quite a heated conversation.”

“That we were,” he said, but didn’t offer any more information.

“And you don’t want to talk about it.” She moved closer.

He relented and gave in. This was it. The moment of truth. “He wanted to know if I thought you’d go out with him.” He cut a quick glimpse at her, searching for a hint of how she felt.

Shock saturated her face for a split-second, but she recovered quickly and gathered her senses easily. “And what’d you say?”

“I said that I’d prefer the two of you didn’t go out, see.” He turned his attention back to the road, not wanting to see her face in case she demolished his aspirations.

To his surprise, she moved closer, draping her arm around his shoulders. “Are you jealous, Jack Baker?” Her laughter filled the air and she moved even closer, grazing her breasts against his upper arm. Her actions stirred his loins, awakening his desire.

“Yes, I am, Isabelle.” He paused a moment and shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of another man touching you.”

Her fingers journeyed up his shirt and popped the top button. Making room, she slipped her hand inside to caress his bare chest. His breathing intensified.

“I can’t see past you, Jack.” Her declaration, a mere whisper, brought chills as she raked her tongue over his ear. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

Jack laughed at her analogy of the situation. “Is that your way of saying you only have eyes for me?” he asked, hoping that was the case.

Her hand deserted the bare skin of his chest, pausing outside his clothing. “You ever had sex in a car, Jack?” she asked, her fingers trailing toward his lap.

What? Was she kidding? Was this some kind of joke? A yearning to do just that awakened with the light touch of her fingertips. Desire surging through his body, he rested his hand on her knee before slipping it beneath her dress and inching up her leg.

He pulled the car over. The streets were empty this time of night. If someone did drive by, they wouldn’t be interested in what he was doing.

He cut the engine and moved the seat back, giving himself plenty of room to shimmy his pants to his knees and pull her into his lap.

He meant to take his time, to pleasure her first. But she insisted on getting right to it, rubbing her moist folds over him, and he slid inside her. He sought to stop it, holding her still, but she began rocking over him, seeking satisfaction. And Jack meant to oblige.

He slid his hands up her legs, grasped her buttocks and drove himself into her.

She gasped with a vocal screaming sigh. He drove her trembling body over him and he grew harder, like the hardest steel. She was enjoying their tryst, but Jack didn’t know how long he could hold out.

Her body quaked as he rammed her down on him. Her juices drained over him and he exploded, pouring into her. She collapsed against him, breathless, as small tremors rippled with after-effects. She seemed to enjoy it, giggling and squirming with each vibration. But Jack knew it meant retreat for him, no matter how hard he fought it.

After awhile, Isabelle moved to his side. She draped herself against him, letting her hands roam at will. Jack let out a hearty chuckle, filled with pleasure, as he started the engine.

“Tell your friend,” she whispered as he pulled the car into the street, “that I am not available.”

I
zzy figured Jack must have a lot of pull with his friends. Either that or the bungalow was legally his. He’d rushed James and his girl out onto the street, giving her little time to dress. She didn’t know which bothered her more, Jack being the ringleader of the illicit little getaway, or, throwing someone out in the middle of the night.

“Hey...” She reached for Jack’s hand, watching James and his girl sitting on the stoop. “Let them come back inside. I can’t in good conscience put someone out on the street.”

Jack’s gaze questioned Izzy.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” she said with a slight shrug. “Just because I’m having issues, that’s no reason for me to disrupt everyone else’s lives that I come into contact with.”

Once Jack coaxed the couple back inside, she insisted that they return to the bedroom. Izzy wasn’t going to touch the bed until they’d attained fresh bedding anyway.

After James and his date disappeared into the bedroom, she perched her hands on her hips and glanced around the living room. The two couches lining opposite walls suggested a party atmosphere. The kind of parties Izzy got the feeling she wasn’t used to attending.

“Why don’t we put the couches together and make a bed?” She suggested they make use of the illicitly intended décor.

“Huh?” Confusion colored his expression. Clearly, he didn’t get it.

After a bit of coaxing, Jack helped her push the couches together, making a decent bed for the two of them. They spread fresh bedding, grabbed a blanket and settled into a night in each other’s arms.

A
strong knock rattled the front door, waking Izzy and Jack at the same time. She forced her eyes open but the sunlight in the far window compelled her to shut them again. She turned to Jack, blinking awake and looking for some inclination of who might be at the door.

He gave her a
beats me
look, reached for his pants and stood, sliding into them. Zipping his fly, he strode toward the door. He returned seconds later with her sister by his side.

Jeannie glared at her. “Isabelle, what are you doing?”

“I was sleeping.” Izzy still hadn’t found the mood she was convinced she’d need to deal with Jeannie, a sister she couldn’t remember.

Jeannie shot Jack a sharp glance. “Can you give us a moment?” She didn’t waste time on him. The chill in her tone chased him outside and she turned back to Izzy.

“Isabelle, have you lost your mind?” Jeannie’s voice cracked and she sat down on the arm of the closest couch.

Izzy tried to contain her exasperation, but big sis’s mother-hen approach was growing thin. “Look, Jeannie, as my sister, I understand that you’re worried about me, but I’m a big girl. I’m over twenty-one, and the last time I checked, I’m free to do as I please.”

“Izzy, I don’t particularly care what you do, or who you do it with. Although, your husband might.”

I
sabelle slipped outside at a snail’s pace, her face had paled to a ghost-white color. She looked spooked and Jack didn’t like that. He leapt to his feet and moved toward her.

“Sugar, what’s wrong?” Trying to corner her gaze was about as hard as tailing a BF109, catching it took a lot of patience and instinct. Using evasive maneuvers, he reached for her hand.

She yanked away.

“Isabelle, you’re scaring me.” His voice cracked. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t know,” she said, her tone soft and vague. Her eyes darted up, as if seeking something from him. He just didn’t know what. “I swear to God, Jack, I didn’t know.”