dangerous.” Mrs. Grant watched Jack as he shook hands with a table of men. “I’ve heard stories. Should you be associating with a man like that, Miss Greene?”
Her back straightened, the urge to defend him tightening her muscles. She wished the world knew him as she did: a sweet, funny and kind man. Who else would have rushed here to help tonight, merely because he wished to spend time with her? Who else would have made a speech at the Metropolitan Opera House as a way of saving her reputation? What about teaching her bowling and promising to help get her into the police department? He’d done all that and more since she met him. “He’s merely a friend.”
“If you say so. Please tell him we are grateful for his help tonight.” Mrs. Grant picked up a serving dish and took it into the kitchen to be washed.
It was clear the older woman wasn’t convinced. Someday, though. Someday the entire city would see him as Justine did.
The main dining room was empty by the time Justine left. She hadn’t seen Jack depart but why would he remain? There must have been a hundred other things requiring his attention. She’d find a hansom uptown and meet her family at home for dinner.
Pushing open the heavy wooden doors, she emerged outside. Cool night air washed over her just as she spotted a slick black carriage waiting at the curb. Her heart stuttered. A good-looking man leaned against the side, his hands in his trouser pockets. He looked delectable—like an ice cream cone, an ear of roasted corn and a chocolate bonbon all rolled into one.
His mouth hitched when she started toward him. Warmth shone in his startling blue eyes. “A ride, miss?”
“I am looking for the bighearted, good-looking man who was inside a few moments ago. Have you seen him?”
“Perhaps. Was there some sort of reward being offered?”
She stepped closer, mere inches from him. “Most definitely. A large reward just for him.”
Jack’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Then come aboard. We’ll see about locating him for you.”
He handed her up and she settled against the velvet seats. She was kissing him before the wheels even started rolling. Warm heat spread through her as their lips brushed, a sense of rightness that had been missing all day until this second. She was nearly in his lap when they paused to breathe. “You were very impressive tonight, Mr. Mulligan.”
“Was I?” He sucked on her bottom lip, pulling it through his teeth and making her gasp. “I hadn’t realized charity work affected you this way.”
“I hadn’t realized it, either. But seeing you helping people, talking with them, turns me ravenous, apparently.”
His hands bracketed her waist and slid along her rib cage until they rested under her breasts. “How long do I have you for tonight?”
“Probably no more than an hour.”
“Then I had best make the most of that hour.”
Jack sat inside the brewery, a glass of lager sweating on the table in front of him. He drummed his fingers, his eyes never leaving the front door. Workers moved about the copper kettles, the beer production here unrelenting thanks to the demand for Patrick’s creations. They’d added two big new orders this week. Soon, they’d have to expand to larger facilities. Perhaps Jack should start scouting buildings in New Jersey or Pennsylvania.
“He’s only a few minutes late,” Patrick said. “You’re too jumpy.”
“I won’t believe he’s coming until he walks through the door.”
Julius Hatcher had called this meeting today, and Jack prayed that the financier was prepared to go all in on the brewery project. Taking Little Water Street national was so close Jack could practically taste it.
This gathering was the only thing keeping him away from Bond Street and seeing Justine. He’d postponed their afternoon rendezvous in lieu of hearing Hatcher’s answer on the brewery. Perhaps he’d cable her when they finished. He’d come to look forward to their time together. She was enthusiastic and adventurous in bed, sweet and gentle out of it. They talked about everything, from his childhood and her charity efforts, to their families and aspirations. Nothing was off-limits. He’d never felt closer to another person in his life, not even his mother.
He liked her so much that he’d spent time at a soup kitchen just to be near her.
Not that he was against charity. Quite the contrary. He donated to several around the city, but anonymously. It wouldn’t do for his reputation if people knew. A man like Jack had to