his hand. “A movie premiere with such glamorous guests.”
At her fingernails digging into his skin, Barrett found his voice. “Very flattering for them to think of my humble establishment for the celebration.”
“Ja, well, your name is not unknown in our circles.” Schmidt stood and walked around to the door. “Someone will come by with further details. For your own sake, do not let us down.”
Chapter 10
If not for the woman in his arms, Barrett would have cracked hours before. Light as a feather, Kat stepped in perfect rhythm to the hideous music wafting around them. Goebbels himself had selected the greatest hits of Charlie and His Orchestra, the pride of the Rhineland. But Kat felt the strain as well. With each brilliant smile she flashed at their fellow dancers, her nails dug further into his shoulder.
“Loosen up that grip or you’ll break my shoulder.”
“What? Oh, sorry.” Her fingers relaxed. “I’m usually very good with a fox-trot.”
“Do you normally dance it surrounded by half of the Third Reich’s propaganda ministry?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll forgive the distraction.”
The corners of her red mouth flipped up. “Thank you ever so.”
Dressed in deep-green satin that dipped low in the back to showcase creamy skin and the soft curls of hair pulled back with diamond combs, her simple elegance outshone every woman in the place. After days of nagging, he was glad he’d given in to her demands that he learn to dance these fancy steps. Integrating into higher circles required the must-learn skill, along with eating from the correct fork and ironing his shirts. Or so she claimed. With her warming to his touch, he had to admit dancing had its advantages over ironing.
His arm circled tighter around her. “If tonight didn’t demand our presence, what would you be doing?”
“Plotting new ways to put strychnine in Eric’s coffee. He boils it so hot, he’ll never notice.”
Barrett laughed, startling the couple next to them into missing a beat. “Imaginative, though I was thinking outside of Paris. Outside of the war.”
Her lips pursed in thought, tempting him. “Cocktails followed by supper, then card games while the men finish their brandy, and finally finishing the dreadful evening by dancing with whichever power-hungry bore Mother and Father have lined up for me.”
“As thrilling as that all sounds, I didn’t hear what you would want to be doing.”
Surprise flitted across her face. “I’m not sure. I’ve never been allowed to consider it before.” Her eyebrows knitted together as she drummed her fingernails on the back of his neck. After several seconds, her brow relaxed. “Travel. With no itinerary. And no protocol to adhere to. And cake for breakfast.”
“Yet you’ve never considered it before.”
“I’ve never had the luxury before.”
His fingers brushed the bared skin at the small of her back. Silk was never so soft. “Care for a travel companion?”
“I don’t share cake.”
“All right with me. Never eat much of a breakfast.”
Her fingers curled around the back of his neck, stroking the hairs to stand on end. The green in her eyes glowed like jade. She moved closer, her red lips parting, beckoning. “Your turn.”
His turn. His turn. For what? He dragged his attention from her lips. “My perfect evening might be considered too lowbrow for your set.”
“Does it involve explosives?”
His gaze zeroed in on her mouth again, forgetting all manner of distinctions from low to high class. “Fireworks of some kind.”
“Kat.” Ellie popped up next to them. Grinning from ear to ear and doused with perfume, she was in her element. “There’s someone you simply have to meet. He’s had way too much of the sherry, so hold your nose.”
Once again powerless against her sister’s will, Kat was yanked from Barrett’s arms. She glanced back over her shoulder with an apologetic frown as the sea of gray uniforms swallowed her wake, leaving him alone without his anchor. Not knowing what else to do, he turned to the bar.
Or what was left of it after being festooned with Nazi flags. With a clipboard in one hand and half an apology, Ellie had breezed in that morning to rearrange chairs, create a larger dance floor, throw snowy white cloths over tables, and ensure the music list was set up. It was the first time he’d seen her so focused on the impeccable outcome of something other than her nails. Now, after hours of polishing every surface with beeswax, beer stains covered the floor and cigarette smoke clogged the air.
“They’re really lapping it up, Patron.” Henri leaned close as he uncorked another wine bottle. Delight