Page 6 of A Man After Midnight

He nodded, releasing her arm to place a hand on the lumbar curve of her back. He guided her toward the closed double doors that led to the dance hall. “I’ve only brought one other date here, and we left ten minutes after we arrived. I’ve never brought anyone else.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true. Not many women are into the old classics like Big Band. Usually I take my dates to one of the uptown clubs, or one of the numerous bars. Someplace not as formal or as fun, in my opinion.”

Two additional doormen opened the entrance allowing Caroline to see the awe-inspiring dance hall, as if she’d stepped back in time to the heyday of the Glenn Miller Orchestra. The stage was laid out at the furthermost point, three tiers of chairs and empty music stands with instruments waiting for their owners to return. A nice sized dance floor separated the orchestra pit from the small tables where couples sat enjoying drinks and appetizers. The dim lighting allowed for a spotlight to focus on the musicians, while the tables held candles to provide the intimacy the era invoked.

Wren guided her through the throng of small tables to one down front and held out the chair for her as she sat. Immediately, a waiter dressed in a white formal suit appeared to take their drink order.

“Dry martini for me,” Wren said. He raised an eyebrow to Caroline.

“So what would be a popular drink from the ‘40s?” she asked.

A half-smile quirked his lips and he turned to the server. “Give the lady a Gloria Swanson.”

The man bowed and left in hurried strides to fill their drink order. Caroline cocked her head inquiringly.

“So, what’s in this drink?”

He moved a piece of her hair off her cheek. “Champagne. Cognac. Lemon peel. Gloria liked to start the day with it.”

“I bet she did.”

Caroline looked around, loving the atmosphere of the starched white tablecloths, the shimmering chandelier overhead, and the heavy scent of lilies wafting from the flowers resting in wall sconces throughout the dance hall.

As the waiter returned with their drinks, the musicians returned under a smattering of applause from the audience. The conductor came out with a bow. It took a few minutes for the performers to settle and listen to their instruments to make sure they were still tuned. With a tap of his baton, the spotlight came on and the conductor brought the musicians to attention. Upon a swipe of his hand, the strains of Stardust started.

The acoustics of the dance hall blended perfectly with the décor. The music washed over Caroline as she watched couples come together to move gracefully with the haunting melody.

“I feel as if I’m in a time warp.” Her chin rested in the palm of her hand as she listened to the band. She swayed slightly, back and forth, to the slow tempo.

“I’m glad you like it. How about the drink?”

Caroline sipped her drink. “Well, I don’t know about starting the day with one, but it’s perfect for tonight. Thank you.”

After the song ended, a petite woman dressed in bright red with a lily in her dark hair came out to stand by the conductor. The orchestra began the strains of I’ll Be Seeing You.

“Come on,” Wren said, grabbing her free hand. “This is my favorite.”

Under the slow rhythm of the music, his arms held her tightly to press their bodies against one another. His cheek rested on the top of her head. The twinkling light of the chandelier bathed them, suspending them deeper into the magical moment.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and felt the rippling muscles under the smooth silk. He moved with the grace of someone who danced often, and Caroline couldn’t help but wonder who had taught him to dance so well. A past lover? She tried to banish the thought because Wren Calder was to be nothing more than a one-night stand. She had no business feeling anything more toward him.

“This is amazing,” she said, partly in an attempt to push her mind past her thoughts.

He pulled back only far enough to gaze down into her eyes. “The minute I saw you, I knew you’d love it here. I can picture you dressed in crepe-de-chines or chiffon. With your hair piled up and your lips painted red.”

“My mother loved Big Band,” she said. “I grew up listening to it. I always thought it was a romantic era, despite the economic troubles the world faced.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “It was amazing to think about the glamour and glitz alongside pictures of men and women standing in lines for food. The Grapes of Wrath versus Twentieth Century.” Wren narrowed his eyes. “Hey, that’s not a bad idea.”

Caroline blinked. “What?”

“Troublemaker Cosmetics,” he elaborated. “This is our annual meeting spanning from fiscal information to finding the next idea, coming up with planned cosmetic lines to carry into an emerging market. The themes of mythic urban crossed with gothic dark colors and rhinestone glitter have been the prevalent trend driving the industry.”

“But every non-haute couture line out there has that,” Caroline replied. “I may not be an expert in the cosmetic industry, but I do shop at Sephora.”

He nodded. “Troublemaker has always gone with the tide of fashion, keeping an eye and ear on the industry’s leaders in Milan and Paris. And we’ve always done okay. But I’ve been trying to come up with something that will separate us from the other cosmetic companies.”

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