Chloe Read Free Page B

young man ignored Chloe and gave Kitty an amused glance. “We’re barely south of the Mason and Dixon line. Do you really call young ladies ‘Miss So and So’?”
    Chloe was surprised that he’d ignored their introduction. Why? From under her low brim, she studied Kitty and Theran, trying to divine how they felt about each other.
    “You should be addressing my sister as
Miss
Kitty,” Roarke spoke up in his deep, lazy voice. “And you haven’t yet acknowledged Miss Chloe.”
    “Well, I do declare,” Theran mocked. “Evenin’, Miss Chloe. And I apologize,
Miss
Kitty, for my gross misconduct.”
    Kitty shoved his shoulder. “Don’t talk nonsense. You call me Miss Kitty on campus and I’ll black your eye. Let’s get going. I don’t want to be late for Mary Pickford.”
    “Oh, yes, we mustn’t be late for America’s Sweetheart.” With a snort of laughter, Theran opened the car door and allowed Kitty to slide into the backseat before joining her. Roarke escorted Chloe around to the passenger side and ushered her into the front seat, then returned to the driver’s seat and started the car. They were off.
    In the short walk around the car, Chloe had gone numb inside. Theran and Kitty evidently must be an item. Kitty taking a seat beside him and Roarke claiming Chloe to sit up front with him made that a certainty. And Roarke had had to force the northerner to even say hello to her.
    Then a slim hope flickered and flared. Maybe Kitty just didn’t want to sit beside her brother? Perhaps that was it. But . . . perhaps it wasn’t. She stared out at the maples and poplars spinning by, biting her lower lip and trying to rationalize things.
Why did I think a college man from New York City would even look twice at me with Kitty around? At least there’s one good thing: being invisible is better than an evening at home with Mother and Daddy.
    In no time at all, Roarke was parking the car on the main street of Croftown. The First National Bank—Kitty’s father’s bank—stood imposingly on the street corner. Nearby, a glittering marquee blazoned “THE POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL.”
    Chloe let Roarke help her out of the car. With a solicitous arm under her elbow, he walked her up to the ticket window. She smiled at him fondly. Roarke never made her feel uncomfortable or uncertain. He was a rock in her life, the closest thing to a brother she had. She glanced from him to Theran, who was chuckling over some joke with Kitty behind them. Chloe was surprised at how much she wanted him to notice her. But what could she do about it? Was she the kind of girl who’d steal a friend’s beau? Unfortunately, no.
    With only moments to spare, the four of them entered at the rear of the crowded auditorium. The aroma of buttered popcorn, the chatter of a hundred voices, and the hurry to get seats together compounded Chloe’s uneasiness. Roarke found four seats in a row. He entered the aisle first, knowing Chloe hated sitting next to a stranger, and she smiled up at him for remembering. She expected Kitty to follow her in, putting herself next to Theran. But instead Kitty motioned Theran to precede her. Why? Why would Kitty want Chloe to sit next to her beau?
    Chloe glanced surreptitiously at Theran and was startled when he winked at her. Confused, she sat down. Pins and needles raced up and down her arms at his nearness. On her other side, Roarke opened the box of candy almonds he’d purchased at the snack counter. He proffered the open box with a subtle rattle. She tried to say no, but the words wouldn’t come. So she just shook her head and tried to smile naturally. Then the organist began to play urgently, loudly from behind them. The theater went inky black and flickering light flashed on the screen at the front.
    She trained her eyes forward. She didn’t want to embarrass herself with a wrong move, so she propped one elbow on the armrest between her and Roarke and tried to follow first the newsreel about the war in Europe and