The Grafton Girls - Annie Groves [62]
‘Listen, babe.’
The coaxing note in Nick’s voice told her all she needed to know. Very slowly Myra exhaled an unsteady breath.
‘You are my girl,’ Nick continued. ‘I was kinda taking that for granted, otherwise I would never have suggested what I did.’ He reached for her hand, sliding his fingers between her own, his voice soft and husky as he added, ‘I’ve been thinking about you and me being together all week, thinking about it…All I’m asking is that you let me show you how good we would be. Who knows how much time we’ll have together? I don’t want to waste a minute of it. We could be seeing action any time now. You don’t want to think of me dying without knowing the sweetness of being with you, do you, babe?’
Even if she hadn’t already experienced sex and known that for her it was simply a means to an end, nothing he was saying to her would have persuaded her to drop her guard, Myra decided. Instinctively she sensed that Nick was the kind of man who would use every ounce of charm and power of persuasion he had to get what he wanted but that, once he had it, it would lose its value. He would have to give her far more tangible evidence of his commitment to her before she gave in to him. He might have picked up her cue and said that she was his girl but she wanted more than easily retracted words.
‘We can’t stay over, Nick,’ she told him. ‘For one thing I’m on duty tomorrow, and for an other…well, I want to believe what you’re saying about me being your girl, but how do I know that you mean it? I’m not saying that I don’t believe you. But if I am going to be your girl, then we don’t need to rush, do we?’ Myra darted a quick look at him, wondering how far she dare go. There were plenty of other GIs around, she reminded herself practically, but since there was no saying when the war might end, it made no sense wasting time on one who wasn’t going to give her what she wanted so much. Her mind made up, she gave Nick a soulful look, reaching out to touch his arm as she said softly, ‘After all, when you take me back with you to America to meet your family, I don’t want them thinking that I’m not a respectable sort of girl.’
She could feel the tension gripping him. What was he thinking? Was she scaring him off by letting him see what she had in mind? It would be a pity if she had. Although she was reluctant to admit it, there was something about him that appealed to her, though she disliked the thought of being vulnerable to him through that feeling.
They had stopped dancing whilst they talked, too engrossed in what they were saying to leave the floor, and now the dance floor was filling up again with eager couples.
A group of young men and women, the boys in RAF uniform, were hurrying onto the floor, in a colourful surge of airforce-blue uniforms and party frocks. Engrossed in their own fun, they didn’t see Myra and Nick standing in the shadows with their backs to them until it was too late and one of the boys had bumped into Myra.
As she turned round he gave her an admiring look and invited, ‘Dance with me, lovely lady?’
‘Hey, buster, butt out. She’s with me,’ Nick told him furiously.
The young man laughed and turned his back on Nick, saying to Myra with a wink, ‘Ignore him and come and dance with me instead.’
Nick’s reaction was immediate. He swung round, grabbing the lapels of the young man’s uniform jacket and then lifted him clear off the ground before smashing him back against the pillar he himself had been leaning against while he and Myra talked.
‘That’s my girl you’re coming on to, buddy,’ Nick warned the young airman. Triumph surged through Myra. But then, as she saw the young man’s friends