Free All Night Long by Candace Schuler Page A

more genteel era, when people first glimpsed their future spouses over tea in great-aunt-somebody's front parlor instead of at a bar during Happy Hour.
    Upstairs, in her personal quarters, it was very different. Oh, it was still delightfully cozy. And undisputedly elegant. But nothing about her private space would ever be called conventional. Matt thought whimsically that stepping through the heavy wooden door at the top of the stairs was a little bit like stepping into a parallel universe… instantly recognizable but, somehow, just slightly off kilter.
    The high ceilings and distinctively detailed crown moldings matched the ones downstairs. The tall, narrow windows were duplicates of those in the front parlor, right down to the fireplace between the two facing the street. The floors were made of the same beautifully polished hardwood. Everything else was delightfully different.
    Most of the walls had been knocked out, creating one large room out of several smaller ones. Those that were left were painted a deep, rich amethyst, the color defined and intensified by the stark white moldings and woodwork. The windows had been draped and swagged in layers of gauzy white fabric that pooled on the gleaming hardwood floor. The original oak mantel had been removed from the fireplace, replaced with a larger, less ornate one made of pink-veined white marble. The three sofas arranged in a U-shape in front of the fireplace were oversized, overstuffed and low to the ground, designed with the sensual, rounded lines reminiscent of the art-deco period. They were upholstered in deep teal blue and piled high with plump pillows in shades of purple, lavender, and rose pink. The only other major piece of furniture in the room was a massive French armoire with pink silk tassels dangling from the door handles. The occasional tables were Art Nouveau reproductions. The wall sconces and lamps were made of frosted glass, shaped like open fans or gracefully drooping lilies, respectively. The fireplace was guarded by a realistically poised and painted pair of seated leopards. One of them wore a wide choker of sparkling rhinestones around its regal neck. The other sported a black satin bow tie and rakishly tilted silk top hat.
    "Have a seat," Susannah invited, gesturing toward the sofas. "The coffee will only take a minute." She moved toward the back of the room, quickly, shrugging out of her camel-hair coat as she went. She tossed it over the padded seat of one of the six high-backed stools surrounding the freestanding, white marble counter that served as her dining table and separated her kitchen area from the rest of the room. "I can make espresso or cappuccino, if you'd rather," she said from behind the counter. "I have a machine."
    "Espresso sounds good." Matt followed her into the kitchen, drawn to her like metal filings to a magnet. He came up behind her as she reached out to open the refrigerator, coming close enough to lean down and sniff the back of her neck. "That's not the same perfume you were wearing the other day."
    Susannah gave a muffled shriek and whirled around, nearly bumping into him in the process. The refrigerator door banged shut. "What?"
    He took the bottle of springwater from her and put it down on the counter next to the espresso machine. "Your perfume. It's not the same one you were wearing the other day."
    "No, it isn't." She edged away from him, trying to be casual about it, and began filling the water receptacle on the machine. "It was a gift."
    "This or the other?"
    "This."
    "I'd get rid of it," he advised, jealous of whoever had given it to her. "It isn't you."
    "Oh?" she said, turning her head to look at him. He was much too close. She turned her gaze back to the espresso machine.
    "It's much too flowery and sweet," he said in answer to her hasty look. "I like the other better."
    "I'll try to remember that." She flipped the lid down on the water receptacle and sidled down the counter, reaching up to open the cupboard where