FIFTEEN

While things were finally looking up for Gillian, Lauren felt trapped inside a gilded cage. Her life, which was supposed to be a charmed cakewalk, was turning into a slow stroll across smoldering hot coals. Since the explosive reading of her grandmother’s will, things had gone steadily downhill. Her mother had all but physically attacked Paulette, so sure was she that her niece had had a hand in stealing her inheritance. Then Mildred suddenly and dramatically turned on Max with a vengeance. He fought back, stoically wielding client confidentiality, insisting that Priscilla was of sound mind, and had freely chosen to atone for the favoritism that she’d always shown Lauren and Mildred. During all of the fireworks, Paulette had gloated like an arsonist at the scene of a five-alarm fire. Not only did she now have wealth and social redemption, but the best part was witnessing her aunt Mildred’s humiliation. Through it all, Lauren sat strapped amid a rock, a hard place, and hell.

Dressing by rote, she slipped into the easiest garment possible, a simple sundress, brushed and styled her hair, added makeup to give life to her sallow, lifeless complexion, and reluctantly headed out the door to Stephanie Green’s bridal shower. The last place on earth she wanted to be was in a room full of black Barbie dolls, but she’d known Stephanie since third grade, and Stephanie had been a bridesmaid in Lauren’s own wedding.

As she was driving out to Rochester, New York, her cell phone rang. She saw the caller ID and answered the call. “Hey.”

“How are you?” Gillian asked with an upbeat tone that Lauren hadn’t heard in quite a long time.

“Obviously not as good as you are. You sound great,” Lauren enthused, glad that someone was in a good mood. “Your date must have gone well.”

“It did. He’s a very nice guy, and even better than that is the fact that he is financing a film project with William Rutherford, and they want me to be in it!”

“That’s great!” Lauren was genuinely happy that Gillian was catching a break.

“I don’t want to get too excited, but it does sound promising.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

“And I’ll keep my legs crossed. I just hope that he doesn’t have plans to audition me on his casting couch.” Although Gillian was enjoying Brandon’s company, she feared that he wanted only one thing, and it wasn’t a screen test.

“I doubt that a legitimate producer like William Rutherford would do that, especially with someone as talented as you are.”

“It’s not William I’m worried about; it’s Brandon.”

“Has he mentioned anything suggestive?”

“No So far he’s been a perfect gentleman. I just hope that he doesn’t, because he is definitely not my type.”

“Who is?” Lauren said. All the years she’d known Gillian she’d never once seen her with a boyfriend. “My exit’s coming up. Gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

Minutes later Kathy Hill greeted her at the door, chipper as a sorority girl before homecoming. “Hey, girl!” Though the women were all in their thirties, the glee surrounding one of their own bagging one of the men they called the Eligibles was palpable, like being at a party for a bunch of three-year-olds, all high on glucose. An Eligible was the quintessential Jack from Jack and Jill; he was well-bred, well educated, successful, and not too dark.

“Congratulations,” Lauren said as she made her way over to Stephanie. She even managed a degree of conviction. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you.” Stephanie blushed in a way that a thirty-four-year-old shouldn’t be capable of, but there was no greater joy than that of a BAP on the brink of fulfilling her life’s destiny by marrying an Eligible.

To balance her sour mood, Lauren grabbed a glass of white wine and took a seat in the corner of the room, bracing herself for the next two hours of bridal-shower hell.

After muddling through the first forty-five minutes of giddy but inane conversation, Lauren propped herself up with a second glass of wine, preparing to bear witness to the obligatory but painfully stupid bridal-shower games.

“Now, I have a special surprise for you ladies,” Kathy stood up and announced. She was even clapping her hands together and grinning like the Mad Hatter. “We have some very exciting entertainment scheduled, and I think you’ll all enjoy it.” On cue, Nelly’s sex romp song “Hot in Here” filled the room, and in walked a dark, sexy, well-built man with chiseled arms, wearing a tailored UPS uniform and carrying a brown box. He had the raw sexual energy that elicited a chemical reaction from the women just by his walking into the room. Every woman, except for Lauren, who was still waiting for an appropriate moment to leave, leaned forward in her chair, eyeing him like a rack of half-price Manolo Blahniks.

He began his seduction by slowly unbuttoning his shirt, teasing his audience as he revealed a smooth, muscular chest. His eyes were locked on Lauren. She was the the least engaged of the group and the biggest challenge for him, but when she saw those soulful, slanted brown eyes, she couldn’t help being drawn in. As a warm-up to the bride he approached Lauren, dropped his shirt, stood in front her, and begin moving his hips seductively to the music as he unzipped his pants. Her breath caught in her throat; she was sure that a blush must have spread across her face like wild kudzu. She was both uncomfortable and, at the same time, more stimulated than she’d been in years. She couldn’t remember the last time the sight of a man’s body had aroused her. Sex with her husband had become perfunctory, and then nearly nonexistent once it became clear to Max that they wouldn’t be making a baby.

These thoughts were pushed aside as his pants slid past his hips, revealing the impressive imprint of his manhood caught underneath black silk boxers. The women roared their approval. He suddenly turned away, leaving Lauren relieved that he was gone, yet desperate for him to return, which he did after opening the brown box and removing a long, bright red silk scarf, which he slowly trailed around her neck, letting one end slither down her front and between her legs. But he didn’t stop there; he took the scarf and tied her hands behind her back, then began massaging and caressing her neck and shoulders. His touch was so erotic that her breath caught in her throat.

After scant seconds that seemed to last an eternity, he gently untied her hands, giving her a look that summed up her own thoughts, and withdrew his attention, moving toward the bride for the coup de grâce of his performance, which included a little dirty dancing in the middle of the room as her guests cheered them on. She blushed like a bride would, but was clearly enjoying the attention. When the music stopped, he kissed Stephanie on her cheek, gathered his things, and walked out, looking back over his shoulder at Lauren, who turned away, embarrassed by her own thoughts.

Minutes later Lauren left the bridal shower, but wasn’t quite ready to return home, so she stopped off at a Starbucks a couple of blocks away for a caramel macchiato, and a chance to be alone with her scandalous thoughts. If she focused hard, Lauren could relive the tingling excitement that she’d felt at the stranger’s touch, and with her eyes closed tightly she could vividly imagine the enticing feel of the silk scarf moving seductively against her skin. She sighed, marveling at just how turned on she had been, pleased that it was even possible.

“Do you mind if I join you?” The unfamiliar voice snatched her mind away from her thoughts.

Looking up, she saw Mr. UPS, sans the uniform and the box. She was speechless. Sitting there with her eyes closed and her imagination running wild, she’d felt as if he were an unreal memory, or a piece of a fragmented dream, yet there he stood, in the flesh.

“I hope that means okay.” He flashed the smile that he’d undoubtedly used on many occasions to render women speechless. “I’m not a stalker, but I couldn’t resist the chance to properly introduce myself.” He’d been parked talking on the phone when Lauren pulled out of the driveway, and on impulse followed her to Starbucks.

For a minute she couldn’t find her voice. “Sure, I almost didn’t recognize you,” she managed to say, which was a lie. She could have picked him out of a cast of thousands, even wearing the jeans and T-shirt he now wore, instead of stripped down to his boxers.

“I suppose I do look different with my pants and shirt on.” He chuckled. “But if it helps, I can take them off.” He pretended to pull his T-shirt over his head.

“No, no, that’s okay.” She laughed, putting her coffee down and holding both her hands up in mock surrender. His wisecrack broke the ice, and she suddenly felt a bit more comfortable. Flirting had never been her strong suit—she was always so attractive that she never had to cultivate that skill—and after being married for the last five years, she was essentially clueless. She marveled at how some women, particularly Reese, did it so naturally. Reese, she imagined, probably came out of the womb winking at the doctor.

“My name is Gideon.” He reached over to shake her hand.

She took his, still remembering how good it had felt on her neck and shoulders, and imagining how his hands might feel on her breasts and…“I’m Lauren,” she finally said, snapping out of her fantasy.

He leaned back, appraising her. “An elegant name for an elegant lady.”

“Thank you.” She blushed in spite of herself. Then she felt incredibly silly for behaving like a schoolgirl over a male stripper.

Before she could gather her things to leave, Gideon asked, “So, Lauren, what do you do, besides drive men crazy?”

“You must be thinking of another Lauren, but to answer your question, I’m a housewife.”

“Oh, so you’re already taken?” He snapped his fingers. “I should have known; all of the good ones usually are.”

“Yes, I’m married,” she said, trying to put a little enthusiasm into her voice.

“Do you have kids?”

“No.” She braced herself. Why did she always feel the need to apologize for not having kids—even to strangers?

“So, tell me about yourself.”

She shifted uncomfortably. “Let’s talk about you instead. How long have you been…stripping?” She didn’t know what else to call it.

He laughed at her discomfort. “Today was my first and last day. My cousin just started a party entertainment company, and one of his dancers called in at the last minute. We drew straws and I lost. But now I’m glad I did.” He gave her that smile again.

“So, what do you normally do?”

“I’m a documentary photographer.”

She was surprised and intrigued by his answer. “What do you shoot?”

“I travel to obscure places around the world and document the cultures. Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time in Africa.”

Lauren was taken aback. She really had had no idea what to expect from him, but Gideon seemed deep and very real. “I love art and photography. I’d like to see some of your work sometime,” she said, without thinking. For her, it was a pretty forward suggestion, so maybe her flirting skills weren’t nonexistent after all.

“Lauren, you can see me—or my work—anytime you want to.” Though his eyes smiled, the rest of his expression was very serious.

Lauren sat back in her chair and for the first time in months she really smiled.