“Okay, that’s a wrap, kids,” Austin shouted seven hours and five costume changes later. The photographer, known for the sex and humor he infused in his work, was pleased. “Good work. I’ll see everybody back here bright and early for the sunrise shot.”
Doug had spent the entire day observing Gabrielle. Before he began his interviews, he wanted to get a feel for the woman and the way she operated. Tomorrow he would begin talking to her about her work. Tonight, however, he was not interested in the model. Tonight Doug hoped to have the opportunity to learn about Gabrielle Donovan, the woman.
“So, what do you think?” Gabrielle asked.
“I had no idea you girls work so hard. I’m impressed by how easy you make it look.”
“Some jobs are easier than others. I have my share of horror stories.”
“I’d love to hear them. Why don’t we grab a bite together—for the story,” Doug added, not wanting to put her off by sounding as if he was asking for a date.
“I can’t. I’m having dinner with the captain.”
“How about a quick drink afterward?” Don’t beg, stupid. Doug couldn’t help himself. He had to have some one-on-one time with this delicious woman.
“Okay, as long as it’s not too late. I have such an early call in the morning.”
Finally she throws me a bone. Be cool, don’t show your relief. “No problem. How about the Alfresco Café, say eight o’clock? Though even a few hours is an awfully long time to wait for you.” That was good—rather James Bond—esque, Doug congratulated himself.
To his dismay, Gabrielle responded with a polite laugh.
“Did I say something funny?” Doug asked lightly.
“It’s just that Captain Di Angelo said something very similar.”
“That’s because men all over the world have the same training manual,” Doug quipped, forcing himself to laugh, though he was feeling like a complete idiot. Compared to the suave, debonair, accented Captain Di Angelo, he was sure he’d sounded less like 007 and more like Maxwell Smart.
“I’ll see you at eight,” Gabrielle said, chuckling as she walked away.
Well, Dougie, you’re on a roll. Last night you insult her work, today you toss her a line another man has already used. Smooth, real smooth.
“Hi. How’s it going?” Felicia asked, taking a minute while Trace was working out to check in with her office.
“Things are just fine. Deena and I are holding down the fort quite nicely,” Stephanie answered, her irritation plain.
“Are you okay? You sound a little angry?”
Why should I be angry? Is it because instead of letting me write the story on Gabrielle that would jump-start my career, you have me here writing public-service announcements on weather stripping—a subject that nobody with a life gives a rat’s ass about? Or maybe I’m mad because after screwing me royally you keep calling instead of having the common courtesy to leave me the fuck alone!
“I’m fine, Felicia. It’s just that this LILCO account is being difficult about this copy.”
“Do I need to make a phone call?”
“No, I can handle it.”
“Good. Is Deena around? I want to get my messages.”
“She’s on the phone. Hold on, I’ll get them for you.”
Waiting for Stephanie to return, Felicia found herself hoping that Lexis had called. She felt confused and ashamed when it dawned on her that she wanted an excuse to call back and hear his voice.
“Not much here, since everybody knows you’re on vacation. Your mother called; Faith Taylor called about Fred 2 Fine, but says it can wait until you get back; and a Lois Jourdan left a message for you to call when you return.”
“What a surprise. Lois is a friend from Georgetown. I wonder what she wants. Anybody else?” Felicia asked lightly, not wanting to mention his name.
“Yeah, Lexis called. He wanted your number in Martinique.”
“I’ll call him when I get to the hotel tomorrow.”
“I guess that’s it.”
“Okay, then. I’ll see you in a few days.”
Lucky me, Stephanie thought, hanging up the phone.
Felicia was still smiling when Trace walked through the door. “How was your workout?” she asked.
“Great until I called my office.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“Tom has totally screwed up the Acey Newit case, and they need me back pronto to pull it out of the toilet. Sorry, Feli, I’m going to have to cut our trip short and catch the first flight out of Martinique.”
“Can’t somebody else take care of it?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Trace, you could work something out if you wanted to. I did. Instead of working this entire trip as I should be, I arranged to leave midway so we could spend some time together. I compromised; can’t you do the same?”
“This is an important case. It’s a bit more involved than holding some glamour girl’s hand while a reporter asks her inane questions about her beauty secrets, or playing hostess at some client party. For Christ’s sake, Felicia, millions of dollars are at stake.”
“So we’re back to this, are we? Your work is platinum and mine is cheap nickelplate?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Not in so many words, but your meaning came through loud and clear. If this were me interrupting our vacation because of work, you’d serve my head on a platter, but because it’s you, I’m suppose to smile and understand.”
“We haven’t been able to even begin our vacation together because of your work,” Trace lashed back. “Have I said anything about that? No. I’ve been following you around like some lapdog while you try to keep everybody else happy.”
“You haven’t changed at all, have you? All your nice talk and sweet playacting these past months was just sugarcoating. You’re the same self-involved, egotistical bastard you always were,” Felicia accused her husband angrily.
“And you, my dear wife, are a spoiled, unsupportive bitch. The next time you want to accuse someone of being self-involved and egotistical, take a good look in the mirror.”
“You have a lot of nerve—”
“I’m not going to argue about this, Felicia. I have to go back to New York. Now, are you going to start packing?”
“No. Frivolous or not, I have a job to finish, and then I am going to Martinique tomorrow to relax and unwind—with or without you.”
“Fine, Felicia, you go to Martinique and have a good time,” Trace said calmly. He was angered by her reaction, but he refused to fight with his wife. His energy was focused on the big picture. Soon all this bickering would end, replaced by the pitter-patter of his son’s little feet. Yes, you go to Martinique. All mothers-to-be need their rest.
Doug stood outside in the Alfresco Café at the ship’s stern waiting for Gabrielle. He took a refreshing breath as he observed the magnificent view. The sun had set hours ago, leaving in its place a dark sky packed with bright, twinkling stars. The moon was full, and its silver glow rippled over the waves of the Caribbean Sea.
He peered out into the perfect night and, pushing away his usual propensity to engage in rational thought, allowed himself the luxury of daydreaming about Gabrielle. Doug found himself basking in the delicious edginess brought on by the anticipation of seeing her again. He hadn’t felt like this in years. The giddiness he was experiencing was as refreshing as it was embarrassing. At his age he should be well past sweaty palms and nervous butterflies, but there was something about being with Gabrielle that brought out the unsophisticated high-schooler in him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he was falling in love.
Don’t be ridiculous. How could you be in love with someone you just met? Ah, but technically we met over a year ago, he quickly reminded himself. And Gabrielle Donovan is no mere someone.
“Are you okay? You look like you’re lost in space,” Gabrielle told him, appearing at his side.
“It’s amazing how this sea air can clear your head,” he told her. Gabrielle looked so exquisite standing before him. There was a sparkle in her eyes that lit up her face when she smiled. It took all he had for Doug not to bend down and kiss her.
“Isn’t this an amazing experience?” she asked dreamily, totally ignoring his comment. “Out here on the ocean, the moon and stars creating a perfect mobile above this floating cradle.”
“That was very lyrical.”
Gabrielle laughed, which sounded like falling rain to Doug’s ears. “It must be this sea air. It’s bringing out the poet in me.”
“Would you like to take a walk?” he asked.
“Sure.”
They leisurely climbed the stairs to the Capri deck in silent awe of this lovely night. They walked to the ship’s rail and stood silent in the moonlight for several moments. There was a light breeze blowing, and Gabrielle felt herself shiver.
“Cold?” Doug asked.
“A little bit, but it’s too beautiful to go inside.”
“Here,” Doug said, removing his cotton sweater and tying it around Gabrielle’s shoulders. “Better?” he asked as their eyes met, their gazes welded together by the innocent but compelling intimacy of his action.
Doug smiled slightly as he felt a tug at his heart. Deep down he knew that he and Gabrielle were obviously meant for each other. Why else had they been thrown together again? Last night at the bon-voyage party Doug could feel a strong current flowing between them. The way they danced and laughed together all evening, the easy banter that flew back and forth between them—all proof, in his mind, that Gabrielle was at the very least intrigued by him. Even back when they’d first met in New York, hadn’t Gabrielle used that upside-down-newspaper ploy just to get his attention? What was that, if not interest? And now, as she stood before him, her skin flushed not with lunar glow, but, he hoped, with the same delicious current that was surging through him.
“You know, Ms. Donovan, I could have predicted that we’d meet again,” he announced, breaking the tension.
“Are you some sort of fortune-teller?” Gabrielle asked with a flirty lilt to her voice.
“I have been known to read a palm or two,” he admitted, taking her hand into his. “Now, this is your life line,” Doug said as he gently traced her palm with his index finger. “I’m glad to report that you have many long and happy years ahead of you. And this is your love line …” he said, not bothering to continue. Smiling directly into her face, Doug slowly placed his hands against Gabrielle’s, matching each of his fingers with hers.
Once again their eyes locked as they stood silently, palm to palm. Gabrielle was mesmerized as Doug folded and refolded his fingers into hers. For several intensely sweet moments he tenderly massaged and caressed Gabrielle’s hands with his own. With a featherlike touch, he seductively explored the contour of her exquisite hands, visiting each valley between her fingers. Doug paid equal attention to both front and back, while occasionally curling his hand around her slender wrist in a loving handcuff. There was strength in his gentleness, and possession in his touch.
Unable to contain himself, he brought her right index finger to his mouth, first to kiss and then gently suck. The sensation of his action was gentle and erotic, causing Gabrielle to respond with a soft moan and a slight tremble. Confounded by this pleasant yet unfamiliar sensation, she slowly pulled away.
“Still cold?” Doug asked, trying to regain his composure. Their encounter had been the single most sensual experience he’d ever had, and though the sexy spell was broken, a thick, lusty fog still enveloped them.
“Something like that.”
“Why don’t we go inside?”
“So this ‘day in the life’ article includes a report on my nighttime activities as well?” Gabrielle asked with a smile.
“Absolutely.”
“Well, then follow me.”
Doug paused and momentarily watched Gabrielle’s long, shapely legs carry her away from him. Oh, yeah, there was definite interest brewing here. With a cock of his head and a broad smile, he followed her down to the Portofino deck and into her suite.
“This should be more than enough light for what I have in mind,” Gabrielle remarked, turning on the small bedside lamp and casting a low, soft light around the cabin. “I’m going to get comfy. Don’t go away. I’ll be right back.”
Doug could only guess what was on Gabrielle’s mind, but whatever it was, he was up for the challenge. He stole a glance in the mirror, combed his fingers through his shaggy mane, and wished like hell he had a breath mint. He heard the bathroom door open behind him and turned to find Gabrielle dressed for a night of one-on-one.
“Nice outfit,” he commented with a laugh. She stood before him in a gray sweatsuit, socks, a ponytail, and instead of a basketball she was holding a large felt roll in her arms. His laughter was directed less at her outfit and more at his totally mistaken expectations.
“I said I wanted to get comfortable. What did you think I meant?” she asked, a sly smile tugging at her lips.
“Whatcha got there?”
“My passion.” Gabrielle led him over to the small round table under the porthole. They sat down, and she proceeded to unfurl the felt tube, revealing a yet-to-be-completed jigsaw puzzle. “You look shocked,” Gabrielle observed with a laugh.
“I am. Who would think that a young woman with your looks and lifestyle would be sitting around at night putting together puzzles?” Doug was surprised but also impressed. Gabrielle’s chosen pastime said a lot about her personality—her tenacity, patience, and love of a good challenge.
“It may not be glamorous, but it’s fun,” Gabrielle revealed. “They can be frustrating, and you have to approach each puzzle differently, but I love the idea of taking a pile of cardboard rubble and turning it into a beautiful picture of someplace in the world I’d like to visit.”
“And this would be the floral carpets in front of the Grand-Place in Brussels, Belgium,” Doug said after a quick examination. He picked up one of the loose pieces and after a few moments of searching, placed it in its correct spot.
“You’ve actually seen them?” she asked with excitement. “Of course you have. You have such a great life—one full of interesting and important people.”
“I know it sounds good, but the truth be known, my life is a lot more like one of your puzzles. Without all the proper pieces in place, it’s rather incomplete.”
Gabrielle smiled shyly, picked up another puzzle part, and searched for its location. Doug followed suit, and soon the two found themselves once again chatting and laughing amicably. The longer they worked to complete the picture, the more intimate their conversation became. Slowly they began to reveal the safe inner parts of their lives. Doug explained how he’d felt growing up with three older sisters. How at times he’d felt isolated, being the youngest and only boy and how writing became his instrument for attention. Gabrielle divulged to Doug how lonely and disconnected she sometimes felt without her mother, and how her success seemed less sweet without Helene there to share it. It was after 1 A.M. before Doug placed the final puzzle piece.
“A perfect fit,” he announced, staring not at the table but soulfully into Gabrielle’s eyes.