Gabrielle picked up the phone on the third ring. The voice seeping through the receiver sent a pleasant shiver down her back. She found herself smiling as she returned Doug’s hello.
“I’ve been busy trying to figure out what I could do to make you go out with me,” Doug said, mustering up a lighthearted delivery. “I thought we were friends, but I’ve asked you out three times now, with no success. So what is it? My aftershave?”
He’d been going over the situation constantly since they’d returned home from the Caribbean, trying to discern what had happened to cause such a complete reversal in her behavior toward him. Each time Doug came to town, he attempted to see her, to no avail. Tonight he was determined to learn what was going on in Gabrielle’s head.
“I happen to like the smell of Drakkar Noir, and yes, we are friends.”
“If that’s the case, you can prove it by going out with me tonight.”
“You’re in New York again?” she asked.
“Just overnight. I’m meeting with a crusty old assignment editor in the morning, so this evening I’d like to enjoy myself. I know this is last-minute, but would you join me?”
A dozen or so excuses why she couldn’t see Doug tonight ran through her mind. Finally she decided to accept his invitation. The truth be known, she missed him. Acting distant and uninterested was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. And as much as she didn’t want to risk getting serious with Doug, she found herself unable to once again pass up the opportunity to see him.
“I’d love to.”
“Great. Why don’t we hang out in the Village? No big plans, just see where the evening takes us?”
“Sounds like fun. Why don’t I meet you under the arch in Washington Square Park at six?”
“I’ll be there. I’m really looking forward to seeing you again,” Doug admitted.
“Same here,” Gabrielle told him, grinning as she hung up. She was still smiling when the phone rang again.
“You know if you stand me up I’ll be scarred for life,” Doug told her with feigned sincerity. He knew he was acting like a total adolescent, calling her up like this again, but he couldn’t help himself. “I have your word that nothing short of an act of God can keep you away?”
“You have my word,” Gabrielle promised through her rising laughter.
“Not even if Karl Lagerfeld, on the stipulation that you can be in his office exactly at six, offers you a contract that could pay off the national debt?”
“I promise.”
“Okay, but remember, my fragile mental health is in your hands.”
“Good-bye,” she said, laughing. She broke into chuckles again as the phone rang for a third time.
“I told you, I’ll be there,” she snickered into the receiver.
“Great, but I haven’t even told you with whom or why we’re meeting,” answered Gregory von Ulrich.
“Greg, I thought you were someone else. What’s going on?”
“Are you sitting down?”
“This sounds very mysterious.”
“It’s no mystery that you’re the hottest new model on the circuit, which is why Maynard Scarborough would like to have a little chat with you.”
“About?”
“About paying you an obscene fee to represent his designs. I sent your file up to him, and he was very impressed.”
Greg waited for Gabrielle’s fit of laughter to subside. “Did I miss the punch line?”
“A friend of mine predicted that something like this might happen—tonight, as a matter of fact. I guess he must be psychic or something.”
“Gabrielle, you don’t need a psychic to predict your future. It’s all set—fame, fortune, success, all yours for the taking. The meeting is merely a formality. This is a done deal. Maynard loves you. After you dazzle him, we’ll meet with the lawyers to go over the contract.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Believe it.”
“When is the meeting?”
“Wednesday morning at eleven in Maynard’s Paris office.”
“I can’t go to Paris tomorrow.”
“I know you don’t have any bookings until the end of the week and that your passport is valid for another nine years, so what exactly is the problem?”
“Bea’s back is still acting up, and there’s no way she can sit on a plane for that long. Can’t we meet here in New York or postpone it for a week or so?”
“Gabrielle, I know how fearful you are about airplanes,” Gregory said patiently, “but this meeting is too important to miss because you’re afraid to fly. You just have to hang tough and get there by yourself.”
“Couldn’t we fly there together?”
“Sure, but you’ll have to leave with me tonight. I have other business to take care of in the morning.”
Gabrielle wasn’t sure what she should do. The idea of flying to France alone petrified her. She should go with Gregory, but leaving tonight meant not seeing Doug, and Gabrielle didn’t want to disappoint him or herself. Greg was right, she’d just have to tough it out alone.
“I can’t leave tonight. I have plans.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I’ll be okay.”
“Good. I’ll send the car for you tomorrow evening at five-thirty. You can grab a cab at Charles de Gaulle to take you to the hotel. Don’t worry, Gabrielle, you’ll be fine.”
“I hope so. See you in Paris.”
“It’s good to see you again. This is for you,” Doug said, pulling an exquisite purple iris from behind his back.
“Thank you,” Gabrielle replied, appreciation and excitement lighting up her blue eyes. She bit her lower lip to keep her smile from spreading all over her face. The fact that he had not brought her the romantic floral cliché—a rose—pleased her immensely. Doug’s choice of the iris, with its deep-purple petals streaked with gold, told her that he was a creative and considerate man who recognized their friendship as something special. From that moment on, the iris would always be her favorite flower.
“You won’t believe what happened this afternoon.”
“Why don’t we start walking, and you can tell me.”
Instinctively, Doug took Gabrielle’s hand into his and began walking through the crowded maze of students, street performers, and drug dealers that populated Washington Square Park on this warm July evening. As they walked, she told Doug how his earlier prophecy had come true.
“You mean you actually gave up going to Paris tonight just to be with me?” He hoped he wasn’t jumping to conclusions, but Gabrielle’s decision seemed to him an indication that a relationship between the two of them might be possible after all.
“After you made it clear that you’d be off to the rubber room if I didn’t show, how could I not come? Though I may be the one to end up in a straitjacket.”
“Am I that tough to be around?”
“No. Paris is a long way away, and I’m terrified of flying.” Gabrielle felt a twinge of guilt for lying to Doug.
“Doesn’t that make things a bit tough in your line of work?”
“Kind of. That’s why Beatrice usually travels with me, but she can’t go with me this time. I guess one of the Air France flight attendants can hold my hand during the flight, but what am I going to do once we land? How am I supposed to get around? I don’t speak French.”
“Don’t worry. You’re an American tourist. No one will expect you to speak the language, and it’s not difficult to find someone who speaks English.”
For the first time in as long as she could remember, Gabrielle experienced a moment’s peace about being illiterate. She found herself looking forward to seeing Paris. In France nobody would think she was stupid for not being able to read or write, because French wasn’t her native language. The same applied to Italy, Germany, and most of the rest of the world. With this simple revelation, the idea of traveling and working in Europe became much more appealing.
“Suddenly Tuesday in Paris sounds like a marvelous idea.”
Doug and Gabrielle walked the streets of the Village hand in hand, chatting easily. Their words flowed smoothly and fell on mutually interested ears. Like the skilled storyteller he was, Doug magically wove the details of his escapades through Paris into delightful tales of adventure and pleasure. Hearing these wonderful stories left Gabrielle anxious to experience Paris, not only for herself but with Doug as her personal guide.
They ducked into the fashionable Bar 89 on Mercer Street, where Gabrielle was immediately recognized by the maître d’ and several of the eatery’s patrons. Her growing celebrity status provided them with the best table in the house, upstairs overlooking the entire restaurant. By the time dinner was over and coffee was served, Gabrielle had been approached by two autograph seekers, one a struggling male model, the other a middle-aged woman toting a camera.
“I see I’m dining with a celebrity,” Doug commented. Though slightly annoyed by the interruptions, he was amused by Gabrielle’s uneasiness at being singled out as someone important.
“Oh, sure, like eating with a model tops lunch with the President.”
“With this model it does. Any day.”
Gabrielle answered with a warm smile. “I’m really having a good time.”
“I’m glad, because I’m enjoying myself, too.”
Gabrielle reached over and coupled her hand with his. Many of the physical sensations she’d experienced on the cruise had resurfaced this evening. Doug Sixsmith was like the proverbial quiet storm, gathering up her apprehensions and fears into a swirling funnel and tossing them aside. In its wake was left a heart bursting with emotion. Gabrielle felt herself falling under his sweet control and liking it very much.
Doug reached over and tenderly touched Gabrielle’s lips to his own. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist any longer.”
“Don’t be. I liked it.”
“I would really like us to spend more time together. To try and build a relationship. If that’s possible.” Doug sat through Gabrielle’s silent hesitation. “Is it?” he prodded.
“I don’t think I’m ready to have a serious relationship yet, especially with someone, you know, so much older,” Gabrielle said, torn between revealing her true feelings and setting up excuses for why a relationship between them would have no future.
“I think you’re worrying needlessly. Both of us are busy people with extremely demanding careers. A serious relationship would be hard to pull off at this point even if it is what we both want. Why don’t we take things one step at a time? Let’s just enjoy the knowledge that we are two people who are deeply in like with each other. Despite my advanced age, we have all the time in the world to see where this thing takes us. Make sense?”
“Good,” Doug replied tenderly, sealing their declaration with a sweet kiss.
“As much as I hate to say it, I need to get home. I have to get up early. I have a million things to do before I leave for Paris tomorrow evening,” Gabrielle told him, looking at her watch. It was already after eleven. She couldn’t believe they’d been in the restaurant talking for nearly three hours.
“I don’t think I like the idea that you’re off to one of the most romantic cities in the world without me,” Doug declared.
“One day I hope we can see Paris together.”
“I promise—one day you and I will be strolling down the Champs Élysées. I’ll take you to all my favorite places and introduce you to the fine art of café sitting.”
Waiting on the corner for a taxi, Doug stood behind Gabrielle with his arms wrapped snugly and possessively around her. His head was nestled perfectly in the crook of her neck, and Gabrielle could feel his warm breath on her skin. Tonight everything had changed between them. They’d become a couple. They had exited the den of friendship and were now standing on the perimeter of something bigger and far deeper.
“I want to go to sleep and wake up in the morning just like this,” he whispered in her ear. Not caring who looked on, Doug turned Gabrielle around and took her lovely face in his hands and kissed her again, this time without hesitation or formality. His kiss was warm and loving, his tongue gently probing the sweet recesses of her mouth.
“Promise me you’ll call as soon as you return,” he demanded.
“And you promise me that we’ll see each other again when I get back?” Gabrielle responded. Now that she had allowed herself to go with her feelings, her need to be with him was overwhelming.
Doug answered Gabrielle with another deep kiss. It was a kiss that said hello as well as good-bye. It was a “to be continued” kiss, one that lingered deliciously to remind them both that more would follow.