His stroke was smooth and sensual, and Felicia was surprised by his gentleness. Lexis was an accommodating, skilled lover, and he knew exactly how and when to move to afford them both maximum pleasure. He shifted positions so they were both lying on their sides, their bodies still connected. Lexis disengaged his hands from her hair and reached down between her legs. Lubricating his finger with her juices, Lexis fondled her with soft, circular motion. Felicia, mind and body stimulated, quickly climaxed into the most intense orgasm she’d ever experienced. The shake and tremor that consumed her body released itself in a primal, guttural outcry. It was a cry that she couldn’t have suppressed even if she’d tried.
Lexis, excited by the pleasure he saw Felicia experiencing, ejaculated inside her with a powerful thrust. Still wanting to give more, he continued to finger her. For Felicia pleasure became pain, and, unable to stand the touch, she pulled back from Lexis and curled into a ball, savoring the delectable sensations.
Lexis curled up next to her and let the physical and emotional satisfaction consume his body. He knew that the two of them would be so right together. Smiling from the miracle that had just happened between them, Lexis gently turned Felicia around to face him. He was greeted with tears streaming down her face. Lexis could not determine if they were tears of joy or regret.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
Felicia could not speak. Her emotions felt as raw and exposed as her body. Lexis had touched a place in her that Trace had never even come close to. She felt as if the fog she’d been wandering in these past few years had finally lifted.
Lexis wiped away her tears, first with his fingers and then with his lips. “Don’t cry, Felicia. I don’t want you to be sad, not when it felt so right.”
Before answering, Felicia took time to consult her heart. It was important that truth prevailed here. She wasn’t sad or sorry for her actions. Lexis, with his sweet, attentive ways, had given her back a part of herself she hadn’t even realized she’d lost. For so long she’d been someone else’s daughter, wife, employee. Making love with Lexis had made Felicia realize that first and foremost she was a woman. A woman who had needs and desires, a woman who didn’t have to please everyone else all the time. She was a woman who was capable of making her own choices and facing any consequences those choices might bring.
Lexis waited for what seemed an eternity, hoping he hadn’t ruined things between them. Still, even if he had, he wouldn’t change a thing. Never before had he experienced a moment of such complete and profound gratification.
“I’m not exactly sure why I’m crying,” Felicia admitted. “I know it’s not sadness or regret, though.”
“Guilt, maybe?”
“Maybe. Probably.”
“You don’t have anything to feel guilty about,” Lexis said.
“What about betraying my marriage vows?”
“You’re not the kind of woman who creeps on your man. If things were cool at home, you wouldn’t even have been tempted. Maybe your heart was trying to tell your head something it didn’t want to hear—like it’s time to move on.”
“Lexis, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. What happened here was—Well, I can’t make any promises.”
“Look, I’m not asking for anything that I know you’re not ready to give. I promise I won’t push things between us, if you promise you won’t let fear and guilt pull you away.”
“That’s fair, if you think you can avoid pushing. I know you, Lexis Richards. Look how you ran me down just to represent you.”
“Ran you down? Girl, your game of hard-to-get was so transparent it wasn’t even funny,” Lexis said with a grin.
“What do you think you are, irresistible?”
“I am the Mack Daddy. Even you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”
Felicia laughed briefly, grateful for the levity.
“You’re sure you’re okay? We’re still cool?” Lexis asked, turning serious again.
“I’m fine, and yes, we’re still cool.”
Just as Felicia allowed herself to surrender to the fresh onslaught of Lexis’s kisses, the phone rang. She followed, trying to keep the telltale lust out of her voice.
“Felicia?” Trace’s voice boomed through the receiver.
“Trace! This is unexpected,” she said as she pulled away from Lexis’s embrace. “Where are you? Are you in New York already?”
“No, I’m in Miami waiting for my flight. I called because I realized what a jerk I’d been. I’m sorry, Feli, for acting like such an ass.”
Why is he being so thoughtful now? Trace never apologizes. “I’m sorry, too, but Trace, we have some major talking to do.”
“I know. When you get home, we’ll get some professional counseling. You were right, we can’t do this on our own,” he said. Trace was still against the idea of counseling, but he was willing to say anything to keep Felicia placated long enough for him to get her pregnant. “I do love you, Feli.”
“I’ll see you when I get home,” Felicia said, hanging up, unable to return his words. Lexis reached for her, but the spell between them was broken. She got up, reached for her robe, and walked over to the window. Why did Trace have to call? Their brief conversation had turned everything around. Guilt overcame her, causing Felicia to second-guess her desire to end the marriage and move on with her life.
“Are you okay?” Lexis asked, pulling on his pants.
“Yes, I just have some thinking to do, so if you don’t mind …”
“I don’t mind,” Lexis said, trying not to let his frustration show. “But do you mind a little advice?”
“I’m listening.”
“Go with your heart. It never lies.” Lexis took her into his arms for a good-bye kiss and then left her at the window with her thoughts.
Felicia heard the door close behind him. She fully intended to heed his advice. Did this mean that she and Lexis had a future together? Felicia wasn’t worried about that now. She did not intend to get tangled up in another relationship, not when she and Trace had some major untangling to do.
23
“Gabrielle’s taking off faster than fat-free potato chips at a Weight Watchers rally,” Gregory von Ulrich announced to the others in the room. He had called this meeting with Jaci and Felicia, now Gabrielle’s full-time publicist, to discuss strategy for the model’s booming career. “The editors love her. Since the Appeal job, she’s done three magazine covers, including Vogue,” Greg said, gesturing toward the advance copy that lay on the conference table. “I’d say our young starlet has arrived.”
“But it’s the August issue,” Jaci pointed out. August was notorious for being the least prestigious cover of the year.
“The cover of Vogue is the cover of Vogue, twelve months out of the year. Just doing a cover shot for them is like a model’s debutante ball. Besides, this certainly won’t be her last. What’s the update on publicity?”
Felicia, lost in her own thoughts, did not hear the question. Though her body was present, her mind was preoccupied with her next appointment. In less than two hours she would go through a life-altering experience—an experience she’d give anything not to go through alone.
Shortly after returning from the cruise, Felicia had begun to suspect that she was pregnant. Though she’d had all the signs of an approaching menstrual period—headache, bloating, cramps—the month came and went without her period making an appearance. Her doctor’s appointment last week had confirmed Felicia’s suspicions. Now, three months later, she’d run out of time.
How could this happen? she asked herself for the ten-millionth time. She’d always been so careful about birth control. For eight years she’d used a diaphragm without incident. Why did it have to fail the one and only time she’d been unfaithful?
This was all wrong. Not only was this pregnancy unexpected, it came at a time when her personal life was in a shambles. Everything was up in the air, drifting in the stratosphere, unresolved and uncomfortably tenuous. Though she and Trace were now i
n counseling, Felicia knew in her heart that she was only going through the motions. She often thought about separation, if only to ease the tension and give her time to sort out her confusion and guilt. But if she and Trace wound up living in separate households, she’d then have to deal squarely with her feelings for Lexis.
Since returning from Martinique, Felicia had found herself doing exactly what she promised not to do—pushing Lexis away. They talked on the phone constantly but had actually seen each other only four or five times. On each occasion Felicia had gently refused to go to bed with Lexis again. She was afraid it would only confuse her more, and she had too many things on her plate to worry about.
If a failing marriage or the uncertain future of a new love affair were her only concerns, she’d consider going through with this pregnancy. Plenty of children were conceived during bad relationships and despite their parents’ divorce grew up to be successful, productive adults. No, a miserable love life was the least of her problems. The overwhelming predicament Felicia was facing was that she had no idea who was the father of her baby.
Neither man had reason to suspect her pregnancy. Lexis was no problem, because he didn’t see Felicia on a daily basis, but Trace seemed to monitor her monthly cycle as if it were his own. To throw him off, Felicia went through the motions of having a period and blamed her general malaise on the flu that was conveniently making the rounds.
For a fleeting moment she’d considered having this child, but its dubious paternity made any such thought an impossibility. After a long, heart-wrenching search, Felicia had come to the determination that abortion was her only answer. Terminating this pregnancy was the most difficult decision she’d ever had to make. She was not only snatching fatherhood from one man but cheating her folks out of becoming grandparents as well. Still, Felicia was thankful that she had the right to choose what was best for her, and that a safe, legal option was available.
Despite the emotional turmoil she was experiencing, Felicia’s decision was irreversible. She was looking forward to having this ordeal over and done with, so she could get back to putting the pieces of her shattered life together. She knew, however, that things were never going to be the same. She was never going to be the same.
“Felicia?”
“Sorry, Greg. My mind drifted off for a moment.”
“I asked what kind of response Gabrielle’s been getting from the press.”
“Folks are clamoring to get Gabrielle on both the inside and outside of their publications. She has a Q and A coming out in GQ next week, and Young Miss is featuring her in a story on hot young models.”
“That’s good to hear, but I don’t want her associated with those damn tabloids and sleazy gossip columns. I don’t want to read about who she’s sleeping with or what nightclub she’s been seen in. I want her image to stay pure.”
“We don’t have to worry about that with Gabrielle,” Jaci told him. “She’s as professional as they come. Everybody loves her—the photographers, editors, casting directors—everybody.”
“I can vouch for her, too,” Felicia said. “She’s a pro.”
“Good.”
“She is very hot right now, and when her Vogue cover hits the newsstands next week, she’s going to explode. I know Gabrielle was against the idea earlier, but I think it’s time she went international—did some work in Europe, strolled some of the designer catwalks,” Felicia advised.
“I agree,” Greg said. “It’s time for Gabrielle Donovan to be associated with a top designer. Now for the ten-million-dollar question: Who?”
“How about Ralph Lauren? Or Todd Oldham? Donna Karan’s practically an American institution,” Felicia offered, forcing herself to concentrate on the meeting.
“They’re big names, all right. Too big. That’s the problem. Too many well-known models are already associated with their clothes. I want a designer who’s on the cusp of becoming huge. Someone Gabrielle can link stars with and ride to the top. Someone who has insight, ambition, and massive staying power.”
“Someone like Maynard Scarborough,” Jaci shouted, jumping up from her seat. “He’s perfect. Not only is he all the things you mentioned, but by Gabrielle’s choosing his clothes for the Appeal shoot, they’ve already established a connection. I’m telling you, Greg, those two are a natural fit.”
“I think Jaci’s onto something,” Felicia chimed in.
“His last show was the talk of the industry. He had the editors and buyers fawning all over him. The word is that the licensers are practically licking his trademark loafers. Putting the two of them together is a stroke of genius. Jaci, send Maynard her file this afternoon and start the ball rolling.”
“I think we can get some great publicity out of this,” Felicia said, her professional wheels spinning again. “We can blanket the industry with stories about the man and his muse, both in print and on some of those fashion TV programs popping up everywhere.”
“Good idea,” Greg replied. “We’ll do whatever it takes to get Gabrielle to the top. I intend for her to become a giant in this profession. And all the while she’s climbing the ladder, she’ll be pulling First Face right along with her.”
24
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.”
“Goodbye,” 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 ev
en 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.”
Read Between the Lies Page 18
