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?”
“Yes, it does.”
“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.
25
Gabrielle was the only passenger sitting in first class. She picked up the in-flight magazine and absently flippe
d through it, paying brief attention to any photos that caught her eye. Unable to concentrate, Gabrielle replaced the magazine in the seat pocket in front of her, sat back, and closed her eyes. Things were happening so fast in every area of her life right now. Gabrielle was happily caught up in a whirlwind of good luck, and she was savoring every minute of it.
“Excuse me,” said a husky voice as its owner sidestepped Gabrielle and settled into the seat next to her. “Aren’t you that model with the most delicious mouth in the business? How about just one kiss for your biggest fan?”
“What?” Gabrielle said, turning to look at the man sitting next to her. “Doug! What are you doing here? I thought you had to be back in Boston today?”
“I promised you we’d walk the Champs Élysées soon, didn’t I? Besides, I figured you needed me more than Newsweek did.”
“I’m glad you came,” Gabrielle responded happily as she grabbed hold of his arm.
“So am I. Now, how about that kiss?” The two were interrupted by the flight attendant politely clearing her throat.
“Excuse me, Miss Donovan?”
“Yes?” Gabrielle responded, her face flush with equal parts of embarrassment and happiness.
“Your driver asked me to deliver this. Apparently he forgot to give it to you.”
“Thank you. I wonder what it could be?” she said, as she gently shook the long, thin box.
“There’s only one way to find out. Open it.”
“Too early for Christmas, and it’s certainly not my birthday,” she continued as she untied the gold bow. Gabrielle lifted the hinged top of the jeweler’s box. Inside, nestled on a bed of forest-green velvet, was a fabulous antique bracelet of white gold. The exquisite filigree design was encrusted with pavé diamonds and ten brilliant square-cut aquamarines. The center stone was another aquamarine of at least five carats. Even to the untrained eye the gift obviously cost a small fortune.
“Whoa. That’s some bracelet,” Doug commented, donning his reporter’s hat in order to get the why, what, and, most important, who knew Gabrielle well enough to give her such an extravagant piece of jewelry.
“There’s a card. Would you read it?” Gabrielle asked, pretending to be too absorbed in examining the bracelet to do it herself.
“It might be personal,” Doug said, sounding much more sincere than he felt.
“It’s okay.”
“ ‘Dear Gabrielle,’ ” Doug read aloud. “ ‘In the old days the aquamarine was always associated with travel. Its sparkling blue color reminded people of the sky and sea, so women wore it as protection on long journeys. It’s the perfect stone for the frequent flier, particularly a frightened one.
“ ‘Please accept this bracelet as token of my affection and best wishes. As it did the travelers of old, may it provide you safe passage as you wing your way across the world and into superstardom. I’m proud of you and extend my heartfelt congratulations on your first endorsement contract with Scarborough Designs. Love, Greg.’
“I assume that this is from Gregory von Ulrich, president of your agency.”
“Yes.”
“Does he congratulate all his models with such extravagant trinkets?”
“Doug, are you jealous?”
“Should I be?”
“There’s nothing personal going on between Greg and me. There are no other men in my life.”
“Are you saying that the position has been filled?” His demeanor brightened.
“Maybe. Probably. Yes. At least for the time being,” she said, both seriously and in jest.
“Anybody I know?”
“I’m not sure, but he’s very cute, extremely smart, and exceedingly sweet.”
“Sounds like quite a guy.”
“He certainly is,” she concurred. This time it was Gabrielle’s turn to kiss Doug’s lips. She closed her eyes and felt the sensation of the plane taking off, causing her stomach to lurch and her heart to pound. She opened them again to find that the plane was still planted firmly on the runway. Love, Gabrielle was finding, was a truly magical thing.
“Why don’t we check into your hotel and then go get breakfast?” Doug suggested after clearing customs.
“I’m too excited to eat. Since we both have only one carry-on bag, can we just walk around and see some of the city?”
“Works for me. Where would you like to go?”
“Anywhere. Everywhere.”
“That certainly narrows it down. Why don’t we take a stroll down the Champs Élysées, grab a peek at the Arc de Triomphe, and then we’ll ramble by the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame?”
“Terrific.”
“I need to make one quick phone call, and then we’ll get moving.”
Gabrielle waited as Doug ran into a nearby phone booth. Within minutes he was back by her side and the two were off to discover the incredible city of Paris.
“Called your editor?”
“No. I made a reservation at my favorite hotel. By the way, I booked two rooms, just in case you decide to blow off the Ritz and experience some real Parisian hospitality.”
They spent the day walking the city’s many cobblestone streets. At every landmark Doug would explain its background, recounting not only historical fact and local folklore but his unique personal commentary as well.
“Let’s hop aboard one of the sightseeing boats,” Doug said after suggesting that the Eiffel Tower resembled a gigantic erector set.
“That sounds heavenly. My feet are killing me.”
“Follow me,” Doug said, grabbing her hand and leading her to the boat. Hand in hand, Gabrielle and Doug boarded one of the bateaux-mouches, docked and waiting to ferry passengers down the Seine. It was now after seven, and the mast of the barge was strewn with twinkling white lights.
While their fellow tourists listened obediently to the French guide recite the history of the landmarks gracing the banks of the river, Gabrielle could only concentrate on the swell of happiness that was overtaking her body. Never had she experienced such a feeling of magnificent calm, of such tremendous satisfaction. Maybe it was being in this foreign place that had momentarily freed her from her secret prison, or maybe it was the romantic nature of the city; she didn’t know. All she was sure of was that for the first time since she’d acknowledged her feelings for Doug, Gabrielle allowed herself to revel fully in the comfortable space he provided her.
They floated down the Seine in silence, Doug’s arm thrown possessively around Gabrielle’s shoulders. She leaned into his torso and savored the close proximity of his body. Doug reacted by resting his lips on the top of her head.
“I’m so glad you surprised me. I couldn’t imagine being here without you,” Gabrielle whispered.
They ate a romantic dinner in a candlelit alcove of one of Paris’s fine restaurants. Following their meal, the two took advantage of the city’s reputation as one of the great jazz cities of the world and headed over to the Left Bank to explore a few of the premiere venues. They left shortly after midnight so that Gabrielle could get a good night’s sleep before her big meeting in the morning. Soon they were walking through two huge doors that led into a picturesque courtyard and up the stairs into the Hotel Augustin.
“Monsieur Sixsmith, how delightful to see you again,” called out the gentleman behind the reception desk.
“Edouard, my friend, how are you?”
“I am well, and it appears you are doing quite well yourself,” Edouard replied, nodding favorably toward Gabrielle.
“Gabrielle, this is Edouard Augustin, proprietor of this charming establishment. Edouard, Gabrielle Donovan.”
“Mademoiselle Donovan, it is a pleasure.”
“This is where I stay whenever I’m in Paris,” Doug told her. “Edouard and his wife always make me feel more like family than a hotel guest. I wouldn’t dream of staying anywhere else.”
“You are very kind. I have put you in your usual room, Douglas. And if you still desire, Mademoiselle is in the room down the hall,” the Frenchman
informed him with a questioning glint in his eye.
“Merci,” Doug responded, taking the two keys from his hand. “We’ll see you in the morning for coffee. Bonne nuit.”
“Sleep well, monsieur, mademoiselle,” Edouard answered, thinking what a shame it was that two such beautiful people should spend the night in separate beds.
“Well, here we are,” Doug said softly as he turned the key and opened Gabrielle’s door. “You’re sure I can’t interest you in a nightcap?”
“Maybe another time. I think I’m going to take a nice long bath and go to sleep. Thank you again for surprising me,” she whispered, staring Doug straight in his eyes.
“It was my pleasure,” he said, bringing his lips down over hers. Their kiss was slow and sweet and sent shivers down Gabrielle’s spine.
“Gabrielle, I love—” Doug paused, afraid to continue. “I loved every minute of today. See you in the morning. Good night.”
“Good night,” she replied, backing into her room, not wanting to leave him.
“Sleep tight,” he told her, unwilling to let go of her hand.
“Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
“See you later, sweet potato.”
“Go to bed, you crazy man,” she admonished him through her laughter.
“You’re supposed to say, ‘Bye-bye, cutie pie.’ ”
“No, you’re suppose to say, ‘See you later, alligator,’ and I say, ‘After a while, crocodile.’ At least follow the script.”
“How about I just say I love you?” There, he’d told her. Damn playing it safe. He’d simply have to deal with the fallout.
Gabrielle’s face revealed a multitude of emotions—first surprise, then gratitude, lastly, fear. Her potpourri of expressions was followed by a soulful and heartfelt kiss. It was a confusing and frustrating response that left Doug clamoring for clarification.
“A great man—at least I think it was a man, though it could have been a woman … Nobody knows for sure because the author is listed as the ever-popular Anonymous—” Doug babbled on nervously. “Anyway, whoever it was said, ‘One kiss breaches the distance between friendship and love.’ An appropriate thought right about now, don’t you think?”
Read Between the Lies Page 19
