“It’s lovely. It’s also getting late. Good night, Doug,” Gabrielle told him as she walked through the door and closed it behind her.
Doug spent the next few seconds staring at the wooden barrier that stood between him and the woman to whom he’d just declared his love. He had no way to gauge Gabrielle’s feelings. Was she insulted or just scared? Did his spontaneous revelation mean the end of their short relationship, or was it just about to begin?
Something is not right, he told himself as he unlocked his own door. A man doesn’t tell the woman of his dreams that he loves her, only to have her put him in a lip lock that curls his toes and then close the door in his face. This is not how it’s supposed to work. Shit, where’s that damn manual when I need it? Doug thought in anguish as he threw himself onto the bed.
What happened to take things slow, you idiot? What happened to giving her time to get over the age thing? Well, you asshole, you’ve really gone and blown it now. Thoroughly disgusted with himself, Doug headed downstairs to drown his regrets in a bottle of good wine. He paused outside of Gabrielle’s door, debating whether to knock and apologize. Deciding he’d done enough damage for one evening, he hurried downstairs to find Edouard.
“He loves. He loves me. He loves me,” Gabrielle sang gleefully into the mirror as she soaked in her bath. At first, after Doug had actually spoken those three tiny but incredibly powerful words, she was terrified. That’s why she’d slammed the brakes on the wonderful moment. From the beginning, she and Doug had tried to tiptoe around the reality of their feelings, but the oh, so wonderful truth of the matter was that she was a young woman falling in love with a man who loved her.
As fabulous as she felt, Gabrielle also found herself in a genuine quandary. She’d decided long ago that she’d never allow herself to get too serious over a man, because marriage would never be a part of her life. It was her own irrational conclusion that matrimony would eventually turn into motherhood, and she could never be a fit mother for any child. Little Tommy was proof of that.
For the time being, her desire and undeniably strong feelings for Doug won the tug-of-war with her heart. Doug was absolutely right; the nature of their individual work would force them to take things nice and slow. Why deny herself the opportunity to love and be loved? Why not enjoy it while it lasted? As her mother’s relationships had confirmed, the bliss of love never endured. When it was time for their relationship to be over, she’d end it, no hard feelings. But for now Gabrielle planned to revel in the fabulous new sensation of being in love.
Gabrielle, you stupid girl, what have you done? she asked herself, sitting up in the tub. Doug declares his love and you close the door in his face!
“I have so much to learn,” she told herself out loud as she flopped back down into the warm water and watched the candlelight flicker on the walls. She always took candlelight baths when she traveled. They helped her to relax and unwind after a long day in front of the camera.
Tonight is the perfect time for me to begin my lessons, Gabrielle decided, remembering the way Doug’s tender kisses had made her feel. What better way to top off such a monumental day than making love for the first time with the man she loved in Paris, the city of love?
Gabrielle got out of the tub and quickly toweled off. After applying a coat of Coco Chanel body lotion, she paused, unsure what else to put on for her first seduction. Digging through her overnight bag proved to be futile; all she had in there was her very comfortable but very unsexy sleep shirt. She could wear her underwear, but that seemed too clichéd.
Gabrielle surveyed her room looking for something appropriate. As her eye fell across the wet towel lying on her bed, her mouth widened into a triumphant smile. What could be sexier than a freshly bathed woman showing up at her lover’s door wearing nothing but a fluffy white towel? Gabrielle ran into the bathroom and yanked the unused towel from the rack. She wrapped it around her body, making sure it was adequately secure. She quickly ran a comb through her hair, brushed on a little mascara, and glossed her lips with a clear shine.
Gabrielle inspected herself in the mirror and smiled at her reflection. Skimpy but effective, she decided. Her bronze hair rippled down her back in unruly waves. Her face was flush with anticipation and excitement. She was nervous, but ready. Doug was the one; every fiber in her being told her so.
She headed purposefully toward the door, only to stop, turn around, and hurry back into the bathroom. She picked up three of the vanilla-scented candles and a book of matches. Candlelight seemed appropriate for the occasion. One last check in the mirror, and she was off again.
She slowly opened the door to her room and cased the hall. Finding the corridor empty, Gabrielle quickly scampered over to Doug’s room and knocked softly on the door. Receiving no reply, she knocked again, harder and louder.
Maybe he’s asleep, Gabrielle thought. She slowly turned the knob, only to find his door unlocked. She tiptoed quietly over to the bed, moonlight illuminating the way. She expected to see Doug’s slumbering body, but instead found the bed neatly turned back, undisturbed but for a few wrinkles.
Now what? So far her big seduction scene was not turning out as she’d imagined. She had two options: She could slip back across the hall and Doug would be none the wiser, or she could wait for him to return. She’d come this far, she decided. She was going to see it through.
Gabrielle lit the candles, found a nice, soft French music station on the clock radio, and then sat down to wait for her man. She sat for nearly twenty minutes before Doug finally came sauntering through the door.
“I must have drunk more than I thought,” he commented, a bit tipsy, a lot confused. “Am I dreaming?”
“No.”
“You mean, you’re actually sitting here in my room, smelling utterly delectable, wearing nothing but moonlight and a towel.”
“Yes,” Gabrielle confirmed softly.
“And I’ve been downstairs all this time with my hands wrapped around a bottle of wine, when I could have been here with them wrapped around you?”
“Yes, but we’re both here now, though I’m over here and you’re way over there.”
Doug smiled broadly as he finally moved toward Gabrielle. He picked her up from the chair with one grand swoop and carried her over to the bed. His action caused her towel to peel away. The sight of her completely naked was sobering.
“You are even more ravishing than I imagined,” he whispered as his lips crushed hers.
“I want to see you,” Gabrielle said, reaching up to unbutton his shirt. She pulled the shirt off his body and reached for the fly of his slacks. Doug stopped kissing her long enough to help remove his pants. His clothes had successfully hidden the lean, taut muscles of his washboard stomach and well-toned arms. She was surprised by the broadness of his shoulders and the slimness of his waist. Mr. Universe he wasn’t, but he was far from being a ninety-pound weakling.
“Wow,” she remarked.
“I guess I can take that as a compliment.”
“Yes, you can, though you are the first totally naked man I’ve ever seen. At least this close up.”
“You mean this is—”
“My first time.”
“Then I will do my utmost to make this the most special night of your life.”
“You already have.”
“I mean it. I intend to show you what it means for a man to make love to you, because I do love you, Gabrielle.”
The weight of Doug’s hungry kiss silenced any response Gabrielle tried to make. She found herself slowly losing control under the delectable and drugging effect of Doug’s actions. He moved slowly and seductively, intoxicating all her senses and liberating her inhibitions. After thoroughly exploring her mouth and face with his lips and tongue, he moved on to her young and copious breasts. Doug took them into his mouth and hungrily feasted on her large, rosy nipples. Gabrielle felt them grow longer and harder with each lick of his tongue. She could feel a delightful nagging sensation in her groin, causing h
er hips and pelvis to instinctively tilt upward in search of Doug’s. A slow, sexy moan escaped from her lips.
The sound of her pleasure was Doug’s indication that it was time to move on. Slowly, luxuriously, he bathed her torso with his tongue, stopping to playfully dip it inside the well of her bellybutton, causing Gabrielle to laugh.
“A prime tickle spot,” he commented.
“Could be.”
“How about here?” he asked, as he lightly ran his fingertips down the length of her inner thigh.
“Hmm,” she moaned, her body melting into the bed.
“And here?” Doug inquired again, as this time he parted her lower lips and lightly circled her clitoris.
Again Gabrielle could answer his question only with a seductive moan as her hips rose to meet his fingertip. Doug was anxious to taste her. He pressed his nose up against her silky thatch of pubic hair. Doug targeted her sexual nerve center with a soft steady stream of warm air before circling it with the very tip of his tongue. Gabrielle stopped breathing, and for a brief period time stood still. She was lost in the pleasure of new and delightful sensations. Her breath came rushing back as Doug, like a cat lapping a bowl of warm milk, dragged his tongue in one long, luscious stroke from the bottom of her vagina to the top of her swollen clitoris.
Gabrielle grabbed his curly head and pressed his face against her pelvis. She needed the delicious ache in her groin to be satisfied. Doug was more than ready to fulfill her need but instead held back, wanting to make sure she was truly ready to receive him. His mouth once again searched out her breasts as his hand worked its magic below. Doug tested her readiness with his fingers, pushing first one, then two of them deep inside her. He fingered her gently but urgently, following the rhythm of Gabrielle’s subtle bucking motions. Gabrielle instinctively moved with his hand, enjoying the sweet pleasure the friction was creating.
She was so ready—wide open and wet. He momentarily put his desire for her in check and rolled over to put on a condom. His task complete, Doug grabbed his rigid penis and began to guide it into her virgin body. Only entering her halfway, Doug lay above her, his weight resting on his arms, while he began a slow glide toward full penetration. Gabrielle, longing to be skin-to-skin with Doug, grabbed his buttocks and pushed him deep into her waiting body. A brief cry of pain escaped her lips.
“Did I hurt you? Are you all right?”
“I’m okay. It just hurt a little bit. Please don’t stop.”
She didn’t have to tell him twice. He continued to love her in slow motion. Gabrielle’s mouth found his, and their tongues danced a lazy, sensual tango. As her hunger for him grew more unbearable, Gabrielle found herself unable to remain silent.
“Oh, this feels so good. Don’t stop. Please don’t ever stop.”
Knowing how much Gabrielle desired him released his pent-up passion, and Doug exploded into a fury of syncopated thrusts. Gabrielle reciprocated his lusty rhythm, their bodies bucking back and forth in a wild, passionate dance. Doug felt himself grow, swell, tighten, and then burst inside her.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t wait,” he panted, holding her close. “We’ll do it again just for you. I want you to come, too.”
“I can’t imagine it feeling any better than this.”
“Oh, it can, baby. It definitely can. And next time you’ll see for yourself.”
The two lay together, enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking. Gabrielle was in awe of the wondrous thing she’d just experienced. How lucky she was that her first sexual encounter was with such a loving, considerate man.
“I love you,” Gabrielle purred, circling his nipples with her index finger.
“I love you, too.”
“Doug?”
“Hmm?” he answered, his voice getting thicker and lazier.
“Can we do it again, now?”
“I’ve created a monster! What a brilliant and lucky man I am,” he congratulated himself as he drew Gabrielle back into his arms.
“I see the aquamarine must have worked. You are positively glowing. Your flight was good?” Greg whispered to Gabrielle as they sat waiting for Maynard Scarborough to get off the phone.
“It was wonderful, full of surprises—your generous gift being one of them. Thank you so much. I actually enjoyed myself. Maybe I’m beginning to get over my fear of flying—enough to start working in Europe. What do you think?”
“I think that’s a great idea and will be very necessary if things go as I suspect they will today.”
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Maynard greeted the two, interrupting their conversation. “Greg, good to see you.”
“Maynard, it’s great to see you again. Please let me formally introduce you to Gabrielle Donovan.”
“If after seeing you in Appeal I hadn’t already decided that you were exactly what Scarborough Designs needed, I’d certainly have come to the conclusion at this moment,” Maynard said, gazing appreciatively at Gabrielle’s Scarborough-clad body.
“I knew you two were meant for each other,” Gregory said, mentally patting himself on the back as they all sat down. This union between Gabrielle and Maynard was going to increase the visibility of his agency a hundredfold.
“Why don’t you tell us exactly what you have in mind for Gabrielle?” Greg suggested.
“After we talked on the phone, my original idea was to use Gabrielle as the lead model during the collection shows and in print ads, but then I saw this,” Maynard said, pulling a long, thin brochure from his desk drawer. “You recognize it?” he asked.
“Of course. That’s Mig Reid’s new promotional brochure,” Greg answered.
“It was this brochure, particularly this picture, that changed my thinking,” the designer stated, pointing to the living-poem shot. “When I saw this photo, I knew immediately that Gabrielle must also be the image for my new line of jewelry. In fact, I’ve scrapped the previous ads and have already talked to Miguel about duplicating this very shot in our print ads for the launch this fall.”
“Maybe we should discuss some of the finer details,” Greg suggested, ready to get down to business.
“Let me cut to the chase. I’d like to offer Gabrielle an exclusive six-year contract to represent Scarborough Designs and Scarborough Jewels. I am prepared to compensate her with the sum of two million dollars for approximately thirty days of work per year. This will mean making the rounds of personal appearances at press conferences and the like. In return, I expect exclusivity on the runway. So, do we have a deal?” the designer inquired.
“Close, but not quite. Six years is an awfully long time for someone with Gabrielle’s earning potential to be tied down. We can’t possibly agree to this deal for under four million, not when Calvin Klein is expressing interest,” Greg bluffed.
“That Calvin, he knows talent. Three million, but that’s my final offer.”
“Three million is perfectly acceptable, but for three years, not six, and with an additional payment of ten thousand per show,” Greg demanded. Underneath his easygoing demeanor, Gregory von Ulrich was a deft negotiator.
“You ask a lot,” Maynard responded, making Greg wonder if he’d pushed too far.
“Yes, but she’s worth a lot,” Greg countered with steely-eyed determination.
The silence was torture as the designer pondered Greg’s demand. “Welcome to the House of Scarborough,” he announced finally, extending his hand to Gregory before turning toward Gabrielle.
Gabrielle, stunned by the news that in less than half an hour she’d become a millionaire, accepted Maynard’s handshake and kiss in silence. She was speechless. She could not believe that he was willing to pay her three million dollars to pose for a few pictures and attend a few parties.
“We’ll hammer out the details with our respective lawyers later. But I would like to announce our agreement to the press in a joint conference very soon,” Greg told him.
“That’s fine. I have only one stipulation. The monetary terms of our agreement are to remain sec
ret. I do not want any details released to the press.”
“I understand.”
“One other thing: I would like Gabrielle to begin her public association with us with the holiday ads for the jewelry line and then during show week in the spring.”
“I think I should tell you that I’ve never—”
“That she’s never been so excited before,” Greg stated, interrupting Gabrielle. There was no need for the man who was going to pay Gabrielle ten thousand dollars a show to know that she’d never strolled a catwalk before. March 1996 was still eight months away. They had plenty of time to teach her what she needed to know.
“I’m excited, too,” Maynard said as his secretary walked in carrying a bottle of Dom Perignon and three flutes. “A toast to Gabrielle Donovan. Scarborough Designs has found its perfect ambassador. Together we are going to set the fashion industry on fire.”
The delicate clink of fine crystal punctuated the air. Gabrielle, Gregory, and Maynard all smiled as they drank, each of them aware that, by sealing this deal, the best was yet to come for all of them.
Doug stood outside the offices of Scarborough Designs. He’d walked the busy Champs Élysées for the last hour and a half before turning onto the avenue Montaigne to wait for Gabrielle. The time alone gave him an opportunity to examine what was happening between the two of them.
Doug was happy he’d acted on his impulse to accompany her to Paris. The spontaneity of his actions had left him feeling delightfully derelict. Never before had he acted so irresponsibly toward his work or done anything to jeopardize his pristine professional reputation, but he’d do it again tomorrow if it meant spending time with Gabrielle.
Last night had been so incredible. In many ways he’d been just as much a virgin as Gabrielle. Never in his life as a sexually active man had he experienced anything like making love with Gabrielle. It left him feeling profoundly joyous and totally susceptible, both physically and emotionally.
For as beautiful as their union appeared, it was certainly vulnerable for a variety of reasons—one being the differences in their ages. Fifteen years was a big span, not so much in age, but more so in life experience. Doug had traveled the world, broken hearts and had his own broken, but Gabrielle had spent most of her twenty years sitting on the window seat of life, watching the world go by. Now, because of the nature of her work, she was being hurled, ready or not, onto life’s fast track and into the fishbowl living of celebrity. Could she cope with the changes her life was about to undergo?
Read Between the Lies Page 20
