“The time we were supposed to get together seems to have slipped my mind,” Gabrielle said, ignoring Jack’s shoes for the moment.
“I left it on your answering machine last night.”
“I didn’t get in from Palm Springs until very late. I haven’t checked my messages. Let me hang your coat,” Gabrielle offered, taking the coffee and bags from Jack.
Jack pulled off his trench coat, revealing the perfect outfit to go with his slippers. He was wearing a burgundy bathrobe, closed and belted over navy-striped pajama bottoms. A small triangle of Jack’s naked chest peeked out from his robe.
Gabrielle burst into laughter. “I know there’s a logical explanation for your attire.”
“You said to plan my dream date. Well, my dream date begins with you and me lazing around in our pajamas, drinking coffee, and reading the paper together. So here I am. Elated to see that not only are you dressed for the occasion, but that Walt Disney and I have something in common.”
“I’m missing the connection here,” Gabrielle admitted.
“We both have our own Sleeping Beauty,” Jack explained with a flirty wink.
“Well, Walt, welcome to the Magic Kingdom,” Gabrielle said, picking up breakfast and leading Jack to the kitchen.
“This is quite a place you have here. I’m not sure which is more impressive, the tasteful decor or the incredible view,” Jack commented. Gabrielle’s apartment was simply but elegantly decorated in the cool, soothing colors of white, taupe, and gray. Dominating the room was a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, and from this vantage point Jack had a commanding view of the East River, Roosevelt Island, and the Queensborough and Triborough bridges.
“Thank you, but no decor in existence can compete with the New York skyline.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Jack said, accepting his cup of coffee from Gabrielle. He sat down at the table and reached for the paper.
“What part do you want to start with—Sports? Arts and Leisure? Take your pick,” he said, offering Gabrielle the newspaper.
“I can’t read the paper first thing in the morning,” Gabrielle explained. “Usually I let the ‘Today’ show deliver the early news. Do you mind?”
“Not at all. Turn it on.”
Gabrielle walked over to a small color television and turned it on to NBC. She returned to the table, picked up a cinnamon roll, and began nibbling around its edges. Al Roker filled the screen, delivering his always humorous and sometimes accurate weather report. When he finished, he threw the show back to Bryant Gumbel, who announced his next guest, Doug Sixsmith, author of the new thriller Ride the Fire.
Seeing Doug on the screen, Gabrielle nearly choked on her roll. She hadn’t seen or heard his voice in six months, not since the day their life together came to a crashing halt. Doug looked tired, but he still had his easygoing good looks and genuine smile. She sat silently staring at the television, not hearing a word of what he was telling Bryant and the show’s millions of viewers.
“Weren’t you two an item a while back?” Jack asked casually.
“Yes, but that’s ancient history.”
“Why did you break up?”
“Career pressures,” Gabrielle covered up lightly.
Jack took a long sip of his coffee and listened as Bryant wrapped up his interview with Doug. “So, any unresolved feelings on either part?” Jack was confident that this wimpy wordsmith presented him no real competition, but he wanted to know just what he was up against.
“Not at all. It was clear to both of us that we didn’t belong together.”
“That’s all I needed to hear,” Jack said, flashing a winning grin.
“You must have your mom wrapped around your finger with that smile,” Gabrielle commented.
“I have to admit it got me out of a few jams now and again, with Mom, but believe me, it didn’t move my old man in the least.”
“Does your family live in New York?”
“My dad died of cancer when I was twenty-three, and my mother followed two years later. They were both only children, like me, so I have no extended family to speak of.”
“Sounds like we have something in common.”
“And I’m sure we’re bound to discover more. Now I’m going home to change. I’ll pick you up around noon, and we’ll have lunch at one of my favorite spots before having some fun.”
“Good, I’m ready for some fun.” Gabrielle was through being serious when it came to men. If her relationship with Doug had proved anything, it was that love was for other people.
“This brewery is one of your favorite lunch spots, huh?” Gabrielle chuckled, wiping a smudge of mustard from Jack’s chin. To her surprise, he had brought her to the Chelsea Pier Sports Center, located on the Hudson River.
“Best hot dogs this side of Yankee Stadium,” he revealed. “Ready to hit a few?”
Gabrielle followed him out of the Chelsea Brewing Company and onto the driving range. Jack helped her pick out a driver from a variety of rental golf clubs and purchased a range card before traveling down the narrow walkway to an empty stall. The whoosh of clubs slicing the air, followed by the sharp whack of iron hitting ball echoed throughout the area.
Jack positioned Gabrielle so she faced the vinyl curtain that separated one practice tee from another and gave her a quick lesson on the art of the golf swing. “See, just nice and easy,” he said as he launched his ball two hundred and ten feet across the Astroturf-covered pier. Gabrielle watched as a new ball popped up on its tee from the ground while the ATM-like machine automatically deducted the cost of another ball from the range card. She laughed aloud. Only in New York City would one find this high-tech addition to such a traditional, time-honored game.
“Go on, try it,” Jack urged. Gabrielle pulled the club back behind her head and swung hard. The momentum of her swing caused her to twist around a full three hundred and sixty degrees. Gabrielle burst into laughter as she noticed that her ball had not left the tee. Jack’s standing there shaking his head only made her laugh harder.
“I think there’s something missing in my technique,” she quipped.
“I’d say so. Let me show you,” Jack said as he walked around and stood behind her. Pressing the front of his body against the back of hers, he wrapped his arms around her, capturing Gabrielle in a straight-arm embrace.
“God, you smell delicious,” he said, getting caught up in the fresh scent of her hair. Momentarily forgetting her golf lesson, Jack took the opportunity to lightly kiss her neck and nibble her right ear. “You want a nice, smooth stroke,” Jack whispered seductively in her ear. His close proximity and warm breath caressing the sensitive nerves in her ear was sending shivers through her body. Just as he intended, Gabrielle was finding it difficult to concentrate on his instructions. Suddenly the lesson was cut short by four quick, successive flashes. Someone had just taken their picture.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” Jack demanded, turning around to find a small crowd of spectators.
“I told you that was Gabrielle Donovan,” one of the golfers commented.
“It is you, isn’t it?” shouted a woman. “Please, just one picture?” she pleaded.
Gabrielle looked at Jack and, with a slight shrug of her shoulders, motioned the woman over. Several pictures and autographs followed as the golfers took advantage of having one of the world’s most famous models in their midst.
“Sorry about that,” Gabrielle apologized once they were in Jack’s Range Rover.
“Don’t apologize. It was time to leave. You were causing too much of a disturbance.”
“Sometimes fame isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Gabrielle admitted.
“I’m not talking about the autograph hounds, I’m talking about that dreadful swing of yours. You were kicking up enough wind and dust to qualify as a tornado,” Jack teased, patting her thigh. “Feel like doing a little shopping?”
Jack left the West Side and headed across town to SoHo, stopping at a trendy boutique on Spring Street. There, waitin
g for Gabrielle in the dressing room, was a sleek and sexy cocktail dress, hose, and a pair of classic fuck-me high-heeled pumps, all handpicked and paid for by Jack.
“I figured you’d want to change for dinner,” he explained, “so I took the liberty of picking something out for you.”
Gabrielle emerged from the dressing room wearing the tight red dress with a sheer illusion midsection. The dress traced every curve of her body, leaving nothing to the imagination. It was beautiful and daring, and obviously pleasing to Jack’s discerning eye.
“God, you are hot,” he exclaimed, proud of his choice of both dress and woman.
“How did you know my size?” she inquired. While this attention-grabbing outfit was not something she’d pick out for herself, Gabrielle appreciated Jack’s effort to surprise her.
“I looked up your particulars in your agency book. Damn, am I a lucky guy or what? I get to walk in with gorgeous you on my arm. Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said, anxious to show her off.
Jack Hollis was a true believer that clothes didn’t make the man—his woman did. He would also be the first to admit that a woman’s physical attributes were important to him. Beauty and love were forever interwoven as far as Jack was concerned. He was an artist, after all. He made his living creating aesthetically pleasing designs. He appreciated symmetry and the grace and natural flow of pretty things. How could he not be attracted to and desire a beautiful woman?
They headed over to The Niche, one of several trendy, high-profile restaurants in Manhattan where celebrities and wannabe celebrities often gathered to nourish their bodies and egos. They were stopped just as they were about to enter by a photographer who asked to take their picture. Jack happily obliged by pulling Gabrielle close and smiling broadly for the camera.
Jack had requested one of the tables in the center of the room, a table reserved by people who wanted to be noticed. The couple sat talking and munching on appetizers until they were interrupted by yet another fan requesting an autograph.
Gabrielle looked at Jack, her eyes filled with apology. “Go on,” he prompted her with a smile. He didn’t mind the intrusion at all; in fact, he rather enjoyed it. In no way did Jack feel slighted or emasculated by her celebrity. He felt just the opposite. To have a supermodel like Gabrielle Donovan on his arm obviously meant that he must be at the top of his game.
Gabrielle quickly signed the man’s napkin and sent him away happy. She turned her attention back to Jack, who was smiling broadly. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because I like the way you handle yourself with your fans.”
“And I like the way you handle all these interruptions,” she observed. “Most men don’t really understand this part of it—you know, the autographs, the gossip,” Gabrielle told him.
“I hope you know by now that I’m not most men.”
“That is becoming increasingly clear,” Gabrielle said, giving Jack a flash of the famous Donovan smile.
Jack leaned into the table and kissed her boldly, ignoring the public attention they were drawing. Gabrielle slowly pulled away, embarrassed but fully aware of the delicious urges her body was experiencing. There was an undeniable physical attraction between the two of them. It was a sensual pull that ached to be satisfied.
“I think it’s time to leave,” Jack announced.
The drive back to Gabrielle’s was full of companionable chatter and laughter, layered over a healthy undercurrent of sexual tension. All too soon they found themselves standing in the hallway outside Gabrielle’s apartment.
“Are you sure this date is over?” Jack asked, biting his bottom lip in a sexy, impossible-to-say-no- to manner. “How about some coffee?”
“I suppose that’s the least I can do,” Gabrielle said, smiling as she pushed the door open. “Why don’t you put on some music?” she suggested on her way to the kitchen.
Jack smiled at her suggestion. In his mind, the perfect mood music would be “Let’s Get It On,” by the magnificent Marvin Gaye. Rather than tinker with the nuances of seduction, Marvin Gaye’s music was straight and to the point. But tonight was not about bold sexuality, Jack reminded himself as he placed Kenny G on the CD player. Tonight was about romantic discovery, and for that nothing beat the soulful whine of a saxophone. Jack dimmed the chandelier, letting the city lights help set the mood.
Gabrielle returned carrying a tray laden with coffee and almond biscotti.
“Come sit down,” Jack requested, patting the sofa cushion next to him. Gabrielle obliged, and Jack put his arm around her, pulling her close. “You are so damn sexy,” Jack whispered, turning Gabrielle’s face to his. His tongue gently parted her lips and began to explore her warm mouth, while his fingers combed gently through her hair.
Jack began nibbling at her ears and neck. Slowly he pushed her back on the sofa, gracefully positioning the two of them so they were both on their sides, belly to belly. Jack ran his hands over Gabrielle’s back, arms, and breasts. Their kisses grew more and more ardent, each of them getting caught up in their bodies’ wonderful sensations. Gabrielle could feel Jack’s hardness press against her.
Jack took his mouth away long enough to lock his eyes with Gabrielle’s as he unzipped Gabrielle’s dress and swiftly unhooked her bra, releasing her breasts from their lacy confinement. He took her already stiff nipples into his mouth and tenderly bathed them in his warm saliva. She was not sure which was more powerful, the seductive tug of her nipples moving in and out of his luscious, warm mouth or the blatant sensuality that was smoldering behind those hazel eyes. Gabrielle heard herself moan as the ache in her pelvis intensified.
“Wait,” she said huskily as she forced herself to sit up. Gabrielle had not been intimate with another man since Doug, and even though her body desired to be touched and penetrated, she was hesitant to proceed. Shouldn’t they spend more time together before becoming intimate? Shouldn’t she wait until her heart wanted him as much as her body?
“Yes, baby, what? Tell Jack what you want,” he moaned, momentarily waylaid, but confident that his tried-and-true powers of persuasion would succeed.
“It’s our first date,” she tried to reason lamely.
“So let’s make it one to remember,” Jack replied, before devouring her lips again. His burning kiss immediately pulled Gabrielle’s defenses down. She no longer had the power to resist him. She took his hand and led him back into her room and to her king-size bed. Together they fell on the bed, lost in their unleashed passion.
Quickly they both stripped off their clothes and lay naked on top of the covers. Jack devoured her, his mouth and hands moving wildly over the length of her body. He placed his finger inside Gabrielle and, feeling her wet lust, put on a condom and climbed on top of her. “I want to fuck you so bad,” he told her. “Tell me you want me in your pussy, too,” he moaned.
Jack’s crude language both annoyed and excited her. She’d grown accustomed to Doug’s loving words and gestures. Never had he spoken to her in such graphic sexual terms. But this was not Doug. This was Jack, and his raw passion and vocal intercourse gave their coupling an energetic, slightly pornographic tilt. Gabrielle found herself responding to Jack more with her body and less with her emotions. This was not about her love life. This was about her sex life. This was about releasing inhibitions and satisfying the hunger that had burned in her body for months.
“Yes. I want you,” she told him. Her body believing her mouth, she pushed her hips closer to his. Hearing her words, Jack quickly penetrated her, and together their bodies found a mutually satisfying rhythm. They rocked back and forth, loudly expressing their pleasure. Gabrielle found herself letting go and focusing on the delightful friction the joining of their bodies created. It wasn’t long until she exploded into orgasm, accompanied by a low, lusty wail.
“Oh, fuck yeah, baby,” he moaned. As the words left his mouth, Jack’s body went taut as he came with a powerful orgasm that seemed to go forever. He collapsed on top of Gabrielle and then rolled over, his b
reath still short. “Oh, my God, that was fantastic,” he said. “It was like sitting in a Lamborghini and going straight from first to fifth gear before blasting off.”
“Do you always describe your orgasms?” Gabrielle asked, amused by Jack’s analogy.
“I guess so, though I never really thought about it,” Jack explained, reaching for his pants and pulling out a pack of Marlboros. “Do you mind?”
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
“Only when I’m really stressed and after great sex.”
“Are you telling me you’re stressed out?” she teased.
“What do you think?” he asked, confident that Gabrielle was just as satisfied as he. Jack prided himself on being a skilled and imaginative lover.
“How about lighting up out on the terrace?”
“Fair enough,” Jack said as he pulled on his pants. He gave Gabrielle a quick kiss and then walked outside to smoke. Gabrielle stretched out and tried to sort through her feelings. As proud of herself as she was for taking this final step away from Doug, she couldn’t help comparing her new lover to her old. The two were such totally different men. Jack Hollis was tall, sexy, and handsome. He pursued her with outrageous flattery and coy flirtation. Doug was an all-American intellectual who, much more timid in his approach, had captured her heart and mind with intimate talks and quiet laughter. Jack was unpredictable, exciting, and fun-loving, while Doug was as comfortable and dependable as a rumpled bed at the end of a long day.
Her attraction to the advertiser encompassed much more than just the man. Jack made her feel grown up and womanly. He kept her wired and tense—an edginess brought on by the new sensation of pure sexual desire. He was an energetic and lustful lover, and what he lacked in romantic soulfulness he made up for in erotic excitement. Doug was warm, and smooth, and loving. He made her feel safe, protected, cherished.
Gabrielle had loved Doug with everything she knew how to give, and in return he had broken her heart. And though she had just made love to Jack, she knew she wasn’t in love with him. But that fact, instead of pulling her away, made Jack all the more attractive and Gabrielle all the more interested.
Read Between the Lies Page 29
