“I don’t believe I’m saying it,” Dorian told her, a rueful smile swimming through her tears.
“If you have even a molecule of good sense, you’ll go to him. Now.”
“It’s not that easy. He’s in P-Paris,” Dorian said, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“What could be more romantic? What could be more wonderful? You arrange for the ticket, and I’ll drive you to the airport.”
Dorian stood up. “What if he doesn’t want to see me?” she asked fearfully.
Jill gave her a little push. “Then he’s so stupid that you couldn’t possibly marry him,” she said firmly, and Dorian decided that Jill had a point.
But still. What if she went all the way to Paris and found Deke, and he really didn’t want to see her?
* * *
DORIAN, WEARING a skimpy black French maid’s outfit with a stiff lace petticoat and a white apron tied in a big bow over her nicely rounded derriere, tiptoed in the door of the rich American businessman’s suite at the elegant Plaza Athenée Hotel in Paris. She was carrying two cups of tea and a teapot on a silver tray. The chambermaid, bribed with more francs than Dorian liked to think about, smiled conspiratorially and pulled the door shut behind her.
Her heart pounding in fear and anticipation, Dorian listened for a sound from the bedroom but heard nothing. No television set, no talking, no water running.
Carefully she advanced across the deep-piled carpet, her way lit by moonlight spilling through the window.
And then she heard someone turning over in bed.
She stopped. She listened. If there was more than one person in the bed, she’d drop the tray and run.
After a moment, she resumed walking. Her heels were high, four full inches. And they, like most shoes, hurt her feet. At this point, it was a sacrifice that she was willing to make.
A heavy sigh. A readjustment of the sheets. She froze in the doorway. She saw the outline of Deke’s body under the covers. He was awake. She could tell. And he was alone.
At that moment, he saw her. He sat up in bed, and with a curse, he reached for the lamp and switched on the light, illuminating the bedroom.
“Great God Almighty! What—!”
Dorian minced toward the bed in her high heels, smiling at him provocatively.
“Would you mind, sir, telling me what is your pleasure?” she said in a demure French accent. “Tea—or me?” If this didn’t work, she would murder Jill.
Deke stared at her, his mouth hanging open.
She inclined her head slightly. “Since you don’t answer, perhaps I can make a suggestion,” she said, setting the tray on a table. She reached out and curved her hand around his cheek. “If you would assist, please?” she said. She leaned over so that he couldn’t help getting an eyeful of her cleavage.
“Dorian,” Deke said faintly. He seemed bowled over, but whether it was by her or the outrageously expensive French perfume she had bought that afternoon, she couldn’t be sure.
“S’il vous pla;afit,” she said, sitting in his lap, which was covered by a lightweight goosedown duvet. Under it, he wore nothing.
“I feel—I feel—” he sputtered.
“I can make you Feelgood,” she said.
Deke threw his head back and laughed. And she laughed. And soon they were lying on the bed, arms and legs entangled, engulfed in hilarity.
When he stopped laughing, he gazed at her in amazement.
“You came to Paris,” he said as if he still couldn’t believe it.
“I couldn’t stay away.”
“Why didn’t you come with me in the first place? It would have saved a lot of trouble.”
“I was making a point. I don’t want you to think that you’re calling all the shots,” she said with a hint of self-righteousness.
“I only want the best for you,” he said with equal self-righteousness.
“You’re bossy,” she said bossily.
“You’re stubborn,” he said stubbornly.
“After we made love on the roof, you pretended I wasn’t there,” she said.
“I was scared to death. I knew that I’d found the one woman in the world for me, and Larissa was pushing me to marry you—”
“Marry!”
“Yup. The infamous M word. And I was thinking that married people never have any fun and I didn’t want to get all stodgy and domestic, and I wanted to get you all to myself and inject a little excitement into our lives by making love to you on the roof, and once we were there I knew we would never be stodgy and domestic, we’ll always be ready to try the unusual. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Never a dull moment, because you’re with me all the way, ready for a good time. Always fun and games. You’ve just proved it again. You came to Paris,” he said, as if he still couldn’t believe it.
“Uh, Deke.”
He smiled. “What?”
“I have something to confess.” His smile faded. He was probably thinking the worst. “Not anything terribly awful,” she hastened to add.
“Well, how awful?”
“I haven’t been completely honest in this relationship.”
“Dorian, if you—”
She placed a finger on his lips. “It’s been preying on my mind, so I want to get it off my chest. Remember the balloon ride?”
“Sure. What’s this about, anyway?”
“Well...”
“Go on.”
“I hated it. I felt like I was going to throw up the whole time.” She waited to see what he would say.
“You acted like it was fun,” he said in a tone of bewilderment.
“Acted is the key word here. I wanted to prove that I was a good sport. And I wanted to be with you. But please—please don’t make me go again.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Is that all you have to confess? Faking it?”
“The point is that I can’t do everything you want to do. I’m constitutionally unable to go on roller coasters, too.”
“I can live with that,” he said. His eyes held a glint of humor. “I don’t suppose you’ve been faking anything else, have you?”
“I haven’t had to. Remember what I told you that day on the MARTA? That my fantasy man would be ready to make mad, passionate love to me morning, noon and night because we’d be starving for each other every minute we’re apart? And that he’d be adventurous, always proposing new things, in bed and out? And that he’d totally appreciate the woman I am and the woman I’m going to be? Well, I’ve found him in you, Deke Washburn. And I am, like I said I would be, putty in your hands.”
“You feel a sight better than that.”
She lay back against the pillows. Their faces were radiant with smiles.
“How could I not love you?” he asked, gazing down at her with his heart in his eyes.
“Or I you?” she responded.
“I do love you, Dorian. You’re my life,” he told her, more serious now.
She searched his face. “And I love you. Oh, Deke, I missed you so much.”
He leaned over her, pinning her to the bed. “Suppose you show me how good you can make me feel.”
She fluttered her fingers the length of his nude torso. “Is this a start?” she said, her eyes sparkling.
“Keep going.” He lowered his head and began to kiss and caress her. Her body was primed for the exquisite pleasure that he always brought her, and when he pushed the low-cut neckline down to expose her breasts, she settled into the pillows with a contented sigh.
“My darlin’ Dr. Feelgood, you really know how to treat a man,” he murmured as she guided his hand to her breast.
“I guess you could say you’re exactly my cup of tea,” she whispered, and after that there was no sound but moans of pleasure and sighs of rediscovery.
Afterward, Deke pulled the duvet over both of them and said, “We’re going to get married. I suppose you know that.”
She closed her eyes, giving herself the chance to say no. But the word wasn’t there. A
ll she could think was “Yes, yes, yes!”
“Yes,” she said in amazement.
“Would it suit you to be married in Paris? Soon?”
“How could I say no to that?” she asked him, her face alight.
“I never thought I’d be asking anyone to marry me,” he said with a kind of wonder.
“I never thought I’d be agreeing to marry anyone,” she told him. “And what about you? You’re The World’s Last Bachelor. You were never going to get married.”
He eased her onto her back and slid his body over hers. He held himself up on his elbows and wound his hands deep in her hair.
“I fought the good fight, but you chased me until I caught you,” he said, smiling again. “By the way, the French maid skit was terrific.”
“What would you think of it as a Dr. Feelgood commercial?” she asked him.
“I don’t think they could show it on prime-time TV,” he said, and as they began to make love again, slowly and surely and with all the pent-up passion of lovers too long apart, she had to admit that he was right.
Epilogue
“You’re not going to try to make everything all right for me in this play, are you, Deke? Things go wrong, critics might hate it, the production might fall flat, and with it, so will I,” Dorian said after she signed the contract for a lead role in the off-Broadway play that had been recommended to her by Charles.
Deke looked across the table at his bride of three weeks. They were celebrating her part in Rancho Elegante by having dinner at the Rainbow Room high atop Rockefeller Center in the heart of Manhattan. Dorian was wearing a chic black dress and in her ears were sparkly diamond earrings, a wedding present from him.
He had made it possible for her to buy the expensive dress. He had given her the diamond earrings, and he hoped he would be giving her many more jewels in the years to come.
He had done a lot for her. But he knew that no matter how much money he had or how hard he tried, he would never be able to make Dorian succeed in her chosen profession.
He reached across the table and took her left hand, the one wearing the simple but elegant oval diamond and the spanking-new wedding band.
“Have I ever told you about my mother’s dress shop?” he said.
“You’ve mentioned it,” Dorian said.
“My mother’s dream was to own her own shop. For years she scrimped and saved, working long hours in the five-and-dime in Toccoa, Georgia, until she at last had enough money to buy a shop of her own. All those years that she worked overtime, that she denied herself conveniences like electric dishwashers and automatic washing machines because she couldn’t afford them, I watched her struggle.
“I was a little kid who longed to help her, but you don’t get much emotional support from little kids. If only another adult had been there to ease her over the tough times, it wouldn’t have been so hard. And I don’t think for a moment that finally opening Margie’s Originals would have been any less of an achievement. There’s nothing noble in suffering, Dorian. That’s something I learned from Mom.”
She studied his face, her head tipped to one side. “What are you saying, Deke?”
He leaned across the table. “The point is that I can fly you away in my balloon, hire a maid for you, find you an apartment, create fantasy scenes worthy of the Arabian Nights, make your fondest wishes come true, and, now that you’re my wife, pay your bills. But I know from my own experience and Mom’s that the truest accomplishments are those that we achieve by ourselves. Who would know better than I do? I came out of nowhere with my herbal teas. I’m comfortable with my success, but the best thing about it is that I can now make life easier for the people I love. As I will for you. As long as I live.”
“That’s so beautiful, Deke. I hardly know what to say.”
He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the finger that wore his ring.
“Say you’ll accept what I can give you and work hard for the rest. Because you’re still going to have to work hard to make it as an actress. But I’ll be by your side every step of the way, helping you all I can. I love the challenge of building something, like I did with my company, but I’ve done my thing. I’ll never have to work again a day of my life. That makes me free to be your partner, to work alongside you until you get your heart’s desire, to make it as much fun as I can. Now it’s your turn, Dorian.”
The light of understanding in her eyes was not diminished by the sudden joyful tears. “I love you, Deke Washburn,” she whispered.
“And I love you. But there’s one thing I really want to know.” His eyes danced with merriment.
“What?” she asked, caught off guard.
“Tell me, ma’am, do you take a bath or a shower?”
If he hadn’t ducked, her crumpled cocktail napkin would have hit him right between the eyes.
While he was under the table, he caught a glimpse of her shapely legs. Merely thinking about making love to her always put him in the mood.
“About that bath or shower,” Dorian said thoughtfully as he sat up and straightened his tie, the one he had bought at Goodwill at the start of their romance and had worn tonight purely for sentimental reasons.
“Yes?”
“Would you like to find out which I prefer?”
“What exactly do you have in mind?”
“Let’s get out of here and I’ll show you.”
“In that case, Mrs. Washburn, may I convince you to accompany me back to our hotel?”
“Yes, Mr. Washburn. I’d be delighted,” Dorian said in a very proper British accent.
* * *
DORIAN STEPPED out of the shower, her hair soaking wet, her eyes enormous. Her gently rounded breasts gleamed with water, the uptilted nipples pink and enticing in the swirling steam.
The man was waiting for her. He pulled her into his arms and gloried in the sensation of skin against skin, of her heart beating in perfect rhythm with his.
Her eyes were misty, the pupils glowing with desire. She touched the tip of her tongue to his chest, licking the water from his nipple. He trembled with the force of his longing.
Deke gathered her close, fusing his body to hers, and when he kissed her, her mouth opened to his, their tongues teasing, dancing, mating exquisitely. Slowly he lifted her until she wrapped her legs around his waist, their lips never parting.
This was not fantasy. This was real. As real as the emotions he felt; as real as their two bodies soon to be one.
As real as their love, and nothing in the world could be more real than that.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-8299-5
The World’s Last Bachelor
Copyright © 1995 by Pamela Browning
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