Felicity couldn’t keep from laughing. He had clearly gotten himself into an interesting dilemma with this young girl.
“Well, I don’t think it’s funny, thanks very much!” he said and laughed with her despite himself.
“No, it’s really not. It’s just, I feel like I have an imaginary list in my head for all the reasons she’s completely wrong for you and I think I need a new page now!”
“Great, thanks,” he said with a smirk.
“I’m sorry,” she said, stifling more laughter. “I know you love her. But it’s harder and harder for me to see why. I can’t help but be honest, Conor. You know me, I don’t put on pretense.”
After a moment, he smiled a little and shook his head resignedly. “Well, here’s more for your imaginary lists. Gavin and Sophie are back together.”
“Really?” she asked and searched his face.
“I guess not officially, but it’s in the works.”
“And? How do you feel?”
“I’m okay. Really. It’s not unexpected, you know. I’ve always believed they’d get back together.”
She didn’t see anything in his eyes to contradict his words. “Still . . . .”
He shrugged. “What am I to do, Fee? I refuse to be sad about it. This will make my best friend happy. I’m getting married to Colette. It’s all as it should be.”
This time she didn’t quite buy all he was saying. Something about the perfunctory way he had said that last bit didn’t feel right. But she sensed it wouldn’t be wise to push.
“So, you’re anxious to have kids, are you?” she asked, circling back to their earlier conversation.
“I don’t know if I’d say anxious, but I found myself having to ask whether it was even going to happen for us with the attitude she has toward kids.”
“Ah, well you have time yet since she’s only a teenager,” she said.
“She’s twenty-three,” he replied with a shake of his head.
“You’ll be a great father, CQ.”
“Well, I certainly hope to find out whether that’s true someday,” he said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The call went unanswered for the fourth time and Conor disconnected with frustration. He looked down the conference room table at the group of a dozen people gathered to finalize the next round of media appearances. Shay and Martin were there, along with James and other key leaders of the Rogue organization. They were high up in a slick glass building in Dublin’s Docklands business district with views of the graceful harp-like arch of the Samuel Beckett Bridge. The bridge crossed the dark waters of the River Liffey and teemed with both auto and pedestrian morning traffic.
“Well?” Felicity asked.
This was her first meeting leading the media team in charge of strategizing television, radio, and print promotions, and it had gotten off to a rocky start as they waited for Gavin to join them. She had worked long hours over the past few weeks to get up to speed on the organization and had been both nervous and excited to present this round of plans to the band.
“Let’s start,” Conor told her.
She hesitated, wondering if she should voice her concern over what might be behind Gavin’s absence. Then she saw Conor tilt his head the slightest bit and she read his silent plea to not make this into a spectacle.
“Sure thing,” she said and launched into the thrust of her plans.
~
“Do you think we need to worry?” Felicity asked Conor once the meeting had concluded and everyone else had trickled out of the room.
“I don’t—” He cut himself off when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He grabbed it. “Ah, there he is,” he said, waving the phone before answering it.
“Con, I totally got the date wrong on this meeting. I’m not even in town,” Gavin said without preamble.
“Where are you, then?”
“Paris. I’ve flown in to see Sophie for a few days.”
“So, you’re okay?”
“Em, yeah. What, were you worried I’d gone off on a coke binge?”
“Well, fuck, when you don’t show up and can’t be reached one does wonder,” Conor said defensively.
The line was quiet for a lengthy moment.
“Guess you would,” Gavin said. “Anyway, how did Felicity do?”
Conor looked up and found Felicity watching him intently, worry laid bare on her face. “She did great. She’s one of us.”
Felicity felt her chest expand with relief and pride. This career move she had talked her way into had been daunting once she’d been given her own department with the expectation that she would handle the media promotions for the band’s new album. But Conor had encouraged her every step of the way and had now given her the true stamp of approval.
“Will you be back for the party at the new house?” Conor asked Gavin.
“Yeah, for sure. See you then.”
Conor slipped his phone back into his pocket. “He got the date wrong, Fee. He’s fine. In fact, he’s in Paris with Sophie.”
“How romantic,” she said. “I miss being romanced.”
“Just when I think you’re one of the guys you go and gush like a girl,” he said and grinned.
“And wouldn’t you know that my prospects are dim now that I’m working around the clock for the likes of you.”
“You love being around me all the time,” he said and put his arm around her familiarly.
She reached up and squeezed his hand where he held her shoulder.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Sophie used a straw to take another sip from her split of champagne as a hairstylist finished pulling large rollers from her head. Chaos filled the room as hair and makeup teams working frantically on the show’s models created an electric current in the air. She felt full of nervous energy and hoped the alcohol would help dull that. It wasn’t concerns over doing the shows that sent her legs trembling, but rather the idea of seeing Gavin. They had become close again through their near constant phone, text, and Skype conversations over the past few weeks, but she still feared letting him all the way back into her heart.
There was an increase in noise coming from the audience area then, a rising of voices and a smattering of camera clicks that went beyond the normal constant hum.
“Another actress coming by for free couture,” Renee said with a smirk as he pulled wisps of Sophie’s hair just so.
“It’s a mutual ass-kissing, though, isn’t it?” Sophie asked with a laugh. “The celebrity gets free clothes and the designer gets free publicity.
“Honey, I’m trying to visualize a mutual ass-kissing,” Renee replied, rolling his eyes.
“Oh my God,” Victoria, a designer’s assistant, said. She wore a headset and held a clipboard detailing the order of models and which pieces they would wear for each walk. “Sophie, that noise we just heard was for your husband. He’s here! Marc is going to fucking love this.”
Sophie forced herself to smile, trying to act cool.
“Does this mean you two are back together?” Renee asked.
“Too soon to say. Wish me luck,” Sophie said and finished off her champagne.
~
Gavin sat on a narrow folding chair in the front row at the Marc Jacob’s show, one knee bouncing of its own volition as he waited. He had gone from the airport to The Four Seasons, checking in as a guest of Sophie’s so he could drop off his bag and pick up the event passes for the shows she was in that day.
What he focused on instead was a large vase overflowing with red tulips and an open note from the model Stefan Grojean, wishing her good luck and saying he was looking forward to seeing her at the Jacobs show. In the course of their daily conversations, Sophie had confessed that she had lately been pursued by a few men, one being the American actor Tucker Williams and another being the Swedish model. Though she said she hadn’t gone beyond flirting with these other men, Grojean, at least, wasn’t deterred.
Gavin had made his way through the bowels of the Carrousel du Lo
uvre, below the Louvre Museum, and past the point of the inverted prism near the Apple store with distraction until he found his way to the event halls and inside for the Jacobs show.
He was glad for the lights dropping out and the music turning loud as the show started. When Sophie strode down the gleaming white runway the sound of camera clicks from the press in the room intensified. Gavin thought she was luminous as she walked confidently toward him. She wore a pale green sheer flowy gown with strategic embellishments and it set her eyes an emerald glow. When she reached the closest point to him, she lingered for a half-second longer than she should have so that she could make eye contact with him and wink before doing a pirouette and retracing her steps.
The press and audience ate up the apparent reunion of Gavin and Sophie. There were as many cameras focused on Gavin as there were on Sophie, and he was blinded momentarily by the flashes. He felt strangers slapping him on the back with well-wishes and congratulations.
The event became more surreal when Gavin identified the model Stefan Grojean. He was the only true blonde and had Nordic features, so Gavin knew he had to be the one pursuing his wife.
The energy in the room was high and as soon as the show was over, Gavin used his pass to go backstage and find Sophie. There was a sea of beautiful, scantily clad women, but he saw only Sophie. She was in a robe, her hair pulled back into a hasty ponytail as she wiped her face clean of the heavy makeup used for the show.
He called her name as he approached. Even in the mayhem and din of the post-show backstage, she turned at the sound of his voice. She kissed him briefly and gave him a hug.
“You were amazing,” he told her.
“Thanks. Do you want to go grab some coffee? I have about forty-five minutes before I have to be at the next show.”
“Sure.”
“Great. Let me change.”
Without a second thought, she let her robe fall open and stood before him in matching nude colored g-string and strapless bra. After years of having to quickly dress and undress in front of other models and staff, she was used to the exposure.
But Gavin bristled. He was made even more uncomfortable when before Sophie could grab her tee-shirt, Stefan Grojean approached them.
“Sophie, you were wonderful,” Stefan said, leaning in to kiss Sophie on either cheek.
“Thanks, you too. One down, two to go,” she said with a smile. She quickly slipped on a gray v-neck tee-shirt. “Let me introduce you to Gavin McManus. Gavin, this is my friend, Stefan Grojean.”
As the two men eyed each other, Sophie pulled on well-worn jeans.
“Ah, yes, the husband,” Stefan said with a smirk.
“The one and only,” Gavin returned. “Great flowers you sent, by the way.”
“Yes, I find tulips are always a good idea.”
“Sending flowers to a married woman isn’t such a bright idea, though, is it?”
“Will you be at the party tonight, Sophie?” Stefan asked, ignoring Gavin’s comment.
“Yes—” she started.
“Yes, we will,” Gavin replied, asserting himself. He straightened so he stood taller. It hit him uncomfortably that Stefan was at least 6’2” and well-built with classically handsome features.
“Okay,” Sophie said with a smile. “Glad you two could meet. We’ll see you later, Stefan.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Gavin followed Sophie toward the exit. For once, he was in the position of being the one to tag along as she said quick goodbyes with brief kisses to both cheeks to nearly everyone they passed by. She was obviously well-liked and respected and he was happy to see it.
She led them through a route different from what he had taken, and it became apparent they were using service passageways. Before he had a chance to question their direction, she pushed against the silver bar of an unmarked door and they stepped out into the pale Paris light.
They spent a few minutes walking briskly before turning onto Rue Saint Honoré and ducking into a café filled with locals. Gavin followed Sophie as she moved all the way to the back where they found booths and some privacy. After ordering espressos and croissants from the white-aproned waiter, they stopped to simply take each other in.
“So,” she ventured, “did you have a chance to see that Bazaar?”
“I did indeed. Just on the way over this morning.”
“And?” She bit her bottom lip in anticipation.
He had, in fact, arrived early to the airport in order to secure a copy since she had warned him that she was nude on the cover. Tastefully nude, but nude nonetheless. The cover showed his wife posing with only flowers in her hair to offset the fact that she wore nothing else. She lay on her belly, raised casually on her forearms so that the curves of her breasts were apparent, her back arched and the shape of her bottom just visible.
The accompanying feature inside was a satirical look at the increasingly sheer and laughably small sizes of the clothing trend coming out of the fashion houses. With a straight face Sophie had modeled see-through ensembles that showed her small rosy nipples in the streets of London. In one photo she sat with a man in a suit, ostensibly going over paperwork while she was dressed in a very short pinstripe mini-skirt and a matching blazer that had been shrunken so that it barely covered her breasts. It was very well done, with a clear artistic slant.
“It was great, Sophie,” he told her, surprised at how concerned she was over his reaction. But then it sank in that he had given her reason to worry about such things with his response to the first Sports Illustrated cover she had done. He hadn’t seen the cover photo until it was out and in the hands of his bandmates backstage before a concert. His jealousy and possessiveness had been explosive. And he had humiliated her in front of the whole crew.
“Really?” she asked.
“Yes, I mean it. In fact, I enjoyed the satire of it. And you look beautiful, as always.”
“It’s not too risqué?”
“No, the intent was clear,” he said and she nodded.
The waiter returned with their food and drink and she turned her small mug in circles.
Gavin’s eyes were drawn to this nervous motion, and it was only then that he noticed that her hands were bare.
“Darlin’, where are your wedding rings?” he asked.
“Oh, I don’t wear them at the shows. They’re with hotel security.”
“I can’t help but be bothered by seeing you without them.”
Sophie smiled and then took his left hand into both of hers. She ran a finger over his wedding band. “You mean you’ve never taken yours off in all this time?”
“No, of course not.”
“Not even when you were with other women?” She began trailing her fingers over his palm and around the sensitive skin of his inner wrist. This teasing pattern of touch had always been a way to silently affirm intimacy and sensuality with each other.
“There were no other women. Even if there had been, I wouldn’t have taken it off. You are the only woman I have ever loved. No one else stands a chance.”
Sophie wet her lips with her tongue and Gavin leaned forward in anticipation of what she might say. He was intoxicated by her touch. But instead of speaking, she simply kept her eyes focused on his in a way that was so full of desire he had to reach down with his free hand to adjust himself.
It had been years since he had felt this kind of powerless sexual anxiety. He felt like a teenager again, wanting Sophie so badly as she kept him at bay. On impulse, he leaned across the small table and kissed her hard on the mouth.
“Gavin,” she murmured, pulling away from him.
“I’m sorry, but you’re driving me mad and all you’re doing is touching my fucking hand,” he said.
She let him go with a small smile.
“Don’t stop,” he said quickly.
Now she leaned close to him whispered, “What do you want me to do, baby? You want me to take you into the bathroom and fuck you?”
“I wouldn’t say no,” he said
and tried to kiss her again.
She pulled away. “I have to go back to work.”
“Sophie, you’re killing me,” he moaned, dropping his head dramatically.
“You know what I think?”
“What?” He looked at her as she stood up.
“I think that you not getting what you want all the time is a good thing.”
“Yeah, it’s lovely,” he said with a defeated smile as he stood up.
“Oh, come on,” she said with a laugh and kissed him. As she pulled away, she teasingly bit his bottom lip and this time he moaned with pleasure.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Lunch, then?” Conor asked.
Felicity looked up from the laptop where she had been taking notes. She and Conor had stayed on in the meeting room to talk over more of the media details, including some interactive social media ideas they would need to take to Jessica.
“Em, just a quick one? I have so much to do.”
“Oh, I can do it quickly, slowly, and everything in between.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she moaned and then fell into amused laughter.
“Let’s go, honey.” He held his hand out to her and she took it.
~
They walked to a sushi restaurant on the quay overlooking the River Liffey and were seated next to a wall of windows with a view of the dark water.
“You don’t mind your photograph being taken, do you?” Conor asked after they had ordered.
“What do you mean?”
“There were paparazzi out there along our walk. And there are at least two people over there who think they’re pretty clever with their mobile phone cameras.”
“Well, they’re not taking a picture of me, that’s for sure!”
“Put your work hat on for a second. If you saw a photo in the tabloids of me with a woman who was not my fiancée, what would you think?”
Her lips parted as it hit her. “Shite,” she said. “But once it’s discovered that I work for you, the interest will disappear.”
He nodded. That was exactly how it would go. He knew from experience that a sensational headline with a made up story to go along with a provocative photo would grab plenty of attention. A single line buried deep in the story might describe the truth. There had been stories over the years putting him together with Sophie. One of the more well-known ones was born out of a candid photo of him gazing adoringly at her. But the stories had always died quickly. It hadn’t occurred to him that James was responsible for that.
Playing At Love: A Rogue Series Novel Page 16
