Mad About The Man

by Stella Cameron

  "Yes." Apparently oblivious to his physical reactions, she darted away into a bathroom off the bedroom, and he heard the shower come on.

  Marvelously fascinated, Jacques followed and was confronted with a wholly pleasing view of Gaby's perfect derriere in the short skirt of her cotton dress. She leaned through the glass doors of the shower.

  The temptation to grab and leap with her into the water wasn't easy to quell. But this was her show, and he had no doubt he'd enjoy every moment of what she had planned.

  Gaby straightened and called, "Jacques!"

  "Right here, honey."

  She jumped and spun around. "Yes." Her eyes were wide. "Get in." The steam had turned her cheeks dewy pink. Tendrils of black hair curled about her face.

  "Anything you say." He remembered his watch and fiddled with the band. "How long will you be?"

  "Not long. Not long at all. You go ahead while I see to things. I'll be quick, I promise. I know you're in a hurry."

  Before he could say another word, Gaby left the bathroom. Thoughtfully Jacques puffed up his cheeks and got into the shower. She knew he was in a hurry. That didn't exactly sound romantic.

  He let the water beat on his face. This whole episode was bizarre—not that he was complaining.

  Seconds passed.

  Jacques soaped his body. He thought back over the events since he'd left Goldstrike earlier in the evening.

  He was definitely being set up.

  Gaby had rushed away from the meeting in time to position herself on the road to La Place. And he'd lay odds she deliberately removed the wheel from her bike.

  He rinsed off and located a bottle of shampoo.

  To knock him over, she'd had to walk around the bike and into him. That had been no accident, either.

  Cautiously he slid the shower door open a few inches and peered out. There was a clear view into the bedroom. Gaby wasn't there.

  So, she'd waylaid him, knocked him in the dirt and wiped her muddy hands all over him, then insisted on bringing him back here and forcing him into the shower. Not that she could have forced him if he hadn't wanted to go. And, so far, she hadn't appeared—pink and creamy all over and ready to join him for the grand finale.

  He lathered his hair and sloshed the soap out.

  I know you 're in a hurry to get somewhere important, Gaby had said.

  Jacques screwed up his eyes, considering.

  What time is it… that late? You must be beside yourself.

  Yet he'd said nothing about being on his way anywhere, or about any deadlines.

  With you being in such a hurry and needing to arrive where you're going in a tux I'm sure I can fix you up quickly at my house… then you can be on your way and not make anyone upset or miss anything you've got to do.

  Almost as if she'd known about the meeting with Napoleon and the order to wear a tux…

  But how—

  "Hell!" The scene in his bedroom the previous Sunday played in his mind like a full-color movie. "She read the fax!"

  Very deliberately Jacques finished rinsing and slicking back his hair, then he rested a shoulder against the wall and waited.

  Finally a small shadow moved toward the shower. The moment Gaby began to slide open the door, he bent his head under the water once more. "This is awful," he said. "Awful."

  "Jacques?"

  "That's my name. Where have you been?"

  "Um, seeing to things."

  He could imagine. "What time is it? I can't be late."

  She cleared her throat. "It's not late."

  "Not late? What does that mean? I asked you for the time."

  "I'll go look."

  "Don't bother." He shot out a hand and grabbed her wrist. "I've got soap in my eyes, damn it. I hate that. Ouch! It stings."

  "I'll get you a wash cloth."

  "It hurts! Get it out now."

  Through slitted lids he saw her reach toward his face. Bracing himself, timing his move, he waited until her balance was the most precarious. "Ouch!" Peeling around, he settled his hands on her upper arms and yanked.

  Her shriek brought him deep satisfaction. Two could play this kind of game, and he wouldn't botch it like some.

  Gaby landed against him and held on to stop herself from sliding to the shower floor. Shock registered on her face. While her hair became plastered to her head and shoulders, her mouth opened and closed like a beached fish.

  "Wow, I'm sorry," Jacques said, steadying her directly under the full force of water. "You're getting wet."

  Gaby blinked and swiped at her face.

  "If you don't take that dress off it's going to get ruined." The white cotton clung to every curve. He could make out the patterned lace of her bra—and peachy-colored skin beneath—and nipples puckered like irresistible little pebbles.

  She made a move to get out, but he slid the door shut firmly instead. "You don't want to drip all over the floor, honey. Here, let me help you out of that thing." At least she'd taken off her shoes.

  When he started unbuttoning her bodice, Gaby made an ineffectual attempt to stop him.

  "Don't worry about me," he told her. "If I'm late, I'm late. I learned the importance of prioritizing a long time ago."

  The bewildered expression on her face almost undid him. The sight of her breasts beneath transparent cotton and lace fried his concentration completely.

  Gaby's hands slid from his chest to his hips. "Look at me. What a mess."

  "I am looking," he murmured. "And what I see is anything but a mess."

  "Jacques, I…" She looked at his mouth and her lips parted.

  "Jacques, I what?" he asked, bending closer. "What, Gaby?"

  "I… Kiss me, please."

  With water cascading over them, he did as she asked, and did it again and again, until she clung to him and he crossed his arms around her, slid up her dress to cup her bottom through flimsy silk panties and press her hips into his.

  Gaby stood on tiptoe and Jacques gasped as her ruckled dress passed over him. She used the tip of her pointed tongue to play with the corners of his mouth, reached higher and turned his head to nip at his ear. And with each move, wet fabric stimulated his already pulsing flesh.

  "You are driving me insane," he told her through gritted teeth. Panting, he planted her hands firmly at her sides and held them there while he caught his breath. "Okay, okay. Don't touch me. Don't move a muscle or I'm not going to make it."

  She licked at wet lips and he groaned.

  "I didn't mean for this to happen." Her voice was very small. "Honestly, I didn't plan to—"

  "Please—don't talk for a minute, my love. There'll be lots of time for talking… later."

  He hadn't gotten far with his first attempt at the bodice buttons. This time he concentrated. The buttonholes seemed to have shrunk, making the operation even more tedious, but perseverance prevailed. With the last one, he parted the dress, laying open to his view a white lace bra that didn't cover the tops of her nipples and served only to turn him on even more— if that were possible.

  Jacques worked the dress from her shoulders and pulled her arms from the sleeves before returning to her breasts. He slipped a finger beneath each bra cup and rubbed back and forth over her nipples.

  "Jacques!" Gaby's voice rose to a squeak.

  He kissed her again, still playing with the stiff nubs, still sending her writhing against him. Their mouths ground together, not quite silencing Gaby's moans.

  Jacques felt her hands between them, then the bra disappeared and she guided him to cover her breasts. When she took him into her firm fingers, a jolt shot to his knees and he almost buckled.

  "Lean on the wall," she ordered, pushing him back while she bent to wriggle out of the dress and panties. These she tossed behind her while taking him, for an instant, into her mouth.

  Jacques heard his own yell and arched his neck.

  The sensation of a small but voluptuous and totally naked body layered on his, captured his immediate, complete attention.
r />   Gaby pulled on his shoulders. "Look at me."

  "Gladly." He could look at her forever.

  Slowly, sensuously, she raised a knee, drew her leg up his thigh. "Come on, Jacques. Come on."

  Smiling, he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. "You may be the death of me yet, lady." He changed their places to rest her against the tile.

  "If I don't go first," she said.

  "How about both going together?"

  The rest was accomplished in silence but for the sound of pelting water and labored breath. And in the end it took everything Jacques had not to fall to his knees.

  Finally Gaby said, "Who needs horseback? We do just fine all on our own."

  "Fine," Jacques murmured against her cheek.

  "But if I don't get out of this shower and lie down, I'm going to keel over."

  He turned off the water. "Me, too."

  They stumbled through the bathroom to the bedroom. Jacques stripped back comforter and sheet and fell onto the bed with Gaby in his arms. "We're getting this wet."

  "Who cares?"

  "Are you sure Mae's not likely to show up?"

  "Absolutely sure."

  "Gaby, you are really something. I'm never going to get enough of you."

  She had grown still.

  Jacques shook her gently and tipped her face up to his. "You okay?"

  She kept her eyelids lowered. "Yes. But I'm ashamed."

  "Of what?"

  "I played a trick on you."

  He'd almost forgotten! "Why don't you tell me about it? Then I'll decide how angry to be with you."

  "I put your tux in the dryer. It'll be all wrinkled. And it probably shrank, too."

  "Why would you do a thing like that?" He wanted to grin so badly his face hurt.

  "Your shirt's in the washer. It's wet now."

  "You said you could clean me up in no time."

  "I lied."

  She was wonderful. And she was useless as a schemer. Jacques managed to appear disturbed.

  "Do you know what time it is?" Gaby asked. "Look at the clock behind me."

  "Nine-forty. That late? Boy, doesn't time fly when you're having fun."

  "Jacques, I can't pretend and lie anymore. I'm no good at it. I knew you had to race back to La Place to meet with Napoleon Paradise at nine this evening. I set out to make you miss your appointment and I've done it."

  Her fingers dug into his chest. He eased them away and held her hands.

  A defiant light entered her wonderful eyes. "I'm not sorry you didn't make the meeting. But the way I did it was wrong."

  "Yes it was," he told her solemnly.

  "I didn't mean to— What just happened wasn't part of the plan."

  "It should have been."

  "All I intended to do was get you dirty and make you too late."

  "Gaby, Gaby, that wasn't nice." Scooting them upward onto the pillows, he pulled the sheet up as they went.

  "I was desperate. And you've been manipulating me. I know about the leprechaun auditions on the weekend you told me you wanted us to go to L.A."

  "Is that a fact?" He was getting aroused again. With exaggerated care he pushed Gaby onto her back and, very deliberately, stroked her breasts.

  "Jacques! Aren't you hearing a word I'm saying?"

  "Every one." The tip of his tongue, applied to a nipple, brought a very satisfactory response. Gaby's knees jackknifed and she filled her fingers with his hair. "I do believe you like this," he said, opening his mouth to suckle.

  "You can't be ready again. Not this soon."

  "Want to bet?" He smiled and ran a hand down her stomach. "Why, I do believe I'm not the only one who's ready."

  "Jacques, aren't you mad at me? That crazy Paradise man will be furious. He'll probably refuse to reschedule the appointment."

  "You, my love, shouldn't read other people's fax messages. When I was driving into Goldstrike this evening I got a call on the car phone."

  "You did?"

  "Yep. Napoleon canceled until further notice."

  15

  A week hadn't done a thing to lessen her embarrassment. No, Gaby told herself, she would never, never, recover from the awful discovery that not only had Napoleon Paradise put off his visit before she knocked Jacques to the ground and crawled all over him, but that Jacques had guessed exactly what she'd been doing… before he'd yanked her into the shower.

  She left the sidewalk in front of her showroom and crossed the street on her way to buy coffee.

  Char couldn't understand why Gaby had told Jacques she never wanted to see him again!

  The grayness of the day matched her mood. November had never been a favorite month and this one was worse than any she remembered.

  Why had he given up trying to get her to talk to him She might have changed her mind the next time he called or stopped by.

  "Gaby! Wait!"

  If there'd been any alternative, she'd have slipped away. Unfortunately there was no question of pretending not to see Sophie rushing into her path.

  "I was hoping to find you," Sophie said, catching up. "I'd have been along earlier only there was a meeting about the new library."

  Gaby halted. "I haven't heard anything about a new library."

  "No. Well… You have been a bit distant for the past few days, dear." The wind carried wisps of Sophie's white hair forward. "Anyone would think you were avoiding all of us."

  "Tell me about the library," Gaby said, feeling belligerent.

  Sophie waved a hand. "It's to be part of the senior center that's being built."

  Another Ledan sop to the populace reared its head. "And where will that be? What will we lose to get it?"

  "I'm sure I don't know. And I don't know what you're suggesting, either. You're upset, Gaby. Come along. We'll take a walk and talk about what it is that's making you so nasty."

  "I am not nasty!"

  "No, dear." Sophie threaded her arm through Gaby's and began to walk determinedly down the street. "You are too hard on yourself, dear. Really you are."

  Gaby wrinkled her nose. Dear had never been in Sophie's vocabulary. "I don't have time for this. I was on my way to buy some coffee. We're almost out."

  "The coffee can wait."

  "We're in full production for a show, Sophie."

  "And you can't produce without coffee?"

  "In my business people have to be happy to work well."

  Sophie continued on without missing a step. "In that case you must be working very poorly indeed."

  "All right." Gaby planted her feet. "What exactly is this all about? Who's been talking to you and what have they said? Did Mae tell you I've been short-tempered? Is that it?"

  "No." Sophie's cheeks turned pink. "Sit with me." She indicated a bench in front of the defunct Goldstrike Exotic Pet Emporium.

  Graceful surrender could sometimes be the best course. Gaby sat down and Sophie joined her.

  "Do you call that thing you're wearing a boater?" Sophie asked.

  "Yes." She tilted the straight brim of her shiny straw hat lower over her eyes.

  "Sort of a W. C. Fields effort. Interesting, I suppose. I'm not sure about the yellow-green color on you, though. And I do think dried prunes are a bit much."

  "They're big blackberries."

  "Are they? Well that's the problem, then. You should have made them the right size so they wouldn't look like prunes."

  Gaby had to smile. She shook her head and slid to slouch into the back of the bench. "You aren't interested in hats or blackberries or prunes, Sophie. You're hedging. Get to the point."

  "Oh, dear. Was I being rude?"

  "Sophie—"

  "Yes, well… Well, I don't know why I'm prattling like this. I expect old age is finally settling in." Commenting that old age had usually set in by one's late seventies didn't seem kind. "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I don't agree with Char. Not one bit. There. Now I've said it."

  Gaby crossed her arms. "Char said something about me? Som
ething you don't agree with?"

  A fit of genteel coughing delayed Sophie's response. Then she said, "I'm sure Char's only worried in case Mr. Ledan takes advantage of you—again, that is."

  If a caterpillar had climbed a nearby leaf, Gaby would have heard it. She felt aware of every tiny sound and movement in the world. Her mouth had dropped open but she didn't care. Even Char, who said almost anything to almost anyone, wouldn't share Gaby's personal humiliation—and most private encounters—with Sophie. Straight-laced Sophie who'd lived a spinster's life in an age when that meant virginity!

  "You can rely on me for discretion, Gaby. You're a nice girl. Whatever you've done, I'm certain it's been with the good of the cause in mind You decided to sacrifice yourself for the sake of others." Sophie raised her chin and drew her shoulders back. "I, for one, applaud your unselfishness."

  Listening to a caterpillar climbing was fodder for novices. Now Gaby could have heard flowers growing at the seed stage—if it weren't for the blood roaring in her ears. Her cheeks throbbed.

  "Look at you, you poor little thing." Sophie pried one of Gaby's hands free and clasped it between both of her own. "Beaten down by the weight of all the responsibility that's been thrust upon you. Is it your fault you were the one Mr. Ledan singled out as a friend? Is it?"

  Gaby shook her head.

  "Of course it isn't. And I think that to have the courage to go out there on that road and as good as throw yourself in front of that unpleasant vehicle he drives was nothing short of heroic."

  Char had told Sophie. Gaby covered her face.

  "Oh, my, you are upset. I'm not doing this very well, I'm afraid. What I should be saying is that I don't think things are going to work out at all badly… in general, that is."

  "Things couldn't be worse."

  "That's not true. Look, I want you to consider something. Promise me you will."

  Gaby couldn't bring herself to look at Sophie. "I can't promise to do something when I don't know what it is." As soon as she could get away she'd hide and never come out. She was mortified.

  "You made wonderful progress with Mr. Ledan."

  "Can't we let this—wonderful progress?"

  "Absolutely." A delighted smile made Sophie look younger. "I know all about that horrid Napoleon Paradise person. I looked him up and he's a disaster. He'd be a disaster in Goldstrike. That's what we've got to stop at all costs—the theme park."