“Maybe this is what you should be doing with the rest of your life,” he suggested slowly, as if trying to gauge her reaction. “You enjoy it. There’s a need for it.”
“Don’t be silly. The is just a one-shot deal. It’ll keep me from going crazy until I find real work.”
“Maybe,” he said, but there was a more hopeful look in his eyes than she’d ever seen before.
“You really think this could be the answer for me, don’t you?”
“Think about it. You seemed awfully happy when you were fixing this place up. You were excited every time you discovered some treasure buried in a secondhand store. Isn’t that what a career should be? Something that’s fun, as well as lucrative?”
“But this is more like a hobby.”
“Only because you’ve treated it that way. It doesn’t have to be. It could be good for us, too.”
She drew in a deep breath. “What do you mean?”
“It’s something we could do together. It would be a natural. You could think up some jazzy little name for the business, even print up cards. When I do jobs, people are always asking me if I know anyone who does decorating for less than an arm and a leg. We could specialize in low-cost but very classy renovations.”
“You might be right. It would put us on an equal footing,” she said thoughtfully, unaware of Paul’s sudden tension.
“Meaning?”
“It would put an end to this hang-up you have about me being better than you.”
Paul pushed her aside and stood up, his expression furious. “Dammit, you just don’t get it, do you?”
“What’s wrong?” she asked as he paced around the room, raking his fingers through his hair.
“Can’t you see that this has nothing to do with putting us on an equal footing economically? I want you to be happy. If going back to a brokerage house, putting in endless hours and developing ulcers in a quest for a six-figure income makes you happy, then go for it. My ego can stand it if you make ten times what I do. I love you, Gabrielle. I’m not trying to own you.”
Breathless and wide-eyed, she stared at him. “You love me?”
He stopped pacing and stood gazing down at her. “I suppose I do,” he said as if the thought had just made itself very plain for the first time.
A soft smile began slowly, then blossomed across her face. That warm, melting feeling played havoc with her senses. “Then why are you so far away, when you could be down here holding me?”
After a hesitation that went on so long it almost frightened her into thinking he was having second thoughts, he moved back to her side at last. She knew as his lips came down hard on hers that simply saying the words did not assure them of an easy time of it from now on, but it was a start. With their feelings out in the open, they could finally begin to make decisions about what was best not just for them as individuals, but for the two of them together. It was unlikely that they would always agree, but they were learning the art and rewards of communication and compromise.
For now, though, his mouth was hot and urgent against hers and problems that might creep up in the future were the last thing on her mind.
CHAPTER TEN
Gabrielle found that decorating Theresa’s apartment was an entirely different challenge from selecting the pieces for her own place. The artist’s bold personality required more vibrant colors, more unorthodox accessories. Her search for the right things led to the discovery of even more stores that stocked inexpensive used furniture, carpet remnants and even castoff, unrestored antiques.
She came home every day exhausted, but filled with enthusiasm. Her once well-manicured nails had long since chipped and broken so badly that she had to keep them short and unpolished. She usually had tiny spatters of paint on her eyelashes or the tip of her nose. She rarely dressed in anything fancier than jeans. Her hair was usually pulled back into a simple ponytail. Her arms were constantly sore from hauling her finds home to be repaired and then to Theresa’s. Equally filthy and bone-weary, she and Paul fought over the hot water in the evening, more often than not sharing the old-fashioned, oversize tub and a bottle of wine as they talked about their days. She’d never looked less sophisticated or felt a greater sense of contentment in her life.
One night Paul found her already deep in scented bubbles, the kitchen filled with a pattern of soft colors cast from a beautiful Tiffany lamp she’d spent the afternoon cleaning up.
“I like the atmosphere,” he said quietly, standing in the doorway.
Her skin tingled just from the heated expression in his eyes. “Join me,” she suggested.
Without taking his eyes from hers, he dropped his toolbox on the floor and began stripping off his clothes. The sheepskin jacket fell first, followed by his plaid flannel shirt. He tugged his T-shirt from the waistband of his jeans, then lifted it over his head, baring an expanse of chest matted with dark whorls of hair. Work boots were kicked off, then socks tossed aside. His fingers lingered at the snap on his jeans, his eyes filling with amusement as he teased her with a deliberate delay.
Gabrielle took a slow sip of wine and watched, her heart thumping unsteadily in her chest. Lord, the man was gorgeous. She wondered if there would ever be a day when the sight of him didn’t set off sparks deep inside her. He stripped off the jeans at last, then the jockey shorts as her breathing set a pace just short of ecstasy.
He slid into the tub, his legs stretched intimately alongside hers. Pink and aqua lights danced across the bubbles.
“Where’d you find the lamp?”
“Hmm?” she murmured, reluctant to shift to a more impersonal mood.
“The lamp,” he said, grinning.
She tried to tamp down her wildly vivid imagination, which was far removed from lamps. “Down near the Bowery.” Her voice still had a whispery quality.
He stared at her, horrified. “Gaby, I don’t want you going down there.”
The delicious mood vanished at once as his sharp tone registered. “It’s safe enough in the daytime,” she said, then added pointedly, “it’s certainly not that much worse than this neighborhood.”
Her stubborn independence had become a frequent source of minor irritation to him. He was beginning to learn, though, that his objections only caused her to dig in her heels. She restrained a grin now as he reluctantly swallowed more protective advice.
“Are we keeping the lamp?” he asked finally, conceding the argument. “It doesn’t look like it would fit with what you’ve been getting for Theresa.”
“No and it doesn’t really fit with what we have here, either, but the price was too good to pass up.”
“Maybe that’s because some of the glass is missing.”
For a man who’d bought a run-down building and envisioned these wonderful apartments, he was amazingly short-sighted about potential when it came to her finds. “Obviously,” she agreed. “But last week I found a woman who does work with stained glass. I think she’ll give me a deal on fixing it. I’m taking it over tomorrow.”
“And then what?”
“And then I’ll have it in case I ever need it.”
Paul grinned. “Need it for what?”
She splashed water at him with her foot. “Stop pushing. I haven’t decided yet about the business.”
“Haven’t you?”
“Paul, there might never be another soul who wants to hire someone just to shop the secondhand stores for them.”
“I have a customer now who’s interested,” he said nonchalantly, gazing up at the pattern of lights on the ceiling as if her response weren’t of the slightest interest to him. It was one of his more infuriating methods for manipulating her.
“If you’re not too busy,” he added. “I’ve told him you’re pretty booked.”
Her curiosity was instantly aroused, just as he’d known it would be. She deliberately ran her foot down his chest to get his attention.
“Okay, don’t stop now, you rat. Who is it? What is the place like? What kind of look is he after? What
sort of budget does he have?”
He met her gaze with feigned surprise. “I take it you’re interested after all.”
“Don’t smirk. I’ll talk to him.”
“Not just him, Gaby. Don’t you think it’s time you named this business and printed up cards? I’ll bet those stores you’ve been patronizing would even hand them out for you.”
She considered the possibility thoughtfully. The idea was beginning to intrigue her more than she’d been willing to admit. “They might,” she conceded.
“Then why are you hesitating? Are you afraid of failing? You have a sound business mind. You must see that the opportunity is there, if you want it. You’d be offering a unique service. I’m sure Theresa will spread the word and I have plenty of customers who’ll jump at the chance to have someone decorate for them at a reasonable cost.”
“I suppose you’re right, but what if I get bored with this, the way I did with Wall Street? So far it’s been fun, but I’ve only done our place and Theresa’s.”
Paul captured her foot and kissed her toes. His fingers massaged away the last of the soreness and the kisses sent waves of heat spiraling through her. It was a fantastic distraction.
“Then you’ll do something else,” he said when she’d almost forgotten the question. “It’s not as if this will require a major capital investment that will be at risk. How much can business cards cost? You don’t have to worry about inventory or the overhead of office space. You don’t even have to buy a fancy wardrobe. Your expenses will be at a minimum.”
“My parents—”
“Have nothing to do with this decision,” he said firmly. “Besides, don’t they want you to be happy? They’ll probably be thrilled to hear that you’ve started your own business.”
Gabrielle had her doubts about that. They might approve of her operating a discreet, exclusive antique store in the center of old Charleston. But they would die of shame if they ever saw the rundown places she visited to find her bargains. They’d also probably hire a bodyguard to trail around after her.
But she could not live her life for her parents. She’d known that when she’d left South Carolina and it was no less true now. She finally gave free rein to the excitement that had been building inside her ever since they’d first discussed the idea. She grinned at Paul. “Let’s go for it.”
“I assume you’re referring to the business,” he said as his fingers trailed a blazing path up her leg. Her breath caught in her throat.
“That, too,” she said in a voice suddenly slowed by desire.
“Want to talk about the details?” he inquired as he did something particularly magical to the back of her knee.
“Later,” she murmured weakly.
“Smart woman. It’s nice to know that your priorities remain in order now that you’re a career woman again,” he said as he lifted her from the tub and carried her down the hall. She was too busy running her tongue along the rivulets of water on his neck to reply.
* * *
Second Chances, despite certain personal distractions that occasionally took precedence, turned into a flourishing business. Paul and Gabrielle had more work than they could handle. The commissions weren’t huge, but the satisfaction was tremendous and working with Paul gave her new respect for his talent at renovation. He did caring, conscientious work and his customers appreciated it.
On a personal level, their lives had meshed so completely that she couldn’t imagine a future without Paul. She’d found her ideal mate, a man who was strong and supportive and caring, in the most unlikely place of all. She was still in his arms early one morning when she received a frantic phone call from Ted.
“What on earth is wrong?” she asked at once. “You’re babbling. Slow down. Is it Kathy?”
“No. It’s you. You’re going to kill me.”
The genuine panic in his voice made her very nervous. Ted was the calmest man she’d ever met. “Would you please just tell me what’s wrong?”
“It’s your parents.”
Oh, hell. “What about my parents?”
“They’re here.”
Shock and dismay swept through her. “Here? In New York?”
“Yes, in New York.” He took a deep breath, while Gabrielle’s breath stopped. “Actually they’re in this office. I got in a few minutes ago and they were already here waiting for you.”
“At seven-thirty?”
“Gabrielle, you used to be in the office by seven,” he reminded her. “They expected to find you here.”
“What have you told them?”
“I haven’t said anything yet, except that I’d try to reach you. No one else had the nerve to tell them you didn’t work here anymore.”
She swallowed hard. “Do you think they’ve figured it out?”
“Not yet, but they’re beginning to guess that something’s wrong. Your father’s pacing and I’ve seen that expression before. It’s the one he had on his face when he lost the vote on that health care amendment. I can’t stall them much longer. They wanted me to give them your new number.”
Paul had remained silent up until now, but he suddenly took the phone from her hand. “Ted, what’s the problem?”
While Gabrielle pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs and shivered uncontrollably, Paul extracted information from Ted. She was barely listening. This was her worst nightmare come true. She should have told her parents weeks ago. She could have sent a letter. She could have done almost anything except what she’d done, which was to hide from the truth in Brooklyn. She’d been living in a make-believe world.
She tuned back into the phone call just as Paul said, “Fine. Send them over.”
“No,” Gabrielle yelped, grabbing for the phone. “Ted, you can’t send them here. Tell them I’ll meet them at the Waldorf or the Plaza, anyplace they like in an hour. I need to explain things to them.”
“You can do that here,” Paul said quietly. She saw the ominous look in his eyes, the stiff set of his jaw and flinched. This was something she couldn’t give in about, though. She had to see them alone. She could not expose Paul to an outpouring of their anger and dismay. She could not risk their disdain of the life she and Paul had built together. Once she’d explained, told them how well things were going for her now, how much she loved Paul, maybe it would be okay. They weren’t unfeeling ogres, for heaven’s sake.
Clenching the phone so tightly her hand hurt, she repeated, “Tell them I’ll meet them.”
They agreed on the Palm Court at the Plaza at nine. She hung up, more shaken than she’d ever been in her life. Not even her announcement of her plan to move to New York had terrified her like this.
“If you do it this way, we don’t have a chance,” Paul said.
“It’s the only way I can do it. I have to prepare them.”
“For what? Your great come-down in life? Me?”
“I don’t mean it like that,” she said miserably.
“How do you mean it? What you’re doing sounds exactly like what someone who’s ashamed of her life would do.”
She looked at it through Paul’s eyes and understood why he felt that way. “Please, try to understand. I just want it to be perfect when they meet you. I’ll explain everything and then I’ll invite them over for dinner tonight. Is that all right?”
He nodded reluctantly. “I suppose that will have to do.”
She slid her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. “I do love you.”
He sighed heavily. “I know, Gaby. I’m just not sure it’s enough.”
* * *
Gabrielle walked into the Plaza with her shoulders squared and her head held high. Only she knew that an army of butterflies had been allowed to fly free in her stomach.
She saw her parents at once. Her father’s steel-gray hair, florid complexion and ramrod straight posture were unmistakable. Her mother looked like an exquisite doll beside him. She was patting his hand, a familiar gesture that usually meant her fathe
r was about to explode and her mother was trying to forestall it. As she approached, her mother’s face flooded with relief.
“Gabrielle, darling, here you are at last.” She bent over to give her mother a kiss.
“I’m early,” she said in response to the implied criticism. She felt herself regressing automatically to six-year-old status and pulled herself together.
“You know your father. He has absolutely no patience. He was furious when we got in last night and he realized we wouldn’t be able to reach you until this morning. Then when you weren’t at the office… Well, thank heavens, that nice young man was there.”
“Ted.” Gabrielle looked at her father and saw the affection in his eyes that counterpointed his scowl. She gave him a kiss. “Hi, Daddy. Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”
“How the hell were we supposed to do that?” he grumbled. “It was a last-minute thing. You know I don’t approve of personal calls at work and you haven’t seen fit to give us your new phone number.”
“Sorry, Daddy,” she said, sitting down gratefully and grabbing a menu before she could start wallowing in apologies. “Have you ordered yet? I’m starving.”
“No, dear. We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Why weren’t you in the office, Gabrielle?” her father demanded. She’d wondered how long it would take for him to get to the point, but she still wasn’t prepared for the question.
“You’ve been fired, haven’t you?” he said when she didn’t respond.
“Yes,” she said, meeting his gaze evenly. This was it. The next few minutes would decide once and for all if she was a grown-up, independent woman or a coward.
Her mother gasped. “Darling, why didn’t you tell us? We would have helped. Your father has contacts, I’m sure.”
“I didn’t want to use Daddy’s contacts. I knew I could handle things myself.”
“But what are you doing for money? That’s why you moved, isn’t it? You were running out of money. Oh, dear heavens, Gabrielle, you’re not living in some awful place with cockroaches, are you?”
Gabrielle grinned despite herself. “No. Actually the apartment is quite nice. It’s a renovated brownstone in Brooklyn.”
One Touch of Moondust Page 12