Everything Is You

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Everything Is You Page 2

by Donna Hill


  Unfortunately, those once per year events were part and parcel of her business and as reluctant as she was to admit it, she did learn from living it, that rubbing elbows was needed and necessary. And, besides, it was one of the few times that she did have a chance to interact with her colleagues and see some of the important work they were doing and being recognized for.

  When she’d walked into the grand ballroom at the Kennedy Center she immediately wished that she’d brought a date. She pasted on her best smile and wandered over to the bar. The crutch of a glass of white wine could hold her up for at least an hour if she sipped really slowly. And if she found a comfortable leaning position or a good seat out of the way, her feet encased in “sex me” heels would last through the long evening.

  “You look like you hate this almost as much as I do.”

  She angled her head to the right and inhaled a short, sharp breath. Yummy was her first thought before she could respond.

  “Is it that obvious?” She arched a questioning brow as her photographic eye took him in from head to toe in one click of her internal lens.

  The amazing dark chocolate-brown eyes twinkled in the light and creased at the edges when he smiled down at her. She wasn’t a big gospel fan but he sure could be a body double for the singer BeBe Winans with the dulcet tone to go with the look. And that body appeared totally comfortable and sleek in his tux.

  “You have the ever ready wineglass. The casual lean against the bar pose…” His gaze traveled down. “…to keep the pressure off of those pretty feet.”

  She bit back a smile.

  “And the…‘just how long is this thing gonna last,’ look in your eyes.” He turned to the bar and picked up his glass of Hennessey on the rocks then returned his attention back to her.

  “Observant.”

  “Occupational hazard. Journalist?”

  “Photographic.”

  He nodded slowly in appreciation.

  “You?”

  “Foreign correspondent.”

  She switched her wine flute from her right hand to her left and extended her hand. “Jacqueline.”

  “Raymond Jordan.” His hand enveloped hers.

  He smelled good, too. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You have a table?”

  “No. Do you?”

  “Naw.” He took a swallow of his drink. “I figured there had to be an available seat in here somewhere. After all, I pay my dues and I did get an invite.”

  She giggled. “My sentiments exactly.”

  “Care to spend the evening with another jaded guest?”

  Jacqueline glanced up at him. “Sure, why not.”

  Raymond crooked his elbow and Jacqueline hooked her arm through.

  They found a table in the center of the room with two empty seats at a table for eight. After a bit of seat shifting they settled next to each other and were soon served appetizers for the sit-down dinner.

  Up front, CNN correspondent Anderson Cooper was in conversation with Karen Ballard, who specialized in motion picture photography. Jacqueline and Raymond whispered conspiratorially about Cooper’s possible appearance in a film and they entertained themselves by concocting stories about the plethora of attendees that spanned the gamut of journalism, and swapped stories about some of their memorable assignments.

  Raymond was equally as traveled as Jacqueline and spoke three languages fluently, compared to her two. He’d lived in Japan for a year, spent several summers in Europe and loved motorcycle riding.

  “What was it like being embedded with the troops in Iraq?” he asked.

  “Scary. But I knew that they wouldn’t let anything happen to me. I was there to do a job and they respected that.” She glanced off.

  “Must have been tough. The things you saw…”

  She nodded. “It was.” She turned and looked into his eyes. “The sad part is, I’ve seen and photographed worse.”

  “I know. In this business when you think you’ve seen everything there’s one more thing that sucks the air out of your lungs.”

  “Fortunately, there’s still some beauty left in the world.”

  “Fortunately,” he said and raised his glass to her, his gaze moving with appreciation across her face.

  After a long line of award-winners and acceptance speeches, the event wound down to a glittering close.

  Jacqueline and Raymond made their way out through the throng of bodies.

  “Going to the after party?” Raymond asked once they were outside.

  “Oh no,” she said, waving her hand. “I’ve had enough party people to last me at least until this time next year.”

  Raymond chuckled. “Live here or staying in town?”

  “Actually, I’m only here until tomorrow. I fly out in the morning. Off to Israel for the next month.”

  “Busy lady. Where do you call home?”

  She hesitated for a moment. Louisiana was where she was born but it hadn’t been home for a very long time. “California.”

  His head jerked back in surprise. “Me too.”

  “That’s just a pickup line, right?”

  “No.” He chuckled. “Seriously. I moved out there about a year ago from Maplewood, New Jersey. I’m in San Fernando Valley. Been there about two years now.”

  “Hmmm. Small world.”

  “Maybe we can get together the next time we’re in the same time zone.”

  Jacqueline offered a half smile. She lifted her arm to signal for the next taxi in line.

  A cab pulled up in front of them. Raymond stepped forward and opened the door for her. She ducked in the cab.

  Raymond stuck his head in. “Safe travels, pretty lady. Thanks for spending the evening with me.”

  There was no room in her life for a man like Raymond, for any man or anyone. She didn’t stay put long enough for a relationship to have any meaning. And there was no point in opening the door to something that would never get a chance to cross the threshold.

  “Take care,” she said and for a brief instant, she wished things could be different, but they weren’t.

  Raymond gave her a wistful parting smile, shut the door and stepped back.

  She watched him in the rearview mirror until the cab turned the corner. She was sure that was the last time she would see him and in the ensuing months she often wondered what part of the world he was in. Sometimes she would run across his byline only to realize that he was a half a world away.

  And then one day, there he was in the Khan el-Khalili market in Cairo, thousands of miles away from where they’d met nearly a year earlier.

  “Ray?” She approached from his right. He turned and swiped his dark shades from his eyes. His grin spread like the sun rising over the ocean and moved through her.

  “Jacquie, what in the world…”

  She giggled like a schoolgirl. “You stole my line.”

  He tossed his head back and laughed from deep in his belly. “This is one of those crazy surprises…a good one,” he added. He put down the bolt of white cotton that he’d been considering purchasing. “You look…different.” He’d memorized her in the clinging off-white cocktail dress that flirted with her knees and showed off incredible legs. The diamonds at her throat and wrist, the way the dip of the dress teased the senses with hints of what lay beneath. Her scent that he couldn’t get out of his head…and those eyes. Those eyes. And that lush full mouth. And now she looked like a gorgeous cover-model for college girls with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, a khaki baseball cap, T-shirt that barely contained those lush breasts and khaki shorts. Totally delicious.

  “Must be the sneakers,” she teased.

  He snapped his fingers. “That’s it!” He stepped closer. “How long are you here for?”

  “At least another two week
s. You?”

  “Me too. I’m on assignment to cover the Summit.”

  “So am I,” she said, inexplicably happy.

  “Have any free time on your schedule? Maybe we can have dinner or do the tourist thing.”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “I’d like that.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “The Semiramis Intercontinental.”

  “I’m at the Atlas Zamalek. Are you free later tonight?”

  “I have to caption some photos, but that should only take a few hours. How about eight?”

  “No problem. I’ll come by your hotel.”

  She bobbed her head. “Okay. I’ll meet you in the lobby.” She took a step back. “I, uh, have some errands to run so…I’ll see you at eight.”

  “Eight.”

  She turned to leave.

  “Hey, Jacquie.”

  She looked back over her shoulder. “You never told me your last name.”

  “Lawson.”

  Chapter 3

  “Hey,” Raymond said softly, moving his head back and forth in front of her.

  Jacqueline blinked away the past and Ray came back into focus. She forced a smile.

  “Where did you just go?”

  She blew out a breath and shook her shoulders a bit. “I just realized that I didn’t get to open my package.” She took his hand and pulled him to his feet. “Come, I want to show you.”

  “Is it more equipment, J?” How many times had he watched her face light up when she discovered a new use for a lens or composed a picture a different way or purchased the latest waterproof camera? And how many times had he wished that he’d see the same kind of excitement in her eyes for him? It came only in flashes, nothing ever sustained. And when it did, she would shut it down, turn off the lights as if she was afraid he would see whatever it was that she was trying to hide.

  “Hush, and just come on.”

  They trooped into her bedroom and she went over to the box that Raymond had placed in the corner.

  She duckwalked it over to the side table near the bed. “It isn’t heavy, just awkward.” Her long slender fingers quickly stripped the box of the securing tape and pulled open the flaps.

  Reverently she reached inside and took out the first box that contained the jaw-dropping Canon EOS 5D Mark III. Gently she removed it from its packaging and placed it on the table. The second box contained the equally spectacular new Nikon D800. Even Raymond had to admit he was impressed. These were top-of-the-line cameras and together cost more than six thousand dollars.

  The remaining contents were a camera bag, lenses and memory cards. Where many women splurged on clothes and shoes, Jacqueline poured her extra cash on photographic equipment. She said it was an investment in her business. And she was right. Her equipment alone was worth millions and she had the perfect piece ready for any assignment. Not only did she purchase the latest in photographic equipment, she was a collector of antique cameras as well. She had one room of her three-bedroom condo dedicated to her equipment.

  “Impressive,” Raymond murmured in appreciation. He picked up the Nikon and held it up to his face, adjusting the lens to take in the room. The powerful lens brought the skyline of Los Angeles into sharp relief.

  “Nice,” he said, drawing out the word. “Very nice.” He gingerly put the camera down and turned to Jacqueline, who was examining the Canon.

  She glanced up at him. There was that smile, but he knew it wasn’t for him but for her toys.

  “At some point you are going to run out of space,” he teased.

  “Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same thing.” She shrugged off the prospect. Running out of space would mean either giving up some of her toys or moving. She didn’t relish either idea. She’d been approached on several occasions to donate some of her antique cameras to museums. That was always an option.

  A shadow slowly crept over the room as if the lights were dimmed, followed by a bright flash of light just above the skyline. Jacqueline gasped at the boom that sounded like the bombs they’d both heard and lived through in war torn countries.

  She momentarily shut her eyes against the frightening noise. Raymond hurried over to the French doors that were blown open onto the terrace. He fought against the wind and lashing rain that ferociously beat down everything in its path, to get the doors closed.

  He managed to pull the doors shut but not without a cost. He turned slowly around.

  Jacqueline hid her giggle behind her hand. Just that quickly he was drenched from head to foot.

  “Let me get you a towel.” She scampered off to the linen closet and brought back a towel, to find Raymond pulling his T-shirt over his head and stepping out of his damp sweatpants.

  There was nothing to say about Ray’s physique other than perfection. He was toned from his workouts but also from the hard and fast life that he lived. Traversing mountains, slicing his way through tropical jungles, treading across rushing rivers were all as common to him as another man who went to the office in a suit and tie.

  She wished that she could say that was the only attraction, that it was only physical. It wasn’t. That’s what made this all so painfully hard. Would she ever stop wanting him, needing him? Her chest tightened while a flash of how empty her life would be without Raymond in it ran through her.

  She walked up to him and tenderly stroked his face with the towel, then across his broad shoulders and down his bare chest.

  Raymond clasped her by the wrists and pulled her flush against him.

  “When am I ever going to stop wanting you,” he growled deep in his throat. He cupped her face in his hands and swept down to kiss her. A hungry longing roared through him the way it always did when he touched her.

  Jacqueline moaned against his mouth. Her body instantly responded to the fire that he lit in her belly. She moved closer, parted her lips to let him in. She wrapped her arms around him, giving in to her need this one last time. Her heart thundered as the rain pounded against the windows.

  Raymond lifted her off her feet and walked with her to her bed.

  It was all so familiar yet different every time that he touched her, made her body come alive in new ways. Her skin sang beneath his fingertips and her insides vibrated with desire. His mouth was hot and wet and everywhere that it touched it set her ablaze.

  When he entered her, the world came apart in a million little pieces. And with each thrust, every kiss, touch and moan the pieces came together and exploded again and again.

  The sky lit up beyond them and her body swirled around him like the wicked wind and his love poured into her like the falling rain.

  Jacqueline fought back her tears and held him to her, listening to the familiar beat of his heart, knowing that this was the last time.

  Chapter 4

  Raymond slung his carry-on over his shoulder as he stepped out of Jacqueline’s midnight blue Mercedes sports coup. She popped the trunk and he came around to the back of the car and took out his bag and laptop. Jacqueline met him on the curb. Frenzied travelers swirled around them. Traffic cops and security personnel waved cars along the busy drop off lane and warned the drivers of parked vehicles to move it along. She looked up at him, hooking her thumbs into the loops of his jeans.

  “Try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone,” he said with a catch in his throat. He gave her a lopsided grin.

  “What fun would that be?” she teased.

  He slowly lowered his head, and brushed his lips against hers.

  Jacqueline’s heart thundered and guilt welled up in her throat. She longed to tell him but she couldn’t do that to him. It was best this way. Her eyes burned. She blinked away the threat of tears.

  Raymond stepped back and tenderly stroked her cheek. “See you in a week. What should I bring you from Indonesia
?”

  “Surprise me,” she managed over the knot in her throat. She wiped away the gloss of her lipstick from his lips with the pad of her thumb. “You’re going to miss your flight.”

  He kissed her one last time before grabbing the bag. He turned toward the revolving doors.

  “Ray…”

  He turned. Tell him, her conscience whispered. The words stuck in her throat. “Have a safe trip,” she uttered instead.

  His smile made his eyes crinkle in the corners. “I will.” And then he was gone, swallowed up in the mass of humanity.

  Jacqueline stood there until a security officer told her to move or get her car towed. With a heavy heart she rounded the front of her car, slid behind the wheel and pulled off.

  * * *

  Jacqueline took a sip of her apple martini. The bar was crowded, but that was to be expected on a Thursday night. The live band had begun their first set when Traci walked in. She stood and waved above heads and shoulders to get Traci’s attention.

  Traci Desmond was an independent documentary filmmaker. They’d met more than fifteen years ago when they were students at New York University. They had the same media arts class and they hit it off from day one. They’d been friends ever since. Traci was the sister she never had and the only person she trusted enough with her darkest secrets. Traci had been there for Jacqueline through it all, as Jacqueline was for her.

  “Hey, girl.” Traci kissed Jacqueline’s cheek and slid onto the seat opposite her. “Busy night, I see.” She placed her purse on her lap. “Ray get off okay?”

  Jacqueline nodded and took a sip from her drink.

  “You still didn’t tell him you were going to your niece’s wedding, I take it? Or anything else of importance.”

  “No.”

  Traci blew out a breath of frustration. “J, I love you. You know that, but I swear I do not understand why you won’t tell him.”

  Jacqueline stared at her friend over the rim of her glass. “Yes, you do,” she said in a monotone.

 

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