Eye Candy (City Chicks) (35 page)

And he'd waited long enough.

He punched the number into the phone and waited while the call connected. The phone had just double-beeped, signaling the call was about to go through, when his gaze fell on the display case next to his desk.

Still empty when he left for work that morning, now a colorful object caught his eye amid the plain velvet lining.

Heart pounding, he clicked off the phone and leapt to his feet. There, on the rectangular lift in the center where his book should be was a bright yellow box of Everlasting Gobstoppers.

"Lydia," he whispered.

Hope bubbled inside him.

He quickly hit redial on the phone, impatient for it to ring. When it did, he heard the faint refrain of "Lollipop Lollipop" coming from the back hall. As the phone continued to ring, the song grew louder and louder until it sounded just outside the door.

Then it stopped.

Gavin crossed to the closed door, phone pressed to his ear.

"Lydia?"

"Hello, Gavin."

Her voice came from both directions.

"Was there something you wanted to tell me?" he asked.

"Well, yes," she answered, "actually there was."

When she didn't elaborate, he encouraged her. "Go on."

"Oh, well, you see—" she drawled.

Movement caught his eye and he watched as the door handle slowly turned.

"—I think you should know—"

The latch clicked and the door opened just enough to clear the strike plate.

"—I still have a key to your apartment."

Gavin held his breath, but the door didn't move.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"No," she whispered, "there's more."

Slowly, like molasses in winter, the door inched open. He stepped to the side, allowing it to open completely. Lydia, beautiful and heartbreakingly hesitant, closed her phone met his gaze.

"I think you should know—"

She stepped forward into the den, not stopping until only inches separated them. Gavin reached out, needing to touch her, and traced his fingers over her cheek.

"—that I love you."

"Thank God," he groaned as he pulled her into his arms. "I don't think I could have lived without you any longer."

He found her lips and took that promise from her in a kiss. It felt like forever since he'd held her like this; since he felt hope for their future and all-around contentment. She melted in his arms like a wet noodle and he knew she felt all the same things.

Reluctantly pulling back, he also knew they needed to have a nice long talk before a nice long night in his king-size bed.

Grinning because he couldn't help it, he asked, "What took you so long?"

"I had a lot to sift through," she murmured.

Afraid she might have some lingering doubt, he ducked his head and studied her glowing hazel eyes. Open, honest, and centers glittering gold with absolute certainty.

Relieved, he agreed, "Yeah, I guess you did."

Lydia laid her head on his shoulder, and he breathed in the vanilla sugar aroma of her perfume. He'd missed that scent; even resorting to hunting down the brand at Macy's and buying a little sachet he kept under his pillow. Now he had the real thing.

The poor sachet didn't compare.

"I'm glad you finally came around," he confessed as he pressed kisses across her forehead. She tasted as sweet as she smelled.

"Hey," he accused, remembering how this whole reunion began, "not that I don't appreciate the gesture—" He turned into the room and gestured at the display case. "—but when did my book turn into a box of candy?"

"It didn't, silly," she admonished. But a tell-tale blush crept onto her delicate cheeks, suggesting she felt a little guilty. "The book is safely hidden away in my office at Ferrero."

Recognizing the career choice as the other major decision on her mind, he wondered if that meant she had made her choice. "Does that mean you took the creative position?"

She nodded. "I start on Monday. New position, new division, new title. I'm going to be Guest Designer, which means my name will appear beneath Ferrero's on every piece I design. That way, when I go out on my own I'll have some name recognition already."

Her words became hesitant at the end. Gavin could sense her concern, worried about his reaction. When
 
I go out on my own
, she'd said. Not if. She was afraid he would disapprove of her leaving the security of an established position for the uncertain future of an independent line.

She was wrong.

"Sounds like the perfect plan." He made sure he sounded as sure and reassuring as he felt. "But I know your name will end up plastered on billboards in Times Square, recognition or not. Talent has a way of rising to the top."

Clearly, he said just the right thing because she beamed and threw her arms around him.

"You're wonderful," she exclaimed.

"I know."

Without warning, she extricated herself from his arms and bounded over to the display case. "Your book will be home on Monday." She popped open the lid and studied the contents. "I just wanted you to know how I felt."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Gobstoppers," she began, blushing and not meeting his gaze, "they're Everlasting. Like your love." Finally looking up, she met his gaze squarely. "Like mine."

Her attention returned to the case. She slipped a hand inside and stroked the yellow cardboard with a reverent touch. When she wrapped her fingers around the box and removed it, Gavin joined her and covered her hand with his to stop her.

"Leave it."

She looked up, startled. "But your book—"

"—can find another home," he finished.

"Maybe they can share the space?" That smile he loved spread across her pink lips. "Our kids should learn to live together in harmony."

"Candy and a rare and seminal work of American history?" He shook his head in mock disgust. "She might corrupt him."

"He might elevate her," Lydia offered. "After all, she loves him very much. She wouldn't want to live without him, you know."

Gavin collapsed into his leather chair and pulled her down on his lap. "I wish you'd figured that out two years ago."

"I couldn't have." She looked at him, earnest and determined. "I didn't love you then."

"How could you not—"

"I didn't know you, Gavin. Not really."

Relaxing, she squirmed into a more comfortable position and settled against his chest. Her hands, however, did not settle. They roamed over his chest, making him wish the talking was over and his shirt would evaporate.

Lydia continued. "I only knew what I saw you to be: attractive, successful, and interested in me."

"Aren't I still all those things?"

"Of course. But now I know how much more there is to you. You're not just the glossy picture on the cover of
 
GQ
. You like the symphony and romantic dinners and you're the whole package, Gavin Fairchild." Her hand came to rest on his waistband. "And I love you."

"Good, because you're stuck with me."

"Like Bubble Yum on the bottom of my shoe?" she asked, wicked humor glinting in her hazel eyes.

"Like a wet lollipop on your window."

"Mmm mmm, yummy." She lifted up and nibbled at his jaw line, sending little sparks of electricity along every nerve in his body. "Can I have a lick?"

"Anytime," he ground out as her nibbles moved closer and closer to his mouth.

The last thing Gavin heard before her mouth met his was, "I love candy."

24

Q: What did the ignition say to the car?
A: You really turn me on.
— Laffy Taffy Joke #133

Elliot hated attending these vacuous society events. Everyone dressed in clothes that cost enough to feed starving families for a generation, all in the name of raising money for some trendy cause on another. The choking stench of hypocrisy nearly overwhelmed him.

The only thing worse than attending one, was working one. Which he was doing tonight.

Some young, up-and-coming designer had hired a dozen professionals to model his wares at the event to show everyone how beautiful people looked in his clothes and to start the buzz about his new collection. Elliot felt like a walking mannequin.

Tonight would be the exception if some rich, bored housewife didn't come up, pinch him on the butt, and offer to buy his services for the night. Feeling like a gigolo once in a week was more than enough for him.

"Goo-ood evening," a nasal voice behind him drawled, just before a pair of over-manicured fingers grabbed a substantial chunk of his left cheek. "Who are you wearing tonight? Me?"

Pasting on his best toothpaste commercial smile, the urge to flee very near the surface but carefully concealed, Elliot turned to face his latest molester. "Good evening, ma'am. This is from Mario Max's new collection."

That wasn't what she asked, but that's what he offered. Besides, he knew the "ma'am" designation would send her into a middle-aged crisis call to her plastic surgeon.

Enough. No pay check is worth this demeaning and demoralizing experience.

As if he had any morale left.

Nearly a week back in New York, and he hadn't heard from Lydia. Though he tried to hold out hope that she just hadn't chosen yet, he had to at least accept the possibility that she hadn't chosen him.

"Aarngh," he groaned, rubbing his weary face and trying to keep that kernel of despair from popping.

"Something wrong, Sweet Tooth?"

Elliot spun at the sound of her voice, disbelief that she was actually here rendering him silent. He was so focused on the spark in her green-and-gold eyes that it took him a full minute to notice what she wore.

When he did, his jaw dropped.

"Like what you see?" she asked.

He took it all in. She stood at least four inches taller than usual in a pair of black stilettos. Her long, shapely legs encased in silky black stockings. Anything else she wore was concealed by the tan trench coat knotted tightly around her waist and buttoned all the way up to her neck.

Topping it all off, and diminishing everything else in comparison, was a platinum blonde, Marilyn Monroe wig.

Unable to form words—seeing the love of his life dressed like his every fantasy could sure render a guy speechless—he could only stare and hope he didn't drool.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said. One slow, seductive step at a time, she moved closer. "Wanna get out of here?"

He nodded, forcing out something resembling speech that ended up sounding like, "Yuh-hun."

"Good." Her voice dropped to a confessional whisper. "I can barely remain upright in these shoes."

That spurred him into action. A quick scan of the area revealed a blocked open emergency exit in the back. He took Lydia by the hand and headed that direction, navigating the overwhelming crowd and ignoring the jealous stares of men and women alike.

The exit led into a back alley illuminated by a million white Christmas lights. Several guests, needing their nicotine fix but not allowed to smoke inside, stood around looking fashionably rebellious.

Too many people.

Giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, he headed down the alley and around the corner, into the connecting side alley that happened to be—thank heavens—empty.

"Are you sure this is safe?" she asked when he finally stopped.

"Absolutely," he said. "This is a perfectly safe neighborhood. Cops patrol it all the time."

Okay, he made that up. But at the moment all he cared about was Lydia and talking to her, and if he had to throw out a little white lie so they could have that conversation right then and there, so be it.

"If you're sure..."

She sounded uncertain, but instead of fleeing she walked over to the brick wall and relaxed back against it.

"I'm sure." He stepped forward, his feet on either side of hers, trapping her between his body and the building, and cupped her face in his hands. "God, I've missed you, Lyd."

"I've missed you, too." Her watery smile, one of those magical ones women possessed and men never understood, tugged at his heart.

"What's with the getup? Not that I'm unappreciative," he quickly amended when her lower lip started to pout out.

"I thought a lot about what you said," she explained, "about me being a Marilyn, not a Norma Jean. And you're right. I am an atomic fireball."

As if to emphasize her point, she slid her hands into his hair and pulled him down into a searing kiss. Her lips opened over his and Elliot groaned into her mouth, welcoming her exploring tongue. He leaned more fully into her, pressing her deeper into the wall and kicking his feet between hers so he could step into the vee of her thighs.