Bared to You

I snorted. "Glad my love life is working out for someone."

He was due at another job around three and I went with him, spending a few hours in the studio of a loud and brash photographer. Remembering it was Saturday, I slipped into a far corner and made my weekly call to my dad.

"You still happy in New York?" he asked me above the background noise of dispatch talking over the radio in his cruiser.

"So far so good." A lie, but the truth helped no one.

His partner said something I didn't catch. My dad snorted and said, "Hey, Chris insists he saw you on television the other day. Some cable channel, celebrity gossip thing. The guys won't leave me alone about it."

I sighed. "Tell them watching those shows is bad for their brain cells."

"So you're not dating one of the richest men in America?"

"No. What about your love life?" I asked, quickly diverting. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"Nothing serious. Hang on." He responded to a call on the radio, then said, "Sorry, sweetheart. I have to run. I love you. Miss you like crazy."

"I miss you, too, Daddy. Be careful."

"Always. Bye."

I killed the call and went back to my former spot to wait for Cary to wrap things up. In the lull, my mind tormented me. Where was Gideon now? What was he doing?

Would Monday bring me an inbox full of photos of him with another woman?

Sunday afternoon I borrowed Clancy and one of Stanton's town cars for the drive out to the Vidal estate in Dutchess County. Leaning back in the seat, I looked out the window, absently admiring the serene vista of rolling meadows and green woodlands that stretched to the distant horizon. I realized I was working on Day 4 After Gideon. The pain I'd felt the first few days had turned into a dull throbbing that felt almost like the flu. Every part of my body ached, as if I was going through some sort of physical withdrawal and my throat burned with unshed tears.

"Are you nervous?" Cary asked me.

I glanced at him. "Not really. Gideon won't be there."

"You're sure about that?"

"I wouldn't be going if I thought otherwise. I do have some pride you know." I watched him drum his fingers on the armrest between our two seats. For all the shopping we'd done yesterday, he'd made only one purchase: a black leather tie. I'd teased him mercilessly about it, he of the perfect fashion sense going with something like that.

He caught me looking at it. "What? You still don't like my tie? I think it works well with the emo jeans and my lounge lizard jacket."

"Cary" - my lips quirked - "you can wear anything."

It was true. Cary could pull any look off, a benefit of having a sculpted rangy body and a face that could make angels weep.

I set my hand over his restless fingers. "Are you nervous?"

"Trey didn't call last night," he muttered. "He said he would."

I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's just one missed call, Cary. I'm sure it doesn't mean anything serious."

"He could've called this morning," he argued. "Trey's not flakey like the others I've dated. He wouldn't have forgotten to call, which means he just doesn't want to."

"The rat bastard. I'll be sure to take lots of pictures of you having a great time looking sexy, classy, and cool to torment him with on Monday."

His mouth twitched. "Ah, the deviousness of the female mind. It's a shame Cross won't see you today. I think I got a semi when you came out of your room in that dress."

"Eww!" I smacked his shoulder and mock-glared when he laughed.

The dress had seemed perfect to both of us when we'd found it. It was cut in a classic garden party style - fitted bodice with a knee-length skirt that flared out from the waist. It was even white with flowers. But that's where the tea-and-crumpets style ended.

The edginess came from the strapless form, the alternating layers of black and crimson satin underskirts that gave it volume, and the black leather flowers that looked like wicked pinwheels. Cary had picked the red Jimmy Choo peep-toe pumps out of my closet and the ruby drop earrings to give it all the finishing touch. We'd decided to leave my hair loose around my shoulders, in case we arrived and learned that hats were required. All in all, I felt pretty and confident.

Clancy drove us through an imposing set of monogrammed gates and turned into a circular driveway, following the direction of a valet. Cary and I got out by the entrance, and he took my arm as my heels sank into blue-gray gravel on the walk to the house.

Upon entering the Vidal's sprawling Tudor-style mansion, we were warmly greeted by Gideon's family in a receiving line - his mother, stepfather, Christopher, and their sister.

I took in the sight, thinking the Vidal family could only look more perfect if Gideon was lined up with them. His mother and sister had his coloring, both women boasting the same glossy obsidian hair and thickly-lashed blue eyes. They were both beautiful in a finely wrought way.

"Eva!" Gideon's mother drew me toward her, then air-kissed both of my cheeks. "I'm so pleased to finally meet you. What a gorgeous girl you are! And your dress. I love it."

"Thank you."

Her hands brushed over my hair, cupped my face, and then slid down my arms. It was hard for me to bear it, because touching was sometimes an anxiety trigger for me when the person was a stranger. "Your hair, is it naturally blond?"

"Yes," I replied, startled and confused by the question. Who asked a question like that of a stranger?

"How fascinating. Well, welcome. I hope you have a wonderful time. We're so glad you could make it."

Feeling strangely unsettled, I was grateful when her attention moved to Cary and zeroed in.

"And you must be Cary," she crooned. "Here I'd been certain my two boys were the most attractive in the world. I see I was wrong about that. You are simply divine, young man."

Cary flashed his megawatt smile. "Ah, I think I'm in love, Mrs. Vidal."

She laughed with throaty delight. "Please. Call me Elizabeth. Or Lizzie, if you're brave enough."

Looking away, I found my hand clasped by Christopher Vidal Senior. In many ways, he reminded me of his son, with his slate green eyes and boyish smile. In others, he was a pleasant surprise. Dressed in khakis, loafers, and a cashmere cardigan, he looked more like a college professor than a music company executive.

"Eva. May I call you Eva?"

"Please do."

"Call me Chris. It makes it a little easier to distinguish between me and Christopher." His head tilted to the side as he contemplated me through quirky brass spectacles. "I can see why Gideon is so taken with you. Your eyes are a stormy gray, yet they're so clear and direct. Quite the most beautiful eyes I think I've ever seen, aside from my wife's."

I flushed. "Thank you."

"Is Gideon coming?"

"Not that I'm aware of." Why didn't his parents know the answer to that question?

"We always hope." He gestured at a waiting servant. "Please head back to the gardens and make yourself at home."

Christopher greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, while Gideon's sister Ireland sized me up in a sulky way that only a teenager could pull off. "You're a blonde," she said.

Jeez. Was Gideon's preference for dark-haired women a damn law or something? "And you're a very lovely brunette."

Cary offered me his arm and I accepted it gratefully.

As we walked away, he asked me quietly, "Were they what you expected?"

"His mom, maybe. His stepdad, no." I looked back over my shoulder, taking in the elegant floor-length cream sheath dress that clung to Elizabeth Vidal's svelte figure. I thought of what little I knew about Gideon's family. "How does a boy grow up to be a businessman who takes over his stepfather's family business?"

"Cross owns shares in Vidal Records?"

"Controlling interest."

"Hmm. Maybe it was a bailout?" he offered. "A helping hand during a trying time for the music industry?"

"Why not just give him the money?" I wondered.

"Because he's a shrewd businessman?"

With a sharp exhalation, I waved the question away and cleared my mind. I was attending the party for Cary, not Gideon, and I was going to keep that first and foremost in my thoughts.

Once we'd moved outside, we found a large, elaborately decorated marquee erected in the rear garden. Although the day was beautiful enough to stay out in the sun, I found a seat at a circular table covered in white damask instead.

Cary patted my shoulder. "You relax. I'll network."

"Go get 'em."

He moved away, intent on his agenda.

I sipped champagne and chatted with everyone who stopped by to strike up a conversation. There were a lot of recording artists at the party whose work I listened to, and I watched them covertly, a bit starstruck. For all the elegance of the surroundings and the endless number of servants, the overall vibe was casual and relaxed.

I was starting to enjoy myself when someone I'd hoped never to see again stepped out of the house onto the terrace: Magdalene Perez, looking phenomenal in a rose-hued chiffon gown that floated around her knees.

A hand settled on my shoulder and squeezed, setting my heart racing because it reminded me of the night Cary and I had gone to Gideon's club. But the figure that rounded me this time was Christopher.

"Hey, Eva." He took the chair next to mine and set his elbows on his knees, leaning toward me. "Are you having fun? You're not mingling much."

"I'm having a great time." At least I had been. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Thank you for coming. My parents are stoked you're here. Me, too, of course." His grin made me smile, as did his tie, which had cartoon vinyl records all over it. "Are you hungry? The crab cakes are great. Grab one when the tray comes by."

"I'll do that."

"Let me know if you need anything. And save a dance for me." He winked, and then hopped up and away.

Ireland took his seat, arranging herself with the practiced grace of a finishing school graduate. Her hair fell in a single length to her waist and her beautiful eyes were direct in a way I could appreciate. She looked worldlier than her seventeen years. "Hi."

"Hello."

"Where's Gideon?"

I shrugged at the blunt question. "I'm not sure."

She nodded sagely. "He's good at being a loner."

"Has he always been that way?"

"I guess. He moved out when I was little. Do you love him?"

My breath caught for a second. I released it in a rush and said simply, "Yes."

"I thought so when I saw that video of you two in Bryant Park." She bit her lush lower lip. "Is he fun? You know...to hang around with?"

"Oh. Well..." God. Did anyone know Gideon? "I wouldn't say he's fun, but he's never boring."

The live band began playing "I've Got You Under My Skin" and Cary appeared beside me as if by magic. "Time to make me look good, Ginger."

"I'll try my best, Fred." I smiled at Ireland. "Excuse me a minute."

"Three minutes, forty seconds," she corrected, displaying some of her family's expertise in music.

Cary led me onto the empty dance floor and pulled me into a swift foxtrot. It took me a minute to get into it, because I'd been stiff and tight with misery for days. Then the synergy of longtime partners kicked in and we glided across the floor with sweeping steps.

When the singer's voice faded with the music, we stopped, breathless. We were pleasantly surprised by applause. Cary gave an elegant bow and I held on to his hand for stability as I dipped into a curtsy.

When I lifted my head and straightened, I found Gideon standing in front of me. Startled, I stumbled back a step. He was seriously underdressed in jeans and an untucked white dress shirt that was open at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves, but he was so damn fine he still put every other man in attendance to shame.

The tremendous yearning I felt at the sight of him overwhelmed me. Distantly I was aware of the band's singer pulling Cary away, but I couldn't tear my gaze away from Gideon, whose wildly blue eyes burned into mine.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped, scowling.

I recoiled from his harshness. "Excuse me?"

"You shouldn't be here." He grabbed me by the elbow and started hauling me toward the house. "I don't want you here."

If he'd spit in my face, it couldn't have devastated me more. I yanked my arm free of him and walked briskly toward the house with my head held high, praying I could make it to the privacy of the town car and Clancy's protective watch before the tears started falling.

Behind me, I heard a come-hither female voice call out Gideon's name and I sent up a prayer that the woman would stall him long enough for me to get out without further confrontation.

I thought I just might make it when I passed into the cool interior of the house.

"Eva, wait."

My shoulders hunched at the sound of Gideon's voice and I refused to look at him. "Get lost. I can show myself out."

"I'm not done - "

"I am!" I pivoted to face him. "You don't get to talk to me that way. Who do you think you are? You think I came here for you? That I was hoping I'd see you and you'd throw me a goddamn scrap or bone...some pathetic acknowledgment of my existence? Maybe I'd be able to harass you into a quick, dirty f*ck in a corner somewhere in a pitiful effort to win you back?"

"Shut up, Eva." His gaze was scorching hot, his jaw tight and hard. "Listen to me - "

"I'm only here because I was told you wouldn't be. I'm here for Cary and his career. So you can go back to the party and forget about me all over again. I assure you, when I walk out the door, I'll be doing the same to you."