He reached over and brushed his fingertips over my cheek, a now-habitual gesture of affection that was tender and fiercely intimate. I was coming to depend on receiving those touches.
I leaned my cheek into his palm. "Can you carve fifteen minutes out of your day for me?"
"I'll manage it."
"Call me when you know the time."
Taking a deep breath, I dug into my bag and wrapped my hand around a gift I wasn't sure he'd want, but I couldn't get the memory of his nightmare out of my head. I hoped that what I had for him would remind him of me and three A.M. sex, and help him cope. "I have something. I thought..."
It suddenly seemed conceited to give him what I'd brought.
He frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. It's just..." I exhaled in a rush. "Listen, I have something for you, but I just realized it's one of those gifts - well, it's not really a gift. I'm already thinking it's not appropriate and - "
He thrust out his hand. "Give it to me."
"You can totally decide not to take it - "
"Shut up, Eva." He crooked his fingers. "Give it to me."
I pulled it out of my bag and handed it over.
Gideon stared down at the framed photograph in complete silence. It was a novelty frame depicting die-cut images of things relating to graduation, including a digital clock face that read 3:00 A.M. The picture was of me posing on Coronado Beach in a coral bikini with a big floppy straw hat - I was tanned, happy, and blowing a kiss to Cary, who'd playacted the role of a high-fashion photographer by calling out ridiculous encouragements. Beautiful, dahling. Show me sassy. Show me sexy. Brilliant. Show me catty...rawr...
Embarrassed, I squirmed a little on the seat. "Like I said, you don't have to keep - "
"I - " He cleared his throat. "Thank you, Eva."
"Ah, well..." I was grateful to see the Crossfire outside my window. I jumped out quickly when the driver pulled over and ran my hands over my skirt, feeling self-conscious. "If you want, I can hang on to it until later."
Gideon shut the door of the Bentley and shook his head. "It's mine. You're not taking it back."
He linked our fingers together and gestured toward the revolving door with the hand holding the frame. I warmed when I realized he intended to take my picture into work with him.
One of the fun things about the ad business was that no day was ever the same as the one before it. I was hopping all morning and was just beginning to contemplate what to do about lunch when my phone rang. "Mark Garrity's office, Eva Tramell speaking."
"I've got news," Cary said by way of greeting.
"What?" I could tell by his voice that it was good news, whatever it was.
"I landed a Grey Isles campaign."
"Oh my God! Cary, that's awesome! I love their jeans."
"What are you doing for lunch?"
I grinned. "Celebrating with you. Can you be here at noon?"
"I'm already on my way."
I hung up and rocked back in my chair, so thrilled for Cary I felt like dancing. Needing something to do to kill the fifteen minutes remaining before my lunch break, I checked my inbox again and found a Google alert digest for Gideon's name. Over thirty mentions, in just one day.
I opened the e-mail and freaked out a little at the numerous "mystery woman" headlines. I clicked on the first link and found myself landing on a gossip blog.
There, in living color, was a photo of Gideon kissing me senseless on the sidewalk outside of his gym. The accompanying article was short and to the point:
"Gideon Cross, New York's most eligible bachelor since John F. Kennedy Jr., was spotted yesterday in a passionate public embrace. A source at Cross Industries identified the lucky mystery woman as socialite Eva Tramell, daughter of multimillionaire Richard Stanton and his wife, Monica. When queried about the nature of the relationship between Cross and Tramell, the source confirmed that Miss Tramell is 'the significant woman' in the mogul's life at present. We imagine hearts are breaking across the country this morning."