I dampened my dry lips with my tongue, and his gaze followed the movement. We were standing too close. I could smell the bite of starch in his collar, and a whiff of warm male skin, and I was shocked by my response. In spite of everything. I wanted to lean even closer. I wanted a deep breath of him.
A frown tugged between his brows. "We're not finished." he muttered, and left the room without another word.
I had no doubt he'd gone straight to Churchill, but it would be a long time before I found out what was said between them, or why Gage had decided to abandon that particular battle. All I knew was there was no more interference from Gage as we settled in. He left before supper, while Churchill, Gretchen, Carrington, and I celebrated our first night together. We ate fish steamed in little white paper bags and rice mixed with finely chopped peppers and vegetables that made it look like confetti.
When Gretchen asked if our rooms were all right and did we have everything we needed. Carrington and I both replied enthusiastically. Carrington said her canopy bed made her feel like a princess. I said I loved my room too, the soft green walls were so soothing, and I especially liked the black-and-white photographs.
"You'll have to tell Gage," Gretchen said, beaming. "He took those pictures in college for a photography-class assignment. He had to lie in wait two hours for that armadillo to come out of its burrow."
A horrifying suspicion darted through my mind. "Oh." I said, and swallowed hard. "Gretchen, by any chance...does that happen to be..." I could barely speak his name. "Gage's room?"
"As a matter of fact, yes," came her placid reply.
Oh, God. Of all the guest rooms on the second floor, I had managed to pick his. For him to walk in and see me there, taking occupation of his territory...I was amazed he hadn't tossed me like a bull with a rodeo clown in a barrel. "I didn't know," I said thinly. "Someone should have said something. I'll move to a different—"
"No. no, he never stays here," Gretchen said. "He doesn't live but ten minutes away. The room's been empty for years, Liberty. I'm sure it will please Gage for someone to get some use out of it."
Like hell. I thought, and reached for my wineglass.
Later that evening I emptied my cosmetics bags beside the bathroom sink. As I pulled out the top drawer, I heard something rattling and rolling around. Investigating, I found a few personal items that looked as though they'd been there a while. A used toothbrush, a pocket comb, an ancient tube of hair gel.. .and a box of condoms.
I turned and closed the bathroom door before examining the box more closely. There were three foil packets left out of twelve. It was a brand I had never seen before, British-made. And there was a funny phrase on the side of the box, "kite-marked for your peace of mind." Kite-marked? What the heck did that mean? It sort of looked like a European version of the Good Housekeeping seal of approval. I couldn't help noticing the little yellow sunburst at the corner of the box, printed with the words "Extra Large." This was appropriate, I reflected sourly, in light of the fact that I already thought of Gage Travis as a big prick.
I wondered what I was supposed to do with this stuff. There was no way I was going to return Gage's long-forgotten condoms to him. But I couldn't throw his things away, on the off chance that he might remember someday and ask what I'd done with them. So I pushed them far back in the drawer and put my own things in there. I tried not to think about the fact that Gage Travis and I were sharing a drawer.
For the first few weeks I was busier than I had ever been in my life, and happier than I'd been since before Mama had died. Carrington made new friends quickly, and she was doing well at the new school, which had a nature center, a computer lab, a well-stocked library, and all kinds of enrichment classes. I had braced myself for adjustment problems that so far Carrington didn't seem to be having. Maybe her age made it easier to adapt to the strange new world she found herself living in.
People were usually nice to me. according me the distant friendliness reserved for
employees. My status as Churchill's personal assistant ensured I was treated well. I could tell when a former Salon One client recognized me but couldn't figure out where we'd met. The circles the Travises occupied were filled with high-living people, some pedigreed and wealthy, some merely wealthy. But whether they'd earned or inherited their place at the top. they were determined to enjoy it.
Houston high society is blond, tan, and well dressed. It's also toned and slim, despite the city's annual place on the Top Ten Fattest list. The rich people are in great shape. It's the rest of us, the lovers of burritos and Dr Pepper and chicken-fried steak, who inflate the average. If you can't afford a gym membership in Houston, you're going to be fat. You can't jog outside with so many days of triple-degree heat and lethal levels of hydrocarbons in the air. And even if it weren't for the poor air quality, public places like Memorial Park can be crowded and dangerous.