Gabriel's Angel by Nora Roberts Page B

him. Everything happened at once. He was very gruff and had me in makeup and under the lights before I could babble an excuse. I was terribly embarrassed, but he didn’t seem to notice. He barked out orders, telling me to stand, sit, lean, turn. He had a fur in his vault—a full-length sable. He took it out and tossed it around my shoulders. I thought I was dreaming. I must have said so aloud, because while he was shooting he laughed and told me that in a year I could wear sable to breakfast.”
    Saying nothing, Gabe settled back. With his eyes narrowed, he could see her, enveloped in furs. There was a twist in his stomach as he thought about her becoming one of Wright’s young and casually disposable mistresses.
    â€œWithin a month I had done a layout for
Mode
magazine. Then I did another for
Her
, and one for
Charm.
It was incredible. One day I was selling linens and the next I was having dinner with designers.”
    â€œAnd Wright?”
    â€œNo one in my life had ever been as good to me as Geoffrey. Oh, I knew he saw me as a commodity half the time, but he set himself up as, I don’t know, a watchdog. He had plans, he’d tell me. Not too much exposure too quickly. Then, in another two years, there wouldn’t be a person in the Western world who wouldn’t recognize my face. It sounded exciting. Most of my life I’d been essentially anonymous. He liked that, the fact that I’d come from nothing, from nowhere. I know some of his other models saw him as cold. He often was. But he was the closest thing I’d ever had to a father.”
    â€œIs that how you saw him?”
    â€œI suppose. And then, after all he’d done for me, after all the time he’d invested, I let him down.” She started to rise again, and again Gabe stopped her.
    â€œWhere are you going?”
    â€œI need some water.”
    â€œSit. I’ll get it.”
    She used the time to compose herself. Her story was only half done, and the worst part, the most painful part, was yet to come. He brought her a clear glass with ice swimming in it. Laura took two long sips, then continued.
    â€œWe went to Paris. It was like being Cinderella and being told midnight never had to come. We were scheduled to be there for a month, and because Geoffrey wanted a very French flavor to the pictures we went all over Paris for the shoot. We went to a party one night. It was one of those gorgeous spring nights when all the women are beautiful and the men handsome. And I met Tony.”
    He caught the slight break in her voice, the shadow of pain in her eyes, and knew without being told that she was speaking now of her baby’s father.
    â€œHe was so gallant, so charming. The prince to my Cinderella. For the next two weeks, whenever I wasn’t working, I was with Tony. We went dancing, we ate in little cafés and walked in the parks. He was everything I’d thought I’d wanted and knew I could never have. He treated me as though I were something rare and valuable, like a diamond necklace. There was a time when I thought that was love.”
    She fell silent for a moment, brooding. That had been her mistake, her sin, her vanity. Even now, a year later, it cut at her.
    â€œGeoffrey grumbled and talked about rich young pups sowing wild oats, but I wouldn’t listen. I wanted to be loved, I wanted so terribly for someone to care, to want me. When Tony asked me to marry him, I didn’t think twice.”
    â€œYou married him?”
    â€œYes.” She looked at him again. “I know I led you to believe that I hadn’t married the baby’s father. It seemed easiest.”
    â€œYou don’t wear a ring.”
    Color washed into her face. The shame of it. “I sold them.”
    â€œI see.” There was no condemnation in the two words, but she felt it nonetheless.
    â€œWe stayed in Paris for our honeymoon. I wanted to go back to the States and meet his family, but he said