Everything is You. Donna Hill

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      “You look like you hate this almost as much as I do.”

      She angled her head to the right and inhaled a short, sharp breath. Yummy was her first thought before she could respond.

      “Is it that obvious?” She arched a questioning brow as her photographic eye took him in from head to toe in one click of her internal lens.

      The amazing dark chocolate-brown eyes twinkled in the light and creased at the edges when he smiled down at her. She wasn’t a big gospel fan but he sure could be a body double for the singer BeBe Winans with the dulcet tone to go with the look. And that body appeared totally comfortable and sleek in his tux.

      “You have the ever ready wineglass. The casual lean against the bar pose…” His gaze traveled down. “…to keep the pressure off of those pretty feet.”

      She bit back a smile.

      “And the…‘just how long is this thing gonna last,’ look in your eyes.” He turned to the bar and picked up his glass of Hennessey on the rocks then returned his attention back to her.

      “Observant.”

      “Occupational hazard. Journalist?”

      “Photographic.”

      He nodded slowly in appreciation.

      “You?”

      “Foreign correspondent.”

      She switched her wine flute from her right hand to her left and extended her hand. “Jacqueline.”

      “Raymond Jordan.” His hand enveloped hers.

      He smelled good, too. “Nice to meet you.”

      “You have a table?”

      “No. Do you?”

      “Naw.” He took a swallow of his drink. “I figured there had to be an available seat in here somewhere. After all, I pay my dues and I did get an invite.”

      She giggled. “My sentiments exactly.”

      “Care to spend the evening with another jaded guest?”

      Jacqueline glanced up at him. “Sure, why not.”

      Raymond crooked his elbow and Jacqueline hooked her arm through.

      They found a table in the center of the room with two empty seats at a table for eight. After a bit of seat shifting they settled next to each other and were soon served appetizers for the sit-down dinner.

      Up front, CNN correspondent Anderson Cooper was in conversation with Karen Ballard, who specialized in motion picture photography. Jacqueline and Raymond whispered conspiratorially about Cooper’s possible appearance in a film and they entertained themselves by concocting stories about the plethora of attendees that spanned the gamut of journalism, and swapped stories about some of their memorable assignments.

      Raymond was equally as traveled as Jacqueline and spoke three languages fluently, compared to her two. He’d lived in Japan for a year, spent several summers in Europe and loved motorcycle riding.

      “What was it like being embedded with the troops in Iraq?” he asked.

      “Scary. But I knew that they wouldn’t let anything happen to me. I was there to do a job and they respected that.” She glanced off.

      “Must have been tough. The things you saw…”

      She nodded. “It was.” She turned and looked into his eyes. “The sad part is, I’ve seen and photographed worse.”

      “I know. In this business when you think you’ve seen everything there’s one more thing that sucks the air out of your lungs.”

      “Fortunately, there’s still some beauty left in the world.”

      “Fortunately,” he said and raised his glass to her, his gaze moving with appreciation across her face.

      After a long line of award-winners and acceptance speeches, the event wound down to a glittering close.

      Jacqueline and Raymond made their way out through the throng of bodies.

      “Going to the after party?” Raymond asked once they were outside.

      “Oh no,” she said, waving her hand. “I’ve had enough party people to last me at least until this time next year.”

      Raymond chuckled. “Live here or staying in town?”

      “Actually, I’m only here until tomorrow. I fly out in the morning. Off to Israel for the next month.”

      “Busy lady. Where do you call home?”

      She hesitated for a moment. Louisiana was where she was born but it hadn’t been home for a very long time. “California.”

      His head jerked back in surprise. “Me too.”

      “That’s just a pickup line, right?”

      “No.” He chuckled. “Seriously. I moved out there about a year ago from Maplewood, New Jersey. I’m in San Fernando Valley. Been there about two years now.”

      “Hmmm. Small world.”

      “Maybe we can get together the next time we’re in the same time zone.”

      Jacqueline offered a half smile. She lifted her arm to signal for the next taxi in line.

      A cab pulled up in front of them. Raymond stepped forward and opened the door for her. She ducked in the cab.

      Raymond stuck his head in. “Safe travels, pretty lady. Thanks for spending the evening with me.”

      There was no room in her life for a man like Raymond, for any man or anyone. She didn’t stay put long enough for a relationship to have any meaning. And there was no point in opening the door to something that would never get a chance to cross the threshold.

      “Take care,” she said and for a brief instant, she wished things could be different, but they weren’t.

      Raymond gave her a wistful parting smile, shut the door and stepped back.

      She watched him in the rearview mirror until the cab turned the corner. She was sure that was the last time she would see him and in the ensuing months she often wondered what part of the world he was in. Sometimes she would run across his byline only to realize that he was a half a world away.

      And then one day, there he was in the Khan el-Khalili market in Cairo, thousands of miles away from where they’d met nearly a year earlier.

      “Ray?” She approached from his right. He turned and swiped his dark shades from his eyes. His grin spread like the sun rising over the ocean and moved through her.

      “Jacquie, what in the world…”

      She СКАЧАТЬ