Lauren's Designs (19 page)

“I haven’t signed yet,” she said, trying hard for the prep-school accent. “My designs aren’t for just everybody.”

A rapacious light entered the women’s eyes. Lauren could tell they were kicking themselves for not taking in her show. “September Song?” Midge pondered. “I haven’t heard—”

“Of course you haven’t,” Lauren said cordially. “I really don’t have to advertise.”

This statement had them all watching her with heightened interest. Tippy said rather too loudly, “Oh, you’re a cult designer, like Janus!”

Lauren laughed lightly. “Quite unlike Janus, actually.”

Mike took control. “I can’t let you tease these people, Lauren. September Song, which will be featured in its own elegant boutiques throughout the Landrill chain, is for the woman who, like the finest wines, has matured enough to please the connoisseur in man—, the man of discerning taste. Of course, it’s caviar to the general public. They can’t afford it and they don’t see its special appeal. Now can’t we talk about something else? How many laps of the pool did you swim today, Midge? Or did you spend all your time in the Golden Door, being massaged?”

This started a spate of small talk about the skeet-shooting, yoga, and dance exercise, with the men boasting about their wins at the Players Club. But Lauren noticed that the three women were casting speculative glances her way. She was glad she was wearing the Sultan’s Dream.

By the time the sweets tray was being offered, Lauren was beginning to feel nervous again. She wondered if Dani and Nella, dining with all the other models, were enjoying the meal or worrying about the awards presentation. Dani could hold her own, and some of the models were very pleasant people, but Nella tended to get fearful in a challenging situation.

Mike was reading her expression again. He leaned close to her and whispered. “Would you like to go to the theater now? I think the other designers may wish to head that way very soon, so it won’t make you look unsure of yourself.”

He thought of everything. Lauren was so besotted with the man that she was ready to accept anything he said. She nodded gratefully. “I’d really like to be there, Mike.”

He nodded, glanced around the table, and got up. “Lauren’s got to check on her models. We’ll see you all later.”

“Mike, you aren’t leaving us now,” protested Baba, who had hardly taken her eyes off him since he sat down at the table.

“ ‘Fraid so, honey,” Mike drawled. “I can’t let this genius get out of my sight. The other stores have scouts everywhere.” He laughed as he led a smiling Lauren away.

As he left her at the entrance to the theater, Mike looked at Lauren intently. “Have you got it together?”

She nodded. “I think so. And thank you for your support.”

“Think nothing of it.” He grinned suddenly. “I’m already planning exactly what my fee will be.” And he gave her a rakish leer.

Lauren couldn’t help laughing. His look of satisfaction told her that was exactly what he had hoped for.

The mood in the waiting room off the theater was tense and edgy. Carlos, with two of his assistants beside him, glowered at Lauren fiercely once and then ignored her. He was chain-smoking, with imminent danger to his models’ costumes. He’d chosen to feature two of the most strident in color and style, and Lauren felt a secret pleasure in his poor judgment. Still, she chided herself, perhaps the audience would enjoy purple and crimson and black with a trim of white bobbles.

Maartens had a pleasant smile for her. He was obviously a gentleman, gray-haired, with a good tan and a trim body. Lauren thought he was about sixty, but it really was hard to tell. Jan Haliday nodded and grinned, shaking his head over the trick Mike had played at dinner, but he didn’t approach her to talk. In fact, very few conversations were heard. Most of the designers talked only to their own models, with brief, last-minute instructions. Lauren didn’t have anything to say to her two. They knew the routine better than she did, and they knew what Derek had planned.

Lauren had a sudden horrible thought. What if the judges disqualified her collection when they found out what Derek and she had planned with Tony? Oh, well, she tried to comfort herself, I’ll never win with Mrs. Cornelius against me anyway. And Mike has agreed to hire me as a Landrill’s designer, so I guess I’m safe financially. Somehow it wasn’t completely satisfying, but it would have to do.

She went to the peephole. The theater was packed. The TV crews were fussing around, getting in everyone’s way. There was a hubbub of voices, laughter, calls from one group to another— a carnival atmosphere that surprised Lauren. Then the audience fell silent as the captain led Lady Winston-Bell to the stage, while Mike escorted Mrs. Cornelius and Maida led Reb Crowell to the judges’ table in front of the stage.

The captain introduced Lady Winston-Bell, and then added, “We are very grateful to Sir George for permitting us to monopolize so much of his wife’s time during this voyage. I only hope he will forgive us when he hears how grateful we all are for his forbearance.”

The applause, of course, was appropriately loud. Then the captain introduced the other two judges to equal applause. The house lights lowered, spotlights and floodlights played on the stage, and Lady Winston-Bell began to introduce the designers. She called them in the order in which they had made their original presentations. As each designer came forward, he introduced his own best designs worn by two of his models.

The audience had evidently dined well and wined better, as the applause was generous for everyone. By the time Lauren’s name was called, she was wondering if anyone would have the energy to clap even once more. She was surprised at the enthusiastic reception she got. She called her models by name; they deserved that bit of recognition. The two women paraded across the stage and then took up positions at the rear.

Suddenly there was a titter of laughter from the audience. Those who had seen the show waited, smiling, for the reaction of their friends who hadn’t. The cause of their mirth was a cleaning woman who had wandered in from the side of the stage and now paused to examine the bronze silk costume. Polly and Dolly rushed in, dressed as stewardesses who had been sent to remove the intruder. Someone in the audience hooted. The twins held a sheet in front of Violet and Nella. When they took it away, Violet was wearing the bronze silk and Nella, wearing Violet’s clothes, was carried off the stage by Polly and Dolly.

Derek, distinguished in formal evening wear, came on stage and bowed to Violet. A soft Viennese waltz sounded from back stage, then went smoothly into “The Anniversary Waltz” as the graceful couple began to dance. They went around the stage once. Then Derek, holding Violet closer, gave her a brief, tender kiss. The audience, caught up in the unexpected romantic interlude, began to clap as Derek waltzed Violet offstage.

Lady Winston-Bell rose and called everyone to order. “Now that you have seen a sampling of the beautiful, charming, or striking designs that the seven finest American designers have offered for our enjoyment this week, your judges are ready to announce the winners, two designers whose true elegance of line, forward-looking styles, and suitability for their clients’ life-style have most impressed us. Each of the two is to receive a golden plaque, engraved with the words:
Queen Elizabeth II
Fashion Cruise Award for Elegance in Design. I call on Madame Adah Shere and Mr. Ian Maartens.”

There was thunderous applause as Maartens escorted Madame Shere to the stage, where Lady Winston-Bell presented the awards. Maartens spoke a few words of acknowledgment for them both. When they had left the stage, to continuing applause, Lady Winston-Bell held up one hand for silence.

“The judges have decided that one more award can and should be made. The Cunard Line, represented by their cruise director, Miss Maida Hass, has graciously agreed to grant a special award, for suitability for its clients, creativity, panache in presentation, and courage under stress; the Queen’s Golden Award, to Mrs. Lauren Rose, September Song.”

The applause was sincere and hearty.

Mike came on stage to lead Lauren toward Lady Winston-Bell to receive her award. It was a golden heart on a slim gold chain. He offered her his arm and she was surprised and touched to see that he had tied a violet silk scarf, one of her signature items, around his sleeve. He intended to escort her offstage to accept the congratulations of the audience, as Maartens had done for Madame Shere, but he was caught by the incredulous joy on Lauren’s face. He stood looking down at her for a moment. She looked back at him, the love she felt for him plainly visible in her glowing eyes and soft mouth. Suddenly ignoring the delighted audience, Mike swept her into his arms and kissed her.

Laughter and applause.

Then Lady Winston-Bell announced, “If
that
is what happens when one wears a September Song dress, I intend to buy nothing else.”

Sir George rose to salute her from the audience. “Hear! Hear!” he called to her, smiling. This brought down the house.

When he finally got Lauren away from well-wishers—among whom Carlos and Herbert were significantly missing—Mike led her firmly to his suite. Lauren sat down on the chair, still stunned. The man grinned as he poured her sherry. “Drink this. The show is over and it won’t matter if you get a little mellow.”

Lauren accepted it without comment, and drank it down.

“You can have one more, and then I have another relaxing therapy in mind for you.”

Lauren smiled up at him. “You were right, you know. What we have—what I feel for you,” she corrected herself, “is too special to be spoiled by bargaining. Being commercial, you called it.”

Mike’s eyebrows rose. “You mean you aren’t holding out for marriage?” He was sorry as soon as the words left his lips; surprise had caused him to say what sounded crudely offensive at this point. He stared at Lauren apprehensively. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

“But you were right. I think we both have a lot to learn about love. And I want to learn it with you.”

Mike came to her swiftly, a man of experience and passion, but with almost a youthful look of delight and anticipation on his face. He swung her into his arms and carried her to his bedroom. There, he set her on her feet beside his bed and went back to lock the door.

“Nothing is going to interrupt us now,” he whispered as he came back and drew her into his arms. “I love this dress on you, but, darling, I think I’ll love it better off.” And he began, with big hands that trembled just a little, to undo the glittering, small collar and remove the caftan.

Sensing his need, Lauren didn’t try to help in his task. Very soon he had her before him in the two scraps of satin and lace that were her only other garments. Hose and dress were flung aside casually, but Lauren didn’t object. The dress had indeed served its purpose, bringing her where she most wished to be, into Mike’s arms. His hands were gentle on her body. Then they stilled, and he lifted his eyes to hers. Soberly he placed her on the bed.

“I want to take off my clothes now. It isn’t fair that I’m still dressed.”

As he quickly disrobed, Lauren wondered at the sensitivity this man was learning to show. That he should stop to think of her feelings, when he so evidently wanted and needed her. She leaned up and helped him undo the well-fitting dress trousers. She heard his breath catch in a gasp.

She looked up quickly. It was all there in his face, the need, the passion, the pleasure. She went on with her task. In a few minutes he was beside her on the bed.

“Are you comfortable? Too cold?” he asked, warmly possessive.

She put her arms around his neck. “I’m comfortable.” It didn’t seem necessary to make any speeches. He was here; she was with him, where she passionately wished to be. She loved him better than anyone or anything she had ever known. Lauren kissed his lips with sweetness and desire.

Their coming together had a richness, a total involvement of bodies and, somehow, minds. Each was luxuriating in the other’s sensuous lovemaking, but in both their minds was a wish to provide an equally wonderful stimulation for the other. Soon Mike was roused and uttering small groans deep in his throat. Yet still he controlled his desire and worked with hands and mouth to give Lauren a rising joy. When she was clutching his shoulders with frantic fingers, he entered her and, thrusting eagerly, brought them both to ecstatic climax.

Lauren cried out, and Mike held her closer, gasping this pleasure.

Afterward, as they lay together, bodies touching, Lauren sighed deeply in perfect content. She stroked him lightly from his shoulder to his navel. “That was wonderful,” she said softly. “You were wonderful.”

“I know.” Mike grinned complacently down at her averted face, which was resting on his chest. He was obviously enjoying the soothing motion of her hand, for he caught it and directed it lower. Then, as she willingly took up his suggestion, he hugged her and patted her round bottom.

“You’re a comfortable little woman, you know that?” He missed Lauren’s unobtrusive stiffening against the rather patronizing gesture and comment because he was hugging her again, painfully hard. He got out of bed, stretching unselfconsciously. Lauren couldn’t keep her eyes off his hard, brown body, loving the long muscled legs and thighs the taut stomach, the broad shoulders.

He caught her scrutiny and laughed. “I like the way you look, too, honey—very sexy and well-loved. I’m going to take a shower and order us some food and coffee. Care to join me?”