Lauren's Designs (8 page)

“This,” Mike said fervently, “I have got to see.”

“You’re invited,” Lauren replied demurely.

Mike rang for the steward, and when the man came, pushing another cart on which steamed more covered dishes with enticing odors, Mike ordered champagne.

Eating her beef Wellington with broccoli, Lauren was startled to realize that she was, for the first time in years, completely happy. Nothing ecstatic or complicated—just a bubbling pulse of bright contentment that seemed to make each simple thing she sensed a special pleasure: the food, both in taste and texture, was a delight; the room was softly lighted and fresh with the sea air coming through the open door; the sound of soft music coming faintly to her ears was a civilized counterpart to the darkly abrasive voice of her companion—
her companion
.

Michael was her happiness. Lauren stared at him, absorbing the dark shining hair, the tanned face, the beautifully cut lips, the two grooves between his dark eyebrows, the shining silver-gray eyes . . . And more: the scent of him, faint spice mastered by the musk of clean male flesh. What would it taste like, that firm, tanned skin? Lauren dragged her gaze away from her dinner partner and tried to concentrate on the food in front of her.

So absorbed was she in savoring her own reactions that Mike’s deep-voiced comment startled her. “I like a woman who appreciates good food.”

Her glance flew up to meet the amusement in his eyes.

“And other things,” he added, holding her gaze with his.

Lauren’s knife cut through the tender, flaky pastry around the beef, sliced the reddish-brown filet, and conveyed the bite to her mouth. Her eyes closed as she savored the mouthful.

Mike chuckled. “A lady with gusto.”

“It’s all your fault,” Lauren mocked. “You feed me this stuff, I relish it.”

“Want dessert?” he asked.

Smiling, Lauren shook her head.

Quickly Mike tossed off the rest of his champagne and rose. “I feel reckless. Let’s go to the Players Club and gamble.”

Lauren wiped her lips and rose to her feet.” You don’t think I’m already risking enough with my spur-of-the-moment presentation?”

Mike shrugged. “Hard to say for sure until I’ve seen it, but I trust your judgment.”

Lauren thought that of all the personal comments he had made that evening, she liked this last one best.

An hour later she was standing at Mike’s shoulder. He had a large pile of chips in front of him and an admiring group around him who were trying to follow his lead. He turned to her. “Bored? I am. Can’t I persuade you to try your luck?”

Lauren smiled up at him. “If you’re willing to be seen in my company there, I’d like to try the slot machines.”

“Big spender,” he mocked, but he cashed in his chips and went with her to the double row of one-armed bandits. He handed her a plastic cup full of quarters. “Live a little!”

Chuckling, Lauren began to play the slot machine. Her first few tries were failures, then she got ten quarters at once.

Mike sighed elaborately. “I suppose that means we’ll be here all night.”

Her next two tries netted nothing. And then she pulled the handle, discs whirled, colors flashed, and a spate of quarters came clanging out.

“Jackpot!” Lauren crowed. She counted and found she’d won fifty dollars.

“Now what? Craps?” Mike teased.

“Now we get out of here,” Lauren said. “When I make a profit like this, I don’t throw it away.”

“Just a miser at heart,” Mike grumbled.

“Oh, I’m planning to pay you back what you staked me,” Lauren said loftily. “Twenty quarters?” She insisted on handing them over one by one, hoping to embarrass her cocky host in front of a few grinning players. While she was packing the rest of her winnings into her handbag, Lauren glanced along the row of machines toward the casino tables. Herbert was standing at one table, his arm around a slender redhead in a sequined dress. The girl couldn’t have been out of her teens, in spite of the dress and heavy makeup. And standing behind the stool of a silver-haired man at the blackjack table, both hands on his shoulders, was Dani. She too seemed to be watching Herbert. Lauren didn’t try to catch her attention.

Mike walked Lauren toward her section of the ship. He halted near one of the doors leading out on deck. “It’s a beautiful night,” he said softly. “Why don’t we walk a little, to calm down your wild elation over your win?”

Lauren knew she didn’t want the evening to end. It was good to be in the company of an attractive man, a man who seemed to be enjoying her as much as she enjoyed him.

“I’d like that,” she said, and put her hand in the crook of the arm he offered. Under the smooth cloth of his jacket, she could feel his warm flesh, his hard muscles, and she thought of the bronzed body she’d first seen at the swimming pool.

It was beautiful on deck. The moon had gone down, but the warm darkness was filled with stars, both in the sky and reflected on the mirror-smooth sea. There were few people taking advantage of the deck, however. Most of the die-hards were probably in one or other of the nightclubs.

Mike leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Would you care to dance? We could go in—”

“Oh, no. This is perfect.” Lauren said.

He made no comment, either romantic or sarcastic. He merely held her arm a little closer to his side and continued their stroll. After they had walked for a while, they moved to stand by the rail. Watching the silver-white foam churned up by the propellers, they became conscious of music filling the air. It was a waltz. Mike turned as though it were the most natural thing in the world and held out his arms to Lauren. She moved into them with equal unselfconsciousness. They danced dreamily over the deck, keeping within a small area, bodies controlled by the melody.

The music stopped. There was a sound of distant clapping.

“That was the home waltz,” Mike said softly. He still kept her in his arms. He bent his head to her face. Lauren lifted her lips.

Loud voices impinged upon the magic serenity of the moment. Mike lifted his head with a low groan of disgust. “ ‘And only man is vile,’ ” he quoted.

“I’m glad you’re not a chauvinist,” Lauren said unsteadily. One of those loud voices is definitely a woman’s.”

His teeth flashed in a grin as he turned to survey the loud-mouthed intruders, now advancing along the deck toward them.

“It’s your would-be husband,” he informed Lauren in a low voice. “Shall we leave?”

“Yes.” Lauren had recognized Herbert’s voice, and didn’t want to meet him at the moment. Or have him find her with Mike.

“This way,” directed Mike, hurrying her along the deck ahead of the quarreling duo. At that moment a door opened from the well-lighted lounge and several young people came out. The burst of light clearly revealed Lauren’s petite figure. There was a shout from behind them.

“Lauren, I see you. “Wait for me!” Herbert yelled.

Mike pulled her inside the door and closed it quickly. Then he led her almost at a run along a corridor, around a corner, and into an elevator.

“Which floor?” he asked.

When they got out, Mike walked Lauren to her suite. At the door, she stopped and turned to him. “That was a wonderful evening. Thank you,” she said warmly.

Mike took her hand. “Going to ask me in for a nightcap?”

“Not tonight, Mike. Anything would be an anticlimax after that champagne!”

“Even this?” he asked, bending and placing his lips over hers. Lauren opened her mouth to comment and found herself relishing the pressure and warmth and flavor of his kiss. She tried to tell herself that she was enjoying the faintly moist sweetness of his mouth, nothing more. And then he moved forward and she found herself pressed against the door by the urgent authority of his body, and she was conscious of the whole man in a lightning thrill of tension and response . . . .

When he raised his head and stepped back, Lauren was dizzy. She tried to smile nonchalantly, but the glinting look in his eyes told her he was not deceived.

“Thank
you
,” he said quietly.

She watched his broad shoulders moving off down the corridor. Once he passed directly under a ceiling light, and his dark hair gleamed for a moment. She fumbled for her key amid the packed mass of quarters and opened the door.

Chapter Three

Coming back to her suite after an early-morning swim, which had been disappointing because Mike wasn’t there, Lauren opened the door to the sitting room and found Dani dressed and waiting for her.

“I thought I’d have breakfast with you, Ms. Rose,” the model explained. “We need to talk.”

“Give me ten minutes to get dressed, Dani,” Lauren agreed.

She was ready in fifteen minutes, having decided to take time to wash and blow-dry her hair. She wore a short, pale-green top with matching slacks and tied a white silk scarf around her neck. Dani eyed her curiously.

“You always manage to look smart without cluttering up,” she said, vaguely discontented with her own rather busy outfit. She had added bangles, six rings, and a gold chain belt to what had been planned as a basically simple gold cotton dress. Seeing Lauren eye her jewelry, Dani grimaced and stripped off the bangles and all but one of the rings.

“Better,” Lauren approved.

“Let’s go,” Dani urged.

The model began to speak in a low tone as soon as they were seated at their usual table. The other places were empty, as the dance troupe seldom attended first sitting. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry I haven’t been more help to you so far, Ms. Rose,” Dani began. “I guess, knowing that the show wouldn’t be very good—”

“Hold it,” Lauren smiled. “Who says our show isn’t going to be any good?”

Dani frowned. “Well, it can’t be, can it? Nella’s out, and I can’t wear all the clothes. Mr. Masen says—”

“Oh.” Lauren nodded. “Herbert Masen told you we’d make a mess of things. You shouldn’t listen to him.”

Dani couldn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t like the guy, you know that. But he bought me a drink yesterday and explained very carefully that you’d more or less given up on the show and would marry him when you got back to Los Angeles.” She looked embarrassed. “Are you really going to marry him, Ms. Rose?”

“That is one thing you can be sure of, Dani,” Lauren said briskly.” I am
not
going to marry Herbert Masen.”

“Well, I’m glad. He’s a nerd.” Dani perused the menu crossly. She always seemed enraged that she had to stick with the diet that ensured her model’s thinness.

Lauren herself wasn’t very hungry.

While they sipped grapefruit juice, Dani said with an attempt at brightness, “You’ll want a rehearsal before Thursday, Ms. Rose. “We’ll have to—uh—synchronize our movements if there’s just the two of us to handle the show.”

Lauren debated whether to tell Dani about the radical change of plan. The girl was honest and fairly loyal, but she had an unguarded tongue, which might easily wag in the wrong quarters. While Lauren was considering how much to tell, the model glanced around the table.

“What happened to those actors or dancers or whatever they were? Did they get a different table?”

“I think they prefer to eat a little later,” Lauren said vaguely.

“Where does Mr. Masen eat? I’m surprised he doesn’t sit with you, if he thinks you’re going to get married.”

“Herbert prefers to eat in one of the more elegant dining rooms. I’ve never seen him in here.”

“I saw him last night, in the casino. He had his arm around a girl young enough to be his daughter. I’m glad you’re not going to marry that old creep. At
his
age, you’d think he’d have more sense.”

“Don’t be too harsh on Herbert. It’s not easy to picture yourself worn out, of no more value.”

Dani’s shudder was sincere. Her large eyes glazed with fear that was very personal.

“Don’t worry, Dani,” her employer advised her.” You’re at the top of your profession. A good show on board the
QE II
will send your ratings up.”

“Then we’ve got to make sure this one’s good,” Dani vowed. “When do we rehearse?”

Lauren made up her mind. “Tomorrow morning, Dani. We’ll go right after breakfast.” She would check with Derek today, make sure he had things in hand, explain about the model’s sensitivity and how she must be made to feel important in order to do her best work. She was sure the Stranges and their group could handle one temperamental model. In fact, she’d like to seek them out right now and see how the choreography was coming along. She set out happily from the Tables of the World Restaurant, leaving Dani to finish her Sanka and the last sweet roll.

Herbert was waiting for her outside the restaurant, glaring.

Lauren beat him to the punch. “So, you’re living it up, Herbert. That was a very pretty child you had on your arm last night.”

Herbert looked at her sourly. “Why didn’t you stop when I called you?”

Lauren laughed.

Herbert’s face got redder. “I looked for you at dinner, and at the Maartens show. Where were you?”