One Night With You (10 page)

What did he have to be angry about? Nothing, that's what! He wasn't the one who had been left to wake up all alone in a hotel room...left pregnant...left scared. He had walked away from it that weekend without ever knowing. And now he had the gall—the unmitigated gall—to look at her like that, with righteous anger and accusation simmering in his eyes.

Almost, she could hate him.

"Jake," she heard the brunet say, her husky voice finally penetrating the silence that stretched between them. How long had they been staring at each other like that? "Jake, darling, there are others to meet."

"But you haven't met Miss... What did you say that last name was?"

"Weston," Desi supplied, "Desi Weston."

"Ah, yes." He performed the brief introduction. "Desi Weston, head of makeup, meet Audrey Ferris. Audrey is going to play the lead in
Devil's Lady
."

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you sooner, Miss Ferris, but you're much more beautiful in person," Desi said pleasantly.

And she was. Much more beautiful. Audrey Ferris was a tall, full-bodied woman with smooth golden skin. She wore a stylish ivory silk wrap-front dress that exposed only a modest amount of cleavage. Her brunet hair was worn loose and full, curling to her shoulders in seeming abandon, her lips were glossed a rich rose, her nails were long and professionally manicured. She was an elegant woman; every sleek, feline, pampered inch of her. And she knew it.

"I watch
Night and Day
whenever I get the chance," Desi continued. "It's my favorite soap." She didn't volunteer the information that she had acquired the habit while sitting home, waiting for Stephanie to be born.

"Daytime drama, please," Audrey Ferris corrected her with a smile that didn't quite reach her big golden-brown eyes. They flittered back and forth between Jake's set face and Desi's, trying to decipher the sparks of tension that flashed between the two.

She has cat's eyes, Desi thought, and decided, then and there, that she wasn't going to like the beautiful Miss Audrey Ferris even one little bit. Apparently the feeling was mutual because it was definitely not friendliness that she saw in the other woman's eyes.

What was it? Desi wondered. Dislike was too strong a word. Fear, maybe? Challenge? Uncertainty? Suddenly the brown eyes seemed to make a decision and Audrey smiled sweetly.

"It's very nice to meet you, Miss Wesley," she said, holding out a graceful hand, displaying long rose-tipped nails and the half a dozen slim gold bracelets that jangled on her arm.

"Weston," Desi corrected her dryly. She shook the offered hand, mentally contrasting the other woman's sleek manicured fingers to her own short unadorned nails. "But, please, call me Desi."

"Of course." Audrey smiled again and withdrew her hand to tuck it back into the crook of Jake's arm. "Desi." Her rich, theatrical voice seemed to taste the word. "It suits you, I think. Fresh, young, pixieish... almost boyish." She slanted a glance at the man beside her. "Don't you think so, Jake?"

"If you say so." Jake's voice was curt, then, "Come on, Audrey love, there are others to meet. Dorothea?"

Young, pixieish, almost boyish
, indeed!

Desi glanced down at herself. She was dressed in her usual rather funky style. In fact, what she was wearing was just a little bit dressier than usual because of this opening-day cast party. Her jeans were a dark wash and boot cut, flaring out just slightly over low-heeled ankle boots. A pale melon-green tank top peeked out from under a brown tweed bomber-style jacket. A necklace made of bronze colored discs and chunky green beans was looped twice around her throat.

"Just when it was getting interesting, tool" Dorothea's aristocratic voice carried to every corner of the studio as she moved away on Jake's other arm. "I thought those two girls were going to start a cat fight over you." She shot a coquettish glance at him from her black eyes. "I can't say that I blame them, of course. You're far too handsome for your own good, dear boy."

"And you're a terrible flirt," Jake said.

"Terrible? And here I thought I was finally getting it right. Well," she said with a sigh, "I guess I'll just have to practice some more. But not right now. Right now, I am absolutely parched for some champagne, and I'm quite sure everyone else is, too. Come along, dear boy, we can't start drinking until you do."

"Bitch," Desi said to Eldin when they had moved away.

"Who?" he asked, grinning at her, his soft brown eyes twinkling from under his shaggy gray eyebrows. "Dorothea?"

"Don't try to be cute, Eldin. You know who I mean. Audrey Ferris." And then she grinned back at him. "Well, Dorothea, too. But she's a nice old bitch. Miss Ferris, however... Pixieish!" Desi's voice was indignant. "She's a class A, number one—"

"Don't say it." Eldin covered his ears as she paused, searching for just the right word to accurately describe her feeling toward the movie's female star. "I hate to hear women swear."

"Actress," Desi finished. She opened her blue eyes wide and fluttered her lashes innocently. "What did you think I was going to say?"

"One never knows with you, luv."

She shrugged and smiled at Eldin, and absently watched Jake as he opened the first bottle of champagne, pouring it ceremoniously into Dorothea's glass.

"It wasn't as bad as you thought it was going to be, was it?" he asked hopefully, all teasing gone from his kind face.

"Wasn't as bad as what?" she asked, her eyes still on the laughing group by the refreshment table.

"Seeing Jake again."

Was it?
she asked herself.

In some ways, no, it hadn't been. There had been a little awkwardness at first, a bit of embarrassment. Not too bad. But in another way it was even worse than she had expected, far worse. In fact, it hurt like hell to have him look at her as he had, with that cold, unfriendly look on his face and the smile that never reached his eyes, as if they were total strangers who had never shared that gloriously abandoned weekend that had resulted in the birth of a beautiful red-haired baby girl. He didn't know that, of course, and maybe she was wrong to judge him. But he had judged her, she knew. Judged her and found her sadly wanting.

"Desi?"

She looked up to find Eldin eyeing her with concern.

"No, it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be," she reassured him.

"I'm glad," he said simply.

She reached up and touched his face gently. "I know, Eldin. Thank you." Her hand fell and she smiled brightly, showing him that she had sustained no lasting hurt. "Come on, let's go get some of that champagne before Dorothea drinks it all."

"Before I drink all what?" Dorothea came up to them, followed by a white-coated waiter.

"The champagne, what else?"

"Even I can't drink that much." Dorothea waved toward the buffet table and bar. "Though I have been known to try. Here. Take one of these," she ordered Desi, handing her a brimming glass of champagne from the waiter's tray.

"Are you sure you can spare it?"

Dorothea chose to ignore that remark. "You, too, dear boy. Drink up. Jake ordered bottles and bottles of the stuff, and it goes terribly flat if you don't drink it fast, you know." She watched approvingly while they each took a sip. "Jake has wonderful taste, don't you think?"

"Does he?" was Desi's softly murmured reply.

Dorothea's sharp eyes followed Desi's half-wistful glance. "A bit too obvious," she pronounced decisively after a minute. Audrey was still clinging to Jake, her voluptuous breasts pressed against his arm as she gazed up at him. "She ought to know by now that Jake appreciates a little more restraint in his women." Dorothea grinned wickedly. "At least in public."

Desi grinned back. Dorothea was such a sweet, aristocratic-looking woman, grandmotherly almost, until you looked into those sharp black eyes... or she said something like that. And then, watch out! She was fast beginning to see how easily Dorothea could have written the torrid novel that she had. By now it seemed totally in character.

"Miss Audrey Ferris and I aren't going to get along, I'm afraid," Desi said dryly.

"Nonsense! Just ignore her," ordered Dorothea. "I intend to."

Desi sputtered into her champagne. "But, Dorothea, I thought you liked her. I mean, she was your first choice for the part, wasn't she?"

"She was," Dorothea agreed, nodding over her champagne. "The girl's a fine actress and she'll do me credit. Doesn't mean I have to like her, though. Most obvious little trollop I've ever met."

"Dorothea, really," admonished Eldin, in his most upper-crust English accent. "Remember your image."

"Oh, bother my image. You sound just like my late husband." Her sweet old face softened for an instant. "Richard always did say I had a mouth on me that would shame a dock worker. I'm usually right, though." Her eyes flashed back to Audrey for a second. "Oh, well, poor girl can't be blamed for trying to hang on to him." She stopped a passing waiter for another glass of champagne.

"You can go away now, Eldin." She waved her free hand at him, the two huge square-cut rubies flashing in the lights. "Find one of those cute little actresses to amuse yourself with for a while. Go on. I want to talk to Desi—woman to woman—and you'd just be in the way."

Eldin grinned and bowed jauntily from the waist, touching his hand to his head as if gallantly tipping a hat and went away, as ordered.

"Now, come here, dear girl. I need to sit down. Not as young as I used to be, you know. More's the pity." Dorothea led Desi a little way from the milling crowd and perched herself on the edge of a makeup chair. "I'd like you to indulge an old lady's curiosity."

"Certainly, if I can."

"Just how long have you known Jake Lancing and why are you both pretending that you don't?"

"Really, Dorothea." Desi managed not to squeak. She glanced around to make sure that no one could overhear. "I don't know him at all," she denied, "except by reputation, of course. And that's quite enough."

"Really, Desi." the older woman mimicked her. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it's not nice to lie to little old ladies?"

"You're not old," Desi protested. "You're the youngest person here."

"Flattery, dear girl, is wasted on me," Dorothea informed her, "unless, of course, you're a good-looking young man."

"Or a good-looking old one," Desi quipped.

Dorothea sighed theatrically and sipped at her champagne. "That's too true," she admitted. "I never could resist one of those handsome devils, no matter what their age—" she glanced up at Desi from under her lashes "—always from afar, of course. At least after I was married. Richard would have beat me black and blue if it had ever gone beyond that. He wasn't jealous, mind you, just a bit possessive."

"Did it ever go beyond that?" Desi wanted to know. Somehow, she was sure that it had. Dorothea Heller seemed to her to be a woman who had always tested limits. Her own, and those set for her by others.

Dorothea laughed delightedly, a deep warm chuckle. There was a look of wistful remembrance in her black eyes. "Almost—once or twice. But it never got out of hand. I've always known how to handle men," she said confidentially, and then she laughed again. "Besides, Richard in a rage was always so terribly exciting. As Jake is, I imagine," she went on without pausing. "Isn't he?"

Desi shook her head, "You never give up, do you?"

"Never," she agreed, and then added after a minute, "Well, is he?"

"Is who, what?" Desi said, deliberately vague, her gaze on the empty champagne glass in her hand.

"Never mind now, dear girl. I think we're about to find out."

Desi looked up at that to see Jake weaving his way toward them.

"Not that he looks in a rage, mind you," Dorothea said. "But definitely very stern. Oh, I do like a masterful man, don't you?"

"Ladies," he said pleasantly as he came up to them. He leaned down and kissed Dorothea's cheek, flashing a brief smile at Desi. But, again, the smile didn't reach his eyes. They remained shuttered and vaguely angry as he looked at her for that brief instant.

Why angry, she wondered again. He had no reason to be angry at her. No reason that he knew about anyway.

"Dorothea, my angel," he said as he straightened up. "I have someone who wants to meet you." A slight movement of his head summoned a young man who had been hovering just a few feet away. "Dorothea, this is Michael Ballard, he's going to play—"

"Tony," Dorothea said decisively.

The young man smiled, exposing attractive dimples in both cheeks and very white teeth. "Yes," he said, holding out his hand, "but how did you know?"

"My dear boy, you look almost exactly like
my
Tony did. Same eyes, same smile, same devilish charm."

Desi looked at him again with more interest. Not as young as she had at first thought. Early thirties, perhaps, instead of the twenty-four or five she had pegged him. And he did indeed look like Dorothea's Tony. Or, at least, like her description of him in
Devil's Lady
. Light-brown hair, hazel eyes, more green than brown, and an easy, charming smile. Tony was the man whom Dorothea had almost married before her dashing Richard had come along to claim her. Looking at Michael, Desi could almost see why. Jake's casting, so far, had been excellent she thought approvingly.

"I'm almost out of champagne," Dorothea said, sliding down from the high makeup chair. "And I really should have something to eat before it all goes to my head. Come along, Michael," she ordered, linking her arm through his. "Let's go see what's on that lovely refreshment table and you can tell me how you intend to play Tony. And I'll tell you some things about him that I
didn't
put in my book."

She glanced over her shoulder at Jake as they moved away. "Don't be too hard on her, dear boy," she warned him.

A small silence followed their departure.

"What did she mean by that?" Jake demanded harshly.

Desi looked up. His face was harsh, too, and angry.

"I don't know." She tried to keep her own voice low and even, her eyes gazing steadily into his. She couldn't let him see how his anger—and his nearness—affected her. Her lashes fell, hiding her eyes.