Lauren's Designs (21 page)

While she thought about it, Lauren wrote out the check for their services, and added a bonus. With it she wrote a note of thanks and, giving them her Los Angeles address, asked them to get in touch with her in case they ever toured the States again. She signed her name, then went to the phone on the off chance of finding them in their cabin.

Two minutes later she was speaking to Violet. “We’ve just got in, luv,” the older woman told her. “Tony and the chicks are still doing the rounds, but Derek and I are getting past it.”

There was a protest, clearly audible, from her spouse in the background. Lauren laughed. “Where are you? I’ve got your check here and I think it’s better to get it to you tonight. The morning will probably bring its own confusions.”

Violet gave her directions. Lauren collected three of her signature silk scarves for the women and on her way to Violet’s cabin, a bottle of Chivas Regal for the men.

Half an hour later, she was walking down her corridor toward her suite. A man’s form detached itself from the wall. It was Mike. He looked very serious, almost stern. Lauren’s heart sank. Not second thoughts. Oh, no.

Without greeting her by name, he said abruptly, “Do you remember what I said to you about not kissing you good night?”

Lauren nodded.

“I was wrong,” Mike said, and proceeded to kiss her with such passionate sweetness that her heart seemed to be melting in her breast. Finally he lifted his head.

“That’s better. I can go to sleep now.”

Lauren couldn’t help grinning.”I’m not sure
I
can,” she said. “You’re pretty potent, my friend.”

“By the way, where have you been?” Mike asked, trying to look unconcerned. “I’ve been standing here for twenty minutes.”

“I took the check to my dancers,” Lauren told him. “Trying to thank them for saving my show. They were wonderful, weren’t they?”

Mike nodded agreement, and then stood staring at her. Lauren said nothing. It still surprised her to realize how satisfying it was just standing beside this man. She didn’t even need to speak. After a minute Mike shook his head, once, quickly.

“We’re like two adolescents after the prom,” he said, “I hate to say good night to you, Lauren.”

“The night we met—ye gods, was it only four days ago—you quoted Juliet to me. “ ‘Parting is such sweet sorrow/ That I shall say good night till it be morrow.’ ”

“Don’t tempt me, lady,” muttered the man.

Lauren went on. “And then you quoted Romeo—”

Mike took up the quotation. “ ‘Sleep dwell upon thine eyes/ peace in thy breast! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!’ ”

Lauren’s breath caught in her throat. This was the man who had called
her
a romantic. That greedy starlet had a lot to answer for. But he was changing—he
was
. At that moment Lauren would have done anything Mike asked her. She looked up at him with all her love in her face, clear to see.

Mike held her shoulders lightly with his hands, bent over her, and kissed her once, gently, on the lips. “Soon,” he said, and turned and walked away.

It took Lauren a long time to get to sleep.

Chapter Nine

The morning sped by in a whirlwind of packing and last-minute decisions. Lauren instructed the purser’s office to throw her wine-stained costumes overboard, or dispose of them in any other way that suited them. She carefully packed the survivors, and then unpacked them and offered them to the models and the three dancers. When Dani and Nella had each chosen a favorite—Nella wanted the cloak, for some reason—Lauren sent the rest to the Stranges’ stateroom. She knew that Violet would seize upon the bronze silk with true delight.

Then there was their own packing to do. She had to help the models, as she had expected. Vails had to be set aside for the stewards and stewardesses who had been so tireless in securing their comfort.

Then came the moment when Lauren had to tell her models that she wasn’t going to be staying at the Bristol with them. To her surprise and chagrin, she found that both of them had expected some such development. They reassured her that they would manage very nicely alone. Lauren, subdued by so much worldliness, handed them their return-flight tickets.

Dani confiscated them at once. “I’ll look after these,” she declared. Nella nodded happily.

Then Lauren told them of the car and driver that Mike was putting at their disposal. “Just be ready when the driver comes for you on Sunday,” she warned. “I wouldn’t want you to be left behind.” She glanced at them with concern. She was so used to managing things for them that she didn’t quite picture them coping on their own. “Have you enough cash for your meals and extras?”

“Yes, Mother.” Dani grinned. Lauren was reminded of Mike’s comment. She apologized for acting like a mother hen, and the models forgave her.

They decided to eat breakfast in the dining room with the troupe, and the meal became a pleasant leave-taking. Lauren was hoping that she would never have to encounter Herbert again, but he was waiting for her outside the Tables of the World restaurant. He didn’t seem guilty or embarrassed. She decided to be civilized.

“Well, Lauren, you were lucky,” was his charming opening gambit. “Even winning a consolation prize.”

There was little to say in answer to such a backhanded compliment. “Thank you,” she said dryly.

“How are you going to handle the return trip?” he went on.

“It’s all arranged,” Lauren told him.

“Well, have a good time in London,” Herbert taunted. “I wouldn’t want to have to ride herd on those two cows.”

Lauren turned away without another word. Herbert wasn’t worth it.

Their steward had been specially requested, he told her, to see that their baggage was taken to the train. Please don’t worry, madam, it’s all taken care of,” he said confidently. Lauren relaxed and luxuriated in Mike’s providence.

She made her good-byes to the models in their sitting room before they went on deck to disembark. “That way we won’t be trying to keep in touch in the crowd,” she explained. The models were really sorry to part with her; their evident affection moved Lauren. With many good wishes for their future success, and an urgent request to look her up soon after they returned to Los Angeles, she sent them ahead of her to disembark.

Half an hour later she walked toward the boat train. Someone came up behind her and took her arm.

“There you are,” Mike said with satisfaction. “Everything all right?”

“Yes, thank you.” Lauren was too happy to say any more.

They were almost safe on the train when the reporters found them. Lauren, who hadn’t expected much notice—after all, as Herbert had reminded her, her award was in the nature of a consolation prize—was shocked at the strident and often impertinent questions Mike was fielding. It wasn’t all velvet, being such a wealthy and notable man, she decided.

And then one of the reporters called out, “Is that your current playmate, Mr. Landrill? What’s her name?”

Mike strode forward to stand directly in front of the fellow. “Would you like to apologize or would you prefer a sock in the jaw?” Mike asked quietly.

Only those reporters standing directly beside the offender heard him. They moved back out of the way, but just a little, keeping their front seats for the fight.

The man took a good look at Mike’s narrowed eyes and large fists, and backed away. “Sorry, ma’am.” He flicked a calculating glance at Lauren. “I just wanted to know the name of Mr. Landrill’s latest, ah, popsy.
Now
!” He caught the fury in Mike’s eyes, waved his hand, and a flashbulb exploded. “Thanks.”

“This lady is my fiancée,” Mike said grimly. “We shall be married soon. Now get the hell out of my way before I walk over you.”

Without further comment to the crowd of avid reporters who followed, yelling questions, Mike put his arm around Lauren’s shoulders and led her to one of the first-class carriages. He slammed the door in the faces of the press hounds and helped Lauren to a seat, taking the one between her and the window. Then he smiled.

“I warned you we’d have to run the gauntlet,” he said wryly. Then he watched her face. He seemed to be waiting for something.

Lauren hadn’t been able to think clearly since Mike’s announcement. Of course she knew it was a face-saver, but still it was such a massive defense—like hitting a flea with a pile driver. She nodded at him, and then looked around her to avoid meeting his eyes.

There were several other travelers in their section, none of whom, with true British decorum, was so much as glancing at the latest arrivals. Mike caught her eye and smiled.

“A delightful change from those importunate pests,” he said in a passable imitation of an Oxford accent. He was rewarded by a grunt of agreement from behind an open newspaper.

He kept his eyes on Lauren’s face, waiting for her to say something, but she was too confused to know how to deal with the problem. No, she admitted, she
wanted
his comment to be true and hated to say anything that might close off the possibility that he meant it.

The rest of the short trip was accomplished in silence. Mike made no more overtures; his face was shuttered and tired-looking. Lauren was too stunned to speak. When they reached the station, Mike was recognized as they made their way to the street by a uniformed chauffeur, who got them and their bags settled in a limousine with the minimum of trouble. A glass partition gave them privacy. Lauren leaned back with a sigh compounded of relief at being alone with Mike and apprehension at his continued silence. Why didn’t he open the conversation? Why didn’t he say something?

On the way to the hotel, Mike continued to brood. Lauren made up her mind that he was unhappy at his impulsive declaration to the press. Should she reassure him that she wouldn’t hold him to it? She wished so desperately that it was true that she found it difficult to bring up the subject. She stared out her window, frowning and thinking so hard that she didn’t see the bright streets through which they were passing.

Gradually she became aware of a feeling of stress in the closed compartment. Perhaps it was the quality of the silence, which seemed to change and become electric; perhaps it was a difference in the position and stance of the man’s big body seated so close to hers in the car. At any rate, Lauren realized that Mike was under an increasing tension of some sort. She turned her head to glance at him, and was shocked to perceive that he was in a flaming temper.

She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, and couldn’t. His narrow-eyed glare robbed her of speech. Yet when his first remark came, it was delivered not with anger but with ice-cold sarcasm.

“You’ve done it to me, haven’t you? Succeeded where all the other greedy ladies failed? Now I suppose you’ve got the wedding, the honeymoon, and the divorce settlements all planned?”

From trembling hope and fear Lauren was driven into unbridled anger. “I said nothing.
You
were the one who told the reporters—”

“You knew I wouldn’t let them foul-mouth you,” he snapped.

“I had no idea they would say anything about me at all. I’m pretty small potatoes compared to the great Mr. Landrill. If you feel that angry at the idea of marriage, you shouldn’t have said what you did.”

“I didn’t hear you denying it. Either to them or to me while we were on the train. I waited for you to repeat what you’d said last night about not bargaining or demanding a ring, but not a word. Then I thought you didn’t want to discuss our private business in front of the Britishers, so I waited for us to be alone here in the car. But no, clever Mrs. Rose has got what she’s been angling for ever since she found out who I was. Or had you looked me up before you left Los Angeles?”

This was a nightmare. Lauren could hardly recognize the man beside her as the one who had made love so passionately on the ship. There was only one thing to do.

“Of course, I’m not going to marry you. I don’t—”

He cut her short. Apparently he was so angry that he hadn’t even heard her rejection.

“My father and mother destroyed each other—he, by his callous neglect of her, she by her greed and cold nature. Lilith took me to the cleaners emotionally even worse than she did financially. She had a dozen lovers, male and female. She’d pick up with my best friends. For two years after I got rid of her, I couldn’t look at a woman without wanting to vomit. And now Buffy is doing the same number on my brother. Women! You’re disgusting.”

Lauren could have protested that she was not his mother or Lilith or Buffy, but what was the use? Her failure to reject the announcement he’d made to the reporters had damned her in Mike’s eyes. He was so afraid of being trapped and then destroyed that he wasn’t ready to hear anything she could say. So she kept very quiet and stared straight ahead. Even when Mike snarled. “Well?” at her, she resisted the urge to explain, to comfort. He would only think it was another move in a campaign to get power over him.

“I was right, then,” he snapped as the limousine drew up in front of the Ritz. “It’s a good thing I found out so quickly.”

He got out and stalked into the hotel without waiting for Lauren. There were three reporters hanging around the entrance, and they followed at his heels, yelping questions.