Chapter Eight
Mike refused to let Lauren return to her own cabin. When the steward brought the trolley with Welsh rabbit, fruits in whipped cream, and coffee, Lauren retired hastily to the bathroom, clutching her clothing. A few minutes later Mike tapped lightly on the door.
“You can come out now,” he teased. “We are alone at last.”
Lauren came out of the bathroom with a languid aplomb that Dani would have envied. She had put on just her lacy briefs and the chiffon caftan. She posed in the doorway, miming a movie vamp.
Mike whistled appreciatively. “I can see I’m never going to have a dull moment.” He grinned. “I hope I can measure up.”
For some reason this caused Lauren to dissolve into gales of laughter. After a moment, Mike joined her.
“Well, I can’t say it isn’t fun to laugh together,” he admitted a few minutes later, reluctant to see the passionate awareness dissipated.
“The family that laughs together—” Lauren began, and then halted in mortification. She hadn’t meant to bring that particular idea up ever again. She’d have to watch her tongue.
Again Mike seemed able to read her mind. “No, don’t set limits on the things you say, Lauren. I want you to be yourself.” He suddenly turned on a pompous, lecturing manner. “The Lauren Rose I met and fell in love with on the greatest liner afloat.”
Lauren was so delighted with the phrase “fell in love with” that she turned to the food, laughing, and suggested, “Let’s eat and build up our strength for those paparazzi you said would hit us in the morning.”
As they filled their plates, Lauren noticed that Mike had a rather abstracted air. Had it been the mention of the newspaper reporters who might pester him? Considering his prominence and wealth, it hardly seemed likely. He would have developed techniques, surely, to deal with such problems. Perhaps he was suddenly uncomfortable with the kind of commitment that was developing between himself and Lauren?
She didn’t try to ignore the challenge such a man as Michael Landrill presented. He was hard to handle. No woman would ever really tame him, but, oh, she loved him for the difficult, suspicious, cynical man he was. He enjoyed women, that was plain. He was an inventive and ardent lover. But he wouldn’t allow himself to trust a woman, after what he had seen and experienced. Lauren could see it was hopeless to expect him to admit to any woman that he couldn’t do without her, that he loved her, in so many words. And, yet, if he ever gave her the chance, Lauren knew she could show him the rich freedom of a love that trusted without grasping, without needing to possess utterly.
Watching the beloved face, Lauren decided there had been enough togetherness for one night. Mike was tired. Now that they had reached an agreement, an acceptance of each other’s feelings, surely they could shift into a more relaxed mode of behavior? Was the testing period over? Perhaps the learning time could begin, the time when they might grow in understanding, in sensitivity, in the acknowledgment of who they were.
All her experience with Al Rose, which admittedly hadn’t prepared her to deal with a man of Mike Landrill’s complexity and subtlety, advised her to return to her own stateroom as soon as courtesy permitted, to let Mike make the plans he wished for their future association. She turned her attention to the food.
“I’d like to dress and go to my cabin now,” she said gently, when she had finished eating. “I’m really tired and I need to be sure what’s happening with the models. You make me forget everything but you.”
Mike looked dissatisfied, but he yielded graciously enough to her request. He insisted upon dressing and taking her to her door. It was well after midnight, but the ship was still alive with light and the sound of passengers celebrating the final hours of an exciting voyage.
Mike saw her into her sitting room, gave her a mock-ferocious glare, and muttered, “I’m not going to kiss you goodnight. I know too well what that leads to.”
He was darling and funny, and she adored him in ways she had never suspected were possible while she had been married to Al. I’ve learned about love, too, she thought. You’re really never finished learning.
She closed the door gently. Dani and Nella were not in their bedroom, but Lauren didn’t begrudge them their night of triumph. Their loyalty had touched her deeply; she had never experienced quite such a sense of team-sharing.
I guess it takes a tragedy to bring out the strength in people, the friendliness, she told herself. Thank goodness for Dani and Nella. And Derek and the troupe.
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.