Lauren's Designs (20 page)

Lauren was tempted, but she felt vaguely uneasy. The street phrase “coming down from a high,” occurred to her briefly. She shook her head and tried for a smile. “I’ll wait.”

He grinned down at her possessively. “Come on and try it.” He pulled her out of the bed and into his arms. “Relax. I know that you don’t like one-, or two-, or every three-night stands or shipboard romances, you told me so. But this is different. This is Mike and Lauren. We’ve got something good going here.”

Lauren couldn’t face his smile. “I thought I knew who I was and what I wanted. I’ve learned that anyone can change.
I
can change, grow. You’ve told me what you
don’t
want, Mike. I understand, believe me. We’re all of us what life had made us. But we do change and grow, and learn what makes us tick.”

She faced his suddenly intent, hard look honestly. “I . . . I enjoy whatever this is we have together, Mike. But what I’m learning is that when I love, I have to trust and give. It’s that simple. Perhaps I’m not exactly comfortable with it yet—it’s a new way for me—but I’m walking it. Have patience with my stumbling.” She caught her breath at the warm look she glimpsed in his eyes. He said nothing, so Lauren went on, “So all right! No promises from either of us, no binding commitments. I thank you for your gift of your . . . affection, may I call it? No, your term last night was ‘lovely lust.’ I’ll accept that.”

“Will you?” Mike asked somberly, putting her away from him. He got a robe from the closet and thrust his arms into it. As he was tying the cord, he watched her, her shapely body posed so forlornly against the bed, so vulnerable. “Somehow I don’t think you’ll be very comfortable with several years of lust, even if it is lovely. I’m sure you want a hell of a lot more than that. I think you want all a man could ever give you of passion and sharing and—to coin a phrase—true love.” He grinned wryly, mocking himself as much as her. “I also think you talk too much. It tends to dilute the mixture.”

Catching her startled, anxious look, he smiled more easily. “Oh, you’ve hooked me, Lauren Rose. I know I’m going to get trouble along with you, woman, but I’m going to hold on to you. Because you’re loving and sexy and sweet and insatiable and everything I really enjoy, all wrapped into one lovely little package.” He came to her again, shucking off his robe and taking her close against his warm, hard body.

“We both need a shower for more reasons than cleanliness. I’ll bet you’ve never taken a shower with a man before, hum?” She shook her head, no. He hugged her briefly, then let her go. “We’ll talk first; settle details. I hate silly distractions when I’m having a really creative shower.” His grin asked her to share the fun with him. Loving him, Lauren beamed back.

He took a deep breath. “Well, then. We’ll be docking tomorrow at Southampton. It’s not likely we’ll get much chance to talk privately. All those British Press lads will be clustering around you, the winner of the Golden Heart! So we’ve got to settle our business tonight.”

He knew at once that Lauren didn’t like the sound of that word. Her face was turned toward his, as open as a flower, as vulnerable. He said briskly, “What hotel are you booked into?”

“The Bristol.”

Mike frowned. “I’d sooner have you with me at the Ritz. I’ll speak to the purser in the morning and have you transferred there. I think I have a two-bedroom suite booked.”

“Dani and Nella and I are flying back to Los Angeles Sunday afternoon,” Lauren told him.

He frowned. “You’re not worried that two grown women might get lost in London, are you? I promise you they don’t need Mommy to shepherd them onto the plane.”

“You
have
met Nella?” Lauren gibed. “After all, they’re my responsibility.”

“All right, then” he gave in. “I’ll send a car to pick them up and get them out to Heathrow. I’ll even instruct the driver to make sure they get on the plane. You and I, lady, have more important matters to attend to. Beginning right now.”

Lauren looked up into his face, alight with laughter and male virility. Everything about him seemed to be glowing, sparkling, crackling with electricity. She could hardly draw her gaze from his eyes, silver in their frame of thick, black lashes, wooing her, dominating her.

To protect herself, she teased, “Better have that shower right now, buster. You need to cool off.” She side-stepped his mock-predatory advance. “I’ll just slip along to my stateroom and get some rest. You’ve reminded me of my responsibilities.”

“Not without your massage,” Mike said complacently.

“
Massage
,” Lauren almost squeaked. What was this wild man up to now? “I thought it was a shower.”

“Massage,” Mike reiterated firmly. “Kindly old Doc Michael is advising you that a massage with liquid soap is one of the truly satisfying experiences in life. Properly applied, that stuff turns ordinary skin into satin. What it will do to
your
silky epidermis boggles my mind. You’re going to let me show you, aren’t you? For therapeutic reasons, of course,” he coaxed, eyes and smile seductive.

Lauren felt the warm color glowing in her face. Surely a professional woman wasn’t blushing? His knowing grin proved that she was.

“Please let me show you how relaxing a massage can be, Lauren? I promise you, all your troubles will flow away with the soapsuds. Trust me.”

A few minutes later, Lauren told Mike, “This could easily get to be one of my favorite activities!”

Her body felt as though it were purring. Mike was rubbing her back with liquid soap, massaging so firmly with both hands that she was forced to steady herself against the shower wall. He was right, the devil! The soap was fragrantly seductive, making her skin silk-and-satin beneath his fingers. With the steamy warmth and his overwhelming presence, she felt swept away to a world of pleasure she had only glimpsed at before.

He turned her to face him with soapy, insistent fingers. At first he only pulled her closer while he washed and kneaded her from shoulders to thighs. And then his touch became lighter, more provocative. He lifted her chin, so that her swelling lips were just inches below his. As he kissed her, he lifted her body firmly against his and entered her in a smooth motion of pure joining. They surged together, melded into one by the water streaming down their faces and searching out the crevices left between their passionately entwined bodies. Lauren’s ecstasy was both a flight of freedom and pleasure and a discovery of a surer, happier self she knew only Mike could have taught her was there.

Afterward, instead of separating, Mike continued to hold her up closely against his chest.

“Wet and soapy,” Lauren mocked, not daring to let him see how vulnerable she was to his splendid masculinity. She lifted her head to laugh at him. It was her undoing.

Mike responded quickly, moving his shoulders and exposing her to the direct spurt of the water. As she gasped and held her face against his broad chest, he said, “That will teach you. We’re not just wet and soapy, you little nut. We’re together, linked, joined.” He held her close with both hands supporting her rounded buttocks.

Lauren rubbed her wet face against his equally wet chest. “Let’s get out. I think I’m drowning.”

“I haven’t finished my work,” Mike said airily. “You’ll have to hold on to me, I need both hands.”

He got some more of the soap and massaged it luxuriously over her shoulders, down her back, then over her rounded breasts. It was sleek and slippery, fragrant and utterly sensuous. Drugged with pleasure, Lauren mused, This can’t be lust. Lust means seeking your own gratification at the expense of your partner, doesn’t it? This man is working for my satisfaction, my pleasure. That is . . .

But she didn’t finish the thought, for Mike had again begun a slow, loving thrusting that brought her whole body to life.

Trust him? Lauren thought as she lazily brushed her hair half an hour later. He’s taught me more about love’s tenderness, love’s unselfishness, love’s melting sweetness, in three days than I learned in all the years of my marriage. Alone in the bathroom, drying herself after the shower, she moved in a languid dream state, mind and body relaxed and glowing.

Mike.

She hadn’t known that any man could be at the same time so strong, so ardent, so gentle—and so funny. As she remembered his jokes, her lips curved into a smile. He took a boyish delight in her pleasure, her amusement. Lauren realized with a little pang of guilt that his whole attention had been focused on her satisfaction rather than his own. She had responded passionately, true, but all the creativity in loving had been his.

Frowning, Lauren stared at the reflection of her face in the faintly steamy mirror. Then she pulled on a blue velour robe that was hanging on the hook behind the door. She’d get her clothes, dress, and go back to her own stateroom at once. Otherwise, she was likely to make a fool of herself, adoring him.

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.