'If your patience holds out until our wedding night,' she quipped, 'you'll deserve a good conduct medal!'
'I hope I'll deserve more than that! I don't want to spend my honeymoon taking cold showers!'
'Not even together?' she suggested impishly.
He feigned horror. 'I see you being a very corrupting influence on me, Miss Watson.'
'Appearances can be deceptive, Mr Jordan.'
'I'll look forward to you proving it!' Dane reached across the table to clasp her hand. 'You wouldn't like to start now, would you?'
'I don't think the managment would approve.' Leslie glanced around the packed room. 'It might give the customers indigestion.'
Dane laughed, an uninhibited sound that drew the attention of neighbouring diners. 'I'd say a good deal more than indigestion, taking their ages into account!" he added, uncaring of the inquisitive stares he had attracted.
This was one of the things Leslie liked in him. Without being brash, he was supremely self-assured, an assurance that came from inner confidence rather than success.
'So I take it the answer's still no?' he questioned.
Her expression spoke for her as she pushed back her chair. 'What time shall I be ready this evening?' she asked, as they wended their way out.
'Eight, as we're the guests of honour. Caldwell wants us there early.'
While they waited for Leslie's car to be brought round by an attendant, they discussed tonight's party—one of many they had been invited to since their engagement. Dane had a wide circle of friends whose main preoccupation seemed to be competing with each other as to who was the most lavish host.
'I guess I'd better wear something long and glittery,' she murmured.
'Absolutely. Half the movie colony will be there, and you know how they love dressing up.'
But studying her wardrobe later that evening, Leslie decided against her most expensive dress—no way could she compete with women who spent thousands of dollars on a single garment—and the black satin Twenties dress she finally chose relied for its effect on style rather than cut and decoration, while the minimal bodice—supported by shoestring straps that criss-crossed the low-cut back—was the perfect foil for her creamy skin.
In keeping with the Twenties look, she twisted her hair into a coil at the nape of her neck—the style enhancing the long sweep of her throat—and tied a black-beaded headband across her forehead. Her make-up fitted the era too, the soft contours of her mouth outlined with deep red lip-gloss, her slanting eyes shaded with shimmering silver-gilt.
Surveying herself in one of the mirrors that lined her wall-to-wall bedroom cupboards, Leslie clipped on the single strand of pearls that had been a graduation gift from her stepfather. Seeing them gleaming upon her skin brought back such poignant memories of him that it reaffirmed her determination to continue the path she was treading.
She had grown too soft towards Dane these past few weeks; had allowed the sharp edges of her dislike to be dulled by the intimacy of their new found relationship. Her cheeks burned with shame. It was no good running away from the fact that she had allowed his charismatic personality to seduce her. He was so stimulating that every other man paled into insignificance by comparison.
Once again she was assailed by fear, realising that the longer she stayed with him the more she would come under his spell, and the harder it would be to extricate herself when the time came for her to leave him.
The house-phone buzzed three times—a prearranged signal—and she reached for her purse, casually looped a fringed silk shawl across her shoulders, and went downstairs, her vampish appearance giving no hint of the dark mood it concealed.
Dane was waiting beside his Rolls convertible, the hood down in the unusually balmy October evening. He looked so devastatingly handsome in his dinner- jacket that her pulses jumped nervously, but she managed to hide it as she slid into the seat beside him.
His expression told her she had had the same impact on him, though unlike her he verbalised it. 'You're absolutely stunning, darling. You make it dammed hard for a man to concentrate his thoughts on a higher plane!'
'You like my dress, then?' she purred.
'I like what's in it! Every woman at the party will gnash her caps with envy!'
'I doubt that.'
'Stop being falsely modest. You know you're beautiful.'
'Beautiful girls are a dime a dozen in this town. So why should I feel special?'
'You're special to me—which is all that counts,' he said, lifting her fingers to his lips.
'Watch the red light!' she warned, and used the opportunity to retrieve her hand. Disturbed by his touch as much as by his words, she spoke more sharply than she had intended, and he gave her a quizzical glance.
'You sound just like a wife! I hope you won't turn into a nag once we're hitched.'
'It's perfectly natural for me to change a bit,' she answered. 'And so will you.'
'You're perfect as you are.'
'Your mind's stuck in one groove today!' she teased.
'Not only today! But as long as I stick to words and not actions, you can't complain!' He shot her another glance. 'How do you like my jacket? I had it flown over from London.'
'It's very nice.'
'Can't you do better than that?'
'Sure. But I won't. You're conceited enough as it is.'
'You're doing your best to knock it out of me,' he said wryly. 'You seem to enjoy putting me down.'
'Your friends don't think so. I bore them to tears singing your praises.'
'I wouldn't mind you doing a bit of trilling in my ear. As we only make verbal love, it would be nice if it wasn't entirely one-sided!'
Though his tone was jocular, Leslie recognised the serious undertone in it.
'I'm sorry, darling,' she apologised with all the sincerity she could muster. 'I suppose I thought that playing it cool would make it easier for you.'
'There's a difference between cool and cold. And at times your well-intentioned little blasts are positively arctic!'
She lifted her hand to caress his cheek gently. 'It's a difficult time for both of us, Dane. But the warm winds of summer are only three weeks away!'
Her reference to their wedding instantly restored his good humour. 'From then on,' he said happily, 'may all our clouds be little ones! 'I'll leave you to decide how many.'
A hot tide of embarrassment swept across her body, and agitatedly she twisted her engagement ring—a pear-shaped diamond that had set Dane back a king's ransom.
'I thought you didn't want children,' she murmured.
'I've changed my mind—and not just about that, but a lot of other things too.'
'Such as?'
'IH tell you when we're married.'
'What's wrong with now?' she pressed. 'Why the secrecy?'
He shook his head and her curiosity grew.
'Give me a hint, Dane. If whatever it is falls through, I promise I won't be disappointed.'
He laughed. 'Only a woman would make such a i idiculous promise and expect it to be taken seriously!'
'And only a man wouldn't realise that once a woman's curiosity is aroused, she won't rest until it's satisfied! It's tantamount to cruelty.'
'So sue me!'
'Know a good, cheap lawyer?'
'I know one who'll take his fee in kind, for a good- looking chick like you!'
'How unethical!'
'You're worth my being disbarred—and hell, we can always live on your salary!'
'Not in a two-million-dollar home we can't! We'd have to come down in the world and move into my apartment.'
Dane swung into the driveway of a mock-Tudor mansion, and was directed to a parking-space by a security guard, one of several in evidence about the property.
'I'll only tell you when I'm ready,' said Dane, referring to their previous conversation as he drew the Rolls to a halt.
Their eyes met, laughter in both, yet something deeper flickering in his that Leslie could not fathom.
/> 'You're impossible, Dane Jordan!' she smiled.
'And you're adorable. I hope the girls take after you!'
His hand clasping hers, they approached the baronial entrance, and the sound of a string orchestra playing a Strauss waltz wafted out to them.
'That has to be the Los Angeles Symphony,' Leslie commented.
'Spot on,' he agreed. 'And they just come with the hors d'oeuvre!'
He wasn't joking either. By the time dancing commenced in the floodlit garden, on a floor constructed alongside the Grecian-styled pool, there had been two more changes of orchestra, each as famous as its predecessor.
'All that's missing is Frank Sinatra,' a movie star commented as he wirled Leslie around the floor. 'Caldwell's thought of everything else!'
How right he was! Dom Perignon champagne flowed like Perrier water, and the buffet table was weighed down with Beluga caviar, Maine lobsters and foie gras.
Yet despite the glamour and glitter, Leslie felt no regret that her life among the rich and famous would be brief. She had nothing in common with the pampered, spoiled women who were more sheen than substance, or the men who talked money in telephone numbers, and paid scant attention to the world outside it. But she kept her opinions to herself, for she saw Dane was totally at ease among them, and there was no denying the high regard in which they held him.
'Why so pensive?' he asked as they relaxed on their own on one of the hammocks dotting the pool area.
'I'm thinking of our wedding,' she lied. 'It'll be pretty tame compared with this.'
'We agreed it should be small and private. But if you want something bigger…'
She was surprised by his willingness to give in to her. 'I didn't mean it enviously, Dane. I merely wondered whether your friends would be disappointed.'
'I'm marrying you, not my friends. It's what you want that counts.'
'Ah, the love-birds!'
The Southern drawl came from their host, who hailed from North Carolina, as did his third wife, a redhead of statuesque proportions, thirty years his junior. Caldwell Mather was in his mid-fifties but looked younger, his craggy face not unattractive.
'Not opting out already?' he chided. 'The party's just beginning.'
'Not everyone has your stamina,' Dane quipped.
'Does that mean you aren't going to dance with me?' Beverly Mather cooed, twining her arm through Dane's. 'You've neglected me all evening.'
'I'll make amends now,' he replied instantly, and led her to the dance-floor, closely followed by Leslie and her host.
It was nearly an hour later before Leslie met up with Dane again, for they had both had several partners cutting in on them.
'Do you think we can leave?' she murmured. 'I'm out on my feet.'
'Me too. But I'd like to wait a while longer. It would be rude if we left before midnight.'
Leslie conceded, though dropping with exhaustion. It was their third late night in succession, and this, together with a hectic work schedule—she was attempting to sort out several problems before her wedding day—was beginning to tell on her.
'Will we see you before the big day?' Caldwell asked Dane when they finally said goodnight.
'I'm not sure.'
'Why don't we have lunch together?' Beverly suggested to Leslie in an aside.
'Mind if I take a raincheck?' Leslie feigned regret. 'If I don't clear my desk, Dane will have to honeymoon alone!'
'You're not working after you're married, are you?' Cornflower-blue eyes regarded her with astonishment. 'Why not relax and have fun?' 'My work's my fun.'
'Won't Dane mind your being busy the whole time?'
'Too bad if he does. He asked Leslie Watson, architect, to marry him, with no conditions attached.'
'Dane mentioned that you can be pretty determined,' the girl commented admiringly.
'So can he,' Leslie smiled. 'And it's made for some stormy passages!'
'Arguments are good for a relationship—they give you insight into a person's character. It's hard to maintain a phoney persona if you're throwing an ashtray!'
Leslie stared at Beverly, who grinned broadly.
'I'm not quite as dumb as I look,' the girl continued. 'Caldwell likes to think of me as the little woman, so I play along with him! But I majored in psychology, you know, though you mustn't breathe a word to him!'
'I promise. But you amaze me. Surely Caldwell would be proud of your achievements?'
'Don't you believe it! He's a bright guy, but he never got to college, so he has a complex about it. But that's his only hang-up and I'm happy to pander to it.'
'Don't you resent having to act dumb?' queried Leslie.
'Not if it preserves my marriage.' Beverly looked round to ensure the men were still out of earshot. 'I come from a dirt-poor family and was determined to have some security when I married. When Caldwell came along, I didn't hesitate. I'd have liked someone like Dane, who appreciated brains as well as beauty, but I couldn't find someone, so I settled for second best.'
'With no regrets?'
'Only when I meet a girl who has it all—like you!' Beverly's warm smile showed she wasn't being bitchy.
'I hope we can be friends, Leslie. It would be nice having someone with whom I can be my real self.'
Leslie knew what she meant, and felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for the girl. Beverly was an accomplished hostess, a faithful wife, according to Dane, and an adoring mother to her one-year-old daughter. What a pity she had to hide her intellect.
'We'll have lunch as soon as I get back from honeymoon,' she promised. 'I'm really tied up for the next few weeks.'
On the drive home, she told Dane the gist of her conversation with Beverly, curious to know if he had suspected there was more to the girl than met the eye.
'As a matter of fact I did,' he said. 'I've dealt with too many women not to recognise the difference between playing dumb and being dumb.'
'But Caldwell's no fool. How come he hasn't guessed?'
'Love is blind.'
Did this apply to Dane too? Leslie mused. Yet he had said quite categorically he wasn't in love with her!
'Perhaps it's the reason I think you're perfect,' she said sweetly.
He laughed. 'Only my mother thinks that!'
'Talking of your mother,' Leslie decided a change of subject was called for, 'when do you expect her?' Mrs Jordan had written to her warmly on learning of their engagement, and had promised to spend a few days with them before the wedding.
'Damn! I meant to tell you.' Dane shook his head. 'She called this morning to say she can't be at the wedding. She's leaving for Jeddah first thing tomorrow. Cathy's had a fall and could lose the baby.'
Dane's sister lived in Saudi Arabia with her oil executive husband, and after bringing up three children, had unexpectedly become pregnant on her fortieth birthday.
'She wants my mother with her till she's over the worst,' he explained.
Leslie was relieved not to be meeting Mrs Jordan. Feigning the adoring fiancee in front of his friends was one thing; fooling his mother could have been much more difficult.
'I'm sorry I won't be meeting her,' Leslie lied. 'I was looking forward to it.'
'So was she. She despaired of me ever marrying, and now having to miss it…' He drew to a stop outside the apartment block. 'I was thinking of having a video made of our wedding and sending it out to her.'
'A lovely idea!' Leslie forced enthusiasm. 'How thoughtful you are.'
'No more than most sons.' He shrugged off the compliment.
'I'll drop your mother a note,' Leslie said. 'I didn't answer her letter because I thought I'd be seeing her.'
'Phone me at the office for Cathy's address. My memory isn't too good lately.'
'As long as you remember to turn up for our wedding!'
'The date's blazoned on my heart,' he flashed. 'It's the biggest step of my life.'
And one you'll live to regret, Leslie vowed silently, as she gave him her most innocent smile and most loving goodnig
ht kiss.
CHAPTER NINE
Much as Leslie had dreaded her wedding day, when it finally came she found herself enjoying it, caught up in the excitement generated by family and friends, as well as Dane's uninhibited pleasure. In fact he exuded so much bonhomie that not even the crowds of stargazers, photographers and reporters lying in wait for them outside the town hall could rattle him.
Later, at the luncheon they gave at The Hermitage, he rarely took his eyes from her face or his hand from her waist. For someone who wasn't in love he gave a good pretence of it, and though the gestures might only have been possessive ones, she found his touch sensual and exciting, leaving her in no doubt that however resolute her mind, her body would betray her.
'Happy?' he whispered in her ear, after they had cut the wedding cake.
'Ecstatically,' she whispered back. 'I'm frightened I'll wake up and find it's all a dream.'
'You look like one. Or have I told you that already?'
'Not for the past five minutes!'
'Break it up you two!' This from the youngest of Dane's sisters. 'You're melting the icing!'
Everyone laughed, and the band struck up 'People Will Say We're In Love', which resulted in even more merriment—though not from Leslie, who was all too conscious of the irony of it.
Three hours later they were winging their way to Europe, first stop London. Weather-wise it wasn't a clever choice for November, but when Dane had suggested Barbados or Bali, Leslie had vetoed it. Sunlit days and moonlit nights were settings for true lovers, not those playing at it—but naturally she hadn't given that as her reason, saying instead that they needed furnishings for their house, and it would be fun to combine their honeymoon with a buying trip.
'Traipsing around stores is hardly my idea of a romantic honeymoon,' he had protested.
'I know, darling. But I'd planned on getting several things for the house in Europe, and if you weren't able to come with me…' Tantalisingly she dangled their separation as bait. 'We need only spend a few days in London and Milan,' she pointed out, 'then we can go on to Venice. I hear it's the loveliest city in the world.'
Roberta Leigh - Too Bad to be True Page 8
