Lauren's Designs - By Elizabeth Chater Page 0,2

up two sets of crossed fingers. “I’m not superstitious, but—”

“What’s the correct good-luck phrase for designers?” queried Crowell, grinning. “Break a leg? No, that’s show biz. Tear a dress?”

“Go away before you hex my collection,” Lauren begged, looking over toward the photographers. “It’s time I rescued my models. I do thank you for your encouragement . . . I think?” she added with a mischievous smile. Crowell grinned at her. “I’ll even mention your name.”

Still smiling, Lauren got Nella and Dani away from the photographers and onto the deck. She was just looking around for a steward to direct them to their cabins when Dani ran over to a tall, handsome man in a navy blazer, white slacks, and a white yachting cap. Putting her hand on his arm coaxingly, she pouted up into his amused face.

“Are you the captain?” she asked.

“No, miss, I’m not. Can I get you a steward?”

“I don’t know how to find my cabin,” Dani said, fluttering her long eyelashes at him.

Lauren set her teeth. This was all she needed: a model on the make! She came up to them with a smile pinned to her lips. “Dani, if you’ll come with me, I promise you we’ll find your stateroom. It’s right next to mine.” Then, when the model seemed reluctant to let go the man’s arm, she added more firmly, “Nella wants to lie down and you’ve got to change before dinner.”

With a final languishing smile, Dani turned to follow her employer into the lounge. Lauren’s exasperated glance caught the outrageous grin on the big man’s face. He saluted mockingly.

Lauren’s reaction to his grin surprised her. She felt as though she had been touched by a live wire. Her senses were aware of him, alert to every detail of his strong physique . . .

Hold it. She caught herself up abruptly. You’ve got a job to do.

She found a courteous steward who led them to their suite. Dani prowled around while Lauren tipped and thanked the man and made sure the sealed clothes rack was safe in her stateroom. Nella had subsided into a comfortable chair, looking pale. Lauren checked out the accommodations the promoters had secured for them: a pleasant, small sitting room from either side of which opened a bedroom. The models’ cabin had twin beds and a special triple mirror.

Lauren firmly directed the two into their room. “Get ready for dinner,” she advised them. “It won’t be formal, since this is the first night, but you’ll find the other models will be very much on stage. Wear the dark-red velvet shift, Dani. It’s perfect with those pretty black curls of yours. Nella, wear the green silk A-line.”

“Green!” Nella groaned. She staggered over to her bed. “I’m not sure I’ll be up to it tonight, Ms. Rose,” she whimpered. “Oh, I think I’m going to be si-i-ick. . . .”

“You can’t be sick yet,” Dani argued with her. “We’re still tied up at the dock.”

“Can’t I?” asked Nella. Since she was obviously requesting information rather than issuing a challenge, Lauren was able to reassure her.

“I’ll get you some Dramamine and you’ll be in good shape. The Queen Elizabeth II has wonderful stabilizers that keep her steady even in a storm. There really is nothing to be afraid of—”

The words were barely out of her mouth when there was a heavy, blasting roar. Nella screamed and curled up on the bed in a tight huddle.

“It’s only the whistle, dopey,” Dani said, hanging up her black-and-white suit and sitting down at the dressing table to change her makeup. As Nella rose hesitantly to begin undressing, Lauren went back across the sitting room into her own bedroom. It was the same size as the other and as charmingly decorated and furnished, but it seemed larger because it held only a single bed. Sighing with pleasure, Lauren removed her small, smart cream hat and suit and put them away carefully in the wardrobe. The blue-violet scarf and her shoes came off next. She walked into the tiny bathroom and scrutinized her face in the generous mirror. Her soft, cream-gilt hair was a little crushed by the hat, but a quick brushing would restore its lustrous waves. One of each, she thought. Dani’s a roguish small brunette with a charming tangle of shining black curls. Nella is a statuesque redhead. And I am a middle-sized blonde. As she stared at her violet-blue eyes with their frame of black lashes, the neat nose, which just escaped being too small,