competent—to run the whole thing myself.”
Mike ripped his dark head to one side, scanning her face. “Wouldn’t it make sense to sign up with one of the big corporations, let them handle the commercial end of it?”
“I’d have to make sure none of my own staff were fired,” mused Lauren, her expression telling the man that she was indeed considering the idea of a contract.
“Why don’t you let me handle it for you?” he said. “It’s my field, after all. And your own lawyer could check the proposition carefully.”
“Have you direct affiliations with any special company, Mike, or do you act as a middleman only?”
“I’ve got a lead to Landrill’s,” he told her. “But that’s not my only field. I work with an international hotel chain, scouting interesting sites for new buildings and talented young executives—both male and female—to run them with class and good business sense.”
Lauren chuckled. “So you’re not a male chauvinist. And from the sound of it, you’ve got an exciting job. I guess you’ve been told, if you work with Landrill’s, that they’ve already made September Song an offer?”
“One? Lady, they tried four times to set up a deal with your husband. They believe in you, Mrs. Rose.”
“At least they believe I can make them a bundle,” she retorted.
“Why not? Aren’t you in designing to make money? You don’t give away the dresses,” he challenged a little harshly.
Lauren nodded. She understood the reason for his annoyance. Of course, she was in the business of designing to make money. Sometimes the sheer pleasure of seeing one of her ideas come alive was more than enough payment for hours of work and frequent frustration, but if it were not for the fact that women were willing to pay a good price for her dresses she wouldn’t be able to enjoy her creative satisfactions. She faced Mike with an open smile.
“You’re right, of course. We creative types should never forget that we don’t design in a vacuum. Somebody has to want what we make.”
“And Landrill’s will make sure that lots of women know how attractive and flattering your line of clothing is. Can I put together a deal?”
Lauren nodded. This Fashion Cruise had opened her eyes; it would be increasingly difficult for her to do battle alone in the marketplace and keep up her creative work at the same time. She needed a manager; Al had kept all the business side of the operation away from her, so she really didn’t know enough to cope, hadn’t the skills or the toughness or the knowledge it took. She began to realize that she really didn’t want to fight that battle. She wanted to design clothing. Was that too much to ask? She noticed that Mike was watching her, probably evaluating her changing expressions.
“Yes, let’s see what your lawyer and mine can work out,” she said.
His face showed only the normal pleasure at the successful conclusion of negotiations. “Now we’ve got that settled,” he said, “let’s eat, drink, and forget that tomorrow we diet.”
The sandwiches were delicious: chicken breast, roast beef, cheese with bacon, pâté, even sliced tomatoes with pepper and mayonnaise. They fought over the last of that kind.
Lauren drank more wine that she usually allowed herself. As a result, her mood became more and more unguarded. After one particularly provocative remark from her, Mike phoned for coffee.
“I won’t have you accusing me, tomorrow, of getting you—ah—mellow and then clinching a deal,” he teased, eyes warmly satisfied.
Lauren felt the laughter fading from her lips as it struck her that she had thrown away her independence as lightly as she had eaten the sandwiches. “I wasn’t too hard to persuade, was I?” she mocked herself.
Mike frowned. “I don’t think I like the sound of that.”
Lauren shrugged. “Dani tells me you and Herbert were having a heart-to-heart in the pub. Was he telling you where I am vulnerable? Or were you hiring him as a hotel manager?”
“I wouldn’t hire Masen to pass out free samples,” Mike snapped. “For your information, Mrs. Rose, he was telling me that you two had been lovers ever since your husband died.” Ignoring Lauren’s gasp of outrage, Mike went on. “When I reminded him that his behavior on this trip hadn’t been exactly devoted, he said he was trying to make you jealous.”
Lauren’s outrage dissolved in surprised laughter. “Jealous? She hooted. “Of Herbert?”
Mike grinned. “My reaction exactly. Too bad Dani didn’t get close enough to hear what I replied to that statement.”
Lauren got up and went to