Chapter Six

 

A POWERFUL SPORTS-MODEL JAGUAR made short work of the drive to the star's hotel. Pet was surprised at how easy it had been to talk shop with Dane, as easy as it was to chat with the boys in the crew. Of course, his knowledge was far more encompassing than hers. Perhaps that was what had made his comments all the more interesting and thought-provoking.

Things she had previously regarded only from the production side, she now began to consider from the management and executive side. She had learned a great deal. She was almost sorry when Dane guided her out of the elevator and down the hallway to Ruby Gale's suite, because it meant their private conversation was coming to an end.

Gradually she realized the reason for her regret was more subtle than that. Discussing television kept her from thinking about Dane as a male escort. She had been using the talk as a defense mechanism to keep that sense of physical attraction at bay.

She realized it while they were standing in the hallway at the door to the suite, waiting for Dane's knock to be answered. His hand had found the curve of her waist, his palm covering her hipbone. The warmth of his touch was melting through her clothes to her skin, heating her flesh with an awareness of him.

Under the sweep of her lashes she slid him a look out of the corner of her eye. His roughly sculpted profile caught at her breath, disrupting its evenness. She was struck again by his height, something she didn't notice about most men since they generally weren't so much taller than she was.

As if he felt her eyes upon him, Dane's gaze swept down on her in a lazy caress that upset her heartbeat. She quivered all over inside with the desire to have him make love to her. It was faintly shocking to be so completely aroused by just a look. In delightful agitation she averted her gaze to the door, her ivory-smooth features hinting at this inner disturbance through the fluttering of her lashes and the tilting of her chin.

Dane's hand applied slight pressure on her hipbone as if he wanted to pull her closer. "You look very lovely," he murmured, and she guessed the reassurance was intended to eradicate any nervousness about her appearance. But how could she explain that a Dior gown wouldn't change the physical reaction erupting from his nearness?

"Thank you." It was a breathy answer, barely audible.

With excellent timing, the door was opened to the suite by the same woman who had given Pet the message for Dane. The polite smile she gave Dane faltered when she saw Pet with him. "Good evening, Mr. Kingston. Miss Gale will be so glad you could come."

"Hello, Clancy." There was a ghost of mockery in the look he gave the officious brunette. "You remember Miss Wallis, don't you?" he prompted as he swept Pet along with him inside the suite.

"Of course." Behind the polite nod, it was obvious the woman was trying to figure out what Pet was doing with Dane. "Miss Gale is—" The woman took a step, obviously intending to take them to their hostess.

"I see her, Clancy," Dane interrupted, glancing across the room.

Ruby Gale's red hair was a beacon, standing out in the crowd of people, mostly men. Pet had spied her almost instantly, too, but mostly she was staring at the decor of the suite. It boggled, the imagination.

Pink. Everywhere there were shades of pink from the thick, powder-puff carpet to the rose velvet sofas and chairs. On nearly every other antiqued-white tabletop there were vases of flowers, mainly dark pink roses. White woodwork outlined the pastel print silk covering the walls. Even the caterers were wearing dark rose red jackets over black trousers. Pet felt as if she was gawking as Dane guided her into the main room of the suite.

Removing two glasses of champagne from a proffered tray, he pressed one into her hand, and her gaze flickered to his face in faint surprise. Amusement glittered openly in his velvet brown eyes at her stunned reaction to the room. She let her gaze sweep around it again before lifting the glass to sip the bubbling wine.

"I thought hotel suites like this existed only in Hollywood movies," she commented.

"It's horrendous, isn't it?" he agreed, keeping his voice low, too. "You should see the main bedroom. It has a round bed with a red velvet canopy draped into a rose design. I think I prefer mirrors to staring at giant red roses above my head."

A sick feeling weighted Pet's stomach. Was he speaking from experience? Of course he was. She was angry with herself for even questioning it. How else would he have known about the bed unless he'd lain in it? Only a completely naive fool would believe he had only been testing the mattress for firmness. And she wasn't naive. She had always suspected—known—that he and Ruby were lovers, so why had she accepted his invitation to this party? The answer was so plainly simple. She had a fatal fascination for this sexy, exciting man who could enrage or arouse her by turns.

This inability to resist him made her feel spineless. She took another sip of champagne, wildly hoping the effervescent spirits would temporarily stiffen her backbone. The constricting muscles in her throat rejected it with a tiny choking cough.

"I'm surprised the champagne isn't pink," she managed at last, her long fingers delicately covering her lips.

"Ruby probably didn't think of it." A smile twitched the corners of Dane's mouth as his gaze ran interestedly over her face, a little aloof. "I told you this would be an experience. You find it distasteful, don't you?"

There were many things she found distasteful, mainly the discovery that she was envious of Ruby Gale for the time she had spent with Dane in that round bed with the rose canopy. Although her features were schooled not to reveal her feelings, her expressive sea-green eyes obviously reflected them for Dane to see. Since he had misguessed the cause, she didn't choose to enlighten him.

"This suite, it's all so phony." Pet shrugged to show her dislike of it, lowering her gaze to the sparkling liquid in the crystal wineglass.

Dane's fingers touched her cheek to turn her face to him, then moved away. "And you aren't, are you?" He studied her more closely as if discovering something he hadn't noticed before.

Pet became uneasy under his scrutiny and immediately Dane ended it, shifting his gaze to the room of people, buzzing with hearty conversations that rang false.

"This is all part of the image," he said, a sweeping glance encompassing everything. "All of these people would have been disappointed and disillusioned if this suite had turned out to be no different from any they could have rented for one night. Ruby Gale is a star. Nothing ordinary would suit her—in their eyes. A star deserves to be surrounded by a spectacle. Ruby is smart. She gives them what they want. It keeps them coming back for more." 

His narrowed gaze drifted back to Pet. She wondered if that explanation was true for him, as well. "It's fake, a fantasy world of red-hots and candy canes—sugar and spice wrapped up in glitter and sequins. It's called packaging the product."

"I suppose that's true," Pet conceded with a trace of his cynicism.

"You haven't been formally introduced to the 'product,' have you?" Dane remembered, and closed a hand on her elbow. "We'd better correct that omission before Ruby starts throwing real poisonous darts instead of invisible ones."

Following the direction of his callously amused glance, Pet saw their hostess through a gap in the cluster of guests. Her long hair was about her white shoulders in a mass of titian curls. The daringly cut spangled gown was the same peacock-blue shade as her eyes—eyes that glittered with impatience and irritation whenever they rested on Dane, which was often.

When Dane and Pet had weaved their way through the crowd to the star's side, Ruby Gale gave Dane one of her radiantly provocative smiles. "I wondered when you were going to show up, darling," she chided him playfully for his tardiness, and curved a scarlet-nailed hand along the back of his neck when he bent to greet her with a kiss.

Their lips clung together a few seconds longer than-the length of a merely casual kiss. Pet was prepared for the violent surge of rage that shook her. She stood motionless, her face frozen into blankness, while the three men Ruby had been speaking to exchanged knowing glances and raised eyebrows.

When Dane lifted his head, the star wiped the traces of lipstick from his mouth with her fingers. The gesture, more than the kiss, implied a longstanding familiarity and intimacy between them. It was also possessive. Pet was rigidly aware that Dane didn't protest against any of it.

Then the redhead was linking both her arms though the crook of his elbow, further staking her claim to him while turning to the trio she was with. "You all know Dane Kingston—my producer, my director, my—" Ruby paused deliberately, sweeping him a look through her long lashes as if exchanging a secret "—dear friend."

The phrase drew a faint smile from Dane, which made a total mockery of it. Pet would have slipped away, but he chose that moment to remember she was with him and turned to take her hand, drawing her within the circle. She half expected to be murdered by Ruby's blue eyes, but they seemed blank of expression when they regarded her. Her burgundy-glossed lips were parted in a welcoming smile of interest.

"I don't believe I know this young woman, do I, Dane?" she asked, and extended an open hand to Pet.

Pet let her hand be clasped warmly by the star and even managed a stiff smile. Pride kept her head high while a defensiveness masked her gaze with a wary coolness.

"How do you do, Miss Gale," she greeted the redhead with exaggerated politeness.

"You haven't actually met her before, Ruby," Dane explained. "But you have spent the last few days looking at her without knowing it. This is Petra Wallis. She's been operating the number-two camera."

"The center one?" Now the star's gaze became sharp, slicing Pet into unimportant pieces. "You actually have a woman in sole charge of a camera? I didn't realize you were so liberated in your views, Dane. You've never exhibited that tendency before."

"Haven't I? Maybe you just never noticed," he suggested, turning aside the comment.

"Are you his token female, Miss Wallis?" the star inquired archly. In explanation to the other men, Ruby Gale defended her question. "With all these new laws nowadays about hiring women for traditionally male jobs, it's almost mandatory for an employer to hire a woman if she applies for a position. Me, I'm not in favor at all of this new equality for women. I love being the weaker sex, and dominated by a big, strong man." Her glance at Dane made it obvious who that "big, strong man" was.

Pet seethed with jealousy and the sensation of betrayal by one of her own kind. What Ruby Gale was insinuating was insulting and demeaning to her. Worse, the three men with their glasses of champagne and lascivious looks were nodding agreement with Ruby Gale's remarks.

"I can assure you that I wasn't forced to hire Miss Wallis," Dane inserted lazily. "Her sex had nothing to do with her employment. I doubt if it was even taken into consideration by anyone in the company."

His support didn't bring the reassurance that it should have. Instead, one of the younger men—a reporter by the cynical look of him—gave Pet an assessing look that stripped her quite naked. Anger flashed in her eyes, the turbulent green of storm-tossed seas.

"I certainly could never interview you, Miss Wallis, without being conscious of your sex," he remarked suggestively, and everyone chuckled in total agreement.

Pet struggled to contain her anger. Usually she could ignore such biased and prejudiced remarks from men, dismissing them as small remarks from small minds. Yet she was bristling from them.

"It's a shame that employers are forced by law to hire incompetent help. It's so expensive in the long run," Ruby Gale was saying, and turned to Dane. "just look at all the delays and technical problems we encountered taping this concert simply because of one or two unskilled members of the crew."

"As a professional, Ruby, you know there are always problems of one kind or another," Dane stated with a hard glint in his eyes. "But you certainly can't blame Miss Wallis. She's the best technician in the company—that's why I put her on camera two. When you're on center stage you deserve to have the best covering you, so I made certain you had it. You'll see for yourself when we review the tapes of tonight's performance."

"My, my!" The redhead blinked her startling blue eyes and teased him with a smile. "Such praise coming from you, Dane!" Her gaze shifted to Pet, who had been stunned and skeptical of his assertive defense. "You must be very flattered."

"I am," she admitted, since flattery also implied exaggeration.

"Is that why you brought Miss Wallis to the party? As a reward for all her work?" Ruby questioned, and rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "How sweet of you, darling! You really are very thoughtful."

The conclusion Ruby had reached sent Pet's mind racing. Was that the explanation for this unexpected invitation? Was she to regard her attendance at this party as a bonus for a job well done? She had liked it better when she believed it was just a friendly invitation.

"I'm not certain if Pet would agree with you, Ruby." Dane commented, and sent a roguish glance in her direction. "I think she's convinced I'm a cross between an ogre and a tyrant."

"You neglected to mention an interfering busybody," Pet reminded him smoothly.

"So I did," he agreed, and lifted his champagne glass in wry acknowledgement of the omission.

"What's this all about?" Ruby glanced from one to the other, suspicion shimmering in her hard blue eyes.

"A minor rebellion in the ranks against authority." Dane dismissed their previous skirmishes with an indifferent shrug of a shoulder and sipped at his wine. "I neglected to tell you how sensational you were this evening, Ruby. You had the audience in the palm of your beautiful hand all the time."

Diverted by his compliment, the redhead beamed, "Thank you, darling."

"Hear, hear," one of the men murmured in agreement, and lifted his glass in a silent toast to her successful performance.

"Yes, to a very triumphant performance by our own Jersey Lily." A second man made it a verbal salute.

"In case you men haven't noticed it, your star is a tiger lily—a wild, exotic flower," Dane remarked with an admiring glance running warmly over the titian-haired entertainer.

Pet could almost see the reporter making a mental note of the phrase. She was certain it would show up somewhere in the postperformance publicity.

"You know all the right things to say to make a woman feel special, Dane," Ruby purred, and let her hand glide along his arm to curl her fingers through his. "I should be upset with you for bringing a blond to my private party, but here I am—putty in your hands."

"Never putty," he denied, and lifted her fingers to his mouth with continental ease; "Rare blue clay, maybe."

Her faint laugh was a low, throaty sound. "I never know whether to believe you. I guess that's part of your dangerous charm," the star suggested. For once, Pet was in total agreement with the red-haired performer, regarding her assessment of Dang Kingston.

Ruby slipped her hand out of the loose clasp of his fingers. "But I really must circulate, darling. You're making me neglect my guests. Be sure to introduce…Miss Wallis around."

"I will," he replied smoothly.

Pet had the distinct impression that Ruby Gale had given him permission to escort her. It would have proved more bolstering to her self-esteem if the star had resented Dane's accompanying her. This way the woman obviously didn't regard her as representing a serious threat.

The three men introduced themselves, but Pet didn't make an effort to remember their names. Dane chatted with them a few minutes, then took Pet by the arm to wander to another group. The procedure was repeated several times, and Pet realized that Dane was doing his own brand of circulating, advertising his product and making himself known to those who were important. A necessary part of any business was socializing.

But she had a great deal of difficulty relaxing in his company. She could talk quite naturally with others, yet could manage only a stiff nod or some stilted reply when Dane addressed a remark to her. Tension began drumming at her temples, demanding a respite from the constant strain of his presence.

A particularly garrulous guest had trapped Dane into a conversation about the merits of the present television programming, and Pet took the opportunity to touch his arm lightly to briefly claim his attention.

"Excuse me, I'm going to freshen my lipstick. I'll only be a few moments," she murmured as his gaze wandered over her mouth to assess the need.

Without waiting for his permission, Pet moved away. The brunette secretary whom Dane had addressed as Clancy showed her where the ladies' powder room was located in the suite, and Pet sank onto the strawberry velvet stool in front of the lighted mirror and gazed at her reflection.

A pair of plain gold studs gleamed on the lobes of her ears. The sides of her long hair were pulled high on the crown of her head and secured with a wide gold barrette. Strong, mat-smooth features were sculpted in clean, pure lines of classical symmetry rather than prettiness. With its jade eyes, it was an arresting face that would wear well.

Pet saw the absence of raw sensuality and animation. Noting the pallor of her lips, she removed the tube of gloss from her bag and outlined her mouth with the burgundy stick. She ran a comb through the ends of her hair and flipped it down the center of her back. With a sigh she accepted the fact that her cool blond sophistication was no competition for the earthy appeal of the auburn temptress.

Entering the spacious main room of the suite, she spied Dane with a state politician, and the independent streak in her asserted itself. Instead of making her way to his side, she wandered over to the hors d'oeuvres table, sampled some caviar, Which she loved, and stuffed mushroom buttons, then accepted another glass of champagne.

"It's quite an affair, isn't it?" a cynical male voice remarked to the right of her elbow.

Turning her head, Pet glanced down at the man easily three inches shorter than she was. She resisted the age-old impulse to hunch her shoulders, an impossibility with the thin shoulder pads under her peach silk blouse. The man was familiar, but it was second before she remembered he was one of the three who had been talking to Ruby Gale when she and Dane had joined them. At the time she had decided he was a reporter.

"Yes, it is." She continued to stand straight and tall.

"Petra Wallis, isn't it?" he remembered her name.

"Either you have an excellent memory or else you know everyone else here," Pet replied with a wry look over the rim of her champagne glass.

"It's a combination," he admitted. "I know most of the people who are here, remembering names is part of my trade, and a man would he a fool to forget yours."

He smiled for the first time without some inner cynicism. In his late thirties, he wasn't really an unattractive man without that expression of bored superiority. Plain brown hair and shrewd brown eyes went with his unassuming features. As his gaze made a thorough study of her, it didn't contain the suggestive stripping quality that he had subjected her to before. Pet didn't feel any of the initial hostility he had generated in their earlier meeting.

"I know you've probably forgotten. The name is Nick Brewster." He wasn't offended that she had.

"You're with the newspaper, right?" She wasn't sure if she had been told or if it was only a guess.

"Yeah, I'm doing a feature article on the 'Tiger Lily' for the entertainment section. I'll probably send it around—syndicate it to a few other papers." He shrugged to hide the boasting tone, then studied her again. "You might have given me an idea on a different angle."

"Me?" Pet was startled.

"Yeah. The star through the eyes of a television camera." He made an imaginary frame with his hands.

"I'm not sure that I understand what you mean." She shook her head, vaguely confused.

"I'd be writing it from your viewpoint," the journalist explained. "What Ruby Gale is like to work with, that kind of thing. You've seen her in rehearsal and in concert. How is she different?"

"That's easy. Before an audience she's electric. When she's rehearsing, she's concentrating on technique, delivery, the routine." Pet didn't see how that was particularly interesting or new.

"But what about her temperament? Is she congenial to work with? Demanding?"

She began to see where his questions were leading. "Naturally she's demanding—of herself and everyone else."

"Come on, Miss Wallis, you can tell me." The reporter eyed her with a mocking yet confiding look. "It's common knowledge that she can be a temperamental bitch, throwing tantrums, walking off the stage. From some of the things I've overheard, this last session hasn't been without its problems."

"Of course we've had some problems," Pet admitted. "But I haven't seen any evidence of this temper you're describing."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Dane must have her eating out of his hand!" When Pet showed signs of becoming aloof, he chided her, "Everyone knows that the two of them are having an affair. They aren't trying to hide it, even if he did drag you here."

"I wouldn't presume to discuss Mr. Kingston's private life with you, even if I were privy to any of that kind of information—which I'm not," she retorted. "I'm an employee, nothing more."

"Such loyalty!" he mocked her, his gaze sliding sideways. "It should be rewarded, Mr. Kingston. But I forgot," he pretended as Pet turned to find Dane standing near her elbow, "this invitation to the party was by way of a reward."

"You should ask who's being rewarded, Mr. Brewster." Dane smiled pleasantly and laced his fingers through hers. "Maybe the pleasure of Miss Wallis's company is my compensation for a week of hard work and long hours."

"I wouldn't be surprised," the reporter laughed. "Some people can have their cake and eat it, too."

"Then you won't mind if I don't share. Excuse us."

Dane led Pet away. The smile faded from his expression, if it had ever really been there at all, and his dark gaze was sharp as it examined her. "I'm sorry. I hope Brewster didn't subject you to too much of his dirty digging."

"He didn't." She was curt as she pulled her hand free from him. She disliked being used as a red herring. "Not that it matters. I'm not in the habit of airing other people's dirty linen, even if I had possession of it—which I don't."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Impatience clipped his voice.

"It means that I didn't have any 'dirt' to give him," Pet shrugged with feigned indifference and refused to meet his gaze.

"He did upset you," he concluded grimly.

"He didn't," she insisted. If she was upset, it was because of the round bed with the rose canopy, Dane's insincere praise of her skill, the nonthreat she was to Ruby Gale and the farcical invitation to this party. "I have been around television and news reporters before. I didn't need to be rescued."

"I can't win with you, can I?" Dane sighed with thinly disguised anger. "I try to do a good deed and I'm accused of meddling again."

"Is that my fault?" Pet countered defensively.

"I had hoped for a pleasant evening, not another one of our verbal matches of word slinging." The reply was underlined with tautness.

On that, Pet agreed. "Perhaps we're both tired. It's been a long, tension-filled evening in many respects." She was thinking of more than the taping.

"Yes." But there was a grim reluctance in his acceptance of her explanation. "We'd better make our apologies to Ruby and leave."

Without waiting for her reply, he cupped a hand under her elbow and guided her to the corner of the room where the flame-haired woman was flirting with one of the several politicians in attendance.

"Darling!" When Ruby Gale saw Dane, she must have read his intention in his face. "You're not leaving so soon?"

"We must," he said firmly, and sent an aloofly apologetic glance to the others for having interrupted them. Smoothly, he bent forward to kiss an artfully rouged cheek.

"I suppose you must," Ruby sighed, and let her glittering blue eyes wander to Pet, "After all, Miss Wallis is a working girl." The tone seemed to relegate Pet to an inferior class. "Call me tomorrow, darling. But not too early."

"It probably won't be until the afternoon. I'll be busy in the morning," Dane replied.

"Good evening, Miss Gale," Pet inserted so she wouldn't be ignored or treated as if she weren't there.

"Good evening, Miss Wallis." The phrase was returned, but most indifferently. 

Then Dane's hand was on her waist, guiding her away toward the door. When the stocky secretary appeared Dane dismissed her with a brisk, "We can find our own way out. Good night, Clancy."

"Good night, Mr. Kingston."