Lauren's Designs Read Free Page B

usefulness, but he had come on the trip to gloat over Lauren’s failure! Getting her voice under control, she told him, “You’ll have to excuse us now, Herbert. We’re due at a meeting in the Royal Court Lounge—no guests allowed,” she ended sharply as he offered an arm to each of the two women.
    Lauren led Dani away quickly. When they reached the spacious room where the fashion shows were to take place, Lauren discovered that none of the other designers was present, just their assistants and models. This did not disturb Lauren; in fact, she was secretly amused at the rather snobbish jostling for prestige it implied.
    “I’m in no position to be arrogant,” she told a worried Dani. “It’s my job to see you get the best dressing room and the best help I can give you. At the moment, that’s me .”
    Dani gave her a long, level look. “You really are a doll to work for, Ms. Rose,” she said, as though just now convinced of the fact. “I always figured I’d rather work for a man, but you don’t pull any tricks and you’re here to help me when I need you.”
    “Thank you, Dani.” Lauren suppressed a chuckle. “Now let’s get you set.”
    It was easier than Lauren had dared hope, since the assistants, however top-lofty, had to bow to Lauren’s superior status. Carlos de Sevile’s deputy sent off a frantic note to his employer after Lauren secured for Dani the dressing table in the best position in the room; apparently the assistant had quite forgotten that he and his models wouldn’t be backstage when Lauren’s September Song line was being shown. The session was nearly over and the cruise director was assuring everyone of her continued assistance when the flamboyant Spanish designer stormed into the lounge.
    “What’s going on here?” he barked, his gaze darting at once to Lauren’s shining gold head. “What are you pulling, Rose?” There was no trace of the fascinating Spanish accent he usually affected.
    “I’m just doing my job, buster,” she said cheerfully. “Who wants to know?”
    Just for a moment, before he realized she was joking, de Sevile’s expression was ludicrous with surprise. Then his full mouth tightened and he said angrily, “I’ll report you to the judges—”
    “For what? I’m just attending to the logistics of the show with my models. We were all invited to come.”
    “Carlos de Sevile doesn’t have to be here in person. I have assistants to do such jobs,” he began with insolent emphasis.
    Lauren laughed. “So report me for being faithful to my duty and courteous to our hosts,” she suggested. Then she added, “You’ll look like a fool, of course, but that’s nothing new.”
    She walked away, her gleaming head high, her violet eyes bright with satisfaction.
    An awed Dani spoke softly at her shoulder. “You really told that honcho, Ms. Rose. Aren’t you afraid he’ll hit back?”
    “Let him,” Lauren was too elated to be cautious. “Things are tough all over! It really did me good to puncture his hot-air balloon.”
    Dani shook her head. “I’ve been in the business a long time, Ms. Rose. Better watch out behind you from now on,” she warned gloomily. “You’ve only got me—and yourself, of course—now that Nella’s out of it. You’ll have to shorten all Nella’s stuff if you want me to wear them, and I’ll need you backstage to help if I’m to wear both sets of dresses. It’s a mess.”
    Lauren refused to be downcast. “Let’s join our dancing friends in the pub, shall we? They’ve had a worse knock than we have, and they’re still smiling. I like them, don’t you?”
    Dani refused to commit herself. Her own tastes ran to obviously wealthy men, like the handsome fellow in the blazer. “That hunk of man on deck,” she murmured soulfully. “I knew he wasn’t an employee of Cunard. His blazer was a Bill Blass and his shoes came from Gucci. In my book, he’s a ten, maybe even an eleven.”
    Lauren grinned and led the way to the cozy