“Are they terribly tight?” Michael dropped to his knee at her chair and held her foot in his hand.
Krista felt a spark run up her leg as he absently caressed her calf. “Not terribly tight, I guess.”
“They look so wonderful. You will look so wonderful….” He gazed almost reverently upon her slender feet.
“I can take a pinch for one evening,” she relented. “Let’s take them.”
KRISTA OPENED THE DOOR of her bedroom at 6:45 to find Michael waiting for her dressed in a very expensive blue suit.
“A woman who is on time,” he marveled.
She did a pirouette. “You like?”
As during their crash course, Michael was not shy about offering his open appraisal. And once again Krista felt the same old tingle, as if he were physically touching her with his penetrating eyes.
She’d dressed carefully, making sure the cream sheath dress fell smoothly over the curves of her body. Jet hair was piled high on her head to expose her slender neck. Gold earrings adorned her lobes and a simple gold chain hung at her throat.
“I like.” Not a hair was out of place, but he couldn’t resist touching one of the tendrils that teased her temples.
She drew a sharp breath as his fingertips lingered on her face, didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she tried to speak. As it was, her words spilled out in a rush for air. “Exactly how are we going to play it tonight?”
His fingers still warmed her cheek. “I am going to be crazy for you and you will stand by in quiet beauty.”
She smiled. “Afraid of my irrepressible wit?”
“I call it the Simona sass. I see it bubbling up right now. The least bit of stress and anything is liable to pop out of that lovely mouth of yours.”
“My feet are the only thing about to pop.” She shifted uneasily in the pumps.
“Are they that tight?”
“Maybe they’ll stretch with time.”
“You aren’t going to frown in pain all night, are you?”
“Only if all the jokes are bad.”
“Laugh, no matter how bad.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be nice to your little doughnut club.” She reached up to straighten his tie.
“Be especially careful if conversation turns to the contest. Don’t reveal a thing about my entry to anyone.”
She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know anything about your entry.”
“Guess that’s right. Well, we won’t worry about that now. Just do me the favor of talking about things like the weather, the hotel, gambling.”
“All right.” When he extended his hand to shake on it, she leaned into him, instead. “By the way, my original question on how to ‘play it’ was directed at our level of intimacy for the evening.”
“Oh. That.” He beamed.
“You plan to kiss me again in public?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been more concerned about our mental strategy.”
“If you decide to do so, I’d like some warning.”
“Yeah. You did look a bit like a doe in the headlights the last time.”
“And you looked like a buck showing off for the boys,” she shot back, embarrassed that he so readily nailed down her reaction. “In any case, I fumbled because I was caught off guard.”
“Guess it is my fault we didn’t practice those kinds of moves in advance.”
She fluttered her lashes. “You were too busy with my appearance.”
“You can’t argue that I did a good job at it. You look like a dream. Still, you have a point. We better give the kiss action a quick run-through.” He placed one hand on her waist and another at the back of her bare neck.
“Ah! Careful not to muss the merchandise.”
With a small grunt he pulled her close. “Now, the next time I kiss you, I’ll be holding you just like this. I’ll slide my hand round your throat like this, take hold of your chin like this…” He put his mouth down on hers with warm pressure.
Krista hadn’t meant to encourage the real thing. She had only been speaking in general about kisses. And it was no small frustration that like the last time, her knees were once again growing uncontrollably weak.
He was faking it all, and had the power to make her weak! Feeling threatened, she pushed him off with an unfair critique. “You might want to raise one hand up my back a little next time, for better leverage. And a little less force on the back of the neck. Oh, and as we will be in public, don’t move your lips around too much. It’ll muss my lipstick.”
“It was only one little kiss.”
She forced a lilt into her tone. “I suppose you don’t even want to discuss where my hands should be.”
“You know,” he said succinctly, “I may avoid kissing you ever again.”
Her murmur was light and amused. “I highly doubt it.”
The reception was in a ballroom on the hotel’s fifth floor. Its decor continued the sultan theme with its white and gold. Chandeliers were huge and plentiful, offering an abundance of glitter and light. There was a stage at the front of the room where a small orchestra played. Well-dressed people numbering close to five hundred mingled and nibbled on champagne and appetizers.
Michael scooped her into his arms. “Let’s show off a little.”
For several blissful numbers, they moved around the dance floor in fairly good harmony. Finally, to save her feet, Krista insisted on a break. It was only a short while later, when she was taking a bite from a cheese puff, that a man moved center stage to the microphone. He was wearing a pale-blue tuxedo, a white ruffled shirt, black shoes and a thick brown toupee combed in a high unnatural wave.
“Gerald Stewart?” Krista whispered in Michael’s ear.
“In person,” he confirmed.
She laughed softly. “I am astonished by his gaudy outfit.”
“When you’re that rich, you set the fashion.”
“But the hair, Michael. It’s probably more than he had at eighteen!”
“Probably,” he whispered back. “It has doubled in size since his wife died a few years back. I suppose no one has the courage to set him straight.”
The music stopped, the lights dimmed a notch and the microphone made a crackling sound. Then they heard Gerald Stewart’s voice: “Welcome to my…” His message was quickly drowned out by thunderous applause. He raised his hands over his loyal flock to still the enthusiasm. “Welcome, everyone, to my hometown and to the tenth Decadent Delights convention. This is sure to be the most riproarin’ get-together yet. As you all know, I’ve raised the stakes of excitement with my little doughnut makin’ contest. It’s my understanding that fifty-two DD owners have tossed the dice, are set to participate. I wish you all a little boost from lady luck herself.
“As for catching up on family business, I have a few announcements to make.” Gerald Stewart pulled a slip of paper from his jacket pocket. “We have had seven new babies born to shop owners this year.” He went on to name them, and encouraged each set of parents, in turn, to raise a hand and be recognized under a roaming spotlight.
“There are some farewells to mention.” Gerald went on, announcing two deaths and several retirements.
“We also have some promotions to celebrate.” He announced a boost for one of his trusted people, Jonathan Smithers, and for a woman who would soon be heading up his marketing department.
“Lastly, we have two surprising engagements,” Gerald proclaimed. “The first is my old pal Willy Tritt, who after many years as a widower has beat me to the punch to find himself a new filly for his twilight years. And the second is formerly confirmed bachelor Michael Collins out of Chicago. Now I don’t have to tell most of you that Michael is one of our few shop owners, male or female, who has managed to remain single. But he is also our youngest owner, so I’ve been patient.”
As Michael raised his hand, the spotlight hit him and Krista. He beamed in pleasure to find Krista behaving comfortably in the pool of light, linking her arm in his, nodding to the crowd,
accepting congratulations with the very essence of poise.
Krista could feel his pride washing over her and it made her feel remarkably content.
“If I missed any events, it is only because you all didn’t report them to our fine newsletter,” Gerald Stewart said in pointed closing. “So keep us in mind all year round. We want personal updates on everyone. It’s what families do. Now I hope you all have a wonderful week of fun and relaxation. Don’t any of you go losing your shorts at the craps tables. I believe in moderation in all things, expect, of course, in making our company a success. And it is each and every one of the franchise owners who make Decadent Delights a success.”
More applause exploded.
People began to move and mingle around Krista and Michael again. Suddenly a couple was planted directly in their space.
“Mikey!” the woman exclaimed from several feet away.
“Here come the Larkins,” Michael cautioned. “Remember your topics of conversation. Weather, gambling, hotel.”
“Norah.” Michael allowed the older woman to seize him in a fierce embrace, then extended his hand to the man at her side. “Allan.”
The couple abruptly focused on Krista, taking her in with bold inspection. Norah said, “So this is the luckiest girl on earth, second only to me!”
Chapter Seven
Krista surveyed the pair with interest. So these were the fabulous Larkins whom Michael raved about, these saviors who had given Michael his first job in a Decadent Delights shop in Chicago, mentored him into his own shop.
Both man and wife were about five foot five, plump and speaking a bit too loud. Allan’s sandy hair was thinning on top. Norah’s hair was a traditional hairdresser’s cap of curls set in hairspray, colored a very pale yellow. Both appeared to be about fifty.
In a word, Krista would best describe them as robust.
In their favor, both were extremely well dressed, Allan in a black tuxedo and Norah in a slimming A-line dress of a heavy maroon jersey fabric that hung in elegant folds. Her emerald pendant and ring appeared to be quality jewelry.
“So this is Krista,” Norah was saying.
Krista was unaccustomed to being embraced at business functions and tried not to wince in surprise as Norah gathered her in her arms. “We are so pleased to meet you, dear. Michael is like a son to us. We were never able to have our own, you see.”
“Yes, congratulations,” Allan added heartily. “About time our boy settled down.”
“Now, Allan,” Norah half scolded, “it was best for him to wait for the real thing. After all, with the value of the shop in the balance and all the stress that goes with running it, he has to get it right the first time. No, it would take a very unique lady to fill the shoes of Mrs. Michael Collins, one full of understanding, in it for the distance.”
The words of proud parents blinded by devotion. Krista glanced at Michael to find him locked in on her with perhaps the most poignant expression she ever seen on a man, full of need and hope. It was painfully clear that he wanted her to shine for these people.
“Well, Michael is a catch to be sure,” Krista said playfully.
Michael balked but looked extremely pleased.
“So, how are things in Chicago?” she asked.
The Larkins regarded one another with amusement. “Haven’t you told her anything about us, Mikey?”
“Of course I have,” he said defensively.
“We’ve been in Vegas for three years,” Allan explained.
Krista’s brain absorbed the news. “Oh. How convenient to be right on Gerald Stewart’s doorstep,” she declared with a broad smile.
Allan winked. “Not a bad spot, eh, sitting on the big man’s knee?”
Norah gave her husband’s arm a swat. “You are such a kidder, Al. Even when it comes to your own health.” Her voice dropped in confidence as she addressed Krista. “It’s a weakness we don’t advertise, but Allan has a bit of trouble with arthritis, in his hands.” Krista’s glance dropped to Allan’s hands, which looked normal. “Shooting pain almost paralyzed him in autumn, the last few years back in Chicago. By the time the first snow fell, he was in unbearable pain. It was the weather, you see, the nasty cold and dampness.”
Krista kept a benign face. “How awful, for such a young man.”
Norah tittered. “He’s an old bear, really. Almost fiftytwo. The doctor insisted that the midwestern climate was bound to be his hell from then on.”
Michael nodded sagely at Norah’s diagnosis. “It only would have been a matter of time and Allan would’ve had to give up running the Chicago shop. There’s so much hands-on work with the doughnut preparation, hauling and checking supplies. They appealed to Gerald Stewart himself and he granted them permission to open up a shop here, not far from his headquarters. We were all so grateful. The move to Vegas’s arid climate certainly saved Gerald from an early retirement.”
“Can’t have him retiring,” Norah squawked. “Underfoot on my home turf.”
“No, dear, you prefer to be underfoot on my turf—at the shop.”
“As if you could run the place without me, old bear.” Norah smiled again. “So, Krista, have you set a wedding date?”
“Not yet,” Michael said quickly.
Norah stomped a low-heeled pump. “Why ever not!”
“There are our schedules to consider,” he fumbled.
“Do you have a career, Krista?” Allan asked.
Michael made a strangled sound that he disguised on a cough. “She’s searching for options.”
“I believe I’ve settled for the promotions game,” Krista couldn’t help announcing. “The creative challenges suit me perfectly.”
Michael regarded her with perhaps his first hint of respect. Then proceeded to embellish the story. “She is doing very well with a Minneapolis agency, it’s true. Has a delightful boss named Judy. They are always brainstorming on one project or another. Why, just the other night they had their heads together over a promo campaign for a local electronics store.” He gave Krista’s waist a squeeze. “Isn’t that right, honey?”
“I was good, wasn’t I, coming up with that robot?”
Norah was remarkably unimpressed. “Of course, you’ll soon be devoting all your time to the doughnut shop.”
Krista wondered if the older woman might be a bit threatened by her having an identity separate from Michael’s. “I suppose I may do that,” she said slowly.
“What better way to strengthen your relationship than to stand behind your man a hundred percent.”
There was no doubt as to whom Michael had fashioned his dream wife and idea of marriage after. She couldn’t help wondering about his own parents, if they had had any influence on him.
Michael placed a kiss on Krista’s head. “Naturally we have some issues to iron out still, but I can’t imagine a wife who wouldn’t support me wholeheartedly.”
Norah tweaked his chin. “Of course you can’t. There’s no beating our system.”
Fortunately for Krista, the matter was dropped. Conversation flowed on to lighter, more amusing issues. There was also a good amount of shoptalk, mostly concerning former customers in the Larkins’ Chicago shop.
The banter eventually wound down. The Larkins sipped the last of their champagne under Michael’s affectionate gaze. As they prepared to move on, Allan clapped Michael on the back. “We’re having Gerald up to our suite for drinks later on, ’round midnight. You’ll join us, won’t you?”
Michael beamed like a child at Christmas. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
As the Larkins wandered off, Michael grasped her elbow. “Not a bad start, with your help.”
“Thanks.”
“Quick thinking with the responsible job. If I didn’t know better, I’d have believed you are a part of Judy’s operation.”
“Double thanks.”
Another compliment for Judy. How frustrating to field respect for her. How annoying that she cared what he thought! As much as she enjoyed being viewed the femme
fatale, she missed being appreciated for her brains. It would be nice to receive both admiration and respect from a man like Michael.
After a few hours of socializing over dinner and dancing, Michael and Krista headed for the Larkins’ suite, on the penthouse level. As they stood outside their door, Michael placed his hands on her shoulders—and tugged up the neckline of her dress.
“Excuse the fingers, but you are getting a little saggy.”
“I am not getting saggy, mister.” She quickly wrenched free in dismay.
“The dress,” he quickly hissed, “I mean the dress.”
It didn’t matter what he meant. Her heart was beating fast and hard. It was all the fault of his kisses. The taste of his mouth on hers had rocked her unexpectedly hard. The very graze of his fingertips brought it all back. She rapped on the hotel door with her knuckles.
“Remember, keep a low profile.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And don’t make so many funny faces.”
“Try walking around in these shoes for five minutes, then we’ll talk about funny faces.”
A uniformed waiter escorted them inside. There proved to be two hotel employees in attendance, the waiter and a bartender. Soft music played in the background. The lights were soft, too, just bright enough to make out faces and objects.
There were perhaps a dozen people present. Norah, the perfect hostess, quickly took Michael and Krista in hand, intimating that they’d been included in an elite gathering of Decadent Delights executive material.
Norah, who plainly viewed her voice as a precious instrument to be enjoyed by all, sang out for attention. “I want you all to know Michael Collins and his lovely lady friend Krista.” Amidst the blank stares she added, “Michael owns a shop. In Chicago.”
Krista felt the reaction was at best patronizing. If any of these guests had owned a shop before climbing the company ladder, they weren’t going to brag about it.
Again she felt a twinge about the Larkins. Allan and the missus had to be hoping for a promotion to the executive level themselves, with this kind of schmoozing. And they were most likely on the cusp, judging from the number of higher-ups that they’d managed to draw. Not a bad long-range plan in itself. But she could think of no reason to keep it from Michael. If the arthritis story was a fake, they’d been keeping things from him for a long while. What was in it for them, except the obvious: to keep him at arm’s length as one would a rival? Not a wicked thing in itself. But if he was regarded as a son, and they were reaping the rewards of his trust and devotion, it seemed to Krista a nasty game.
Wedding Roulette Page 9