The Marriage Deal(24)

Raoul turned towards Stephanie and indicated the crowded dance floor. 'Are you game to enter the fray?'

'With you?'

'Of course with me.'

'I'm not really into dancing.'                       
       
           



       

Cait placed a hand on Michel's forearm and used her fingers to apply a  little pressure as she tilted her head and offered a provocative smile.  'Sandrine won't mind if I drag you away.' She turned towards Sandrine,  openly daring her to object. 'Will you, darling?'

Michel covered Cait's hand with his own and transferred it to her side.  His expression was polite, but there was an inflexible hardness apparent  in his gaze. 'Regrettably, I do mind.'

Cait didn't bat an eyelash. 'I think the idea is for everyone to loosen up a little now the film is in the can.'

'Define "loosen up",' Michel drawled.

Sandrine recognised the faint inflection in his voice and almost felt sorry for Cait.

'There's the party after the party, if you know what I mean,' the  actress intimated with deliberate coquetry. 'A very private party.'

Was she aware just how brazen she sounded? And how damning? There was an  edge apparent, a hyped overbrightness that hinted at substance  enhancement. It left a sick feeling in Sandrine's stomach and provoked a  degree of sadness.

'No.'

Cait's mouth formed a perfect bow. 'No?'

If she stayed another minute, she'd say something regrettable! 'Please, excuse me for a few minutes?'

'Do you mind if I join you?' Stephanie asked.

It took several minutes to weave their way through the nightclub patrons  and locate the powder room. Once inside, the noise level diminished to a  bearable level as they joined the queue waiting to use the facilities.

'Ten minutes, fifteen tops,' Stephanie commented as she examined her  nails. 'Then I'm out of here, business and social obligations  completed.'

'The suits won't have reason to complain,' Sandrine agreed with a quizzical smile, then saw the marketing manager visibly relax.

'It's all coming together well. The trailers are good, and the media blitz will gain the public's attention.'

The queue shifted, and they moved forward a few paces.

'I understand you're returning to Sydney tomorrow.'

Sandrine inclined her head. 'Just for a few days, then we fly home.'

'New York,' Stephanie murmured. 'I visited there once. Very fast, very cosmopolitan.'

'It has a beat all its own.'

'Distinctive.'

'Like the Lanier men.'

'One of them in particular,' Stephanie declared dryly.

Sandrine shot her a teasing smile. 'Persistent, is he?' she queried, and caught the other woman's wry grimace.

'You could say that.'

'Naturally, you don't like him.'

'He makes me feel uncomfortable.'

'Uncomfortable is good.'

'No,' Stephanie refuted. 'It's a pain in the neck.'

A light bubble of laughter rose to the surface. 'Good luck.'

'For Raoul to catch me? Or for me to escape unscathed?'

'Oh, I'll take a gamble and go for the first option,' Sandrine said wickedly.

'Not in this lifetime.'

There was a finality about those few words, and she wondered what, or rather who had damaged Stephanie's trust in men.

The music hit them in waves as they returned to the nightclub, and  Stephanie joined a representative group from the marketing team as  Sandrine crossed to rejoin Michel.

As she approached, Cait wound an arm round his neck and placed her mouth  to his. It was a deliberate and calculated action, she knew, but one  that angered her unbearably.

Michel showed restrained dignity as he broke the contact, and the actress turned towards Sandrine with a tantalising smile.

'You said I could have him, darling.'

'From where I stood, it didn't look as if he wanted you,' she managed in a remarkably even voice.

'Bitch.'

'I could say the same.'

Michel caught Sandrine's hand and linked his fingers through hers, applying a slight warning pressure. Which she ignored.

'Perhaps we should leave,' he suggested indolently, and suppressed a degree of amusement as Sandrine shot him a stunning smile.

'Why? I'm having so much fun.' She lifted his hand and brushed her lips across his knuckles. 'Ask me to dance.'

His eyes darkened and acquired a wicked gleam as he led her onto the dance floor. 'Minx,' he murmured close to her ear.

'Confrontation,' she mocked lightly. 'Works so much better than  retreat.' A light gasp escaped her lips as he drew her in close. 'That  might be a bit of overkill.' One hand cupped her bottom while the other  slid to clasp her nape.                       
       
           



       

'You think so?' he drawled, enjoying the way her heart thudded into a quickened beat, the slight huskiness in her voice.

The music slowed, and they drifted together for several long minutes, only to break apart as the DJ switched discs and tempo.

By mutual consent they began circulating between the various business  heads from marketing, the studio. Something that took a while, until  they came at last to Raoul.

'Sleep well,' she bade as he brushed his lips to her cheek.

Minutes later they entered their suite, and Sandrine slipped off her shoes, then unfastened the zip and stepped out of her gown.

It had been a long day, and there was a sense of satisfaction that everything had come to a close.

She crossed to the en suite, removed her make-up, slipped on a silk nightshirt, then re-entered the bedroom and slid into bed.

Within seconds Michel joined her, snapped off the bedlamp, then caught her close.

It was heaven to lean against him, to feel the reassuring beat of his  heart beneath her cheek. His lips touched her temple, then slid to her  mouth to bestow a brief, warm kiss.

His chin rested against the top of her head, and she simply closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep within seconds.





CHAPTER TEN


SYDNEY looked achingly familiar, and the Double Bay apartment  particularly welcoming. There were several things she wanted to do, a  few loose ends she needed to tie up, and she wanted some time alone with  her father.

Michel's cell phone rang as Sandrine began unpacking the few necessities  required during the next day or two, and his voice faded into a muted  sound as he took the call in the lounge.

He returned to the bedroom minutes later and began unpacking. 'Raoul has  set up a meeting with the Enrique Corporation for tomorrow afternoon.'

A new deal, initiated by Raoul who had flown into Sydney the previous  day, which, if it proved successful, would see a Lanier Corporation link  in Australia.

'I'll ring Lucas and see if he's free to meet me for lunch.'

Michel handed her his cell phone. 'Do it now. We're meeting Raoul for dinner, and it might be late when we get back.'

She punched in the relevant numbers, greeted her father's availability with enthusiasm and agreed on a time and place to meet.

'All done,' Sandrine said with satisfaction. She had twenty minutes in  which to change and repair her make-up, and she managed it with a minute  to spare.

Deep red evening trousers and a matching cropped evening jacket worn  over a black silk camisole highlighted the texture of her skin and  emphasised the lustrous colour of her hair. She left it loose to fall  onto her shoulders, simply because there wasn't sufficient time to pin  it up.

Raoul was booked into the Ritz-Carlton in Double Bay, and they joined  him in the lounge at seven for a drink before entering the restaurant.

The maître d' led them to a table and snapped his fingers for the wine steward.

'Too premature for champagne?' Sandrine queried with a quizzical smile.

'Who needs a special occasion to drink champagne? Dom Pérignon,' Raoul  instructed, and she observed the smooth approach of the waiter. Such  synchronisation in service deserved a reward.

After they ordered a starter and main, deferring dessert, Sandrine  spared a cursory glance at the room and its occupants as she sipped  champagne from a crystal flute.

Michel and Raoul discussed strategy for the next day's meeting and finetuned arrangements over the starter.

They were part way through the main dish when something caught  Sandrine's attention. The stark light of a flashbulb, followed by the  glimpse of a familiar figure combined with a trill of laughter she'd  hoped never to hear again.

For a moment she thought, hoped, she was mistaken, but no, there, making a grand entrance, was none other than Cait Lynden.

I don't believe this. She had known Cait and Gregor were due to fly out  to the States this week, but of all the hotels in Sydney, was it  coincidence Cait had chosen this one … or had she done some careful  sleuthing?

Perhaps she wouldn't notice they were here?

Fat chance, Sandrine acknowledged in wry silence as she viewed Cait's  performance. For it was a piece of superb acting, which didn't fool her  in the slightest. Any more than it deceived Michel or Raoul as Cait  approached their table.

'For heaven's sake,' Cait greeted with delighted enthusiasm, 'who would  have thought we'd run into each other, here, of all places.'

The maître d' hovered, well used to the presence of celebrities in this  exclusive hotel. He aimed to please and to serve, and Cait took flagrant  advantage of his position.