Cutting Loose

“I can think of one or two ways you can make it up to me.”

She gave a startled laugh. “Sorry, cradle-robbing is not my thing.”

“Once you try it, baby, you’ll never go back.” He gave her what was probably meant to be a roguish wink, although he had to narrow both eyes a bit to do it.

“I’ll let you know if I change my mind,” Trish promised, struggling to keep a straight face. She tensed, though, when he started toward the staircase that zigzagged its way up the side of the atrium. Toward the Marquis. “Where are you going?”

Lee glanced back at her. “You wanted to go to Sabrina. She’s up on the roof with some friends, I think.”

The Marquis watched her walk across the room. And he wasn’t the only one, she realized uncomfortably, catching a head or two turning out of the corner of her eye. She glanced again at her image in the mirror across the room. That’s who you are tonight, she reminded herself and laughed. Work it. A cowboy with his shirt unbuttoned to his navel winked at her and hefted the lariat he held. “I’ve been really bad, mistress. Want to tie me up and teach me a lesson?”

Trish gave him a mock severe look. “It’ll take more than just rope to teach you a proper lesson.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Lee led her up the risers of the stairs. She could feel the gaze of the Marquis on her. Being watched like that added an exaggerated level of self-awareness to her every move. She climbed the stairs, knowing he was studying her. She pushed back the spill of her hair, knowing he would see. Then the plaster bulk of the next flight of stairs crossed between them, blocking her view of the Marquis, at least until she nearly reached the landing.

Anticipation had her wondering what it would be like to see him up close. Then suddenly she was stepping onto the landing at the level of the loft, practically close enough to reach out and touch him. A current of air whispered over her bare shoulders and brought out goose bumps on her skin. She swore she saw his eyes darken. He stared at her, running his fingers slowly through the knotted thongs of his flail.

It suddenly seemed outrageously erotic.

Their gazes locked with the snapping jolt of static electricity. Her footsteps slowed. Something about the fact that the mask obscured most of his face focused her attention on the lean line of his jaw and the hint of a cleft in his chin. As though he knew what she was looking at, one corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. He brought two fingertips to his lips and blew her a mocking kiss.

Trish flushed and started up the next flight of stairs.

And finally she was at roof level and stepping out into the cool night air. A small knot of people stood at the far end, looking out at the lights of the city. A glance at them calmed the nerves that danced in her belly, because she knew these people almost as well as she knew herself.

The laughing woman with the cap of dark hair was Sabrina, and at her side her lover, Stef. Irrepressible Kelly waved her hand around as she told a story with the help of her boyfriend Kev, who, as usual, looked as if he’d been hacking at his hair with garden shears. Delaney, still the corn silk blonde, hooted. Maybe the generic-looking man at her side was her date, Trish speculated. Or maybe not. More likely he was there with cool, self-possessed Paige. He had that innocuous, trust-fund-preppie look that most of her men seemed to have.

They might all be older and wiser, but the Sex & Supper Club was still together, and just as close as they’d ever been. She would have walked through fire for any one of them.

After all, she’d walked into the party alone, hadn’t she?

Sabrina swung toward them in the dimness. “Hey, Elliot, who’s your friend?” she asked casually.

Trish gave Lee a sidelong glance. “Elliot?”

He blushed. “My friends call me Lee.”

“Oh my God, it’s Trish!” Kelly yelped, suddenly breaking away from the group and rushing over to Trish. “I didn’t recognize you. You look amazing.”

In an instant, Trish was surrounded. “Look at your hair,” Delaney said, running her fingers through the silky strands. “You look like something out of a Vogue spread.”

Trish couldn’t stop the grin. “Cilla did it. You know her, just some old rag from her closet.”

“Yeah, an old rag that cost about as much as a small car. So who knew you were a size three?” Kelly marveled.

“Size five, Cilla says,” Trish corrected in embarrassment.

“Like that’s any more real than a three,” Kelly said unconcernedly. “Where is Cilla, anyway?”

“She had to go take care of something for her fashion show tomorrow. She said she’ll be here in a couple of hours. Where’s Thea?”

“She’s got the flu, poor baby,” Sabrina contributed. “Called me sounding like a seal. Not feeling her friskiest.” She gave Trish a mischievous look. “So, the real Trish at last?”

Trish grinned. “It’s not the real Trish, it’s my alter ego.”

Kelly snorted. “Are you kidding? You could look this good all the time.”

“Oh, yeah. I can just imagine how thrilled my sister would be if I showed up at the office for my list of errands and things wearing leather and studs.”

“Seriously, though,” Kelly persisted. “Forget the leather. With very little effort you could look amazing enough to have men eating out of your hands.”

She wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to be that conspicuous. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sabrina countered. “Let’s ask Elliot.”

“Lee,” Trish corrected her in an undertone.

Sabrina raised her eyebrows. “Lee?”

“Cut him some slack,” Trish murmured, “he’s trying to grow up. Everybody should be allowed to change.”

A smile stole over Sabrina’s face. “You’re right,” she said, and swung around to look at her cousin, who was talking with Stef and Kev. “Hey, Lee,” she called, “what do you think of Trish, here?”

He glanced over. “Hey, I wanted to get married. She was the one who shot me down.”

Sabrina turned back to the group. “There, see?”

Trish rolled her eyes. “He’s just a kid, Sabrina.”

“Well, we’ll just have to take a bigger poll. The casting director for Runway Dreams is here somewhere.”

Kelly raised an eyebrow. “Rob Carroll? You do run with a hot crowd.”

“He’s the Mr. L.A. right now,” Sabrina said.

“And sleeps with anything that moves,” quipped Kelly.

“Picky, picky. We’ll find another man. Shoot, my famous cousin said he’d stop by later.”

“You mean me?” Lee called over.

“No, my other superstar cousin,” Sabrina said fondly.

“You mean Ty Ramsay, box-office hero?” Kelly asked. “Wait a minute. I thought you swore you’d never let him near anyone you cared about.”

Sabrina gave a bashful look. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was just ticked because he’d played hit-and-run with a girlfriend of mine.”