A Land Called Deseret Read online

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  Chapter Five

  THE MEETING WITH TRAVIS had surpassed her wildest expectations. Outside of those unsettling moments of his kiss, she had controlled everything. Travis had not proved as formidable as she had thought he might, but he hadn't attempted to match wits with her, either.

  It wouldn't be wise to underestimate him. LaRaine ran her fingers over her lips, remembering how his mouth had felt when it had explored them. How seductively he had mastered her and made her respond differently physically than she had with any other man. In many ways, Travis was still an unknown element. She had to feel her way.

  The palomino quickened its pace as it crested the hill and saw the horse van ahead and his fellow equine companions. LaRaine didn't try to hold him back, letting him canter in. She was in such a good mood that when she saw Sam walking forward to meet her, she waved and smiled. He didn't return it. In fact, when she stopped her horse near him, Sam was glowering.

  "I might have known you were out riding," he accused.

  "What's the matter, Sam? Were you worried about me?" she joked, and swung lightly out of the saddle. "No, I wasn't worried about you," Sam denied. "I wouldn't waste my time that way."

  LaRaine laughed, a throaty, practiced sound. "You sound angry about something, Sam. What is it?" She stroked the palomino's neck, patting its sleek coat, only faintly warm from the ride.

  "I'll tell you what it is," he began, only to be interrupted by a strident male voice issuing a demand.

  "Where have you been, Miss Evans?"

  Turning, LaRaine saw the director puffing toward her. His roly-poly face was livid with rage. She was certain he was going to burst a blood vessel in his neck any minute.

  "I went for a ride, Mr. Behr." Her tone was respectful, not mocking him the way she did Sam. The cast and crew called the director Andy Pandy behind his back, but never to his face.

  "Who gave you permission to take that horse?" he demanded.

  "No one. I wanted to go riding, so I checked to see which horse wasn't being used today and took him." LaRaine didn't say it had been the remuda boss who had given her that information.

  "It so happens we rewrote the scene and needed that horse. Only you'd taken it!" the director accused angrily. "Without asking anybody! Without telling anybody where you were going or when you'd be back!"

  Obviously Don, the remuda boss, hadn't told him that he'd saddled the palomino for her. If she expected him to do any more favors for her, LaRaine knew that she didn't dare tell the director otherwise.

  "No, I'm sorry. I didn't," she lied, and remained calm and cool in the face of his anger

  "You're sorry!" he exploded. "You're not only a lousy actress, you're a disruptive influence as well. You pull another stunt like this and you'll find out what sorry means!" He flashed a look at Sam and snapped an order, "Bring that horse, Hardesty."

  Turning on his heel, he puffed his way back toward the area where the cameras were set up. Sam watched him go, his mouth open in empty protest. LaRaine smiled, knowing how much Sam abhorred the four-footed beasts.

  "Here, Sam." She offered him the reins to lead the palomino.

  He closed his mouth and turned around, eyeing her coldly. "He means it, LaRaine. You cross him one more time and you'll regret it."

  "If that happens, don't worry, Sam. I'll make sure he doesn't blame you for getting me this part," LaRaine taunted with false indifference

  While he seethed impotently, she pressed the reins into his hand and walked away. She knew she was walking a fine line with the director. Twice now she had been indirectly responsible for upsetting his schedule, once when she had gone with Sam to the McCrea ranch and now this time.

  Andrew Behr was the kind of man who tolerated no excuses, however legitimate or justified they were. LaRaine had to be extra careful from now on. She couldn't risk the humiliation of being thrown off the set.

  Soberly, LaRaine walked away. She wasn't in the mood to hang around the film set. She didn't want to risk accidentally incurring the director's wrath again by being underfoot in the wrong place. She saw Susan off to one side in costume and makeup. Fixing an uncaring expression on her face, she walked over to the girl.

  "Hi, Susan. May I borrow your car? I thought I'd go back to the motel. You can catch a ride with somebody when you're through, can't you?" she reasoned. LaRaine's own car had been sold several months ago because she had needed the money more than the transportation.

  "What's the matter? Are you afraid Andy Pandy might bite instead of snarl if you stay around here?" Susan guessed accurately.

  "Andy is a pussycat if you know how to handle him," LaRaine lied. "It's too boring around here, that's all."

  "My keys are in my bag over in Makeup. Tell Anna I said it was okay for you to take them," Susan gave in.

  After obtaining the keys, LaRaine drove the battered Volkswagen back to the hotel. It was hardly luxury transport, but under the circumstances, LaRaine was grateful for that.

  There was mail waiting for her when she stopped at the desk. She leafed through the envelopes as she walked to her room. They contained bills mostly and her bank statement. In her room, she opened the latter first. There was a slip inside, informing LaRaine that her account was overdrawn.

  Sighing, she stared at the notice, then picked up the telephone on the stand beside the bed. LaRaine dialed the operator and placed a long-distance collect call to her agent. She heard the ring of impatience in his voice when he accepted the charges.

  "Hi, Peter. It's LaRaine," she identified herself unnecessarily. She forced herself to sound cheerful. Not more than two hours ago after leaving Travis, she had been flushed with victory, but that sensation was easily punctured by the reality of finances. "How's the weather?"

  "Smoggy. I hope you didn't phone me to discuss the weather, LaRaine," he sighed.

  "Business, business, business—that's all you think about, Peter," LaRaine laughed, but it echoed hollowly in her ears.

  "Please get to the point. I'm busy," he stated.

  "Naturally I didn't call to talk about the weather," she said. He wasn't making this easy. "I have a slight problem."

  "Let me guess," her agent insisted dryly. "You need money, don't you?"

  She swallowed nervously, but spoke calmly. "Not very much, " she admitted.

  "How much is not very much?" he demanded.

  "My bank account is overdrawn. If you could advance me a couple of thousand dollars —"

  "Two thousand!" He caught back his temper with an effort." I just gave you money before you left Los Angeles. How could you possibly have spent all of it? What do you do? Give it away?"

  LaRaine dropped all pretense of blithe unconcern.

  "I didn't call to hear you lecture me about money. Can you advance me the money or not?" If he didn't, she didn't have the slightest idea where she would get it.

  "You realize that if I do, the money you're receiving for this film will have already been spent. You won't have any more coming."

  "Yes, I realize that," she admitted curtly.

  "Very well, I'll transfer the money into your account, but don't call me for another cent," Peter warned.

  "But darling," she stressed the endearment with cloying sweetness, "you are my agent. Who else would I call?"

  "Don't remind me." The line went dead as he hung up.

  Biting her lip, she stared at the phone before finally placing it back in its cradle. She glanced at the bank statement with its overdrawn notice and the bills scattered on the bed. The money wouldn't last very long. Peter was right; she really should be more careful with her money. But she had never had to pay attention to prices and budgets. They were completely alien to her.

  "You just can't teach an old dog new tricks," LaRaine sighed aloud. "I simply have to marry someone with money. And soon!"

  WITH THE CRISIS weathered, it was only a few days before she forgot all about it. Her financial straits crossed her mind fleetingly once when she boug
ht a new dress for the party. She rationalized the purchase by convincing herself it might be the last new dress she could afford for a long time.

  It was a beautiful red thing with a scooped neckline and long sleeves. The material was feather light, softly draping her figure. This scarlet shade of red was the perfect color to accent her brunette hair and flashing dark eyes. LaRaine applied a matching shade of red lipstick to her mouth with a brush, carefully outlining the curves and then filling them in.

  There was a knock at her door. LaRaine set the lipbrush down and went to answer it. Travis stood in the hallway. Wearing a cream tan sports jacket that molded the breadth of his shoulders and tapered to his waist, he looked casual and ruggedly handsome.

  "I'll be ready in a minute." LaRaine stepped out of the doorway. "Come in and sit down."

  His dark gaze skimmed her from head to toe, then reversed its course. "You look fine."

  "Give me a few minutes and I'll look better," she promised. She liked the way the dress swirled silently around her legs as she turned to walk back to the vanity mirror. "I'm sorry the accommodations don't include an in-room bar or I'd offer you a drink while you're waiting."

  "That's all right."

  Instead of sitting on the one lone chair in the room, Travis followed her to the mirror. Unbuttoning his jacket, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his brown pants and leaned a shoulder against the wall to watch her.

  Usually LaRaine was indifferent to people watching her, including men, but Travis's study made her uneasy. With the red applied to every centimeter of her lips, she powdered them, blotted that off with a damp cosmetic sponge and added gloss. Her hand trembled slightly as she penciled short, feathery lines to increase the fullness of her naturally arching eyebrows.

  She was grateful she had already applied her makeup base and the various makeup coloring sticks to contour her face. A subtle blend of three eyeshadows covered her lids as well as a discreet amount of charcoal eyeliner. A half-dozen coats of mascara made her lashes longer and thicker than normal. She had spent almost an hour on her hair. If Travis had watched her doing that, she doubted that she would have achieved this perfect effect.

  Before she was completely satisfied, LaRaine added a touch more blusher to her cheekbones. She studied the result in the mirror, then glanced at Travis.

  "How do I look?" she asked, knowing the answer couldn't be anything but positive.

  A slow smile spread across his strong mouth. "Fine." Which was the same thing he had said before.

  There was something about his expression that LaRaine didn't like. "Why are you smiling?" It was half-demanding and half-laughing question.

  "I was trying to decide whether I was looking at a little girl playing 'grown-up' with her mommy's lipstick or a grown woman hiding from the world behind a painted mask." Travis continued to watch her reaction with lazy interest.

  His answer made LaRaine study her reflection in the mirror. It implied that something was wrong. But she couldn't see anywhere where she had been heavy-handed with the makeup.

  "What's wrong?" Her dark eyes were wide and confused. "Don't you think I look beautiful?"

  "Yes, you look beautiful." Travis agreed on one hand, and took it back with the other. "Like the photograph of some fashion model. So perfect that you don't look real. Everybody else has moles while models have beauty marks."

  LaRaine was irritated. "Isn't that just like a man?" she demanded of no one. "I spend hours getting ready, styling my hair and putting on my makeup just to look beautiful to you. And what's your reaction? You accuse me of not looking real or being a little girl playing with lipstick."

  "Why did you leave out a woman hiding behind a painted mask?" he queried, alertly catching her omission. "Do you wear all that makeup so people can't see how scared you are inside?"

  LaRaine pushed away from the table. "I've never heard anything so ridiculous in all my life! I wear makeup for the same reason that every other woman does—because I want to look my best." Rising to her feet, she walked to the door and paused when Travis didn't follow her. "Are you ready to go?" she demanded impatiently.

  Travis straightened from the wall. "I thought you might want to wait a bit longer before you make your entrance at the party."

  "In another minute I might change my mind and decide not to go at all." The fuse of her temper was sparking with fire.

  "We can't have that happen." With long, easy strides, Travis crossed the room to open the door for her. "Everyone might think you were lying when you said I was bringing you to the party if we didn't show up."

  It was an unwelcome reminder of the ploy she had used to obtain his agreement. LaRaine pressed her lips tightly closed, not making any reply to his mocking words. His hand was at her back to guide her down the hallway to the hotel exit. The body heat emanating from his touch seemed to burn through the thin material of her dress. She was rigidly conscious of his brawny frame, tall and rugged, shortening his strides to match hers. She felt small, and not just because his height emphasized her petite build.

  How had this happened, she demanded of herself as he walked her into the parking lot. She had handled him so easily the other day when they'd been riding. Everything had gone so well. Why was he taunting her now, saying all those things about her?

  When they approached the entrance to the private hall that had been rented for the party, she felt Travis looking at her, but she wouldn't glance at him. She would show him. No one treated her like that and got away with it.

  "Are you going to pout all night?" His low voice prodded, making her conscious of the faintly jutting line of her lower lip.

  "I am not pouting," she retorted.

  "I hurt your feelings, didn't I?" His question mixed with curiosity and amusement.

  "Nothing you could say could possibly hurt my feelings," LaRaine flashed, striking back by attacking how unimportant she considered him to be.

  His mouth curved in a complacent smile that mocked her assertion as Travis reached in front of her to open the door. LaRaine fumed silently, but this was not the time to be trading angry words. Inside the party was in full swing. The music from a tape deck blared through the long room; its pulsing beat filled the air.

  As party members glanced around to see who had arrived, LaRaine linked her arm with Travis's and smiled as if she hadn't a care in the world. She guessed how hypocritical he would regard her action when, not two seconds ago, she had been snapping at him.

  They made their way across the room toward the makeshift bar in the corner, with LaRaine laughing and calling out greetings. She knew what she was doing. She was showing off, making certain everyone saw her with Travis. Vivacious and bubbling, she clung to his arm, laughing up at him but avoiding direct contact with his gaze.

  There was a cluster of people at the bar. Most of them already had drinks in their hands and were just standing around talking.

  "What would you like to drink?" Travis asked

  "Whatever you're having, darling," LaRaine answered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

  Travis turned to one of the crew who was acting as bartender and ordered, "Two beers."

  A cast member was leaning against the bar. When he heard the subsequent order, he hooted, "Beer! I thought you never drank anything but champagne cocktails, LaRaine." He laughed and everyone around joined in.

  She loathed and despised beer. "Whoever told you that, Mike?" She laughed in denial, and lied, "I like beer."

  "If you'd wanted something else, you should have asked for it," Travis told her quietly, a cool challenge in his look as he pressed a cold can of beer in her gesturing hand.

  "This is fine," she insisted with false brightness, and tried not to gag when she took a sip from the can.

  It was dreadful; she knew she would never be able to drink it all. She had to find a diversion. A new rock tune began to play. LaRaine set the can on the bar and reached for Travis's hand.

  "Let's dance," she urged.

  "No, I don't dance,"
he refused.

  "It's easy. I'll teach you." Tipping her head to one side, she looked up at him through the alluring sweep of her long lashes and gave him a coaxing smile.

  "No." He was unmoved by her charming attempt at persuasion. "If you want to dance, you'll have to find someone else."

  His absolute indifference to the embarrassment he was causing her by rejecting her invitation in front of everyone infuriated her. She cast aside her mask of gaiety.

  "Do you think I can't?" she hissed for his hearing alone. His dark brow arched briefly in unconcern. She whirled away from him, her skirt billowing like a shimmering red cloud. She fixed her gaze on the nearest man. "Dance with me, Mike," she ordered, and took the drink from his hand, setting it beside hers on the bar.

  He was trying to protest as she led him to a cleared area of the room where there were others dancing. Once there he gave in and began moving with the driving rhythm. LaRaine cast a smug look in Travis's direction, but he wasn't paying any attention to her. Angered again, she centered all her interest on her dancing partner, smiling and flirting with him outrageously to obtain her revenge.

  When the song ended, Mike pleaded exhaustion. LaRaine started to walk back to the bar with him. The sight of Travis, his dark head bent attentively toward the tall blonde from Wardrobe, made her change direction. She snared another unattached male cast member and dragged him onto the dance floor for the next song.

  After that song he was still with the blonde. They had been joined by Susan, another girl from Wardrobe, and one of the stunt men. LaRaine found another partner. It went on and on like that. She kept waiting for Travis to claim her in between dances, but it was as if he had forgotten all about her; as if she never existed and he had never brought her to the party at all. Beneath her raging anger she was close to tears.

  Her temper carried her through three more dances. LaRaine stopped looking to see where Travis was or who he was with, ignoring him the same way he was ignoring her. Finally she ran out of partners and was forced to leave the floor. She glanced around the room for Travis, intending to boast falsely about how much fun she was having and subtly let him know that the way he had been ignoring her hadn't hurt one bit.