CHAPTER SIX

SUSIE MORGAN sat at Laurel's kitchen table, her chin propped on her fist as she watched Laurel knead a lump of sourdough batter.

Actually, Susie thought with a lifted eyebrow, Laurel was closer to beating the life out of the stuff than she was to kneading it. Susie glanced at her watch and her brow rose another notch. Laurel had been at it for fifteen minutes, well, fifteen minutes that she knew of, anyway. Who knew how long that poor mound of dough had really been lying there? When she'd come by for Laurel's if haven’t -gained-any -weight -the-camera-might-notice Friday morning bread-baking session, there'd already been a dab of flour on Laurel's nose and a mean glint in her eye.

The flour was one thing, but the glint was another. Susie frowned as Laurel whipped the dough over and punched it hard enough to make her wince in sympathy. She'd never known her friend to look so angry, not in the three years they'd known each other, but that was the way she looked lately... though there were times when another expression chased across her face, one that hinted not so much of anger but of terrible unhappiness.

Laurel had alternated between those two looks for four weeks now, ever since the night she'd gone out with Damian Skouras, whose name she hadn't once mentioned since. He hadn't come by again, either, which didn't make sense. Susie had seen the way he'd looked at Laurel and, whether Laurel knew it or not, the way she'd looked at him. Any self-respecting scientist caught between the two of them would have had doubts about carbon emissions being the only thing heating up the atmosphere.

Susie had given it another try, just the other day.

" How's Adonis? " she'd said, trying to sound casual.

Laurel had tried to sound casual, too. " Who? "

" The Greek, " Susie had replied, playing along, " you know, the one with the looks and the money. "

" How should I know? "

" Aren't you seeing him anymore? "

" I saw him once, under protest. "

" Yeah, but I figured-"

" You figured wrong, " Laurel had answered, in a way that made it clear the topic was off limits.

" Well, if you say so, " Susie had said, " but, you know, if anything's on your mind and you want to talk about it... "

" Thanks, but there's nothing worth talking about, " Laurel had replied with a breezy smile, which, as Susie had tried to tell George that night, was definitely proof that there was.

" I don't follow you, " George had said patiently. So she'd tried to explain but George, sweet as he was, was a man. It was too much to expect he'd see that if there truly was nothing worth talking about, Laurel would have said something like, " What are you talking about, Susie? " instead of just tossing off that meaningless response. She'd even tried to explain that she had this feeling, just a hunch, really, that something had happened between Laurel and the Skouras guy, but George's eyes had only glazed over while he said, " Really? " and " You don't say, " until finally she'd given it up.

Susie's frown deepened. On the other hand, even George might sense there was a problem if he could see Laurel beating the life out of that poor sourdough. A couple of more belts like the last and the stuff would be too intimidated to rise.

Susie cleared her throat.

" Uh, Laurel? "

" Yeah? "

" Ah, don't you think that's about done? "

Laurel gave the dough a vicious punch and blew a curl off her forehead.

" Don't I think what's about done? "

" The bread, " Susie said, wincing as Laurel slammed her fist into the yeasty mound again.

" Soon. " She gave the stuff another whack that made the counter shudder. " But not just yet. "

Susie's mouth twitched. She sat up straight, crossed her long, dancer's legs and linked her hands around her knee.

" Anybody I know? " she said casually.

" Huh? "

" Whoever it is you're beating to death this morning. I figure there's got to be a face in that flour that only you can see. "

Laurel ran the back of her wrist across her forehead. " Your imagination's working overtime. I'm making bread, not working out my frustrations. "

" Ah, " Susie said knowingly. She watched Laurel give the dough a few more turns and punches before dumping it into a bowl and covering it with a damp dish towel. " Because, " she said, going with instinct, " it occurred to me, it might just be Damian Skouras you were punching out. "

Laurel turned away and tore a piece of paper towel from the roll above the sink. She thought of saying, " Why would - you think? " and looking puzzled, but she'd barely gotten away clean the last time Susie had raised Damian's name. Susie knew her too well, that was the problem.

" I told you, " she said flatly, " I'm making bread. "

" That's it? "

" That's it. "

Susie cleared her throat again. " So, have you heard from him? "

" Suze, you asked me that just the other day. And I said that I hadn't. "

" And that you don't expect to. Or want to. "

" Right again. " Laurel took the coffeepot from the stove and refilled Susie's cup. She started to refill hers, too, but when she saw the glint of oil that floated on what remained, her stomach gave a delicate lurch. Wonderful. She had definitely picked up some sort of bug. Just what she needed, she thought, as she hitched her hip onto a stool opposite Susie's. " So, where's that handsome hunk of yours this morning? "

" At the gym, toning up his abs so he can keep his devoted fans drooling. And don't try to change the subject. It's your handsome hunk we were talking about. "

" My...? " Laurel rolled her eyes. " What does it take to convince you? Damian Skouras isn't 'my' anything. Don't you ever give up? "

" No, " Susie said, with disarming honesty. She lifted her cup with both hands, blew on the coffee, then took a sip. " Not when something doesn't make any sense. You are the most logical, level-headed female I've ever known. "

" Thank you, I think. "

" Which is the reason I keep saying to myself, how could a logical, level-headed female turn her back on a zillionaire Apollo? "

" It was 'Adonis' the last time around, " Laurel said coolly. " Although, as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter what you call him. "

" You didn't like him? "

" Susie, for heaven's sake... "

" Okay, okay, maybe I'm nuts-"

" There's no 'maybe' about it. "

" But I just don't understand. "

" That's because there isn't anything to understand. I keep telling you that. Damian Skouras and I went to dinner and-"

" Do you know, you do that whenever you talk about him? "

Laurel sighed, shook her head and gazed up at the ceiling. " Do what? "

" Well, first you call him Damian Skouras. One word, no pause, as if you hardly know the guy. "

As if I hadn't slept with him, Laurel thought, and she felt a blaze of colour flood her cheeks.

" Aha, " Susie said, in triumph. " You see? "

" See what? "

" The blush, that's what. And the look that goes with it. They always follow, right on the heels of Damian Skouras. "

Laurel rose, went to the sink and turned on the water. " I love you dearly, Suze, ’ she said, squeezing in a shot of Joy, " but you are the nosiest thing going, did you know that? "

" George says I am, but what does he know? " Susie smiled. " Men don't understand that women love to talk about stuff like this. "

" Stuff like what? There's nothing to talk about. "

" There must be, otherwise you wouldn't turn into a clam each time I mention Damian's name. "

" I do not turn into a clam. There just isn't anything to say, that's all. "

" Listen, my friend, I was here that night, remember? I saw the way you guys looked at each other. And then, that was it. No further contact, according to you. "

" Hand me that spoon, would you? "

" You can't blame me for wondering. The guy's gorgeous, he's a zillionaire and he's charming. "

" Charming? " Laurel spun around, her cheeks flushed. " He's a scoundrel, that's what he is! "

" Why? "

" Because-because... " Laurel frowned. It was a good question. Damian hadn't seduced and abandoned her. What had happened that night hadn't been a Victorian melodrama. She'd gone to his bed willingly and left it willingly. If the memory haunted her, humiliated her, she had no one to blame but herself. " Susie, do me a favour and let's drop this, okay? "

" If that's the way you want it... "

" I do. "

'Okay, then. Consider the subject closed. "

" Great. Thank you. "

" It's just that I'm really puzzled, " Susie said, after a moment's silence. Laurel groaned, but Susie ignored her. " I mean, he looked at you the way a starving man would look at a seven-course meal. Why, if Ben Franklin had come trotting through this place that night, he wouldn't have needed a kite and a key to discover that lightning bolts and electricity are the same thing! "

" That's good, Suze. Keep going like that, you can give up dancing and start writing scripts for George's soap. "

" You make it sound as if you didn't like him. "

" You clever soul" Laurel flashed a saccharine smile. " How'd you ever come up with an idea like that? "

" Yeah, well, I don't believe you. "

" You don't believe me? What's that supposed to mean? "

Susie rose, went to the pantry cabinet and opened it. " It means, ' she said, taking out a box of Mallomars, " that lightning must have struck somewhere because I've never known you to come traipsing in at dawn. " She peered into the box. " Goody. Two left. One for you, and one for me. "

Laurel glanced at the chocolate-covered marshmallow cookie Susie held out to her. Her stomach lifted again, did a quick two-step, then settled in place.

" I'll pass. "

" I can have both? "

" Consider this your lucky day. And how do you know what time I came in? "

Susie bit into a cookie. " I went running that morning, " she said around a mouthful of crumbs, " so I was up at the crack of dawn. You know me. I like the streets to myself. Besides, these old floors squeak like crazy. I could hear you marching around up here. Pacing, it sounded like, for what seemed like forever. "

Not forever. Just long enough to try to believe there was no point in hating myself for what I'd done because it was already part of the past and I'd never, not in a million years, do anything like it again.

" Where'd he take you that night, anyway? "

" You know where he took me. " Laurel plucked a cup from the suds and scrubbed at it as if it were a burned roasting pan. " To dinner. "

" And? " Susie batted her lashes. " Where else, hmm? "

To paradise in his arms, Laurel thought suddenly, and the feeling she'd worked so hard to suppress, the memory of how it had been that night, almost overwhelmed her.

Maybe she'd been a fool to leave him. Maybe she should have stayed. Maybe she should have taken up where the blonde had left off...

The cup slipped from her hands and smashed against the floor.

" Dammit, " she said fiercely. Angry tears rose in her eyes and she squatted and began picking up the pieces of broken china. " You want to know what happened that night? " She stood up, dumped the pieces in the garbage and wiped her hands on the seat of her jeans. " Okay, I'll tell you. "

" Laurel, honey, I didn't mean-"

" I slept with Damian Skouras. " Susie took a deep breath.

" Wow. "

" I slept with a guy I didn't know all that well, didn't like all that much and didn't ever want to see again, because-because-'

" I understand the because, " Susie said softly.

Laurel spun toward her, her eyes glittering. " Don't patronize me, dammit! If I don't understand, how can you? "

" Because I slept with George, the first time we went out. That's how. "

Laurel sank down on the edge of a stool. " You did? "

" I did. And I'd never done anything like it before. "

" Well, then, why did you, that time? "

Susie smiled. " Who knows? Hormones? Destiny? It happened, that's all. "

Laurel's smile was wobbly. " See? I was right, you ought to be writing for the soaps. "

" Mostly, though, I did it because my body and my heart knew what my brain hadn't yet figured out. George and I were soul mates. "

" Yeah, well, I don't have any such excuse. Damian Skouras and I are definitely not soul mates. I did what I did, and now I have to live with it. "

" The bastard! "

Laurel laughed. " A minute ago, he was Adonis. Or was it Apollo? "

" A minute ago, I didn't know he'd taken advantage of you and then done the male thing. "

" Trust me, Suze, " Laurel said wryly, " he didn't take advantage of me. I was willing. "

Susie plucked the remaining Mallomar from the box. " That's beside the point. He did the male thing, anyway. 'Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am-and maybe I'll call you sometime. ' "

Laurel stared at her friend. Then she rose, yanked a piece of paper towel from the roll, dampened it in the sink and began to rub briskly at the countertop.

" I told him not to call. "

" What? "

" You heard me. He wanted to see me again. I told him it was out of the question, that I wasn't interested in that kind of relationship. "

" You and Damian made love, it was great and you told him you never wanted to see him again? "

" I didn't say that. "

" That it wasn't great? Or that you never wanted to see him again? "

Laurel stared at Susie, and then she dropped her gaze and turned to the sink

" What's your point? " she said, plunging her hands into the water.

" It's your point I'm trying to figure out here, my friend. Why did you make love with the guy and then tell him to hit the road? "

" I didn't 'make love' with him, " Laurel said sharply. " I slept with him. "

" Semantics, " Susie said with a shrug.

" No, it's more than that. Look, Susie, what you did with George was different. You loved him. "

" Still do, " Susie said, with a little smile.

" Well, I didn't love Damian. I can't imagine loving Damian. He's such an arrogant, egotistical, super-macho SOB... "

" Sigh, " Susie said, rolling her eyes.

Laurel laughed. " The point is, he's not my type. "

" Nobody's your type. Name one guy since that bastard, Kirk Soames, who you've given more than a quick hello and I'll eat whatever it is you think you're gonna make out of that poor overbeaten, over kneaded, over pounded sourdough. "

'And I'm not his type, " Laurel finished, refusing to rise to the bait. She shut off the water, dried her hands on a dish towel and turned around. " That's the sum, total and end of it, so-s... "

Susie had just taken a bite of the Mallomar. A smear of dark chocolate and marshmallow festooned her upper lip.

" You only think so, babe. I saw the way you guys looked at each other. "

Laurel swallowed hard. " There's a-a smudge of chocolate on your mouth, Suze. "

" Yeah? " Susie scrubbed a finger over her lip. " Did I get it? "

" Most of it. There's still a little bit... " Laurel's stomach rose slowly into her throat. " That's it, " she said weakly. " You've got it now. " She turned away and wrapped her hands around the rim of the sink, waiting until her stomach settled back where it belonged.

" Laurel? You all right? "

Laurel nodded. " Sure. I'm just-"

" Tired of me poking my nose where it doesn't belong, " Susie said. She sighed. " Listen, let's drop the subject. You want to talk about it, I'm here. You don't. .. ? " She gave an elaborate shrug. " Tell you what. How about having supper with us tonight? George is making pirogi. Remember his pirogi? You loved 'em, the last time. "

" Yes, I did. They were-they were... "

Laurel thought of the little doughy envelopes filled with onion-studded ground beef. She had loved them, it was true, but now all she could think about was how they'd glistened with butter, how the butter had slid down her throat like oil...

" They were delicious, " she said brightly, " but-but this bread is my last extravagance for a while. I'm going on a quick diet. You know how it is. I've got a layout coming up and I need to drop a couple of pounds. Give me a rain check, okay? "

Susie leaned back against the counter. " Well, have supper with us anyway, " ' She patted her belly. " It wouldn't hurt me to lose some weight, and you know those close-ups they give George. Forget the pirogi. We'll go wild, take out a couple of Lean Cuisine Veggie Lasagnas and zap 'em in the microwave. How's that sound? "

Lasagna. Laurel imagined bright red tomato sauce, smelled its acidic aroma. Saliva filled her mouth, and she swallowed hard.

" Actually, I may just pass on supper altogether. I think I've got some kind of bug. I did a shoot in Bryant Park last week. Everybody was coughing and sneezing like crazy, and I've felt rotten ever since. "

" Summer colds, " Susie said philosophically, as she popped what remained of the Mallomar into her mouth.

" The worst kind to shake. A couple of aspirin and some hot chicken soup ought to... Laurel? What's the matter? "

A bead of jelly, glistening like blood at the comer of Susie's mouth, that was what was the matter.

Laurel's belly clenched.

" Nothing, " she said, " noth-" Oh hell. Her eyes widened and she groaned, clamped her hand over her mouth and shot from the room.

When she emerged from the bathroom minutes later, pale and shaken, Susie was waiting in the bedroom, sitting cross-legged in the middle of Laurel's bed, a worried look on her face.

" Are you okay? "

" I'm fine, " Laurel said with a shaky smile.

" Fine, my foot. " Susie looked at her friend's face.

Laurel's skin was waxen, her eyes were glassy and her forehead glistened with sweat. " You're sick. "

" I told you, Suze, it's just some bug I picked up. "

" The one that had everybody on that photo session coughing and sneezing? "

" Uh-huh. "

Susie uncrossed her legs and stood up. " Except you're not. "

" Not what? "

" Coughing. Or sneezing. "

" Well, it hit me differently, that's all. "

" Have you been out of the country or something? "

" Not in weeks. "

" I mean, there's all kinds of nasties floating around this old planet. Weren't you in Ghana or someplace like that a couple of months ago? "

" It was Kenya and it was last year, and honestly, I'm okay. You know what the flu can be like. "

" Uh-huh. " There was a long silence and then Susie cleared her throat. " My sister had the same symptoms last year. Nausea in the mornings, tossing her cookies every time somebody so much as mentioned food and generally looking just about as awful as you do. "

" Thanks a lot. " Laurel speared her hands into her hair and shoved it off her forehead. Her skin felt clammy, and even though her stomach was completely empty, it still felt like a storm-tossed ship at sea. " Listen, Susie-"

" So she went to the doctor. "

" I'm not going to the doctor. All I need is to take it easy for a couple of days and-"

" Turns out she was pregnant, " Susie said quietly, her eyes on Laurel's face.

" Pregnant! " Laurel laughed. " Don't be silly, I'm not... "

Oh God! The floor seemed to drop out from beneath her feet.

Pregnant? No. It wasn't possible. Or was it? When had she last had her period? She couldn't remember. Was it since she'd been with Damian?

No. No!

She sank down on the edge of the bed, feeling empty and boneless. Everything had happened so quickly that night. Had Damian used a condom? Not that she could remember. She certainly hadn't used anything. Why take the pill, when sex was hardly a major item in your life? She knew some women carried diaphragms in their handbags but she wasn't one of them. You needed a whole different mind set to do that. You had to be the sort of woman who might find herself tumbling into a man's bed at the drop of a hat and she had never-she had certainly never...

A little sound tore from her throat. She looked at Susie's questioning face and did what she could to turn the sound into a choked laugh.

" I can't be, " she said. " How could I possibly have gotten pregnant? "

" The method hasn't changed much through the centuries. "

" Yes, but just one night... "

One night. One endless night.

" You need to make an appointment with your doctor, " Susie said gently.

" No, " Laurel whispered. She lifted her head and stared at Susie. " No, " she said, more strongly. " It's ridiculous. I am not pregnant. I have the flu, that's all. "

" I'm sure you're right, " Susie said with a false smile. " But, what the heck, you want to make certain. "

Laurel rose from the bed. " Look, how does this sound? I'll spend all day tomorrow in bed. I'll down aspirin and lots of liquids and if I'm not feeling better by Monday or Tuesday, I'll call my doctor. "

" Your gynaecologist. "

" Really, Susie. " Laurel looped her arm around the other woman's shoulders. Together, they headed for the foyer. " Give that imagination of yours a rest and I'll do the same for my flu-racked bones. And be sure and tell George I'm taking a rain check on dinner. "

" I'm getting the brush-off, huh? "

" Well, " Laurel said with forced gaiety, " if you want to hang around and listen to me upchuck again, you're welcome. "

" Listen, if you need anything... Aspirin, Pepto-Bismol... " Susie flashed a quick smile. " Just someone to talk to, I'm here. "

" Thanks, but I'm fine. Truly. You'll see. These bugs are all the same. You feel like dying for twenty-four hours and then you're as good as new. "

" Didn't you say you'd been feeling shaky all week? "

" Twenty-four hours, forty-eight, what's the difference? " Laurel swung the door open. " It's flu, that's all. I'm not pregnant. Trust me. "

" Uh-huh, " Susie said, without conviction.

" I'm not, " Laurel said firmly.

She held a smile until the door shut and she was safely alone. Then the smile faded and she sank back against the wall, eyes tightly shut. " I'm not, " she whispered.

******

But she was.

Four weeks gone, Dr. Glassman said, later that afternoon, as Laurel sat opposite her in the gynaecologist’s sunny, plant-filled Manhattan office.

" I'm glad we could fit you in at the last minute like this, Laurel. " The doctor smiled. " And I'm glad I can make such a certain diagnosis. You are with child. "

With child. Damian's child.

" Have you married, since I saw you last? " A smile lit Dr. Glassman's pleasant, sixtyish face again. " Or have you decided, as is becoming so common, to have a child and remain single? "

Laurel licked her lips. " I-I'm still single. "

" Ah. Well, you'll forgive me if I put on my obstetrical hat for a while and urge that you include your baby's father in his--or her-life, to as great a degree as possible. " The doctor chuckled softly. " I know there are those who would have me drawn and quartered for saying such a thing, but children need two parents, whenever it's possible. A mother and a father, both. "

There was no arguing with that, Laurel thought, oh, there was no arguing with-

" Any questions? "

Laurel cleared her throat. " No. None that I can think of just now, anyway. "

" Well, that's it for today, then. " The doctor took a card from a holder on her desk, scribbled something on it and handed it to Laurel. " Phone me Tuesday and I'll give you your lab reports, but I'm sure nothing unforeseen will arise. You're in excellent health, my dear. I see no reason why your baby shouldn't be healthy and full-term. "

Dr. Glassman rose from her chair. Laurel did, too, but when the doctor smiled at her, she couldn't quite manage a smile in return.

" Laurel? " The doctor settled back behind her desk and peered over the rims of her reading glasses. " Of course, " she said gently, " if you wish to make other arrangements... "

" I'm four weeks pregnant, you say? "

" Just about. "

" And-and everything seems fine? "

" Perfectly fine. "

Laurel gazed down at her hands, which were linked carefully in her lap. " If I should decide... I mean, if I were to... "

The doctor's voice was even more gentle. " You've plenty of time to think things through, my dear. "

Laurel nodded and rose to her feet. Suddenly she felt a thousand years old.

" Thank you, Doctor. "

The gynaecologist rose, too. She came around her desk and put her arm lightly around Laurel's shoulders.

" I know what an enormous decision this is, " she said.

" If you need someone to talk to, my service can always reach me. "

******

A baby, Laurel thought as she rode down in the elevator to the building's lobby. A child of her flesh. Hers, and Damian's.

Babies were supposed to be conceived in love, not in the throes of a passion that made no sense, a passion so out of character that she'd tried to put it out of her mind all these weeks. Not that she'd managed. In the merciless glare of daylight, she'd suddenly think of what she'd done and hate herself for it.

But at night, with the moonlight softening the shadows, she dreamed about Damian and awakened in a tangle of sheets, with the memory of his kisses still hot on her lips.

Laurel gave herself a little shake. This wasn't the time for that kind of nonsense. There were decisions to be made, although the only practical one was self-evident. There was no room in her life for a baby. Her apartment wasn't big enough. Her life was too unsettled, what with her career winding down and an uncertain future ahead. And then there was the biggest consideration of all. Dr. Glassman was right; some people might think it old-fashioned but it was true. Children were entitled to at least begin life with two parents.

The elevator door slid open and she stepped out into the lobby. Her high heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she made her way toward the exit.

A baby. A soft, sweet-smelling, innocent bundle of smiles and gurgles. A child, to lavish love upon. To warm her heart and give purpose to her existence. Her throat constricted. A part of Damian that would be hers forever.

She paused outside the building, while an unseasonable wind ruffled her hair. Gum wrappers and a torn page from the New York Times flapped at her feet in the throes of a mini -tornado.

What was the point in torturing herself? She wasn't about to have this baby. Hadn't she already decided that? Her reasoning was sound; it was logical. It was-

" Laurel? "

Her heart stumbled. She knew the voice instantly; she'd heard it in her dreams a thousand times during the past long, tortured weeks. Still, she tried to tell herself that it couldn't be Damian. He was the last person she ever wanted to set eyes on again, especially now.

" Laurel. '

Oh God, she thought, and she turned toward the curb and saw him stepping out of the same black limousine that had a month ago transported her from sanity to delirium. All at once, the wind seemed to grow stronger. Her vision blurred and she began to sway unsteadily.

And then she was falling, falling, and only Damian's arms could bring her to safety.

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