Free Family Album by Danielle Steel Page A

filled with white tuberoses and gardenias and a bottle of champagne. She shook her head and grinned at him, almost in despair.
    “Don't you have anything else to do with your time, Mr. Thayer, except chase poor actresses after they finish a day's work?”
    “listen, Cinderella, don't get excited. I know you must be dead. I just thought these might cheer you up on your way home … unless, of course, I could steal you away to the Beverly Hills Hotel for a drink … any chance of that?” He looked like a hopeful little boy and she almost groaned.
    “Who's your press agent, by the way?” She sounded a little bit annoyed, and his eyes looked worried as he watched her.
    “I suppose Rita did that. I'm sorry … do you mind very much?” It was no secret that Hedda Hopper disliked Orson, but she had always been fond of Rita. And Ward, but Faye didn't know that.
    She smiled. It was impossible to be annoyed with him. He was so ingenuous and generous and obviously happy to see her, and she had to admit that, even knowing he was a playboy, he still had enormous appeal. There was something overwhelmingly attractive about him. There had been, even in Guadalcanal. And now, in his own element, he was even more so. He exuded confidence and sex appeal, and Faye was far from immune to him.
    “At least now I know who you are.”
    He shrugged with a grin. “None of that junk means very much, or is very accurate, as you know.” He made no comment about the “beaux” mentioned in the piece, but he smiled at her in a way that touched her heart. He had a knack for doing that. “Shall we follow their suggestion, Faye?” There was something funny in his eyes and she didn't know him well enough yet to know if it was serious or playful.
    “What was that?” She was so tired she couldn't think and he watched her eyes carefully as he answered.
    “Remember the bit about wedding bells … we could surprise the hell out of them and get married.”
    “What a great idea,” she mocked, glancing at her watch and squinting. “Let's see … it's six twenty-five … how about at eight o'clock tonight, that way it could make the morning papers.”
    “Great idea.” He ran around to the other side of her car, and before she could object, he hopped in beside her. “Okay, let's get going, kid.” He sat back against the seat matter-of-factly, and grinned at her, and suddenly she was amused at him too. She forgot how tired she was. Actually, she was happy to see him. More so than she meant to be.
    “You mean you expect me to drive? What kind of marriage is this?”
    “You read the papers. It said I was a playboy. Playboys don't drive. They get driven around.”
    “That's gigolos. That is not the same thing, Ward Thayer.” They were both laughing, and he had moved closer to her on the seat, but she didn't mind it.
    “Why can't a playboy be driven too? I'm tired. I had a hard time today. I had lunch with three friends and we drank four bottles of champagne.”
    “My heart bleeds for you, you lazy dog. I've been working since six o'clock this morning and you've been drinking champagne all day!” She tried to sound angry but all she could do was laugh as an enormous limousine pulled up for Vance Saint George.
    “That's what you need, Faye.” He almost sounded serious and she laughed at him.
    “A car like that? Don't be ridiculous. I enjoy driving myself.”
    “It's not ladylike.” He assumed a prim expression, and glanced at her. “Besides, it's not suitable for the victim of a playboy.”
    “I'm your victim, am I?”
    “Hopefully you will be.” He looked at his watch and then back at her. “Now what time are we getting married? You said eight o'clock … we'd better step on it … or would you rather just stop for a drink after all?”
    She shook her head, but she was less convincing than she had been before. “No. I'd rather go home, Mr. Thayer. Remember me, I'm the working girl, and I happen to be exhausted.”
    “I can't imagine