Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [98]
The colonnaded patio of the Villa Osiris was crowded with guests as Olympe threaded her way through, greeting fresh arrivals, checking who was with whom this year, and who was wearing what. The women were taking full advantage of the warm night and their island suntans to wear the skimpiest dresses, exposing bare shoulders, naked backs, and smooth legs—as much of their bodies as they dared. And if any one of them was wearing a bra, then Olympe would have been very surprised; there were more and harder nipples here at the party than on any daytime beach.
But then, thought Olympe, nudity on the beach had nothing to do with sex—and parties did. She’d bet half the women here were looking for it—and not with their husbands, or at least the men they’d arrived with. Holiday romance, shipboard romance—it was all the same: liberate anyone from their everyday surroundings, even if they were glossy and luxurious, and put them in a lazy holiday atmosphere like this—by the time they’d got a little suntan they felt more glamorous, more exciting, and definitely more sexy. She knew she did … and it wasn’t for Bendor. Ah-ha! Wasn’t that Fitz McBain over by the door? And that must be Raymunda Ortiz—the current paramour. Well, she thought, moving toward them, we’ll just have to see about that, Raymunda.
When Olympe Avallon smiled at a man he felt drawn into some magic circle, where only he existed, where he was the star in her firmament.
Fitz was no exception. He was an expert in flirts, he’d been practiced on by the best, but Olympe was a charmer—there was just a hint of laughter in her eyes, as though she were saying, Look, I know I’m flirting with you, but it’s all such fun, isn’t it?
“Raymunda!” exclaimed Olympe. “Mais tu est ravissante, chérie … what a heavenly dress. I simply adore that color. I must introduce you to Beny, he particularly wanted to meet you.” Taking Raymunda’s arm she led her off, turning to smile conspiratorially at Fitz. She’d be back.
A steel band was playing down by the pool and the barbecue fires sent a fragrant drift of woodsmoke and spicy cooking across the crowded patio.
Have I eaten today? wondered Fitz. He didn’t think so.
“You look to me like a very hungry man.” Olympe appeared at his side. “Either that or a bored one.”
Fitz smiled as their eyes met. “A combination of both,” he admitted.
Olympe tucked her arm into his. “I’m sure I can take care of one complaint.” She smiled, leading him toward the tables scattered around the pool. “The food is excellent. I only hope that I can do something about the second.”
Her oblique glance was as inviting as her smile, and in a short black dress that left her shoulders bare, and with her mane of tawny hair, she was dazzling. Fitz was beginning to enjoy himself.
Bendor and Raymunda had lots of friends in common; they had quite a satisfactory chat, she thought, about mutual acquaintances, and he’d invited her—them—to come wind surfing tomorrow and for lunch. She wanted to ask Fitz if they could have Bendor and his friends for dinner tomorrow night on the Fiesta, but he’d disappeared. With a pang she remembered Olympe Avallon. Hadn’t she been awfully quick to part the two of them? She couldn’t see Olympe either. Oh, well—Raymunda shrugged—everyone knew that Bendor was crazy about Olympe and that she expected to be the next princess. Olympe was surely not going to jeopardize that position. No, she was sure there was no need to worry about her.
“Raymunda.” Bendor took her arm. “Have you met Salty Majors? Salty’s from Newport, you know, he’s a sailing fellow. …”
Raymunda sparkled on the receiving end of Salty’s interested smile; she might as well enjoy herself while she could.
Fitz McBain was exactly the kind of man she had in mind as a long-term investment, thought Olympe, sipping her island cocktail as she sat beside him at a small table by the pool. He was very attractive—without a doubt