Carlo snickered. “Except that most flamenco dancers usually don’t wear such tight fitting dresses, or show quite so much cleavage. Not that I’m complaining about either, by the way. But I will say that dress looks like it could have been made for you. Che belisimma!”

“Yeah, well, all of this lace is starting to itch, and my feet already hurt in these damned shoes,” she complained. “I should have never let Maddy talk me into wearing this get-up. I mean, this is a Christmas party, not a Halloween event.”

Carlo shook his head, having witnessed Lauren’s dramatics for more than two decades now. “Relax. You look hot. It’s still a pity you aren’t four or five inches taller. You would have made an incredible supermodel.”

Lauren made a very unladylike noise. “You’ve got to be joking. Like I’d really let anyone tell me what I had to wear, or that I had to diet myself down to a size zero. No, I’m much happier on the other side of the lens¸ my friend. And you are already surrounded by supermodels and actresses and pop stars. Once in awhile you need a regular girl to keep you grounded.”

Carlo deliberately slid an arm around her waist, his hand slipping down to the black lace that covered her ass and giving it a squeeze. “Is that an offer, cara? Because it’s been quite awhile since I’ve been given such a privilege.”

She pinched the skin on the back of his hand, hard enough to elicit a yelp, and he promptly removed it from her butt. “No, it’s not an offer,” she retorted. “We agreed a long time ago that you and I were much better off being friends. And that I don’t want to be one of your many women. So there will be no offers and no privileges.”

“Fine.” Carlo sighed dramatically. “But you can’t blame a guy for trying. And you know, cara, that if you only said the word that you could be the only woman for me.”

Lauren regarded him sardonically. “What utter bullshit, Carlo. No offense, but your acting skills are nowhere near good enough to convince me you could ever be faithful. Or that you care about me that way. I’m guessing it’s just been awhile since you got lucky, and you’d say just about anything right now to get in my pants. Which, considering how tight this dress is, would be very, very difficult.”

The dress in question was a dramatic black lace gown with long, sheer sleeves, a deep off the shoulder V-neckline, tightly fitted at the waist and hips, and then flaring out into a mermaid style bottom. Maddy had raved about the one of a kind Oscar de la Renta, swore that Lauren was the perfect person to carry off such a high profile gown, and had made special arrangements to have it hemmed and altered to fit her. The black lace Louboutin stilettos had cost eight hundred dollars, but they might as well have been cheap knockoffs as much as they were killing her feet right now.

Mandy hadn’t stopped with dressing her up like some sexpot senorita. She’d happily dragged Lauren to the in-house salon at Bergdorf’s, and explained to the head stylist the effect she was looking for. Nearly three hours later, Lauren’s long hair had been piled atop her head in a cluster of messy but artful curls; her nails buffed and polished – though not with the deep red gloss the manicurist had initially picked out but the pale mocha shade Lauren had insisted on; and her face made up rather dramatically with smoky eyes and dark red lips. Maddy had insisted she wear a pair of her diamond chandelier earrings to complete the outfit, and Lauren could feel their heavy weight tugging on her earlobes with each step she took.

Carlo hid a smirk behind his hand. “You’re going to want to watch what you eat tonight then, cara. One too many slices of bread and you’ll bust a seam.”

Lauren grimaced. “The way I feel right now one piece of popcorn is going to take care of that.”

As she and Carlo made their way up to the bar, both of them ignoring all the stares directed their way, Lauren asked herself yet again why she’d let herself get talked into coming tonight. She hated these sort of corporate events and usually avoided them like the plague. She had last attended the office holiday party three years ago, and had vowed never to attend another – not anxious to eat barely palatable food, drink mid-range booze, or listen to a DJ who wouldn’t know a good song if it hit him in the face. Not to mention all the mind-numbing socializing, eye rolling small talk, and having to dress up like some department store mannequin. She would much rather have stuck to her original plan – going out for greasy burgers and fries and brews with Chris and Karl and their significant others, and then hitting the bowling alley before finishing the night off by stopping at one or two clubs. If she hadn’t been outvoted, she’d be chowing down a mushroom Swiss burger right about now, washing it down with a dark lager, and visualizing bowling the perfect game. She sure as hell wouldn’t be worried about busting a seam on her dress or twisting her ankle in shoes with stilts for heels.

But she’d been outvoted three to one, something she was still sulking about. George, of course, was the ultimate corporate kiss-ass and wouldn’t have even considered missing the party. Chris had a new girlfriend, who was apparently very young and very impressionable, and he’d figured a party at the Four Seasons would go a long way towards impressing her, not to mention seducing her. And at first Karl had sided with Lauren – until he’d mentioned the idea to Tamsyn, and she’d surprisingly been in favor of attending the party. Karl’s longtime girlfriend rarely came to New York with him, preferring to hole up on her farm in Tennessee where she raised a herd of cashmere goats. She then wove their luxurious wool into her own line of sweaters, scarves, pashminas, and blankets. Once in awhile Tamsyn liked to poke around the big department stores in Manhattan to check out current fashion trends, and was planning to do just that during her visit. And, fortunately, she and Karl were in a good place in their relationship right now.

It figured, thought Lauren as she accepted a glass of red wine from the bartender, that two artistic, talented people like Karl and Tamsyn would frequently be at odds with each other. Tamsyn was by far the more volatile of the two, more than living up to the reputation that came with having fiery red-gold hair. Karl was one of the mellowest guys Lauren knew, but that wasn’t always a good thing since he tended to keep his feelings bottled up most of the time. In the years she’d known Karl, he and Tamsyn had had some really epic fights, breaking up for months at a time and refusing to speak to each other, until they inevitably found their way back to each other. Lauren had nursed Karl through any number of vicious hangovers, had bullied him out of severe depressions, and had engaged in screaming matches over the phone with Tamsyn, all in the name of trying to get them back together.

It was to Karl and Tamsyn that she gravitated now, feeling closer to the pair of them than to anyone else here this evening. Karl and Carlo knew each other casually, but Tamsyn had never met the handsome actor before tonight.

“I see I’m not the only lucky man here tonight,” he teased as he brought Tamsyn’s hand to his lips. “Where have you been hiding this beautiful lady, Karl?”

“On a goat farm,” replied Tamsyn drolly.

Carlo looked astonished, until she explained in more detail about her chosen profession, and then he laughed. “Well, I would have never guessed,” he replied gallantly. “You could have told me you were a supermodel and I would have believed you.”

“Jesus, you are just obsessed with that word tonight, aren’t you?” groused Lauren. “Though Tam does look incredible.”

Tamsyn was tall and slim, with long legs, creamy skin, and that mass of shiny red-gold hair. She wore a long sheath dress of emerald silk, and could certainly pass for the model Carlo had compared her to. Karl, on the other hand, looked less than pleased to be wearing an actual suit and tie, his long dark blond hair tied back in a ponytail.