So, she wasn’t trying to get rid of him. He had plenty of things to keep him busy the next week. Things he’d neglected while he was here. He just couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more than spend time with her.
“So, what happens during Fashion Week?” He moved into the bathroom and leaned against the counter.
“Well, everybody who’s anybody will have runway shows previewing their fall-winter collections.” She smeared cream on her face and rubbed it in. “That’s mostly in the afternoons and evenings. In the mornings the press can get into designers’ studios. And after the runway shows there are always parties to attend.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
She spun to face him. “It is. But it’s the most exciting week of the year until the spring-summer previews in September.” Next she squirted lotion on her arms and shoulders. He’d never watched a woman’s after-shower routine before. Who knew they used so much stuff?
“If I’m lucky I’ll get to be in the vicinity of one or two of the really popular designers and maybe get a scoop on a new trend.”
“Won’t the magazine get you interviews?”
She shook her head, her expression confused. “Modiste? Why would they do that?”
“I thought they were sponsoring your blog?”
“No.”
“Oh.” He had to rethink what he thought he understood about Carly’s work. “You mean your blog isn’t normally associated with the magazine?”
“No. It’s my blog. The magazine only sponsored the contest.”
“But why would they do that? Don’t they have their own online presence?”
“Yes, but my blog has been very successful. As a matter of fact—” She set the lotion on the counter, a frown forming on her luscious lips.
“What?”
Staring at her hands, she hesitated. “They had talked about bringing Carly’s Couture in-house.”
He was impressed. “That’s great. Isn’t it?”
She bit her lip, then raised her chin and met his gaze. “They decided to go in a different direction.”
Hold on a sec. How long had she known this? “Be...cause of the Piper scandal?”
Her lips thinned and she averted her gaze. “Kind of.”
What wasn’t she saying? Then it hit him. He jumped to his feet and put an arm around her shoulders. “Because of the scandal with your dad resurfacing?”
She maneuvered out of his hold. “It’s no big deal.” Grabbing a hair dryer, she turned it on, brushing out her long hair as she dried it.
Yeah, and he was the king of Brooklyn.
He refused to let her pretend this wasn’t important to her. Gripping the hair dryer, he turned it off and set it down, then took her by the shoulders.
“What are you doing?” Her eyes were focused on his reflection in the mirror.
“Carly. I think it was a big deal. And I’m sorry.”
Something flickered in her eyes. Pain she quickly disguised. And replaced with heat. They held a clear message, scorching him. She reached up and dropped the towel.
He checked his watch. It was already late. And he had to be at the station at five...
Forget about it. He’d gone without sleep plenty of times. He yanked his shirt over his head, tossed it somewhere behind him and scooped her up.
* * *
“EMILY!” CARLY CALLED to her friend across the busy studio. Okay, Emily wasn’t a friend, exactly. More like a professional acquaintance. She was a buyer for Savoy’s department store and she sometimes gave Carly inside information on what was going to be really hot in the coming season.
Emily stopped with her hand on the doorknob and spun just as she was leaving. “Oh. Carly. I didn’t see you.” She smiled but it was only perfunctory.
So, she’d seen the tabloids. Of course she had.
“Hey, what are you excited about in this designer’s fall-winter collection this year?”
“I really couldn’t say.” Emily winced. “Hasn’t...Don contacted you?”
Oh, no, no, no. Don was the regional director of marketing for Savoy’s. He was supposed to renew the contract for advertising on her blog next month. It stood to reason if Modiste didn’t want to be associated with Swindleton Pendleton, neither would any of the major department stores.
Panic flared for a moment, but Carly forced warmth into her smile. “Not yet. But I’ve been out of town, so...” She nodded. “Okay, well, thanks.” She had to get somewhere private.
“Hey.” Emily caught her arm as she tried to brush past. “Is that hunky fireman around?”
“My contest winner? No, why?”
Emily pouted. “Too bad. Everyone wants to meet him.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I heard he’s getting offers from several modeling agencies. He’s all the buzz with the designers. Do you know if he’s signed with anyone yet?”
Carly stood stunned. Joe hadn’t told her about any offers. But she managed a sympathetic smile. “I’m not at liberty to say.” As she followed Emily to the elevator, a pang hit her in the vicinity of her chest. Joe had kept the agency offers a secret from her.
Once inside the packed elevator, she backed into a corner and folded her arms. Why hadn’t Joe even mentioned it? Did he think she’d be upset? On the contrary, the more popular he became the better for her blog.
After he left Wednesday morning, she’d made coffee and curled up on the sofa. His scent had lingered in the fabric, taunting her with his absence. How lifeless her small apartment had seemed. His presence haunted the place. Which was crazy. She’d always valued her privacy. Hadn’t living with Reese taught her she was better off alone?
But she missed Joe.
The elevator doors swished open and she followed the throng out to the freezing, wet street. Hitching her bag higher on her shoulder, she tried to hail a cab, but ended up walking a block before a vacant one stopped.
As she hopped into the back, she gave the driver the address then pulled out her cell and almost punched in Joe’s number. He was off today. Maybe she’d meet him for lunch after this next stage show. He could tell her how his shift at the station went. Had he been called to any major fires? She hadn’t heard of any big ones on last night’s or this morning’s local news. She could ask him about the agency offers. If he confirmed them, she could make the news her blog entry tomorrow.
What was she thinking? If he’d wanted her to know, he would’ve told her. Besides, it’d barely been thirty hours since she saw him. He had his life. She had hers. They didn’t have to live in each other’s pockets.
But the fashion world evidently thought they did.
When she presented her ticket into the Michaela design studio the next day, she was reluctantly let in, but one would think she’d contracted the Ebola virus the way everyone avoided her. Then, just as she was leaving, an assistant editor at Madame Claudette magazine cornered her to ask about Joe. The editor hinted that if he were with Carly they’d surely get invited to the exclusive post-runway party.
Carly seethed. She should’ve set Emily straight about Joe, but no, she’d just had to throw out that last smug comment, making it seem as if she had inside information on the man.
The last straw came that night, just before the runway show she was attending. The theater was crowded, everyone pressed elbow to elbow, and bulbs were flashing. Carly could feel a migraine building pressure in her temples and behind her eyes.
A young man in a finely tailored suit pushed through the mob to grab her hand and shake it. “Ms. Pendleton? I’m Cam Laughtry, with Franklin Modeling Agency. I hear you’re the one to talk to about Joe Tedesco?”
“Me?”
He playfully tapped her forearm with his brochure. “Now, don’t act coy.” Two invitations for the following morning’s private studio gathering appeared from his suit coat. He waved them under her nose. “You bring that sexy Average Joe with you tomorrow, girlfriend, and I’ll make it worth your while.”
“But he doesn’t have any event tickets. T
hey sold out months ago.”
“I’ll have a set of tickets for the week’s events couriered over tonight. You just bring him tomorrow.” He winked and sauntered off.
Carly smiled through gritted teeth and found her seat for the runway show. She opened her tablet and took notes during the show, but her usual enthusiasm for the fabulous outfits was crushed. As soon as it ended she hurried down Lincoln Center’s grand staircase. It’s not as though she would get invited backstage tonight, or to the party afterward.
Not without Joe.
Once in the lobby, she rushed to the restroom and paced the foyer. A woman applying lipstick glanced at her warily in the mirror’s reflection, but Carly ignored her.
The idea of needing Joe to snag an interview or get into parties infuriated her. She’d spent years making her blog the success it was today. Years of working two jobs, of sacrifice and long hours to build a name and a successful business. And now her career hinged on the public’s need to drool over a half-naked hunk?
Yes. Yes, clearly her career did depend on a hunky fireman who couldn’t even be bothered to tell her that he was being wooed by every modeling agency in Manhattan. Well, she wasn’t going to let everything she’d worked so hard for go down in flames. Not without a fight.
She grabbed her cell phone from her bag and then hesitated with her thumb over the call button.
Do it, Carly.
She hit Call.
He answered. “Hey.”
“Joe? What are you doing tomorrow?”
14
JOE HADN’T BEEN groped this much since he’d played tight end in college.
As Carly schmoozed from one end of the room to the other, he stayed by her side, nursed his beer and did his best to hide the fact that he would rather run into a blazing inferno than endure one more minute at this party.
He’d already spent the day being dragged from designers’ studios to runway shows, listening to people talk about fashion as if it were the cure for world hunger. When he wasn’t fending off modeling-agency reps who crammed their business cards in his pocket, he had to suffer being pawed at, fondled and propositioned by dozens of women and even a few men. He’d taken about as much as he could stand.
But Carly had asked him to come. And he’d wanted to see her. To watch her at work in her world. And she was incredible. Smart. Articulate. Knowledgeable. Even if the discussions about silk versus taffeta or cashmere, or the use of draping or bias cut or whatever made his eyes glaze over.
Carly glanced at him with a grateful smile and then nodded to the man she was talking with. She looked gorgeous tonight in a long strapless dress. The blue-green color reminded him of the water in the Caribbean. She’d pulled her long, brunette hair up in a twist that made him want to put his lips on that vulnerable spot on the back of her neck. Her stilettos and jewelry added a touch of sparkle, but it was her eyes he couldn’t get enough of. They promised him a special reward once they got back to her place. And he was past ready to ditch this circus.
At her request he’d worn some designer suit she’d picked out for him. He took a swig of his beer. If one more woman scraped her long, fake nails down his cheek, or adjusted his tie, or asked him how tall he was, he might have to start drinking the strong stuff.
Carly winced, put a hand down on the table beside her and lifted one foot, rolling the ankle. Then she did the same with the other foot, dangling her shoe. Her feet had to be killing her.
He glanced at his watch. Three in the morning? They’d been at this since nine this morning. No, yesterday, now. Okay. Enough. Throwing one arm around Carly’s shoulders and taking her elbow in his other hand, he smiled at the man who was telling Carly about the problems at his Milan studio. “Look at how late it is. Guess we better shove off, hon.”
“But I—”
“Nice meeting you, sir.” Joe nodded at the man, then steered Carly to the right and guided her across the room toward the door.
“Joe, I was in the middle of a discussion.” Carly tried to dig in her heels.
“I’m done here, Carly. And don’t try to tell me you aren’t beat.”
She opened her mouth then closed it again. “All right. We’ll go.”
He stopped at the coat check, retrieved her wrap and his overcoat, and then stepped outside. “You hungry?” he asked as he raised his arm to hail a cab.
“No.” She was clutching her thin wrap around her and shivering.
“You have to be.” He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over her shoulders. “You’ve barely eaten a thing today.” A cab pulled up and Joe opened the door.
“I was too nervous. Can you believe Michaela’s assistant gave me an interview?”
“Why wouldn’t he? You were the most beautiful woman in that room.” He slid an arm around her waist to help her step over a pile of slush and get into the cab and then followed her in and gave the driver her address.
“So, it had nothing to do with the fact that I have a successful fashion blog?”
Backpedal, Tedesco. “Well, yeah. That goes without saying.”
Her lips flattened as she threw him a disdainful look and he gave her his best sheepish grin.
And...it worked. She punched him on the shoulder but she was smiling as she shook her head. “Actually, I wouldn’t have gotten the interview at all if it weren’t for you.”
“No way.”
“It’s true. He wouldn’t have given me the time of day if you hadn’t been there. Everyone wants to meet the hunky new model that won my contest, and I made a deal with him to bring you in exchange for an exclusive.”
Joe’s brows shot up. He’d known why she asked him to go with her today. It’s not as if she’d claimed to miss him. But he’d hoped that he meant more to her than arm candy and a means to an end.
“I should’ve told you about that when I called last night.” Her voice had gone all quiet.
He shrugged. “I knew why I was here today.”
“But you were planning on coming back to my place tonight, right?” Her hand slipped inside his coat and caressed his chest over his shirt. The one person he actually wanted running her hands all over him.
“Depends. You got anything to eat at your place? I’m starving.”
“With all the food you ate at the party?”
“That wasn’t food. Canapés are not technically food.”
“Poor baby.” She pouted.
Suddenly she leaned forward to redirect the cabbie. “All Night Bakery on Eighty-Second, please?” She glanced back at him. “You like bagels?”
“Throw in a couple of sausage sandwiches and you got yourself a sleepover.”
She chuckled and snuggled against him, placing her hand on his chest again. “You were really a good sport to come with me today.”
“I wanted to be with you, Carly.” Joe felt the tension drain from her body as he put his arm around her. He covered her cold hand with his and pressed his lips to her temple.
She reared back her head and looked up at him. “You know, you’re a really nice guy.”
He winced. “Hey, there’s no call for insults.”
She snickered as they pulled up to the bakery.
“You’re still freezing. Why don’t you wait here while I run in? What do you want?”
“Nothing for me.”
“What about something for in the morning?”
She lifted one shoulder. “I’ll take a bagel.”
Joe hopped out and ended up adding a cinnamon roll to the order, as well as a couple of bagels for Carly.
Once they arrived at her building, he tried to pay the cabbie, but she insisted and he just didn’t want to argue about it. She slipped her heels off halfway up the three flights of stairs, and by the time she pulled her key from her little sparkly bag she looked dead on her feet.
Joe followed her in.
“You want a drink? I have some brandy.” She headed for the kitchen.
“Nah, do you have any—” He froze and cringed.
&n
bsp; “What?”
“I was going to say milk.” He held up the bag from the bakery. “With my sandwich.”
She frowned. “So?”
“So, there goes my tough guy image.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because firefighters are so not tough.” She shook her head, and then turned toward her bedroom. “I may have some juice in the fridge. I’m going to shower.”
By the time she came out of the bathroom in a silky black teddy, Joe was already naked and under the covers. She threw them off, stretched out on top of him, and began kissing down his jaw. “I see you’re all ready for bed.”
He grinned and patted her butt. “Don’t even need a bedtime story.”
As she nuzzled into his chest a yawn escaped her and she rested her head. “Sorry. Must be the champagne.”
“Hey, we don’t have to—”
“No, no. I just need to get my second wind.” She kissed down his torso, but he cupped her face and lifted it to meet his gaze.
“That’s crazy. You’re exhausted.”
She yawned again and stretched, sliding to his side. “I really am, but...you sure you don’t mind if we just sleep?” Her index finger played with his nipple.
Sleep? Not if she kept doing that.
But he definitely liked being more to her than just stud service and a career boost. Something expanded in his chest. If he were prone to flowery prose he’d call it a warm glow. But basically he was just happy. He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”
Her only response was a soft sigh.
He smoothed her hair away from her eyes. She was gone to dream world. He reached up to switch off the bedside lamp, and then wrapped both arms around her.
She felt so right nestled next to him. Her soft body lay alongside his, one long leg thrown over his thigh, one arm flung over his chest. Her breasts pressing against him. No way was he getting to sleep anytime soon.
Trying to distract himself, he stared around her bedroom. Light from her window showed the room in an eerie silhouette. Sirens blared and horns honked in the distance. They had maybe an hour before sunrise.
The room wasn’t filled with expensive furniture, but it still looked as if it belonged to a minimalist. Warm and inviting was not her forte. In home decor or anything else, for that matter. But then, he already knew that.
Cabin Fever Page 11
