This Man's Magic

by Stephanie Wyatt

  ' "O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us, To see oursels as others see us"!' he quoted ruefully. 'Though I doubt Robert Burns had quite such a situation in mind. All right, seen from your angle I'll accept caution was the best course. But what about your designs now, Sorrel?' He got up and walked over to the wall planner. 'They're still ready to go into production. More than that, the launch is scheduled for…' he ran his finger down the chart. '… seven weeks from now, at a joint showing with Hywel Rees.'

  Sorrel's eyes opened wide at the mention of the young Welsh fashion designer who had hit the headlines only last year. Luc turned back to her. 'Are we going to be able to come to some arrangement?'

  Oddly enough, Sorrel hadn't thought beyond proving her title to the designs, but now excitement and elation gripped her. Wasn't this what she'd hoped for when she'd first tried to meet Luc? That he would take her up and make her name as a designer? But there had been too many disappointments in her life, too many situations that had turned sour, to believe in a dream come true. He could be offering nothing more than payment for the designs while Amoroso took all the credit.

  'What kind of arrangement?' she asked cautiously.

  'That contract I would have offered had we not had our unfortunate… misunderstanding.' He smiled, then seating himself again behind his desk, enlarged briskly, 'A down-payment for the use of your designs and a retainer for your advice and instruction up to the launch, plus a royalty on subsequent sales—the percentage to be negotiated. Also the use of your name to promote the launch in all our publicity.'

  Sorrel drew an audible breath. It was all she had ever hoped for. She was aware of Luc watching her, expecting her to jump at his offer. And she was going to, of course. But the warmth of his dark gaze made her suspect there was more on offer than he had set out, things of a much more personal nature, and every instinct told her it would be dangerous to become involved with this man.

  To give herself time to think she asked, 'What exactly would be involved in this advice and instruction you mention?'

  His quizzical smile made her wonder if he suspected the reason for her hesitation. 'Working closely with Hywel Rees co-ordinating your jewellery with his clothes and instructing my production manager on any modifications, making yourself available to the advertising department for pre-publicity, and of course—' his smile widened '—keeping me informed at all times of developments. Everything, in fact, Eve has been doing.'

  Sorrel seized on the disgraced designer's name because it stopped her wondering what keeping him informed was likely to entail. 'What about Miss Killingley? Is she going to be sacked?'

  'You really are a girl for introducing irrelevancies! Don't you think she should be?' he demanded in exasperation.

  She sighed. 'I suppose you'd find it hard to trust her now.'

  'Give me strength!' He leapt to his feet as if unable to contain his impatience. 'All right, I'll keep her on—for the time being—if you agree to sign that contract.'

  This was the crunch, no more time for prevaricating. 'Will your lawyers handle it, or shall I put Mr Forster on to it?' she asked calmly.

  His face split into a grin that severely rocked her composure. 'I'll get my man to draw it up then Mr Forster can look it over before you sign. Just to make sure I'm not doing you down,' he added mischievously. He held out his hand. 'Shall we seal the deal in the usual way?'

  He was standing several feet away and even when she got to her feet; made no attempt to move closer. It was she who had to move to him, and as he took her hand, instead of merely shaking it he used her own momentum to pull her into his arms. Startled, she began to protest, which was just what he had been waiting for. His head swooped and his mouth captured her parted lips.

  Had he been brutal or forceful she might have fought him off, but his kiss was gentle, so seducingly sweet she found herself responding, and all too brief so that when it ended she felt bereft.

  No man had made her feel like this, not since Max, and that it was just such another man as Max that was having this effect on her now made it important that he shouldn't know it. Gathering the rags of her composure round her, she said mockingly, 'The usual way? I can't see you sealing your agreement with Simon Smylik with a kiss.'

  'Simon isn't as pretty as you and anyway, his boyfriend would have blacked my eye,' he retorted wickedly. 'And you did say you don't have a boyfriend.'

  Before she could think up a smart answer he was briskly businesslike again, pressing the intercom and rattling out instructions to his secretary. 'Alison, get Hywel Rees for me will you? And then ask Bainbridge to be in my office in say… half an hour to draw up a contract.'

  While he waited for the call he said, 'The sooner you meet Hywel, the better. Things haven't been running too smoothly so far.'

  'Won't he mind me taking over half-way through?' Sorrel asked.

  Before he could reply the phone buzzed and Luc snatched it up. 'Hywel? You'll be glad to know Eve Killingley is dropping out of the proceedings and the original designer is taking over.' He listened to a lengthy diatribe, his grin widening. 'Her name's Sorrel Valentine… Oh, a real stunner. Hair the colour of a polished conker and the wickedest pair of sherry-brown eyes I've ever seen.' Sorrel blushed scarlet as he went on to describe her other 'assets' before he finished, 'Well, you'll see for yourself.' He put his hand over the mouthpiece. 'This afternoon OK for you, Sorrel?' She gave her strangled assent. 'What's that, Hywel? Sure she's here with me.' He laughed. 'And blushing very prettily. Right then, I'll bring her along this afternoon, with her own set of designs, too. I've an idea Eve tinkered with the copies we have, to their detriment.'

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Tammy was ecstatic when she heard Sorrel's news, and once again tried to make her over for her meeting with the Welsh designer, but this time, bearing in mind that kiss, Sorrel was adamant.

  'But this man's a fashion designer,' Tammy protested. 'Of course he's going to notice your clothes.'

  In the end she compromised by wearing the chic woollen suit she'd worn for her interview with her father, and rather more of her jewellery than she would normally have worn at any one time. It wasn't until she went to her desk to get her portfolio of designs that she remembered she had locked them in and given Luc the key.

  'Well, he'll be here in a few minutes,' Tammy pointed out when Sorrel began to panic.

  'But suppose he doesn't have the key on him?' She rattled the drawer ineffectively.

  Shaking her head, Tammy disappeared and came back moments later with Charlie, who eyed the lock and with a piece of bent wire and a few pokes and twists, slid the drawer open. 'One of the things I learned in my misspent youth,' he grinned.

  It occurred to Sorrel that it might be useful if she took the few pieces of the range that she'd already made up, so she hurtled down to her workshop to take them from the safe let into the concrete floor. And only Sorrel knew that her uncharacteristic nervousness was due, not to the prospect of meeting the fashion designer, but to anticipation spiced with excitement at the expectation of seeing Luc again.

  So her disappointment, when she went down to the doorbell's summons and found not Luc but his girlfriend Bianca beaming at her, was acute. She managed to cover it, jeering at herself as she got into the little sports car. Hadn't she already determined to restrict their dealings to business? So why had she allowed the memory of that kiss to make her forget? A man like Luc kissed easily, and sending his girlfriend to collect her had probably been deliberate.

  To confirm her in that belief Bianca said excitedly, 'Luc told me what happened this morning when he took me to lunch. Oh, he sends his apologies, by the way, for not collecting you himself, but something came up. I was astounded when I heard what Eve had done. Mind you, I can't say I ever hit it off with her. It was pretty decent of you though, not to demand her instant dismissal. I would have done.' She giggled. 'But then I'm not as nice-natured as you. Still, I'm delighted the way things have turned out. It means we'll see quite a lot of each other.'
r />   'We will?' Sorrel said faintly as the other girl paused for breath.

  'Oh, yes. I modelled for Hywel last season and this range he's actually building round me. Well, me and Sara. She's blonde, you see, and with me being dark, we're a good contrast.' Pausing only to zip the car through a space Sorrel was sure was too narrow, Bianca burbled on, 'You've never met Hywel, have you? He's a dish. Very Celtic and excitable. You'll love him. No, I take that back because I rather fancy him myself. He didn't care for Eve, either. Of course, his place it just chaos, with Hywel screaming that he'll never be ready. But the launch is still seven weeks away and he always panics before a showing.'

  Bianca flashed Sorrel a glance. 'You're looking pole-axed. I'm talking too much, aren't I?'

  'N-no…' Sorrel said faintly as the little car veered before Bianca righted it. 'It's just that every time you open your mouth I expect to hear a luscious Italian accent, not perfect English.'

  Bianca laughed delightedly. 'Both my parents were of Italian origin but I was born and raised in England. In fact I'd never been to Italy until Luc took me last year, to meet some distant cousins.'

  It was said casually, but it stressed again the close relationship the girl had with Luc, a serious one if he had taken her to Italy to meet her family. So what business did he have kissing her—Sorrel—only that morning? Since her student days Sorrel had taken great care to avoid situations where she would mind what any man did, and she was furious with herself for minding now.

  Luc was waiting for them in a mews just off Bond Street. 'I got away earlier than I thought,' he said to Bianca, then, as Sorrel climbed out of the car on shaky legs, 'Sorry to subject you to this madcap's driving once again. I had more than a few qualms that she'd get you here in one piece.'

  'Oh, you…' Bianca thumped him playfully. 'I've had this car three months now and there's not a scratch on it.'

  'Ah, but what about the other poor blighters, the ones that have to dodge out of your way?' One arm around Bianca's shoulders and the other around Sorrel's, he shepherded them through a glass door and pushed them ahead of him up a flight of stairs.

  At the top, through another glass door, Sorrel glimpsed a large work-room, but Bianca was already starting up another flight. Here the corridor was darker and the door solid wood, but when Bianca pushed it open, Sorrel blinked in the sudden glare, for the entire ceiling was made of glass to let in the clear daylight.

  The man studying the fit of the gown worn by a tall, willowy, silvery-haired blonde was far removed from the effeminate fashion designer of Sorrel's expectations. Stocky rather than artistically slim and the same height as Bianca in her very high heels, his brown, wildly disordered hair, greenish hazel eyes and square, pugnacious chin betrayed his Celtic origins. Indeed, in his cord jeans and bulky sweater he seemed to bring the wildness of his mountain homeland into this London studio.

  'Luc, darling!' The blonde model was the first to notice their entrance and her rather bored face lit up.

  'My God! You're not only late but you have to drag him with you.' The soft Welsh lilt didn't take the edge off the sarcastic accusation thrown at Bianca. 'Now I won't get another stroke of work out of this silly bitch.' He glared at the blonde who was fluttering her eyelashes at Luc.

  'Don't be an old bear, Hywel.' Bianca didn't seem in the least put out by her reception. 'You knew very well Luc was coming this afternoon, and I'm late because I had to collect the lady responsible for those fabulous jewellery designs.' She nudged Sorrel forward. 'Sorrel Valentine—Hywel Rees.'

  'Mr Rees.' Sorrel held out her hand and became the target of Hywel's green-eyed scrutiny.

  'Hywel, please.' Still holding her hand he grinned widely at the man standing behind her. 'You're right, Luc, she is a stunner. And I see what you mean about those eyes…'

  Sorrel's colour rose in the way she abhorred, and Bianca said sharply, 'I thought you were in a panic to get on, Hywel,' for the first time displaying a flash of jealousy Sorrel guessed was caused by learning of the appreciative remarks Luc had made about her.

  Luc merely raised one eyebrow at her snappish tone. 'Sorrel's brought the original versions of her designs, Hywel, before Eve got at them.'

  Hywel swept several swatches of fabric from the end of a long table. 'Let's have a look, then.' Taking the portfolio, he spread the drawings out. After only a few moments he demanded explosively. 'Why in hell didn't you show me these right at the start?'

  Luc slanted a wry glance at Sorrel. 'It's a long story, Hywel.'

  The designer grunted, his gaze pinning Sorrel to the spot. 'At least she has the virtue of silence, which has to be a plus after Eve.'

  'Don't be misled. Sorrel can keep her end up all right.' Luc's teasing mockery and the reminder of their verbal sparring sent a shiver of excitement along her nerves which took a deep breath to control. 'I've kept silent because I've always worked alone before, Mr Rees,' she said coolly, 'And I'm uncertain what's expected of me.'

  Hywel shot a surprised look at Luc who explained, 'Sorrel lacks Eve's experience in the demands of production, but I thought that drawback would be compensated by the ideas you would spark off each other.'

  'Hywel…' The blonde made a bid for attention. 'Have you finished with me now? Only you know I have another appointment…' She looked hopefully at Luc.

  'How the hell I'm expected to have the collection ready on time when you girls are always elsewhere…' the Welshman grumbled. 'All right, if you must. Molly…' He addressed the fitter already helping the blonde out of her gown. 'Number twelve is ready for fitting, isn't it? The green? Get Bianca into it.'

  While he unlocked a wall safe and took out a portfolio larger than Sorrel's, the two models unconcernedly stripped off to their undies, the blonde to don her own clothes, Bianca to wait while the fitter fetched a dress from the rack at the side of the room.

  Pushing the fabric swatches even further down the littered bench, Hywel spread out his designs and motioned Sorrel across. Silently she scrutinised each page, her astonishment and excitement mounting. While still very modern, all the clothes had that slightly medieval flavour she had aimed at in her jewellery, with long, smooth lines, high waists and flowing sleeves. 'It's amazing!' She reached for one of her necklace designs, matching it with a smoothly fitting, high-waisted, low-necked gown where all the decoration had been concentrated into the sweeping sleeves. 'I mean, that we should both have been thinking along the same lines!'

  Hywel laughed. 'While I'd like to pretend there was some mystical communion between us, I have to confess it was Bianca showing me your designs that gave me the inspiration. Trouble was, Eve kept trying to change things. It's marvellous to get back to the originals. Why on earth did you let her get at them in the first place?'

  'At the time I didn't have any option,' Sorrel said drily with a sideways glance at Luc. But then she caught sight of the dress Bianca was now wearing, pale green but in a fabric with the sheen of a pearl; cut again on medieval lines, high-busted, long-bodied to flare from the knees with the fullness at the back, but with a wide, slit neckline reaching to the points of her shoulders and this time with long, close-fitting sleeves.

  It was a beautiful dress and she saw at once how her jewellery could embellish it. Diving into her capacious shoulder-bag she brought out a chamois leather pouch, tipping the contents on to the table-top.

  'You've actually got some of the pieces made up!' Hywel exclaimed.

  'These were just try-outs.' She selected a long string made up of jade lozenges set in gold filigree. 'I only thought of this as a necklace but…' She slung it round Bianca's waist, letting it sit on her hip-bones and hang low at the front.

  'Oh, yes…' Hywel breathed, viewing it from several angles.

  'It'll need lengthening, of course, and the colour's not right,' Sorrel said. 'But it shouldn't be too difficult to find a deeper shade of green, and the matt texture of the jade shows up well on that lustrous fabric.'

  Hywel gave a whoop. 'The girl's even prepared to com
promise!' he exulted to Luc, whose presence Sorrel had momentarily forgotten.

  Luc's smile was indulgent. 'Didn't I say you would spark each other's ideas? Well, I'll leave you to it. You can tell me how you get on when you have dinner with me tonight, Sorrel.'

  Sorrel gaped at him, thinking he must have meant Bianca, but he was looking at her as if expecting an answer. 'Oh, but—' she floundered, acutely embarrassed, looking involuntarily at Bianca.

  It was Hywel who came to her rescue, suggesting, 'Why don't we make it a foursome?'

  'Oh yes!' Bianca suddenly came to life, wheedling, 'Please… Luc?'

  The fact that Luc had issued his invitation in Bianca's hearing and now Bianca was pleading to be included, only increased Sorrel's embarrassment, as did Luc's resigned 'Oh, very well. Le Chateau, Hywel? I'll make the booking.' So when he went on to add, 'I'll pick you up at eight, Sorrel,' she refused firmly, telling him she would prefer to take a cab.

  It took several minutes after he had gone to regain her composure, but once Hywel had taken her round his work-room and shown her the progress of his Collection, she was able to forget everything but which pieces of jewellery would go with which dress, and how other pieces might be adapted. Indeed, they were both so engrossed that when the cab deposited her back at Wapping, she had very little time to bath, dress and return to the West End. Ordering a minicab while her bath ran, she decided to wear the black silk suit Tammy had bullied her into for her first, disastrous interview with Luc, only this time teaming it with a fine black georgette blouse with a flounced neckline.

  Wearing all black, she realised she needed a slightly more dramatic make-up, and regretted there wasn't time to arrange her hair in a more sophisticated style. As it was she was pushing her feet into high-heeled black sandals when the downstairs bell rang. Expecting it to be the minicab she didn't trouble to answer the entry-phone but grabbed her small black purse, checked she had her keys and sufficient money, and ran.