by Tarah Scott
The knot in her stomach cinched tighter. “What in God’s name were we thinking? We have an arsenal of models, any of whom would pant at the opportunity to debut the first design in our winter collection. Just because Lisa wasn’t able to accept our offer to replace Tanya didn’t mean we couldn’t find someone else. Why didn’t we try?”
“Name someone else who lives in El Paso,” Richard said. “Even better, name someone old enough who would fit into that dress. You’re the one who’s been selling the idea that older women don’t want to see teenagers modeling the clothes they buy.”
Liz tugged the bustier top higher. She had to remember to make the darts deeper for women her size. “My attributes aren’t enough to warrant me modeling this dress.”
“Yes they are,” he replied. “But the point is moot. We had no choice.”
Liz tamped down on the panic that began three hours ago upon watching the news report that their New York buyer Genevra had declared bankruptcy. That meant the three hundred thousand dollar payment they were expecting in sixty days wasn’t coming. An hour after they’d learned about Genevra, they got a call from a local reporter that the model they’d hired to debut their winter-line dress had just been seen getting into a limo outside her downtown El Paso hotel wearing a layered chiffon flamenco-style dress that screamed Jorge Estonia—their direct competition in Dallas.
In a span of three hours, Nina Bruno Designs—the company she had poured her life savings into—had gone from the verge of financial independence to teetering on financial ruin. The worst part was that the employees and investors now expected her to pull off what Tanya could have accomplished in her sleep.
When Brenda had approached Liz with the design early that spring, she’d fallen in love with the strapless, bustier-style leather bodice and chic gathered skirt design. But the thought never entered her mind that she might be forced to wear the twenty-seven inch dress in an effort to keep the company from going under.
Another Xenon-flash flared, jarring her from her thoughts.
Brenda leaned forward and straightened the strap on Liz’s three-inch heel sandal. “You look as good as Tanya in that dress.”
Liz pursed her lips. “We promoted Tanya as the model for this dress. People are expecting her, not a replacement ten years older, and certainly not a company executive.”
“You’re only seven years older,” Richard said. “But you don’t look a day over her thirty-seven.”
Liz shot him a dry look. “If that’s meant to boost my ego, it doesn’t.”
Richard returned the look. “Get your priorities straight, Liz. You want our first invitation to Larissa’s gala to be our last? Without this event, our winter collection ends up in bargain stores and we don’t get invited to another major fashion show this year.”
Liz knew he really meant, ‘We won’t be in a position to go to another major fashion show this year—maybe no other fashion show ever.’ The company no longer had the luxury of growing slowly. This was Nina Bruno Designs’ only chance to stay in business.
“Damn that bitch,” he muttered.
“Richard,” Liz admonished.
He shook his head. “Don’t start with me. You hired Tanya.”
“She’s the best model in her age bracket,” Liz said. “And, as you pointed out, one of the few who would fit into this dress.”
His eyes lowered to her chest. “Not anymore.”
* * *
From the corner of his eye, Ben saw another limo stop in front of the estate and turned his head in time to see the rear door open and Richard Anderson emerge from the vehicle. Anderson turned and extended a hand into the car’s open doorway. A slim arm reached toward him and cameras flashed in quick succession as a long, shapely leg stretched toward the paving stones. Elizabeth Monahan’s face came into view, illuminated by camera lights.
Ben lifted an eyebrow in appreciation as she rose to her full five foot nine—no, he dropped his attention to her three-inch heels—her six-foot height. He raised his gaze up those long legs, then the pleated skirt that brushed toned thighs, and blew out a silent whistle. Whoa. Her breasts nearly spilled over the bodice of the leather top—the dress that was kicking off the winter collection for Nina Bruno. His appreciative mood vanished. What was the Creative Director of Nina Bruno Designs doing wearing the dress Tanya Xavier—his date—was supposed to be modeling?
NB Designs had hired him as Tanya’s escort. He was the arm candy that said, Buy this dress and land a man like me.
Something had gone wrong for Elizabeth Monahan to be wearing the main attraction. Was he to escort her or did the change of plans include another escort? Maybe she decided that Tanya would wear another dress. He didn’t like surprises. She should have called. But why would she? He was just the hired help.
Richard Anderson slipped Ms. Monahan’s hand into the crook of his arm and led her toward the steps. Toward Ben. She glanced left, and the press snapped photos and thrust microphones toward her. Then she spotted him. Her brow furrowed. Understanding hardened her expression and Ben read in her eyes a mirror image of his thoughts: What the hell are you doing here? He’d bet a thousand bucks someone forgot to call him to cancel. Damn good thing, too, because he’d have come no matter what.
They reached him.
“This isn’t going to work,” Elizabeth hissed under her breath.
She had that right. Was that a hint of nipple peeking over the bodice of her dress? The damn thing was scandalous, even for these over-the-top designers.
“You knew Adam was going to be here, Liz,” Richard said in a low voice. “You hired him.”
Adam Billings. His alias.
She flashed a dazzling smile that caught Ben off guard before he caught sight of a reporter pointing a camera at them. The camera flashed and her smile didn’t falter when she said under her breath to Anderson, “You know good-and-well I forgot he was going to be here, and you conveniently forgot to remind me.”
She darted a glance over her shoulder, clearly worried her whispered words might have been overheard by a reporter who had edged closer. Not much chance of that happening amid the babble of other reporters.
She really couldn't ask him to leave, but he had to play the part of a pliant employee. Ben angled his head away from the reporters in case any of the vultures could read lips. “I can leave, if you prefer, ma’am.”
“Liz, half of Texas is watching us,” Anderson said. “Make a scene now, and it’ll be all over the state before the evening is over. We need him.”
Something Ben couldn’t quite define flickered in her gaze, then she shot Anderson a look to kill. “I sleep with the CEO, Richard. You’re fired.”
Ben bit back a laugh.
Anderson nodded. “Sure thing, Liz. As soon as the party’s over, I’ll pack up my desk.” He transferred her hand to Ben’s arm. “She’s all yours. Good luck.”
The determination to get to know her better had formed two days ago, during a photo shoot with him and Tanya after the Thompson Agency sent him in to replace the model originally hired to escort Tanya.
Ben glanced at her legs, then reminded himself not to combine business with pleasure. So what if he hadn't expected to see her tonight dressed in an outfit that heated his blood? He had to get inside the Remmey’s mansion. Business now. Pleasure later.
Liz gripped his arm and he had the feeling she was considering a quick getaway. Ben covered her hand with his—if nothing else to keep her from bolting. Liz Monahan was his ticket through the door.
He led her up the stairs and a man dressed like a British soldier opened the door at their approach. They entered the foyer and the door closed behind them, cutting off the voices. Ben squinted against a glow of chandelier light bouncing off the white marble floor. A sweeping staircase to their right led to a gallery that encircled the foyer. Directly ahead, three arched doorways opened to the rear of the estate. An escape route if anything went wrong. But Liz Monahan as his date might ensure nothing went wrong. Slipping away f
rom her would be easier than ditching Tanya. If Liz was all business as she had been during their shoot two days ago, she wouldn’t miss him.
He steered her left, toward the music wafting through an arched doorway. They reached the room and he turned Liz right in the direction of a dancefloor near a twelve-piece orchestra.
Ben waited until they’d passed a man and woman talking in low tones before whispering to her, “Is that true?”
She looked up. “What?”
He leaned closer. “Do you really sleep with the CEO?”
Frustration flickered across her features. “No, but I’d give him a go if he really would fire Richard.”
Ben laughed. He just bet she would. “He’s right, you know. You are the one who hired me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You I can fire—and don’t think your good looks will stop me.”
So she had noticed. During the photo shoot she’d appraised him like a prize horse.
Ben shrugged. “I’m an independent contractor, if you recall. I don’t have to work for Nina Bruno Designs again.”
“Nina Bruno Designs is the best designer this side of the Mississippi. You’d be a fool not to want to work for us again.”
She actually sounded offended.
“Maybe that means I should sleep with you,” he said.
She shot him one of the looks she’d given Anderson. “I don’t rob the cradle.”
“Then I guess we have a deal.”
She opened her mouth for a retort but, instead, smiled at a large group they skirted a large group
“Not that I’m disappointed,” he said, “but where is Tanya, by the way?”
She slowed and her smile wavered. “Over there.”
He looked across the sea of bodies in the direction she stared. Tanya stood surrounded by a group of men. The man on her left shifted so that his face came into view and Ben’s heart jumped to a hard hammer.
Carlos Sanchez.
The human traffics dealer wasn’t supposed to be in Texas.
Chapter Two
Liz stood stock still until Tanya’s attention caught on her. The model’s gaze flicked to Liz’s dress, then her eyes swung back to her face in wide-eyed surprise.
“She seems surprised to see you—or to see you wearing that dress,” Adam whispered.
So he’d noticed that, too. Liz, Richard, and Brenda had been so consumed with finding a replacement for Tanya that they automatically concluded she jilted them because Jorge offered her more money. Tanya’s reaction, however, suggested something else. She hadn’t expected to see the dress at all.
Disbelief turned to fury. Tanya hadn’t dumped them for a better offer. She had sabotaged them.
“She decided to play for another team at the last moment, didn’t she?” Adam said.
Liz snapped her gaze up to meet his. His attention shifted from the couple to her. She thought she discerned tension in his jaw, but it wasn’t there now and he lifted a brow.
“By the look on your face, I’d say I’m right. Who’s the competition?” he asked.
Liz hesitated, but realized the news of Tanya’s defection was likely scheduled for the next print run of every gossip column in Texas. “Jorge Designs.”
“Is that who she’s with?”
Liz shifted her attention to Tanya’s escort. He was tall, early forties, absolutely gorgeous, with jet black hair and honey brown eyes. The poster boy for the South American gigolo.
“Not Jorge Estonia,” she murmured aloud. “And he’s too old to be a model.”
“So are you.”
Liz cut Adam a narrow-eyed glance. “You really know how to sweet talk your boss.”
He shrugged. “I’m not the one who said a woman isn’t attractive after twenty-five.”
“You’ll likely think differently when you reach thirty.”
He smiled and her heart skipped a beat. His smile could stop traffic. Suddenly, she wondered if she’d been going about selling clothes the wrong way. This man was a dynamite package. His blue eyes smoldered—a stunning combination enhanced by his black tux. Six-foot-four of pure male. No contacts, no drug-induced biceps, just good old-fashioned Mother Nature at her ever-loving best. But despite his looks, it was his smile that truly set him apart from the other models. It didn’t matter who wore the dress, only that when a woman wore it, this man would smile at them.
“Why didn’t you smile like that for the photo shoot?” Liz asked.
Amusement lit his eyes. “Now that I know you like my smile, I’ll be sure to do it more often.”
Liz nodded. “You’re going to sell my dress for me.”
“That’s what I’m here for. But you don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re going to give Tanya a run for her money.” He leaned closer and his warm breath brushed her ear as he whispered, “What do you say we go on the offensive and say hello to her and her date?”
Liz imagined Adam’s full mouth pressed against her ear. She jarred from the thought. Good Lord, the man was sixteen years her junior—and she was his boss. And he was staring expectantly.
“What?” she blurted.
A very young female model on the arm of a high school graduate slowed as they passed, and Liz realized her outburst had caught their attention. Liz became aware she was squeezing Adam’s bicep and started to pull away.
He covered her hand with his. “Nope,” he said. “We have to look like we can’t live without each other.”
Liz glanced down at his hand on hers. The light scratch of calluses against the top of her hand surprised her. Odd. Most male models were as big a prima donna as their female counterparts and seldom lifted a finger for fear a drop of sweat would spoil their looks. But Adam had a down-to-earth quality. Yet tonight, he exuded a dangerous edge that hadn’t been present during the photo shoot.
She glanced at Tanya, who had turned her back and was speaking with a group of people. Tanya clutched her date’s arm, and Liz knew she was sending a signal: I don’t need Nina Bruno Designs.
She would regret that decision.
A waiter passed in front of Liz. Adam released her and snagged two glasses of champagne. He handed one to Liz. She took a large swig. A woman at least sixty years of age raked her gaze down Adam’s body. He seemed not to notice and slipped an arm around Liz’s waist. Warmth spread through her stomach. Champagne did that to a person. Her second drink nearly emptied the glass.
Liz spotted Larissa Remmey just as the woman turned and met her gaze. The older woman’s eyes lit. Attention fixed on Liz, she said something to the man on her right, then started across the room.
Liz smiled and kept her gaze on Larissa as she whispered to Adam, “You get me through this night and there’s a bonus in it for you.”
“Is it the bonus we discussed earlier?”
“Earlier—” She jerked her gaze onto his face. “I told you, I don’t rob the cradle, nor do I mix business with pleasure. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled. “No business with pleasure. I’ll be sure to keep them separate.”
Liz blinked and wondered whether he had noticed her reaction to him a moment ago. Dammit, she had no one but herself to blame for that. Before she could say more, Larissa reached them and extended her arms.
“Darling,” she said with the barest hint of a Russian accent.
Liz shot Adam a quelling look as Larissa pulled her into a cheek hug.
* * *
Ben kept his expression casual. He didn’t typically like surprises, but Liz Monahan as his date and Texas’ most wanted human traffics dealer showing up in El Paso tonight were two surprises he could live with. It looked like he wasn’t going to have to go snooping around the Remmey’s mansion, after all, to discover their connection to Carlos Sanchez. He could go straight to Sanchez. If he could get the man alone.
Liz slipped her hand through the crook of Ben’s arm. Before he could corner Sanchez, he’d have to slip away from Liz Monahan. He shifted his attention and found himself staring straight down
her cleavage. He jerked his gaze up as Larissa said, “So this is the dress we’ve all been waiting to see.” The older woman nodded approval.
Liz laughed, low and sensual, and Ben’s groin surprised him by giving a hard salute. He hadn’t been this intensely affected when he’d met Laura five years ago. He’d been crazy about her, had even considered marriage. But after two years of dating, he still wasn’t home enough to ask her to marry into an empty house, and she simply fell out of love with him.
Staying closer to home won’t be a problem with Liz.
The thought brought him up short. He’d thought about her a lot these last two days, but when had he decided he wanted to spend more time at home with a woman? Liz released his arm and Ben resisted the impulse to grasp her hand and put it back. Tonight was about business—for both of them—and he couldn’t afford to let her get in his way.
“I doubt you’ve been waiting all season to see a Nina Bruno design,” she said to Larissa.
“On the contrary,” Larissa replied. “Your lineup last year was impressive. I’ve been watching you, as have others. I’m intrigued by the fact you chose to wear the debut dress yourself. Very bold. The leather top fits you to perfection—or I should say, you fill it out to perfection.”
Pink tinged Liz’s cheeks. “We use the gifts given us,” she said.
“And why not?” Larissa said. She turned to Ben. “And who is this luscious thing?”
“Mrs. Remmey, meet Adam Billings,” Liz said. “Adam—”
“No introductions are necessary,” he cut in. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Remmey.”
Larissa’s eyes lit with pleasure. “Ohh, a charmer.” She stepped closer and curved her fingers around his arm. “I think you’ll be my pet for the evening.”
“Pet for the evening?” a female voice said.
Even as Ben registered the familiar voice, the speaker stepped into view. He froze. The last person he expected to see was Assistant DA Sheila Antonio. He couldn’t allow her to discover that Carlos Sanchez occupied the same room with her.
Ben snapped from a brain freeze and said, “You’re Sheila Antonio.” He extended a hand. “Adam Billings. I’m a big fan.”
