The man glanced behind him and as if he were sneaking his hands into the cookie jar, lifted the golden lid off some little tureen, and with a pair of golden tongs put another biscuit on her napkin.
“Thank you!” Her mouth watered.
He nodded, and as quietly as he arrived, he left, picking up a couple of stray dishes from their lunch one the way out.
She hit the nail on the head when she said Blake’s place was like a hotel. His luxury apartment building with every amenity known to man or woman was partly owned by the upscale hotel on the same property. For a fee, one could have every amenity a pricey hotel offered, including room and maid service, and even the little soaps. Maybe she and Ciro should offer some sort of luxury to their tenants, or maybe not.
Nope, she could never get used to this.
Still, she loved it all the same.
She popped one of the biscuits in her mouth, closed her eyes and chewed, allowing the flaky goodness to encompass her taste buds.
“I only hope that later today I can recreate the same look of bliss that’s on your face now.”
She opened her eyes to find Blake hanging up some sample clothing on the portable racks he had Sam deliver. Somehow, she got suckered into staying at his place for longer than the weekend when he decided he could only create in the same space where she fixed his life and couldn’t function without his muse close at hand.
Though the man was spoiled beyond belief, he didn’t take it in stride and appreciated everything. It made those around him want to spoil him all the more. Worse than a black hole, she was sucked into his world so decided to dote on him. His fathers even got into the act and managed to talk to Milo, then arranged for her to become the special event coordinator focusing on Blake Designs. Her instinct told her that his fathers were now paying her salary, especially since it included a raise. They even left her a note asking her work on her writing, as it was important to their son.
As Blake would say, they fixed it.
For once in her life it was nice to have things fixed, though in the back of her mind she still worried what happened if her muse casting capabilities wore off.
She just couldn’t lose herself, but now she had a job to do. “Let’s have a quick meeting when you’re done.”
He stood in front of the rack and tried not to call attention to the fact he had one rack for the couple of her outfits and another for all the rest of the models. A model’s size she was not. “I’m all yours.” After adjusting one last hanger, he came to the couch and sat by her, giving her a kiss. “I officially call this meeting to order.”
Well, since they were being all corporate, she sat up, took a sip of her tea and picked up her yellow pads.
“What are all the pads for?” He also sipped her tea.
“It’s my process.” With narrowed eyes she hugged the pads to her chest.
“I completely understand the quirks involved in creative endeavors, but I would like to understand yours.” He leaned over.
“All right.” She lowered the pads to her lap. “This one is for the venue.”
“New Moon on Monday.” He tapped the pad. “Sounds like a poetry or a song.”
“Well, it’s going to be at the New Moon on Monday before LA Fashion Week really starts up.” Yes, she might be helping Blake, but a huge part of her loved sticking it to the “theys” of the world who kept the independents down. In a way, it was revolutionary.
“Excellent work.”
“My brother’s band will play the music. We’re going to have champagne and some other appetizers served by waitresses wearing your clothes. I thought we would make the whole inside of the club your vision of the apocalypse with torches lighting the runway. We’ll decorate the inside like the end of the world. I even thought it would be cool to have a piece of a satellite in the corner like everything in the world came crashing down.”
“Is work supposed to turn you on?” He nuzzled her neck, sending shivers through her body. “We’re connected in some other worldly way, because that’s exactly what I wanted.”
His words cascaded over her, and she wanted to wrap herself up in them. Could two people be connected? Would no one ever want to leave? No one could answer that question, all they could do is go with the now. “I want you to tell me if there’s something you don’t like or something you want.”
“I like everything, and I think you know what I constantly want.” He took her chin and turned her face to his.
In preparation for his kiss, she licked her lips.
“How am I ever going to thank you for this?” He brushed his lips across hers.
“Make sure you leave everyone there breathless.” In a moment of self-restraint, she decided not to add that he could thank her by picking ugly models and not choosing a new muse for his next collection.
“If I leave you breathless, I did half my job.” Once more, he kissed her, their tongues caressing against the other.
A little further and they wouldn’t stop. “Blake.”
“Let’s take a break.” He grabbed her hand and pressed it to the front of his jeans. “I have a list, too.”
Unable to stop herself, she gave his erection a squeeze. “What is your list?”
“I know it by heart.” He palmed her breast. “The walk-in closet, the front bathroom and the terrace.”
“Those are rooms, well, sort of, not a list.” She pushed him back.
“It’s a list of places we haven’t christened.”
“If you let me finish the meeting, you can pick the next place to check off your list.” Someone had to be the voice of reason, and she put the next yellow pad on top of the first.
“All right, I’ll suffer.” He smoothed his pants over his ever-growing bulge. “Look what you do to me.”
Out of the corner of her eye she peeked over at the erection already heading down his pant leg. The thing was massive and she loved it. “Why do all guys do that?”
“What?” As if wanting to make sure she saw, he looked at her and then down at his pants.
“Show girls their hard on.” She shook her head.
“No one else better be showing you their hard on, but for the record maybe it goes back to the caveman days when men had to bring home the brontosaurus leg or something.” He nodded. “We want you to be proud.”
Aside from the obvious, being with Blake was nothing if not entertaining. She gave him a playful pat on the head. “Well, good job.”
“Go on with the meeting.” A large, undeniably smug smile graced his face.
“This yellow pad is for any notes on guests and such. Including our lists. The first round of invitations went out to our A-listers. I’ll check in a little bit to see if we have any RSVPs.” She was trying not to hound the computer, but the simple thought made her heart flutter. This just had to work. “We also put up some things on social media.”
“I’m going to stay away from computing devices for a while, you’ll be my window to the world.” He hooked his arm in hers.
“I understand.” Something about waiting was akin to torture and rather than belabor the point, she went to the next yellow pad. “This is all about models and clothes.”
Blake sat up straighter.
“The agency is sending over the girls later this week and emailed all their measurements.” In her whole life, she never saw such numbers. Her cheeks heated. “I’ll let you and Sam handle that.”
“Luna, look at me.”
Not wanting to be like the lunatic her brother called her, she turned to Blake.
“I amend my answer to your erection question.” He raised his eyebrows. “I think men always show their erections to women so they understand who they are with. It’s a primal need to show our arousal and who arouses us.”
Most men could get an erection over anything and she tilted her head.
“I suppose in much the same way we show you our penis, women have to fend off any perceived competition.” He gave her a light peck on the nose. “In this case
, it is truly perceived, for I have utterly no interest in any other woman except as a very fancy hanger for my clothing.”
It was now her turn to kiss him, then she did the girl thing and cuddled up close to him. “I also have all the notes on the order you want the outfits to go down the runway. I’ll put this into a spreadsheet next to pictures of the clothes.”
“You’ll put it in a spreadsheet. I am very pro spreadsheets. One of my interns couldn’t figure that out, and you knew it intuitively.” He held his hand out. “May I see that please?”
She handed him the tablet, wondering which of his interns got discarded for not helping or reading his mind about spreadsheets.
With pursed lips and a slight nod, he ran his finger down the list. “I am adding one more outfit to the lineup.” He took her pen and wrote the words finale ensemble to the last line, made a dash and added her name.
“I already have two outfits.” At this moment she didn’t know how she was going to pull off showing the two looks in record speed. She could barely change socks without tripping. “We were all walking just two looks.”
“Well, as my muse, you are walking three. Plus, the last look may need some help, so I’ll walk it with you.” Without glancing her way, he leaned over the tablet and started making notes.
“Where is the outfit?” Suddenly Blake took her neat little list and tore it apart. “What is the outfit?” Though she didn’t know why, her body tensed.
“Some things are better left as a surprise. I want to see the look on your face when you see it for the first time, and the first time has to be at the show.” He finished his adjustments and handed her back the pad. “What’s on the fourth pad?”
In what world did he think he was going to lay a finale look on her, one that she would have to put on sight unseen and she would brush it off and be fine with it? “Owen.”
“For someone who loves the experience, lives for it in fact, I think you should welcome this opportunity.” His tone was teasing mixed with haughtiness. “You may as well show me what’s on the last pad, cause that’s all you’re going to get.”
“Nothing to do with the show.” She piled all the pads on top of the last one. If he wanted to reveal the outfit, maybe she would show him what was on the paper.
In a sudden move, he lunged toward her and almost by magic managed to swipe the last tablet off her lap.
“Blake!” Crossing her arms across her chest, she ground her teeth together. She might as well admit her lunacy now.
“‘Since he swept into my life, pushed my back against a wall, I’ve been an unlikely princess, is it possible to have it all?’” He ran his fingers over the paper then tore the sheet off the pad. “I need to keep this.”
“Blake.” Not knowing where to hide, she put her hand over her eyes. “It’s not even finished.”
“It’s perfect the way it is.” He took her hand and moved it down. “You’re perfect the way you are. I’m going to give you everything you ever deserved, and then I’m going to give you more.”
Once again, she stared into his face. Damn it. Along the way she lost sight of the experience and fell in love with him.
Yes, she loved him. Really loved him, in that all consuming crazy, wanted-him-to-be-happy-and-wanted-to-be-with-him kind of way. Now what did she do? “Meeting adjourned.”
Chapter Twelve
IN A CAT-LIKE STATE of readiness, Luna stalked along the back edge of the club. If she could stay hidden for more than five minutes, she would consider her mission a success.
When nothing but the sounds of workers making last minute adjustments, and various people rushing about met her ears, she exhaled at finally getting the chance to take in her handy work. In less than two hours, the New Moon would make its final transformation into the post-apocalyptic showcase for Blake's designs.
A gasp escaped her throat as she took in the space.
Not many things in life came out as good, or better, than one's vision. Only Blake and Blake's clothes seemed to defy the odds. Her writing wasn't even immune to coming up short of her expectations.
However, today, the day of Blake's show, could be added to the list of items that not only lived up to the hype, but surpassed it.
In one corner, a model of part of a space station, or some satellite that would orbit the earth, appeared like it crashed through the ceiling of the club, flickering with small multi colored lights, as if it were trying to transmit any last messages.
The runway came through the center of the club with a large moon as a backdrop and chairs set up on either side. Because fire laws prevented them from having open fire, Blake’s fathers found electric torches that lit up in a quite convincing flame. To put all the attention on the clothing, every server and even her brother’s band dressed in all black – of course specially crafted by the designer of the hour.
Talk about an experience. Nothing was like planning this extravaganza with the man she had fallen in love with. Which was an experience in itself. Though she didn’t tell him, couldn’t tell him, it didn’t make her love any less.
Being part of this world, watching the RSVP’s roll in, the show come together, the clothes finalized, it was magic.
Especially with Blake right there every step of the way.
However, in truth, she hadn’t really taken a step lately without Blake right there.
He never let her out of his sight. Since the moment they decided to go through with the fashion show on their terms, Blake kept her close. Who else would be at his beck and call?
On a selfish note, she went along with it. Unlike other women who had to worry where their man was, she never even had a twinge of anxiety.
Anxiety, no.
Irritation, yes.
For the first time in weeks, she tensed. Except for the last couple of minutes where she feigned having to go to the bathroom, he had been a little, well, a little…
“Luna!” Her man rushed into the main room of the club, the tape measure around his neck waving behind him like a poorly designed thin scarf.
He stopped, turned one way, the other, and at last spotted her and broke out in a run toward her. “There you are!”
Caught without an exit, she braced herself for impact. Thus far she had fed him, watered him, confirmed every decision. She even smiled and gave the makeup artist a knowing look when Blake critiqued her makeup down to making sure her lashes were even on each side. No she didn’t mean coats of mascara, she meant he counted her lashes.
“I couldn’t find you.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and held her out at arms’ length to inspect her.
“Where would I go?” Her response seemed reasonable.
“You weren’t where you were supposed to be, so the possibilities were endless.” The words rolled out of his mouth with such ease he left no doubt he was absolutely serious.
“And where was I supposed to be?” Though it proved to be her weakness, she looked right into his eyes and set her resolve not to melt at the sight of him.
He leaned in closer and mumbled something to himself.
“Are you going to answer so I can hear you?”
“Hold on.” He held his hand up and stared at her. “I’m making sure your lashes are still even in number.”
“Blake!” She punctuated her sentence by stomping her foot, her resolve taking the form of cement. “Where was I supposed to be?”
He shifted his eyes down to his side and back up to her. “I have a list of what I need help with, starting with this.” With a bit of a sneer, he reached into his pocket and handed her a button.
“Is this like designer good luck or something?” Maybe Blake was part penguin and this was his version of a pebble. At the thought, her resolve melted a little.
“It fell off my shirt. I need you to hold on to it and then fix it when we go back stage.”
“You want me to do it?” Did they or did they not have an entire team of tailors?
“It’s better when you do it.”
�
�I don’t sew.” She let the button remain in his palm.
“How can you not sew? We’re together.” He put the button in her hand.
“Well, it’s like this. Just because we swap bodily fluids doesn’t mean I got your sewing DNA.” She dropped the button in his shirt pocket.
“What do you do if you ever need something sewed?”
“My boyfriend is a designer. I have connections.” Did they really need to talk about this now before the show? “If the tailors back stage are too busy with the real models to sew your button, rumor has it you have a pretty mean talent when it comes to the needle and thread.”
“Point taken.” Again, he reached into his pocket, this time pulling out a napkin. He unfolded the tattered piece of paper and glanced at it. “I also need to make a micro adjustment to your outfit, I can’t find my water bottle, I wanted to look over the RSVP list one more time and my phone is only at 46 percent battery.” In case he needed to produce the evidence, he slid his phone out of yet another pocket and showed her.
With narrowed eyes she focused on the little percentage number near the battery icon. “It now says 43 percent.”
Eyes wide, he turned the device toward him and thrust it back at her. “Luna!”
Yes, Blake idled at needy, but someone turned the engine up and he was going on all eight cylinders. “Blake!” She grabbed him, pulled him down and planted a big wet one on him.
He wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss, his hand slid down to her bottom and he moaned.
Only when his muscles relaxed she pulled back.
Where there once were frown lines and a pale complexion, a scant bit of color returned to his face, and he smiled. “Luna?”
“Yes.” At least she knew how to cure the savage neediness.
“I have one more thing on my list.”
Okay, maybe it wasn’t a cure. “Before you give me a to do list, why don’t you look and experience your show?” Since the kiss didn’t work she turned him around.
“It is wonderful. Exactly as I pictured.” He put his arm around her. “Now about my list.”
Come Undone: Romance Stories Inspired by the Music of Duran Duran Page 10
