by Francis Ray
“That I needed to lose a few pounds,” Diana admitted, hiding behind her glass. Only René hadn’t put it so politely. He’d shouted at her, told her she’d ruin his fabulous designs. She had to lose ten pounds before she returned to Paris after the meeting on Monday.
She sighed. How could she lose that much weight in the time she had left? She certainly wasn’t going to take some of the drastic steps the others models resorted to.
“The man is crazy. There’s nothing wrong with your figure.”
As much as she wanted to believe Alex, she knew differently. “In the real world perhaps, but we’re talking fashion, where a size six is fat. I’m a size eight.” She winced slightly at the lie. She was almost a size ten, but she wasn’t ready to say it aloud. She was a “big girl” compared with the other models in the runway shows for Harrington, but the audience always responded well to her when she strutted down the catwalk.
“The Dianne line is still popular.”
She placed the glass on the white tablecloth and stared across at him. “How would you know?”
For a moment, she thought he would evade, which was unusual. Alex always spoke his mind. “Catherine keeps up with you, and she keeps me informed.”
Dianne didn’t know why she felt a small dip of disappointment that he hadn’t checked for himself, but what man—besides those directly connected to the industry—checked trends?
“Your food.” The server placed the dishes on the table, then left.
Alex bowed his head to bless their food and picked up his fork. Dianne picked up hers as well, but her attention was snagged by the sight and aroma of Alex’s food. Her mouth watered. She’d only had water that day. There’d been nothing else edible in the refrigerator. She’d been in Europe for the past three months.
“Hand me your plate.”
“What?” Dianne’s startled gaze lifted from his food.
Alex reached across the table and picked up her plate. “I’m not going to sit here and let you be hungry.” He placed half of his beef next to her bed of spinach. He speared an asparagus.
“Alex, I can’t—”
“You’re not starving yourself,” he said, adding roasted potatoes to her plate. “When will you see this René again?”
“I’m flying out Tuesday morning after the board meeting,” she told him, staring at the plate. Food had always been her weakness. It had comforted her when her life was going wrong, which was more often than not. Yet the thought of leaving Alex troubled her more than facing René.
“There’s a fitness center in my apartment building. I’ll work out with you in the evenings.” He picked up his fork. “You are not starving yourself to please anyone,” he repeated.
Again, Dianne tucked her head. Alex was too kind to say it, but the word hung between them. He and Catherine had witnessed her embarrassment and always tried to help. Her mother had put Dianne on a strict diet four times before she graduated from high school, saying she was too fat and an embarrassment.
“You’re a beautiful woman,” Alex said softly. “If you don’t believe me, just look around the restaurant.”
Dianna lifted her head. She didn’t care what other men thought of her. Something soft unfurled inside her. Alex might be a lawyer, and lawyers often manipulated words and downright lied when it suited them. He might if it was necessary to help her, but he’d never lied to her.
He’d seen her at her lowest points in life and never judged, just went out of his way to help. When her mother put her on her first diet at age ten, he and Catherine made sure she got more than the prescribed thousand calories a day. They got her moving to lose the thirty pounds she’d packed on from overeating and hanging out in front of the TV.
A thought hit. Didn’t people burn calories having sex? With that titillating idea in mind, she picked up her fork. “You were merciless about me riding my bike and running.”
“I wanted your mother off your case.”
They both knew that would never happen permanently. She forked in a bit of beef and roasted potatoes. Moaned. “Why are the good things so bad for you?”
Something crossed his face. Worried, Dianne lowered her fork. “Are you all right?”
“It’s nothing.” He twisted in his seat, reached for his glass, and gulped his water. “What time are you leaving Tuesday?”
She stared at him a few moments longer, but seeing him pick up his fork and begin to eat, she answered his question. “Not sure. I’m picking up my itinerary Monday morning after I meet the new CEO of Harrington House, Theo Boswell.”
Alex’s brows lifted. “They’re not telling you until then?”
Shrugging, she cut into her asparagus. The combination of foods was delicious. She thought of the pounds she needed to lose then pushed it out of her head. “Things have changed since Grandfather was CEO. The new guy is more hands-on.”
Alex placed his fork on his plate. “You need a contract.”
Dianne laughed. “You’re being a lawyer again.”
“Because I’ve seen too many people get the shaft from going on trust. You have nothing to protect you if the new CEO decides to make drastic changes to the D line and go in a different direction.” His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I should go with you.”
“Not necessary.” Unworried, Dianne placed her fork on her nearly empty salad plate. “Mom and Dad have a controlling interest in Harrington House. You said yourself, the D line is doing well. My parents enjoy living the life of leisure, and the profits from the company give them that. I’m secure. Don’t worry.”
He finally smiled. “Force of habit.”
She smiled back. “I’m a big girl now.”
“A beautiful one.”
There it was again, the flirtation. This time his expression didn’t change; he kept those beautiful midnight-black eyes of his on her. Dianne felt heat course through her body as she stared at him.
“Anything else? Dessert. Coffee?” the waiter asked.
“Dianne?” Alex asked.
What she wanted wasn’t on the menu. “No, thank you.”
Alex pulled a business card and pen from the inside of his jacket. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’ll give you my address again. I should be home by six.” He handed the thick vellum card to her. “Does that work for you?”
Dianne took the card and barely glanced at it. Alex and Catherine had scary IQs. Dianne had begun modeling after she graduated from high school and had never obtained a college degree. She’d always been a bit intimidated by their intelligence. “I remember where you live. I’m not that much of a bubblehead,” she said tightly.
His head came up sharply. “No, you’re not. Only an idiot would think you were.”
Sighing, Dianna leaned back in her seat. “I overreacted. Sorry.”
“Jet lag.” Alex signaled for the check. “I’ll get you a cab so you can go back to your place, guzzle more water, and rest.”
He’d forgiven her, excused her bad manners. She didn’t have to think long to remember all the times Alex had taken up for her when her parents had questioned her intelligence or had been ashamed of her—until the D line and she were a success. Then her parents couldn’t tell the friends and media enough about how they’d always known she was special, just like her parents.
Dianne waited until he’d paid the check. “Alex, I need to ask you a question.”
“Sure.”
“I’m invited to a party tonight in the Village. Would you be my date?” His indulgent smile slipped for a fraction of a second. “It should be fun. Come on,” she urged.
“What about your exercise?” he asked.
“There’ll be dancing,” she said, smiling at him. “Please.”
“All right,” he said, rising to hold her chair. “What time should I pick you up?”
“Nine.”
Taking her arm, he led her outside and hailed her a cab. When one pulled up, he opened the door and reminded her, “Rest and water.”
She grinned at him. “I will
. I want to be ready for tonight. See you at nine.”
Closing the door, Alex watched the cab pull away, a smile on his face. He might owe Sin and C. J. a case of their favorite scotch. Maybe, just maybe his feelings weren’t one-sided.
It was becoming much too difficult to keep playing the good friend. The problem was, if he was wrong, he was asking for his heart to be handed to him on a platter. But he’d become too used to watching over her. Not even to protect himself could he give up the chance to be with her.
He’d see how the night went and then make a decision. He just hoped he was up to it.
* * *
Alex thought he was prepared to walk the increasingly blurry line between friend and a man in love—until Dianne opened her door. His heart plopped at her feet. She was dangerous and tempting in a red, fitted gown that stopped midthigh. His throat dried. Whatever he had been telling himself about his restraint went out the window.
He wanted her with an intensity he’d never felt before. He craved what he couldn’t have.
“Hi, Alex. Right on time.” Taking his arm, she gently pulled him inside. “I’ll get my clutch and then we can go.”
He watched her walk away and wanted to whimper. On closer observation, he saw that the skirt of the gown wrapped and was held with a large bow in back. Any man breathing would want to give the bow a strong tug … with his teeth.
She bent, the satin material tightening over her hips. He’d have sent up a prayer if he thought that might help. She came back, stopping mere inches from him. If the dress wasn’t enough, her fragrance, a mixture of oranges and jasmine, grabbed him by the throat.
“Alex, are you all right?”
“That’s some dress,” he managed.
She chuckled, a teasing sound that sent another punch straight below the waist. “It’s from the latest D line. Glad you like.” She presented him her back, and glanced over her shoulder. “Is the bow straight? I had a hard time.”
He swallowed, managed to nod. Her back was gloriously bare.
“You’re sure?” she questioned with a wrinkle of her pretty nose. “I don’t want to go out not looking right. Appearances are supremely important when you represent the line. You won’t hurt my feeling if you have to retie it.”
“It’s fine,” he said, his voice rough. “The car is waiting downstairs.”
“Car?” She faced him.
Alex reached for the doorknob in desperation. They had to get out of there before he lost it. “I wasn’t sure how long you wanted to stay or about parking.”
She looped her arm through his. “You always think of everything.”
Alex closed her door, tested the lock, and started for the elevator. If only that were the truth.
* * *
Dianne was walking on air by the time they reached Sonya’s apartment. Alex was definitely thinking of her more as a woman than as a friend. Good, because the more she was around him, the more she thought of him as the man she wanted to be her first lover. A pang of regret hit as he rang the doorbell of Sonya’s apartment. Dianne wished she could keep him as a friend and as a lover, but that would be impossible. He’d eventually get bored with her. She wasn’t in his league intellectually.
The door opened and with it come a loud blast of John Mayer singing. J. J. stood frowning at her and blocking the entrance. “Dianne.”
“Hello, J. J.,” Dianne greeted with a wide smile. J. J., in a black silk shirt and linen pants, was a swimsuit model who lived in the same building. He was also Sonya’s sometime lover.
When he continued to stare at her, Dianne stepped forward so he’d have to move back. She’d just have to bluff it through. She’d attended one of Sonya’s party’s months ago, and that had been enough for Dianne to consider never going again. There had been too much heavy drinking and hard partying. She’d had to threaten to call the police before a man would let her leave. She and Sonya had never been close; after the incident their relationship was strained even more, and everyone knew it.
Dianne just hoped J. J. didn’t question her now as to why she was there. “J. J. Louis, meet Alex Stewart. Is Sonya around?”
J. J. finally closed the door, still looking at her with puzzlement. “In this crush someplace.”
“We’ll find her.” Dianne clutched Alex’s arm and moved through the throng of people and a haze of smoke. “Sonya is a model as well, but she’s freelance. We met years ago in Paris.”
“I see,” Alex said, his brows bunched.
Dianne forged ahead. She couldn’t tell if there was censure in his voice or not. “There she is. Hi, Sonya.”
Sonya’s green eyes narrowed on Dianna, then moved to Alex and stayed. She actually licked her full red lips. In a skintight black dress that barely covered her hips, the tall brunette air-kissed Dianne’s cheeks, then returned her greedy eyes to Alex. “Well, well. Who have we here?”
“Mine,” Dianne said, startled by the passion and possessiveness of that one word. She didn’t dare look at Alex to see his reaction.
Sonya’s gaze flickered over him again. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to ask you to share.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Alex answered, his voice decisive and unbending.
Dianne grinned. “Nice party. J. J. let us in.”
Sonya wrinkled her nose. “About time he did something useful. He hasn’t had a callback in weeks. He may be on his way out.”
Dianna felt a quick stab of pity. Old models, like old actresses, had few options. Alex’s arm tightened around her. That wouldn’t happen to her. Her parents had controlling interest in the company. Somehow she’d lose the ten pounds before Tuesday.
“He should have expected it. He’s thirty, for goodness’ sake, and not as toned as he used to be.” Sonya smirked as she held a cocktail in one hand and a thin cigarette in the other.
Dianne was thirty-two. Her stomach clenched.
“He’s lucky I even tolerated him this long,” Sonya continued.
Another reason Dianne had attended only one of Sonya’s parties before tonight despite numerous invitations. She was vain and egotistical. She’d step over her grandmother to get where she wanted. “I think we’ll circulate.”
Sonya shifted so she was closer to Alex. “Please enjoy yourselves and come back anytime. I’m not flying out until after a photo shoot in a couple of weeks.”
“Thank you. Safe travel,” Alex said, leading Dianne toward the small area they’d set up for the dance floor.
“Sorry about that,” Dianne said as he placed his hand on her waist.
“Just answer one question,” he said.
She smiled up into his serious face. “Depends on the question.”
He glanced around the loud, crowded room, his displeasure obvious. “Why did you want to come here?”
She was on the precipice, but she wanted to be honest with him. “I’m trying to make a decision about something, and you’re a part of that decision.”
He nodded. “As a lawyer or as a friend?”
She moistened her lips and watched his hot gaze follow. Her skin tingled. “Neither.”
“Bud, you ever heard of no parking on the dance floor, especially with a woman this gorgeous?” a tall man in a well-cut suit said. “Let’s boogie, baby.”
“You ever heard of fools treading where others fear?” Alex asked without missing a beat.
The smile vanished from the man’s face. He looked at Alex and decided he didn’t want to dance with Dianne after all.
“Then as what?” Alex asked, the man already forgotten.
“Why don’t I tell you later,” she said, trying to calm her racing heart. Alex could be a possessive warrior. No man was getting near his woman. The thought thrilled her.
He pulled her into his arms, his hand splayed on her bare back. Dianne felt hot, shivery. She wanted to be closer still, to press her lips and her body to his. Her skin felt tight.
Her body reacted so strongly to his. She needed to know if it was just him or her
need to be loved and wanted. But she’d felt nothing with Truss, except a need to be with Alex. The song ended. Reluctantly she straightened. She stared up into his eyes, which seemed to be even darker, more piercing. Her heart raced.
“My turn.”
“No,” Alex bit out, never taking his gaze from her.
“Yes.” She needed a moment. Dianne turned blindly toward the man to test her reaction and wanted to groan. Roscoe Lewis was a shoe designer who thought of himself as a ladies’ man. His ego was the size of Alaska. He bedded a lot of his models and bragged about it. He might be handsome, but he was slime.
Roscoe winked at Alex and pulled Dianne into his arms. His smile turned into a frown when she placed her hand on his chest to keep him from drawing her closer. “Hey.”
“Hey, back at you,” Dianne said, a sweet smile on her face.
“You always thought you were better than the rest of us lesser mortals,” he said harshly.
Dianne had heard it before. Since she didn’t party and seldom dated, many of those in the fashion industry thought she was stuck up. “I thought you wanted to dance, not discuss my character. Since you don’t.” She turned to walk away.
“You—” An angry frown on Roscoe’s face, he started after her. “Come back here.”
Dianne kept walking toward Alex. She didn’t like the hard look on his face. She didn’t understand until he stepped past her. “I wouldn’t touch that sash. Not unless you want a broken hand,” Alex said, moving Dianne behind him.
The loud conversation, the clinking of glasses stopped. “Do you know who I am?” Roscoe asked, his eyes harsh.
“Besides scum, no, and I don’t care.”
Roscoe’s head jerked back as if he’d been struck. He bristled. “You’ll never work in this industry again.”
Dianne laughed. Heads turned to her. “He has the looks, but he’s a lawyer, a darn good one. Believe me, you don’t want to mess with him or his well-connected family.”
Roscoe sneered. “I have connections as well.”
“They don’t reach the US Senate and that’s just the tip of a very deep iceberg you don’t want to run up against.” Dianne turned to find Sonya. “Thanks for the invite. We must run.” Air-kissing again, Dianne looped her arm through Alex’s and left the apartment.
