by Lara Adrian
I smile. “Isn’t that the ultimate point of beautiful lingerie?”
“Yes, but I’d rather imagine the kids getting an education in animal husbandry from the actual animals tomorrow, not from my insatiable and utterly shameless, hot husband-to-be.”
I laugh, but hearing her talk about the passion she has with Nick makes me relive the smoldering possessiveness I felt in those brief, searing moments that Gabe’s mouth came crushing down on mine. I’ve been telling myself I’m glad he hasn’t come back, that I am thankful I haven’t been asked to return to the Baine Building to meet again with Avery and risk running into Gabe in the process.
I’ve spent the past two days trying to convince myself that this man and his kiss hasn’t cracked something open inside me, that it should be easy to banish the memory of his lips on mine with the same disregard he seems to have for me.
Yet, meanwhile, for all of these past two days, he’s continued to invade my thoughts.
And at night, he invades my dreams.
Avery studies me now, as she collects her purse from the velvet-upholstered settee near where we stand. “I understand Gabe is overseeing some security enhancements here at L’Opale.”
“Yes, he is.” My bitterness toward him is still ripe enough that it slips out of me on a short scoff. “Lucky me.”
I’m not sure how she could tell I’d been thinking about Gabriel Noble, but there’s no mistaking the curious gleam in her eyes now that she’s mentioned his name and caught my reaction.
“Don’t tell me you two are still locking horns?”
Among other things. As the fiancée of the man Gabe works for, Avery doesn’t need to be burdened with the details of my last encounter with him. But she doesn’t seem inclined to let it go. She studies me with the kind of look Paige or my other friends tend to give me when I’m trying to be evasive.
“If I’m pressing, please tell me. But . . . is something going on between you and Gabe?”
I groan. “No, there’s nothing going on. At the moment, I don’t think we’re even speaking to each other.”
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” She makes a circling motion with her finger. “Consider this room our cone of silence. Anything you say won’t leave here, I promise.”
I release a sigh, and before I can stop them, the words tumble out of my mouth. “When Gabe came here to install a bunch of cameras, electronic locks, and other security measures I’m not sure are necessary, we ended up arguing. I said some things that upset him, then he said some things that only upset me even more, and then . . . I kissed him.”
Avery’s eyes go wide. “You kissed him?”
“Technically, he kissed me. The point is, it happened. And trust me, neither one of us is happy about it, either. But now it’s been two days since he stormed out of here, and I can’t decide if I’m relieved or furious as hell that I haven’t seen or heard from him.”
“Maybe some of both,” Avery suggests gently, and I sense she knows something about this feeling herself. “He’s a good man, Evelyn. I don’t think he’s without his own demons, but then how many of us can say we are? Some people are worth all the effort it takes to love them, or to show them that they’re worth loving.”
I mentally reel back. “I’m talking about a couple of arguments and an angry kiss. Love is the furthest thing from my mind. Or his, I’m sure.”
She smiles, giving a faint lift of her shoulder. There is something sly in her gaze now, and in the faint tilt of her lips. “Anyway, Gabe won’t be able to avoid you forever. Especially if you and I start spending more time together working on lingerie designs.”
“It won’t be a problem,” I assure her. “You’re my client, Avery, and I promise none of this will impact my work or the quality of my time spent with you. I’ve actually cleared my other clients to devote myself completely to this project. I won’t disappoint you.”
She shakes her head. “I know you won’t, and that’s not what I meant. What I’m trying to say is that I want to expand the scope of our agreement, Evelyn. I’d like you to design all of the lingerie for my wedding and honeymoon. If you’re interested, that is.”
I’m gaping, but I can’t help it. “Avery.” I reach out and squeeze her hand, but then my gratitude and excitement overcomes me and I can’t resist giving her a hug. “Thank you. I would be honored.”
“I can’t imagine trusting it to anyone else,” she says, smiling as I release her. “We can talk some more about it next week.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Me too,” she says. “Now, I’d better run. I have a hundred things to do before tomorrow, but this was by far the best part of my day.”
We leave the dressing room together and walk out to the front of the boutique. There are a few customers browsing the shop, but it is the gray-haired gentleman in the prim suit seated in one of our consultation areas that draws my attention.
“See you tomorrow afternoon,” Avery says, giving me a quick hug before heading for the front door.
I wave to her, then step behind the cashier counter where Megan is eyeing me uncertainly. “What’s Mr. Hennings doing here today?”
“He says he had an appointment with Kat.”
“I thought she was off today.”
“She is. But apparently she forgot to tell Mr. Hennings.” Meg taps the computer screen to bring up the shop calendar. “He’s right here on her schedule, Evelyn. Anyway, he asked to wait for you.”
“All right. I’ll handle it.” Suppressing my disappointment in Kat for this uncharacteristic slip, I paste a smile on my face and walk over to greet the kindly older man. He stands up as I approach, inclining his balding head. “Mr. Hennings, good afternoon.”
“Ah, Miss Beckham. Hello, my dear.” He takes my offered hand in his grasp, his palm soft and a little humid.
I draw mine back and fold my arms. “I just heard there was a scheduling problem on our end today. I apologize for the mix-up. I know Katrina will feel terrible about this too.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” he assures me. “Mistakes happen. I hope you don’t mind that I’m intruding on your day. I see your talents are very in demand lately.”
A guilty pang jabs me at the remark, especially considering my work with Avery has limited the time I used to spend on his account. “First of all, you’re not intruding. I’m just sorry you came all this way and Katrina’s not here. Is there something I can help you with?”
“If you don’t mind, I was hoping to check on the progress of that delightful little negligee we discussed a couple of weeks ago. The one that’s almost the precise color of your pretty eyes.”
I know Kat would groan at the old man’s feeble attempts to flirt, but I’ve learned to take it in stride. I invite him back to my office and he follows, pausing to thank Megan for the tea she brought him while he waited for me to finish with Avery.
His round face lights up in a smile as soon as he enters my office and sees his rosebush situated on the edge of my desk. “You found the perfect spot for it.”
“Thank you again for your lovely gift, Mr. Hennings. It really wasn’t necessary.”
He gives me a dismissive wave of his hand. “You create such beautiful things, I wanted to make something beautiful for you.”
I smile and motion for him to take the guest chair. “Please have a seat. I’ll be right back with your project files and we can review them together.”
10
~ Evelyn ~
The shrill cry of a monkey echoes through the thick green jungle habitats that lay just ten miles from the urban chaos of Times Square.
“Looks like the zoo is a huge hit,” I say as I approach the picnic table where Avery directed me to meet her and a couple of her friends when I arrived.
“I’m so happy you made it, Evelyn.” She greets me with a hug and a bright smile. “Who needs amusement park rides when you have animals and all this space for kids to run?”
All around us, happy families stro
ll here and there along the paths while hundreds of excited, chattering children race from one exhibit to another in the large section of the zoo that’s been closed for the community center’s private party.
Avery gestures to the pair of attractive women sitting at the table with her. “These are my friends Tasha Lopez and Lita Frasier.”
I smile at the petite, visibly pregnant Latina mom who’s holding a sleeping toddler girl in her lap, and the curvy, tattooed woman with bright teal hair seated across from them. “Nice to meet you both, Tasha and Lita. I’m Evelyn Beckham.”
They offer me warm smiles and friendly welcomes as I join them. Tasha adds in a whisper, “This little hellion is Zoe. You’re catching her in a rare moment of recharge. Normally, you can’t get her to slow down for anything.”
“Just like her mama,” Avery says, then glances at me. “Tasha and I used to work together at a restaurant on Madison. It’s not far from your boutique, in fact.”
“Really? Which restaurant?”
“Vendange. Do you know it?”
I laugh. “That happens to be one of my favorites in all of the city. My friends and I must end up there for lunch or dinner at least once a month.”
Tasha nods, tilting her head and studying me. “You look really familiar. I’m sure I’ve seen you there a few times. Or maybe somewhere else . . .”
“Tasha’s been managing Vendange for about a year and a half,” Avery interjects. “Before that, she and I tended bar there.”
“Yeah, we bonded over our shared misery of working for the misogynist jerk who used to manage the place,” her friend says, her brown eyes continuing to watch me over the top of her sleeping child’s head. “Then Ave met Nick, he bought the restaurant, canned our old boss, and put me in charge.”
Avery nods. “If you ask me, one of the best business decisions Nick’s ever made.”
Seated beside me on the picnic table bench, Lita grins, making the diamond stud in her nose twinkle. “I’d say he’s done all right in the art appreciation department too. After all, Nick spotted your talent before anyone else was smart enough to realize what a gifted artist you are.”
“Look who’s talking about having a gift,” Avery replies, then glances at me again. “Lita and I, along with another friend, Matt, have been sharing studio space in East Harlem for about as long as I’ve been with Nick. I still can’t paint worth a damn anywhere else but next to her.”
Lita bats her lashes like a vixen, an odd juxtaposition with her heavily inked skin and multiple piercings. “What can I say? I am clearly a great and powerful muse.”
I laugh, finding it easy to get swept into the camaraderie between the three women. “What kind of art do you do, Lita?”
“Metal and mixed media sculpture. I’ve dabbled with paint, too, but I’d much rather smash things with a hammer or bend them to my will using a blow torch. My shrink used to tell me I had anger management issues.” She exchanges a private look with Avery. “I wonder what she’d say now.”
As Lita talks, I’m reminded of a local business article I read a few months ago about a Brooklyn technology firm that had commissioned an original metal art sculpture for their corporate flagship’s lobby. I didn’t recall the female artist’s name, but the company’s billionaire CEO, Derek Kingston, is a perennial hot topic for the press, given that the handsome, very eligible bachelor made his first fortune with a string of hit songs and sold-out rock concerts all over the world.
“Are you the sculptor who’s creating the piece for DekTech’s new headquarters?”
Lita’s face seems to blanch a bit. “Not anymore. I tore up the contract.”
“Oh.” I sense it’s a touchy subject, and since I’ve only just met her, the last thing I want to do is make Lita uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I hope everything is okay with that.”
She gives a subdued shrug that speaks volumes. “It’ll be fine. I always land on my feet somehow.”
An awkward silence begins to fall over Avery and her friend. Tasha’s the first to break it. “Am I the only one who’s starving right now? Ever since we sat down, I’ve been smelling something amazing cooking on a grill somewhere.”
“That’s our catering,” Avery says. “I don’t think I mentioned it to anyone yet, but Nick managed to persuade Gavin Castille to cook for our party today.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Tasha says, laughing. “Leave it your fiancé to hire a celebrity chef on zero notice. I’m surprised the zoo didn’t insist on supplying the food.”
Avery winces. “I don’t think Nick gave them the chance to argue. As for Gavin, since he’s a good friend and he donates time at the rec center, too, he was more than willing to come to our rescue today.”
“Speak of the devil,” Lita murmurs.
I glance across the area where we’re seated and see the tall, beachy-blond Australian striding toward us carrying a plate of food and a stack of napkins. Gavin Castille is built like an athlete, long limbs and a trim body that doesn’t seem to carry an ounce of fat in spite of the decadent dishes he’s famous for, both in the media and in his signature restaurants all around the world. His latest place, GC, has a reputation for months-long reservation lists and a menu to die for.
His fluid, cowboy swagger and movie-star handsome face would have made him famous even if he wasn’t an incredibly talented chef. Certainly, he’s never had a shortage of beautiful women on his arm at any given moment.
As he nears us, the aromas of grilled meat and savory vegetables and sauces practically make me moan in anticipation.
If I wasn’t still fuming about a certain aggravating Baine security chief, I might also be tempted to moan over the sheer male perfection of the man now giving us all a dazzling, dimpled smile.
“Afternoon, ladies.” His deep voice and accent are as dangerous as the rest of him, and from the wicked gleam in his eyes, I’m guessing he knows how to use his charm to its fullest advantage. He leans down and gives Avery a brief kiss on the cheek before setting the plate down on the table between all of us. “I thought you might like to sample a few things before the chow bell rings to summon the throng.”
Tasha peers at the offering. “Barbequed chicken, grilled veggies, and potato salad? I didn’t realize you had it in you to be so basic. Color me shocked.”
Obviously, they know each other. Which shouldn’t come as a surprise, given that Nick and Avery are evidently close to Castille.
“Nice to see you, too, Tasha.” He winks at her, then places a gentle hand on sleeping Zoe’s head for a moment. “Where’s my buddy Tony?”
“He’s around here somewhere. Probably acting a bigger fool than most of the kids, if I know him. I’ll bring him by later to say hello. I know he’ll be eager to bend your ear about his latest obsession.”
“Another home brew experiment?”
“No, much worse. He’s discovered the joys of pressure-cooking.”
“Ah, Christ.” Castille chuckles. “My sympathies.”
He glances at Lita and me, and Avery makes introductions for us. He’s friendly and warm, and for a few minutes, while we all pick at the plate of food he brought, he and Tasha entertain us with good-natured banter about their restaurants’ ongoing kitchen rivalry.
Tasha pulls off a piece of grilled chicken and pops it in her mouth. “I’m just saying, this new chef we hired is outstanding. Since we brought her on, we’ve nearly tripled our weekend dinner receipts.”
“And where did you say she trained again?”
“I didn’t. But since you asked, she’s homegrown. She got her start as a line cook right here in the city and worked her way up one kitchen at a time.”
He grunts, hardly hiding his skepticism. “I guess I’ll have to come in sometime and see what’s cooking.”
Avery laughs. “Tasha, you’d better watch your back. I know Gavin, and he’s either going to recon your menu or try to steal your new chef out from under you.”
Castille holds up his hands. “Vicious lies. I just
like checking out the competition. I didn’t get this far without paying attention to who might be breathing down my neck and looking to unseat me one day.”
As everyone talks, I notice that Lita has gone quiet next to me. I glance at her and find her face a little pale, tiny beads of perspiration gathering above her upper lip. She seems to sway a bit, her hand moving up to her mouth.
“Are you okay?”
She nods. “Yeah. I’m fine.” But she swallows hard, and a look of discomfort washes over her face. “I think I just . . . need to . . . get some air or something.”
“I’ll help you,” Avery says, popping off the bench and moving to her friend’s side. To the rest of us, she adds, “It does seem awfully humid today after this morning’s rain. We’re just going to take a little walk.”
I glance at Tasha, who looks as concerned as me. “Well,” she says, “I should probably go waddle off to find my husband and let him know there’s food to eat. Everything’s great, Gavin. You know I just have to bust your balls.”
He nods. “Always a pleasure, Tasha. Tell Tony I’ll watch for him at the catering station.”
With her sleeping daughter slumped over her shoulder, Tasha waves and heads off across the open space.
“And then, there were two,” Castille says.
I smile, feeling instantly at ease with him, even though I would have guessed by his reputation that he’d be an insufferable egomaniac. But I know he has work to do, and I figure I’ll wander the grounds on my own for a little while before heading home.
“Thanks for the snack, Gavin. It was delicious.” I stand up, wiping my mouth and fingers on the napkin. “Nice meeting you.”
He tilts his head. “Actually, we met about seven years ago in Sydney. One of those fashion event after-parties, as I recall.”
“Oh.” I feel my smile falter a little as I struggle to place him in the blur of my runway days. “Those things were always so hectic and it was a long time ago. I’m sorry, Gavin, I don’t . . .”
