Redesigned

by Denise Grover Swank

  He gives me a curt nod. “I see.”

  Does he? I don’t think so, but I’m not sure how to convince him otherwise. I take a step toward him, lifting my arms around his neck. “Telling you no to dinner has to be the hardest thing I’ve done today.”

  I press my mouth against his, intending to only get a taste to get me through the evening. But at the touch of my lips, Reed wraps his arms around my back. Pulling me tight against his chest, he takes control, showing me how much he wants to see me.

  “You wore a dress,” he murmurs. “I love it when you wear a dress.”

  “I know. I wore it for you.” His hand creeps down my thigh, gripping the fabric and pulling it up a few inches. “Reed, someone could walk in.”

  Reed lifts his head, and grins. “I’m very tempted to see this through, but I want you to get some work done.”

  “You’re turning me down?”

  “No, I’m postponing. What I have planned is better than a quick round on a table.”

  “You have something planned?”

  He grins. “No, but I kind of like a bed now that we’ve tried it. I think it went rather well.”

  “Definitely, no complaints here.”

  He kisses me again and drops my skirt, then picks up my bag and his. “How about I walk you across campus? If I can’t have dinner with you, at least I’ll get to spend a little more time with you.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He leads me out of the office. The sun is out but the air is crisp. When we get outside, Reed takes my hand in his.

  I’m surprised by how much I like this nonsexual connection to him. For the first time in a long time, I feel comfortable with someone. Like I’m not watching my every move. “I love fall.”

  He looks down at me. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. “The cool air, the changing leaves. The holidays are just around the corner.”

  “You like the holidays?”

  “It’s more the idea of it.”

  He stops and turns to me. “What’s the idea of it?”

  “You know … family. Traditions.”

  “You mean presents?”

  When I was kid, of course I wanted presents. But Christmases were always sparse. It was hard going to school and hearing the kids talking about their PS2s and iPods. But it was more than that. Since we had so little money, my parents tried to downplay the entire holiday. There was no Christmas tree once I hit middle school. No stockings, no Christmas dinner. Scarlett teased me the first year in our dorm when I bought a small Christmas tree, but only lightheartedly. She knew what Christmas was like at my house. The second year she helped me decorate. Last year she surprised me with a live six-foot Douglas fir tree. I cried like a baby for ten minutes. I can’t bear to think of Christmas without her this year. Alone.

  I clear my throat and shake my head. “No, not the presents really. More the idea of being surrounded by love.”

  His mouth parts as though he’s surprised by my answer. “Are you close to your family?”

  What was I thinking telling him that? I tug on his hand and start walking. “No.” My tone tells him the subject is off-limits. “What’s your favorite season?”

  “Summer, definitely summer,” he says. “I like being on the water. There’s nothing like the wind and the waves and the sun on your face.”

  I glance up at his smile. “Do you have a boat?”

  He blinks. “Yeah. My parents do.”

  “Are there lakes in Massachusetts?”

  “There’s an ocean.”

  It’s my turn to be surprised. I hadn’t thought of that. “And did you like Christmases at your house?”

  He pauses, then looks at me with a soft smile. “I like the idea of it, too.”

  We walk for several seconds in silence. I’m surprised how much I’ve shared with him. I always keep my answers superficial. Is it possible to share the intimate things we have and not find my heart exposed?

  “How much work do you have today?” he asks as he opens the door to my building.

  I close my eyes and sigh. “A lot.”

  “Can I see you later?”

  I smile at him. “I hope so.” We start up the stairs to the second floor. “What do you have planned tonight?”

  “I have plenty of work to keep me busy.” He stops outside the design room door. “I’ll call you later, okay? To check on you.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He hesitates and for the first time since I’ve known him, he looks uncertain. “I really want to kiss you goodbye, but there’s other people around. Are you okay with that?”

  I’ve never been a big public display person, but when I think about it, I’ve always worried what people thought of me. I just found out most of the campus thinks I’m frigid. Seeing me kiss Reed will make them think again. But I’m surprised to realize when I’m with Reed, I don’t care what people think.

  I give him a sweet smile. Other than Scarlett and Tucker, he’s one of the few people who actually cares about my feelings or what I want. “I think we should have a rule that we always kiss goodbye.”

  He wraps his arms around my back and pulls me close. “I like that rule.”

  I’m amazed I’m so familiar with his body already. How easily I mold into him. I rest my hands on his chest and stand on tiptoes, pressing my mouth to his.

  He kisses me back, a lazy kiss full of promise and affection, and I lose myself in it. How is it in the two years I was with Justin, I never felt anything remotely close to this?

  With a sigh, he lifts his head and kisses my forehead. “You’re my addiction, Caroline Hunter. The more I see you,”—he leans into my ear and lowers his voice—“the more I taste you—”

  I shiver.

  “—the more I want you.” He drops his hold and steps back. “I’ll call you later,” he says as he walks away.

  I’ve never felt so lonely in my life.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hours later, I’m working alone in the design lab. I’m finishing the shirt for the first outfit, and I’m frustrated as hell. The dress forms are too big, and I can’t make them any smaller. Even if I could get the waist and hips the right size, the fact that the form has breasts will throw off the draping.

  The only thing I know to do is go back to the center and try them on the children. But that will take multiple fittings per child. I don’t have the luxury of time for that, not to mention the inconvenience to the center.

  My phone rings, pulling me out of my thoughts and a smile lifts my mouth. I can only think of a handful of people who could be on the other end, and I have a feeling who it is since it’s after eight and he hasn’t called yet. I drop a pair of scissors on the floor as I reach for the phone.

  “Hey,” I say as I squat down to pick them up off.

  “Hello, Carol Ann.”

  My breath strangles in my throat at the sound of my mother’s voice, and I drop to my knees.

  “I’m going through my affairs and I’m wonderin’ if you want your Grandma Muriel’s locket. You always liked it when you were little.”

  The locket can’t be worth more than a couple of dollars. “Doesn’t Aunt Minnie want it? She’s your sister.”

  “Nah, she don’t give two figs about it.”

  I close my eyes. One of the few memories I have of my grandmother is of her wearing the locket. I was always fascinated with a tiny lock of hair she kept inside it. When I asked her where it came from, she said she’d cut it off the head of her stillborn baby boy. Now I see how morbid it is, but back then I was fascinated. “Um, yeah.” I’m surprised I really do.

  “Is there anything else you want?”

  Every conscious thought flees from my head. The only thing I can think of lies heavy on my tongue. I want you to love me. Instead, I swallow the words and force out, “No.”

  She breaks into a coughing spell that lasts for several seconds. When she stops, her breath is wheezy. “Well, if you think of something … you can
call.”

  “Yeah.”

  She hangs up and I lean my head against the table leg next to me. Tears burn my eyes. I will not cry. I will not cry. She made her choice, and it wasn’t me.

  “Caroline?”

  I lift my gaze to Reed standing the doorway. Worry covers his face, and I’m sure he’s wondering why I’m so upset and kneeling on the floor.

  He’s over to me within seconds and reaches down to take my hand. “What happened?”

  I shake my head as I stand and lean into his chest, the phone still clutched in my hand. He holds me close as I cry softly into his shirt.

  Why didn’t she pick me? She made it out as though it were my choice. No one on either side of Mom or Dad’s family’s had ever been to college, and she didn’t see any reason why we should start now. Either I stay home or I go off to college.

  “You make your choice right now, Miss Too-Big-For-Yer-Britches.”

  But I’d made it years before, back before I even knew how the world worked. I knew I’d never settle for the life she had. Broke and bitter. What kind of mother wanted her child to live that way? No right-minded person would ever believe someone’s parents forbade them to go to college.

  Reed rubs my back and smoothes my hair and after a minute I try to pull away, but he holds me close.

  “What happened?”

  I don’t answer.

  “Caroline.” I hear the pleading in his voice. Asking me to let him in.

  Part of me desperately wants to tell him, which shocks me. I’ve never been tempted to tell anyone, not even my old boyfriend. But I can’t. I’m ashamed. What would Reed, who attended an Ivy League school and is studying for his doctorate, think about a girl whose parents are red-necked hicks who didn’t even graduate high school? What I have with Reed might be temporary, but I’m not willing to lose him yet.

  I lean back to look at him, wiping my tears. “I’m just overwhelmed about the project.” I force a smile. “What are you doing here?”

  He stares at me for several moments, his eyes narrowed. He doesn’t believe me, and he’s trying to decide whether to press the issue. Then his scrutiny falls away, and his mouth lifts into a soft smile even if his disappointment lingers. “I wanted to see if you’ve eaten.”

  I close my eyes. I’d give anything to leave with him right now, and part of me wonders who I’m kidding. Why am I putting all this effort into a doomed project? Three and a half years of student loans, and my future all boils down to a fashion show.

  My mother was right. I’m destined to fail.

  But I’ll be damned if I don’t go down kicking.

  “I can’t leave, Reed.”

  “I know. I asked if you’ve eaten.”

  “No. I haven’t had time to get anything.”

  His grin widens. “I had a feeling you’d say that.” He puts a brown bag on the table. “I brought us dinner.”

  I’m overwhelmed by this man. I look into his face. “Thank you.”

  He kisses my forehead. “How much longer do you think you’ll be?”

  I take a deep breath. “I don’t know. I’ve got a huge problem.” I tell him about the dressmaker forms. “My entire collection is for children, and observing the drape of the garments as I make them is important. The only thing I know to do is keep running back and forth to the center for fittings.”

  “So how do you solve this?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know how to solve this. I need a children’s size dress form and the department doesn’t have one.”

  “But they make them?”

  “Well, yeah….”

  “Don’t worry, Caroline. We’ll figure it out.”

  I’m not sure how he can say that. He obviously doesn’t know how funding works here.

  “Sit down and eat with me and tell me about what’s laying on that table.” He’s pointing to my first design.

  “God, you’re bossy.”

  “I know.” He flashes his ornery grin. “Eat with me.”

  He’s brought deli sandwiches and chips, along with cookies. I tell him about my first design and why I created it the way I did, and he watches me intently, asking questions. “You don’t have to do that,” I say.

  “What?”

  “Pretend you’re interested. It’s okay if you’re not. Most people find fashion design superficial.”

  “Do you love this?”

  “What? Designing?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, yeah. Of course.”

  “Why? And not some bullshit answer like you gave Lexi in the car. Why do you really like it?”

  I stare into his brown eyes, wondering where this man came from. In two years, Justin never once asked why I loved what I did. “Because clothes have power.”

  His eyes twitch but otherwise he doesn’t react.

  “Take a person, like me.” I stand, surprised at my boldness. Surprised I’m opening my heart, even if he doesn’t realize it. “What do you see?”

  “The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever known.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Reed.”

  He shrugs. “You asked what I saw.”

  “What would most people see?”

  “The most gorgeous—”

  “Reed!”

  “Okay, I see a young professional. I’d say college student, but most schlep around in jeans and T-shirts and you’re wearing a dress.”

  “Good. So you think I look like a professional because of my dress, but if I was on campus in jeans and a T-shirt, you’d take me for a college student. Clothes made the difference. If I’m wearing a ball gown and I’m attending a high society social event, what do you see then?”

  “A socialite.”

  “Put me in skanky clothes and you see a prostitute or a slut. Clothes not only affect people’s views of us, they also affect our view of ourselves.”

  He studies me. “What do you see when you look in the mirror, Caroline?”

  I’m surprised at how perceptive he is. “That’s not fair.”

  “It’s perfectly fair.”

  “What do you see when you look at yourself?” I ask, sure he’ll dodge my question.

  But he looks me in the eyes, his gaze unwavering. “I see a man determined to get an education.”

  “Is that all?”

  “He’s loyal and loving and protective of the people he cares about.”

  “All from your clothes?” I ask.

  “No. I see the last part in my eyes.”

  I move toward him. I see it too, and it scares me. “Are you saying that clothes don’t matter?”

  He shakes his head. “No, definitely not. Clothes are very important. I’d never dream of going into a meeting in jeans and a T-shirt, but even if I did, it wouldn’t change who I am inside.” He takes my hand and leads me to the window. The sun has set so the window acts as a mirror. “Your dress makes you stunning and maybe it gives you confidence, but at some point the confidence has to come from in here.” He taps my temple. “And then it will come out here.” He points to my eye.

  I stare at our reflection. He’s a head taller than me when I’m wearing flats. His arm is draped over my shoulder. I turn toward him, wanting to see the real him, not a fuzzy reflection.

  “That’s why you want the kids to take part in the show and you’re trying so hard to give them each something they’ll love. You want them to see themselves differently.”

  “Yes.”

  “And what part of that is superficial?”

  His question stumps me.

  “What about Desiree? Why is she so important?”

  “Because she is.”

  Reed sighs.

  “I can’t spill all my secrets all at once,” I tease. “Then I’ll lose my intrigue and you’ll move on.”

  “Lose your intrigue? Not a chance.” He laughs. “So what are you going to do next?”

  I run a hand over my head as I survey my workspace. “Since I can’t work on the shirt until I fit it on something
, I guess I’ll make a pattern for the next design.”

  “Mind if I stick around and do my own work?” He points to his bag. “I brought it with me.”

  I like the idea of him staying with me. “I’d love it if you did.”

  “Good.” He picks up his bag and pulls out his laptop. “I’m here to make sure you don’t walk out to your car alone.”

  “So you’re like my bodyguard?” I tease.

  He winks. “Can I guard your naked body?”

  I place a kiss on his mouth. “I think that can be arranged.”

  “Then consider me hired.”

  I work another couple of hours making patterns for the next design. When I finish, it’s too late to start anything else.

  Reed sits in one chair, and his legs are stretched out on another. His laptop rests on his thighs. A pair of dark-rimmed glasses perch on his nose. Whatever he’s been working on for the last hour has captured his attention. I’ve been stealing glimpses of him, and he’s hardly moved from his position.

  “What’s got you so fascinated?” I ask.

  He blinks and looks up over his glasses. “What?”

  God, he’s sexy. “You look very intent on what you’re doing. What is it?”

  He grabs the laptop with one hand and stretches with the other. “I’m working on a program. What are you up to?”

  “I’m done for the day.”

  His feet drop to the floor and he clicks a few buttons on his laptop before closing it. “Well, let’s get out of here.”

  I pack up my things and put them in the backroom then grab my purse, flipping the lights off on the way out the door.

  “If I wasn’t here, would you be walking out alone?”

  I roll my eyes. “Reed….”

  “Caroline, it’s not safe to walk alone. You promised me you wouldn’t.”

  I hold up a hand. “I don’t remember agreeing, but I do have a hazy recollection of a sexy man promising me great sex if I did.”

  “Not just great sex. Better sex than you’ve ever had before.”

  “That’s quite the boast. What do I have to do? Sign an oath in blood?”

  “No, just give me your word.” He shrugs. “Along with a verbal oath.”

  I pull him to a halt, in the fading light of a street lamp twenty feet away. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s do it here.” I lift up my hand. “I, Caroline Hunter, do solemnly swear.” I pause. “What’s next?”