The VIP Room(167)
“What the hell was I thinking?”
She absolutely could not go on a date with him. To a fancy charity event on top of it. She would embarrass him, or herself—oh, hell, probably both of them. Nerves always made her clumsy, and she would be nothing but a giant bundle of nerves if she spent time with him.
Oh, God—what if they were alone? Like on the drive there? Plenty of ways for her to show how completely infatuated she was with the Hawkins bad boy, adding humiliation on top of embarrassment.
No—she had to cancel, and find a way to do it without losing her job.
* * *
Marcus wandered into the workroom behind Fantine’s small but sophisticated showroom.
Chaos surrounded him. Looking closer, he saw there was some sense of organization under the yelling, wild gestures, and madly flying fabric. Fantine caught sight of him and strode over, a length of rich blue velvet over her shoulder and a frown on her face.
“You took too long. You now have fifteen minutes.”
“I’m good with that.”
She pulled him into her tiny office and closed the door. Blissful silence surrounded them.
“I had soundproofing added during construction,” she said, collapsing into the chair behind her sleek lacquer desk. “Now I thank myself every day for it.” She pulled the fabric off her shoulder and spread it across the end of her desk. “This is all I have, and those alterations better be minor.”
The gown was—stunning was the only word that got through the noise in his mind at the thought of Leah wearing this. Of seeing her pale skin glow against the midnight blue velvet. Touching that bare skin— Down, boy.
His rock hard cock wasn’t listening.
“I think you’ll only need to take in the waist. She has a tiny one.” He held out his hands, the memory of circling her waist, and the surprise at how small it was, making him itch to touch her again. Tonight couldn’t come soon enough.
Fantine wrote some numbers down. She always had a good eye for proportions. “And her hips?”
“Like this.” He spread his hands.
“What did you do, Marc, feel her up?”
“Not exactly.”
“Breasts?”
“I didn’t get that far.” He smiled at her burst of laughter. “About your size, from what I could see. She tends to cover up at the office.”
“If you stare at her like you’re staring at your hands right now, I understand why.” She shook her head, smiling as she dashed off a quick drawing. “Like this?” She held up the pad, and Leah’s curvy figure was there in crisp pencil, draped in the gown.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Oh, do you have it bad. She works for you?”
He sighed. “My assistant. My perfect, organized assistant.” He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is nuts, Fan. I have rules, and I’m breaking rule number one by even thinking what I’m thinking about her.”
“If she really has the figure you’re describing, I understand why. Classic hourglass. I’d kill to have her fit for my new collection. The walking sticks posing as fit models are driving me crazy. I’ve been using dress forms—they have more natural curves.”
“If you do this for me, Fan, I’ll loan her to you until you find a new assistant. And if you can talk her into it, I get to come and watch.”
“Pervert.”
He flashed a smile. “Guilty.”
She picked up the gown, and stopped long enough to hug him. “Leave her address with my showroom manager. We’ll get the gown to her in time for the auction.”
“Are you going to be there?” He figured Graham would be strong arming her, since her design house was backed by The Hawkins Group.
“I managed to talk my way out of it, showing Graham my pile of bills, and telling him if I didn’t meet my deadlines he’d be paying them.”
“Hit him in the wallet. That was a guaranteed pass. I wish I’d thought of it.”
She flashed him a wicked smile. “Not when you see your assistant in my creation. Now get out of here, so I can get to work.”
Marcus strode across the workroom, fantasies of Leah in the gown, and him peeling her out of it, filling his mind.
He was thrilled that he hadn’t found a way to get out of going tonight.
Chapter 3
Leah spent the rest of the afternoon trying not to throw up, and waffling between excitement and dread.
She still had time to get herself out of it—if she didn’t want to have a job tomorrow. That tied her stomach in knots all over again.
The reality of what she’d done didn’t sink in until the huge, ribbon-wrapped box showed up at her apartment.
Hands shaking, she accepted the box from the delivery man and pushed the door closed with her hip. She made it as far as the small dining table before she dropped the box, needing to sit.
Marcus Hawkins bought her a gown.
What if it didn’t fit? God—that would be mortifying. Having him show up with her wearing one of her boring, sale rack dresses because the one he bought was too small—
“Stop creating mountains, Leah, and just open the damn box.”
She took her own advice, and untied the ribbon. It was gorgeous, white and silver stripes running the wide length of the taffeta, matching the box underneath. She rolled it, to be saved with other mementoes from important moments in her life.