French Silk(19)

"By all means, Mr. Cassidy. Sit down." She handed him the latest quarterly issue of French Silk's catalog. To avoid looking nervously at him, she gazed through the windows. The sky was streaked with the brilliant colors of sunset. The river had turned the color of molten brass. "It's officially the cocktail hour. Would you care for a drink now?"

"Does it have to be sherry?" he asked.

"Wine or something stronger?"

"Scotch, if you have it."

"Rocks, water, or soda?"

"Rocks."

She prepared his drink and poured herself a glass of blush wine. When she returned to the divan, he was thumbing through the catalog. He let it fall open across his lap, blinked, and yanked his head back as though he'd been clipped on the chin. He released a stunned breath. "Wow!"

Looking at the page upside down, Claire remarked on his assessment. "We try to appeal to feminine fantasies."

With his eyes still fixed on the glossy pages, he smiled with self-derision. "Well, I'm sure as hell not feminine, but I'm close to fantasizing. Forgive me for noticing that this model's practically naked."

"She's clothed."

"In a—"

"Teddy."

"That leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination."

"That's our stock and trade, Mr. Cassidy. We sell lingerie and boudoir accessories. And we want our customers to feel pampered, lovely, and desirable when they wear our garments."

"Hey, I'm not Jackson Wilde. You don't have to defend your product or your marketing strategy to me. In fact, how can I subscribe to the catalog?"

When he looked across at her and grinned, an odd sensation flurried in Claire's midsection. She wasn't flirted with often because most of the men she knew were strictly business associates. There were occasional flirtations on airplanes or in elevators, but they rarely went beyond eye contact and a casual greeting. She discouraged anything more. So her reaction to Cassidy's roguish grin was unexpected and startling. She sipped her wine in an attempt to quell it.

"Actually the catalog is Yasmine's bailiwick," she explained. "Not the subscriptions, of course. We use a telemarketing service for that. Yasmine produces it, you could say. She begins with a concept and then designs the layout."

"And models."

He turned the magazine toward Claire. A full-page ad for silk pajamas featured all seventy-two inches of Yasmine reclining on a rumpled bed. The unbuttoned pajama top revealed nothing except the inside curves of her breasts. The bottoms rode about an inch below her navel. Respectable enough. But wet, slightly parted lips and the hungry-tigress look in her eyes made the photograph provocative.

"She sells," Claire said.

He studied the photo for several seconds. "I can see why."

"She's also smart. She began modeling to pay for art school," Claire explained. "Even after her modeling career took off, she continued studying. When we formed our partnership—"

"How and when did that come about?"

"Six years ago. I had a small, local business, making specialty lingerie, mostly for trousseaus. I wanted to expand, so I took my designs to New York in the hope of finding someone to manufacture and market them for me. I wasn't successful," she said ruefully, recalling all the polite but firm no-thank-yous she had received on Seventh Avenue.

"Quite by accident I met Yasmine in one of the showrooms. In friendly conversation she asked what had brought me to New York. Naturally I was star-struck and flattered when she complimented me on my samples. She even ordered some of the items for herself. We hit it off and had several long lunches together. She's gorgeous, no question. But she's also an astute businesswoman who knows that a model's career is short-lived. And she understood what I wanted to do."

"Which was?"

"Which is to design and manufacture a line of unique lingerie and sell it at a price the average woman can afford. Each season we feature new fabrications and designs that we hope will spark the buyer's imagination. We offer goods that are different and exciting but affordable. Women can buy bras, panties, and slips at Penney's. French Silk sells them fantasy garments. We've made sexy lingerie respectable."

"Jackson Wilde didn't think it was respectable."

"I didn't respect him either."

Cassidy indicated with a slight nod that her point was well taken. "Back to Yasmine. When did you cut her in?"

"A week following our initial meeting."

"That soon?"

"I knew it would work. She was looking for a new enterprise where she could utilize her artistic talents. I needed her professional know-how. In exchange for a piece of the business, she introduced me to insiders who could bankroll us. After the first catalog went out, we couldn't fill the orders fast enough. By our third year, we had paid off all our investors. The business continues to flourish."

"A real success story."

"Thank you."

Cassidy turned another page. "Hmm. You use men, too."

"That's a recent innovation. Yasmine broached the idea with me; I liked it, and designed some intimate apparel for men."

"I'll bet Wilde had specific objections to this." The ad featured a woman leaning over a handsome young man who was lounging in a wingback leather chair. Her hands, braced on the arms of the chair, were supporting her. Her satin robe was hanging open. "Is there any doubt at all where the guy's left hand is?"