Million Dollar Devil (Million Dollar #1)(59)

The buyers all continue listening intently, sipping on the champagne I ordered for the table before they arrived.

“Which brings me to James.” I turn to him and smile, my heart fluttering.

“From the moment I met him, I knew I had found the face of my line. He embodies all the line represents and strives to be. I thank you all for coming tonight, and I look forward to you all getting to know him, because he truly is the heart and soul of this line—in human form.”

James winks at me and then says, “I would say I’m flattered, but the lady knows her stuff.”

The buyers laugh and raise their glasses. Anthony from Net-a-Porter toasts, “To beautiful men in beautiful suits!”

We all drink, and then the questions start pouring.

First from Anthony. “So, James, what do you think makes the perfect suit? And do these Banks suits fit the bill?”

“Three things come to mind, Anthony,” James begins and raises his hand, counting off with his fingers.

“One, the cut. Two, the fabrics. And three, the fit. All of the suits from this line are different and unique in their styles. One thing they have in common, though, is a flattering masculine cut. Second, they are also made with the finest fabrics; they look mattified but with the perfect amount of shine, so when you see a man walk down the street, you will know when he’s wearing a Banks. And, of course, fit: you can have a ten-thousand-dollar suit, but if the pants are too long and the jacket is more like a corset, it will look cheap. Banks suits are made to be fitted perfectly to the body, and alterations are encouraged—customers get free fittings whenever they decide to buy one of our suits because we understand how important it is to have a perfectly tailored suit: the goal is to make it look like you were practically BORN wearing a Banks suit.”

Anthony raises his brow and turns to me. “Wherever did you find this man, and where can I get more?!”

I laugh.

Melissa from Bergdorf then asks James, “Tell us three of your favorite cities, and match them to a Banks suit.”

“Oh, that’s a good one . . .” James thinks a moment and then says, “I’ll go for the classics: New York, Los Angeles, and, of course, Atlanta.

“New York is fast paced, cutting edge, and ruthless. I would go with one of Banks’s darker suits, especially the onyx black with satin side stripes. Paired with a patterned gray tie, it’s high end, elegant, lethal, and fierce. Perfect for New York streets.

“On the other hand, Los Angeles is more laid back, beachy, so I would go for one of our white linen suits, with a blue tie. It’s perfect for a business meeting, afternoon walk down Rodeo Drive, and then a walk on the beach.

“And last but not least, Atlanta. I would go for a navy suit, with a cool patterned tie and a pocket square. Straight to the point, classy, and masculine.”

At this point I’m so blown away I am speechless. He’s answering every curveball with a home run.

Melissa is also pleased.

Robert, the buyer for Barneys, who has been rather silent until now, says to me, “My dear, you not only have a face for your line—you got yourself a superstar. I’m in. Send us your catalog.”

The rest of the buyers follow suit, agreeing wholeheartedly that James is more than just a pretty face and that his charisma will make the brand a huge hit.

The dinner continues on with more questions and banter. I couldn’t be prouder. Seeing James so comfortable and witty, laid back, stunningly handsome, and gentlemanly does shit to me.

This man is so much more than I could have ever imagined.

After dinner, I’m so giddy with delight after witnessing how thrilled our buyers are that I don’t want to head to the hotel yet. So we take an Uber to one of the closest LA beaches, and we walk. James with his hands tucked into his slacks pockets. Me with my shoes in my hand and my toes curling into the sand as I take each step.

“Have you ever gone out to a beach without a stunt as a goal? Just for pure . . . I don’t know. Enjoyment?” I ask.

“Never.”

“Me either.” I grin, my stomach fluttering when his white smile flashes out at me in the dark.

There’s a breeze. A beautiful crescent moon.

And James Rowan. His jacket slung behind his shoulder. His pants rolled up to his knees. Shoes in the pockets of his jacket.

“You sold them tonight, James. I can’t even say I’m proud of you . . . because it was your charisma that slayed them. Not only your beauty, which of course is all my doing,” I tease.

“Of course. I’m a bear in my natural form.”

“Ha,” I laugh exaggeratedly, wishing I didn’t have my shoes in my hands so I could have some sort of contact with him. “Maybe now that I’ve bred you for my world, you can breed me for yours.”

James only looks at me, his gaze growing a little more intense.

God. Did I just blurt that out? Did I sound like I longed to be part of it?

I shake my head and laugh at myself, then shoot him a curious glance. “Are you up for a tamer sort of stunt?”

He almost chokes on his saliva. “Say what?”

I stop walking. “You heard me. Are you up for a little game with me?”

He steps closer, his gaze challenging. “I’m game.”

“Whoever builds the biggest sandcastle in the least amount of time gives the other whatever they want.”