Love Handles (Oakland Hills #1)(70)

Behind him the racks on the walls were heavy with samples hung three to four deep, and whatever concept he’d been going for was as opaque as granite.

Something about action, he thought. Happy, rejuvenating action.

His mind kept wandering to the rejuvenating feeling of Beverly Lewis's breasts under his hands. He hadn't intended to do that. His plan, to treat her as shittily as she had him, only lasted—what, two minutes? Then as soon as she had some job crisis, he was back on his white horse. And then trying to get back on her.

Thanks for the f*ck.

How dare she? They were having a perfectly nice time. Very, very nice. She didn't have to spoil it with a bitchy slap-down, as though he'd committed a crime by making love to her.

Needing to do something, he picked up the phone and called Jennifer, frustrated to get voice mail. “Get somebody over to clean up the first floor conference room. It's an embarrassment,” he said and hung up. One second later, he dialed her again. “And don't ask Rachel—she's not your assistant anymore. Why not clean up after yourself for a change?” He tossed the receiver back into the cradle.

If they wanted touchy-feely they could talk to Bev.

Getting up so fast the chair skidded out behind him, Liam left the room and stalked down to his office, slowing his pace outside Bev's door. For some reason she had insisted on being the one to talk to Rachel about fit modeling for them, but Liam feared the fallout—Rachel carried grudges, one reason he’d never been aggressive about promoting her. If she didn't like a designer, their Fed Ex packages turned up missing at critical times. Design boards turned up with coffee ring stains. A sales guy from Reno who loved sexist jokes kept having his rental cars impounded.

Standing in the hallway, Liam reminded himself Bev was plenty bitchy enough to handle her. Hadn't he seen evidence of that?

Still, he lingered, unable to walk on to his office.

Thanks for the f*ck.

He pushed through the partially ajar door into Bev's office just as Rachel was saying, as she reclined in a leather swivel chair, “Sure, Bev. It would be my pleasure.”

Bev beamed and glanced up at Liam, who had frozen in place. They must have been talking about something else. “Morning.”

Looking smug, Bev leaned back in her chair and waved. “Rachel's cool with trying on some stuff for us.”

He looked at Rachel. “Great.”

“She doesn't mind at all,” Bev said.

“Really,” he said. “Good.”

Rachel bit her lip, not meeting his eyes, and he felt a chill down his spine. He sauntered over to lean on the desk, and stared at her until she began to fidget. “So, what was your price?”

Bev came around the desk and poked him in the shoulder. “Don't bully my Vice President of Trend. She’s a miracle worker. In two hours she explained the workings of this business in a way that would have taken me years to learn myself. She's made me charts and graphs and diagrams—awesome. I love visuals. Of course she doesn't mind keeping the company afloat for a few more weeks.”

“Ah, you gave her the full scoop.”

“That we'd be dead without her perfect body? Yes.”

Rachel gave her a half-smile. “I hope it'll work. I'm not quite as firm as I used to be.”

Bev swung around and slapped her own behind, wiggling it for emphasis. “You ain't got nothin', babe.”

Liam gazed at her round ass and forgot what they were talking about.

Thanks for the—

He gritted his teeth and focused on Rachel. “Since you don't have a problem, none whatsoever, perhaps you could head up there right now,” he said. “Have Jennifer and—whatshername, her new assistant—start checking out the entire Green Valley group, the Speed Demon group, and the rework of the fit on Core. Comfort and fit are key—don't take off your underwear to make it work. No ass cracks. No camel toes. No muffin tops. We need mass market appeal or we're dead.”

Rachel's smile looked a bit forced, but she got up. “Sure.”

“And don't let Jennifer boss you around,” he added.

“Or what? You'll fire her?” Rachel asked, not laughing.

“I'd love to, but it's up to Bev.”

They both looked at her hopefully.

“I'm not firing anybody! I thought I'd made that clear,” Bev said.

“She said you were fat,” Rachel said. “In case that changes your mind.”

Liam choked, interested to see how Bev handled that bomb, but she just rolled her eyes and walked back around to her desk chair. “Don't be mean,” she said to Rachel. “And thank you again for your heroic offer to play fit model temporarily.”

Clearly disappointed, Rachel shrugged and left the room.

“Cool of you,” he said to Bev. “Chilly, even.”

“I've got Rachel's number. She's a lot like Annabelle Tucker, actually. A bit passive aggressive, but only when she's feeling unappreciated. Underneath the insecurity she's got a big heart.”

He snorted. “I didn't know you were such an expert on teen pop stars. I would have thought you'd be more of a Dora the Explorer fan.”

Smiling, Bev pulled herself up to her computer. “Annabelle was one of my first students. Well, I wasn’t the teacher yet, just in my first child psych class. Later, when she was older, I took care of her after school when her mom was working.”