All That Sparkles: The Texan Quartet (10 page)

Before he could say anything, she stepped forward, ran her hands up the lapels of his suit and kissed him.

Thoughts vanished from his head and he closed his eyes, enjoying the dance of their lips and the feel of Imogen in his arms.

When they parted, Chris’s heart was racing and he was firmly in favor of staying here and discovering what Imogen had on
under
the dress. He tried to keep things light. “I think you have a tuxedo fetish.”

Imogen laughed. “When you’re wearing them I do.” She tugged on his hand. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

“Wait, I’ve got something for you.” He walked back into his apartment and picked up a small wrapped package from the coffee table. He’d been debating whether he would give it to her since he’d bought it in Australia.

Imogen took the package and frowned at him. “What’s this for?”

He shifted his stance, feeling like he was a teenager again and asking a girl to a dance. “I found it at the Fremantle markets and thought you might like it.”

She beamed at him and the nerves racked up.

What had he been thinking buying her a cheap, handmade bauble from a market stall? This was someone who was used to draping herself in the latest and most expensive fashions. She wasn’t going to like the necklace.

She unwrapped it. “It’s gorgeous,” she said, examining the craftsmanship carefully. “So intricately designed.” It was the dark brown gemstone that had caught his attention first. Imogen walked over to the mirror by the door. She held the necklace up against her throat and sighed with pleasure. “It will go perfectly with a summer dress I just made.” Turning back to Christian, she said, “Thank you so much.”

“It’s nothing special.” He shrugged. “The brown reminded me of your eyes.” It sounded so cheesy.

She brought the necklace up to her chest. “Of course it’s special.” She walked over to him and put her arms around his neck. “No one’s ever bought me a necklace before.”

She kissed him and he forgot his nerves and his doubts.

“In that case – ” he pulled her closer, molding his body to hers “ – we could stay here and you can thank me some more.”

She chuckled. “It’s a charity event. I can’t be late.”

He let her pull him into the elevator and then captured her in his arms to kiss her again.

Chris’s blood heated and his breath was coming fast when the elevator doors opened. He needed to get himself under control. No more kisses or he’d never make it through the event without dragging her into a dark corner somewhere. Though the idea had a lot of merit, he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be acceptable behavior for a Tour de Force representative. As they walked through the lobby, Imogen said, “Wait a second. Let me check my lipstick.”

She stopped by one of the mirrors and sighed, quickly taking something out of her little clutch bag and painting it onto her sexy mouth.

Chris stood behind, grinning at her in the mirror. She looked like she’d been kissed and he’d put that look in her eyes. He couldn’t help but feel smug about it.

She rolled her eyes at him and then avoided his gaze while she redid her lips.

*

Imogen had parked in a temporary parking zone outside Christian’s apartment building. She opened the car door for him and waited until he squeezed inside before shutting the door. It was a tight fit and he vowed the next time they went on a date they would take his way more comfortable car.

The charity auction was being held across town in a large, high-end hotel, but he didn’t know much about the event.

“So what’s the big deal about this fashion show?” he asked.

“It’s a fundraiser. All proceeds from the ticket sales and the auction are being donated to the homeless and destitute.”

“So how much do I owe you for the ticket?”

“Nothing. You’re my guest, and besides, work is paying for them.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

“What are they auctioning?”

“Top fashion designers each donate an item to be auctioned. Tour de Force has put together an amazing outfit this year. We always raise a lot of money from the auction as they’re all one-off pieces.”

Chris was beginning to get a sense this event was a big deal and not just a fashion show as he’d thought. He should have guessed it was something more by the fact he had to wear a tuxedo, but now he was beginning to get nervous. He knew nothing about fashion and he didn’t want to embarrass Imi with some kind of faux pas.

Imogen pulled into the valet parking of the hotel and handed over her car keys. Chris joined her at the hood and put his arm out so she could take hold of it. His heart was beating a million miles an hour as they walked up the steps of the most elegant hotel in Houston.

He was way out of his comfort zone.

The event was being held in the ballroom. At the entrance Imogen handed over her tickets and together they entered.

Chris wanted to stop and stare but he kept moving with her. The room was done out in a beautiful summer theme with sun-shaped chandeliers and ice sculptures of waves. Everything was tastefully decorated in blue and gold: it had been transformed into a vacation paradise.

“This place looks amazing,” he said.

Imogen nodded, scanning the room. “They outdo themselves each year.” She waved to someone and turned to Chris. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

With a deep breath to calm his nerves, he walked into the fray.

*

Within an hour he’d rubbed shoulders with politicians, CEOs, movie stars and musicians, as well as far too many fashion designers to count. Imogen knew them all, or else they knew her and she stood and chatted to them quite happily. He held his own too. Making small talk was something he was good at – he needed to be for his job.

“When I designed that suit I only dreamed it would be worn by someone as handsome as you.” The voice came from his left and at the same time a hand with meticulous nails manicured in tiger stripes clamped down on his arm. Chris turned to the speaker, who was a woman a good twenty years older than him wearing a long slinky black dress that promised seduction.

Imogen had told him the designer’s name … what was it again? “Chantelle, I presume?” he said, holding out a hand to shake hers.

She took his hand and stepped in to kiss him slowly on both cheeks. “Darling, what is your name?”

Chris was rather bemused by her show. “Chris Barker, ma’am.”

She stood back and examined him, brushing at non-existent fluff on the base of his jacket. “Divine.”

He grinned. “I must thank you. My girlfriend is rather appreciative of the tuxedo as well.” The moment he said the word he wondered if it was the right one. Could he say he and Imogen were dating, were an item, were … whatever the latest word was for being in a relationship? Or did a couple of Skype conversations and a few kisses not amount to that?

“Girlfriend?” Chantelle pouted. “Where is she?”

Imogen had finished speaking to another designer and turned to stand next to him. “Chantelle, how are you?”

The two of them kissed each other’s cheeks.

“Imogen, are you responsible for this hunk wearing my clothes?”

Imogen smiled and shook her head. “He chose it himself.”

Chantelle sighed dramatically. “Fabulous taste and gorgeous to boot. You’re so lucky.”

“I know.” Imogen slipped her hand into Chris’s and everything was right in the world.

“What has Tour de Force got for us tonight?” Chantelle asked.

“You know I can’t tell you. You’ll have to wait and see like everyone else.”

“What is Chantelle Vision showing?” Chris asked.

“Touché.
You
can wait,” Chantelle said and smiled. She glanced around. “Where is that incorrigible father of yours?” she asked. “I haven’t seen him this evening.”

Chris had been wondering the same thing.

“He was talking to Jacques over there,” Imogen said, pointing to a section of the ballroom.

“I will hunt him down then. Have a wonderful night.” She waved and then was off, slinking across the ballroom. More than one male watched her go past.

Chris grinned. “That’s some lady.”

“Chantelle’s a delight. One of the hardest-working women I know and yet she always looks fabulous – and as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. I don’t know how she does it.”

Chris was intrigued. “Doesn’t she just design suits?” It didn’t sound like hard work to him.

Imogen raised her eyebrows, which warned him he was about to get a lecture. “Chantelle Vision isn’t as big as Tour de Force. Chantelle does almost all the work herself; she designs the line, makes up the patterns and toiles, sources the fabrics, finds markets. She has a business partner to deal with contracts and finances but everything else is on her.”

Chris never realized there was so much to designing a clothing line. He looked over at Chantelle with new respect.

Then he noticed Remy Fontaine, or rather he saw the hostile look Remy gave him before turning and greeting Chantelle.

“Your father doesn’t appear to be very happy to see me,” he said. Imogen hadn’t mentioned the reason for her father’s surprise visit the night before and it was obvious that even after all these years Remy didn’t approve of his daughter dating the gardener’s son.

“It doesn’t matter.” Imogen turned away, her voice quiet. “I can bring a date if I want to.”

Something in her words made him stop, face her. “Am I not meant to be here?”

“Yes, of course you are.” She shuffled her feet and looked around the room.

There was something more. “Who do you normally come with?”

“Papa and I usually come together,” she admitted.

Well it was one reason for Remy to be mad at him. It made Chris uneasy. As much as he disliked the man, he didn’t want to come between him and his only child. He glanced around the room at the tables that were set for dinner. “Where are we sitting?”

“At the Tour de Force table.”

Great. He would have to sit right next to the man. Maybe it would give him a chance to win him over for Imogen’s sake.

A bell chimed and people made their way to the tables.

“Good, I’m starving,” Imogen said and took his hand to lead him across the dance floor to their table.

At their table was Abigail, the business manager, and her partner Doug; Jacques, one of the designers, and his partner, Stacey, as well as Derek, the pattern and toile maker and Remy. The only friendly greetings came from Derek and Abigail. Chris pulled out the chair for Imogen and waited for her to sit before taking his own. He felt a little as though he was sitting down for an interrogation.

At least he knew how to deal with hostile situations.

It was what being a lawyer was all about.

Chris sat next to Jacques and immediately he didn’t like the man. He was one of those overly enthused people who gushed about everything and meant nothing. The word
insincere
had been invented for people like him.

“What is it you do, Chris?” Jacques asked.

“I’m a lawyer.”

“Oh, criminal law?”

“No, corporate and business law.”

“Is that how you met Imogen?” The question was innocent but Chris knew the sound of digging when he heard it.

“No, we met through friends.”

“You must know Imogen well for her to invite you to this event,” Jacques said.

He was not going to discuss the status of his relationship with this rat. “Well enough.”

“Oh, you’re being modest. No one invites just a friend to an event where tickets are five hundred dollars each.”

Chris was glad he’d had years of practicing his game face, making sure no surprise ever showed, because otherwise that bombshell would have lit him up. Five hundred dollars each! He had to respond. “Maybe Imogen does.”

“I’m sure it didn’t even occur to her, since Tour de Force was paying.”

“Is that why you brought your wife along?” Chris asked, not letting his temper show.

Jacques smiled as if he were pleased by the verbal tussle. Before he could respond, the master of ceremonies took to the microphone to welcome everyone to the event. The man explained how the evening was going to run: the auction would continue between each of the meal’s seven courses.

It was a good way of organizing things, Chris decided as the evening began. It gave the guests enough time between courses to digest their food and the excitement of the bidding kept everyone entertained.

The bidding for the first garment, a hat, gloves and shoes combination from a well-known designer, started at one thousand dollars. Chris knew right then the evening would be a success. People were determined to purchase something, if only so they could say they had.

He leaned over to whisper to Imogen, “How much is it worth?”

“If it was part of the retail collection it would cost around thirteen hundred dollars, so that first bidder was being a little cheeky.”

Chris bit his tongue. He had no idea when it came to the high end of the fashion industry.

To spend over one thousand dollars on accessories was beyond his comprehension. A normal person could put together a whole year’s wardrobe for that amount of money.

He knew Imogen was wealthy, but he’d never really realized just how wealthy. She never would have had to scrimp and save for anything she’d wanted. Did she even understand the value of money, understand how important it was to have someone pay a hundred-dollar invoice on time because it meant the difference between being able to go on a school excursion or being left behind?

Imogen passed him the auction pamphlet, a glossy high-resolution bound brochure of all the items available during the night.

“Is there anything you like?” he asked her as he passed the brochure back.

“These earrings are gorgeous,” she said, pointing them out. “But I’ll see how the bidding goes.”

He doubted he’d be able to afford to buy them for her. But she’d be able to buy them for herself.

What would life be like with Imogen if she earned more than he did?

He didn’t like the thought, though not because he cared whether women earned more than men. He had promised himself as a teenager that he would never rely on anyone for money. They could too easily turn on you, as Remy had shown.

“You okay?” Imogen asked, squeezing his hand.

He was frowning; he smoothed it into a smile. “Of course.” He pushed his concerns aside.

He distracted himself by watching the bidders, some coolly disinterested as if they were only bidding because it was for charity, and others wildly waving their bidding cards in their excitement.

When the earrings came up, Imogen sat straighter and took hold of her card.

Starting bid was five hundred dollars. Imogen waited while the bids went back and forth in one-hundred-dollar increments.

Chris wanted to bid for her but it had already gone past the price he was happy to pay for a pair of earrings.

The bidding slowed, and Imogen was about to raise her card when Remy did. “Two thousand,” he said.

Imogen stared at him across the table and Remy winked at her. “A gift,
ma bichette
.”

Chris wasn’t sure what to make of the gesture, considering how Remy had threatened his daughter, but then Remy directed a look full of triumph at him, which explained it all. Remy was showing Chris he had more money and could buy his daughter whatever she wanted.

Unlike Chris.

It was a chest-beating exercise.

Chris glanced at Imogen and it appeared as if she understood that too. Her lips were parted and there was a slight furrow in her forehead. The round ended and Remy won the earrings.

“Thank you, Papa,” Imogen said, and although she smiled, Chris could tell she wasn’t happy. Did her father not notice her unhappiness or did he not care?

When the auction and dinner ended, a jazz band started playing. Couples moved to the dance floor and a hum filled the air as people mingled again.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked Imogen. He wasn’t the best dancer in the world but he wanted to get Imi away from her father, see a smile on her face.

“Love to,” she replied and he helped her out of her chair and on to the dance floor. As he pulled her into his arms he blessed the person who invented dancing. The opportunity to hold someone so close in public while still being socially acceptable was a pure stroke of genius.

“Are you having a nice evening?” he murmured to her.

“I am now.” Imogen’s eyes were sad. “Papa bought those earrings to show he could still control me.”

Is that what she thought? “No, Imi. He was directing that at me. The look he gave me after his bid was to show me I can’t afford you.”

Her eyes widened. “Don’t be silly. It’s got nothing to do with money.”

He wished it were true. “To your father it does. It’s got everything to do with me not being good enough for you.” Remy didn’t even know him but he wasn’t willing to give Chris a chance.

“But he doesn’t know you.” Imogen echoed his thoughts.

“Doesn’t matter.” He spun her in a twirl. “Let’s not let him ruin the night. I’ve enjoyed being with you, enjoyed learning about your world.”

“Really?”

“Of course. There’s more to the fashion industry than I realized. It’s great that all the money is going to a good cause too. A lot of people have hit hard times over the past few years.”

“It sounds as if you know.”

“I do pro bono work once a month. The people who come to the office are people who can’t afford to pay a lawyer’s bill but want to get their life back on track. Most of them are good people who are doing their best.” He debated confiding in her and then realized he wanted her to know. “Dad got advice from a pro bono lawyer when he was setting up his gardening business. It highlighted a few issues he hadn’t been aware of.”

“Wow.” She beamed at him, her eyes bright. “And now you’re returning the favor. It must be great to be able to help them.”

Some needed more than legal advice, they needed someone to give them a chance. “You’re helping here. The funds raised from the Tour de Force dress alone would help feed and clothe people for a month.”

“It’s just money. I’d like to do something hands on, something that actually allows me to help, but Papa always said it was too dangerous. He said desperate people did desperate things and if they found out who I was I could be held for ransom.”

Chris stopped dancing. “Seriously? Your father has some strange ideas.”

“I know. It was always easier to give in. I hate hurting him.”

So she gave up on her own hopes and dreams? He hoped not. “Are we searching for apartments tomorrow?”

“Yes, if you still want to come.”

“I like spending time with you.” It was true. He couldn’t get enough of her.

The song ended and Imogen stepped back. “I really should do some more networking.”

Chris didn’t want to let her go but it was a work function for her. “Do you want to do it alone, or do you mind if I tag along?”

She seemed surprised. “Come along if you don’t think it will bore you.”

“Great.” He followed her off the dance floor to where a man stood watching the other dancers.

“Wasn’t Hans able to come today, Simon?” Imogen asked as she greeted him and kissed his cheeks.

“Ah, the lovely Imogen. Unfortunately Hans was not well this evening.”

“That’s a shame. Your accessories set was divine.”

“Thank you, dear. As was Tour de Force’s creation. When are we going to see some of
your
designs in the range?”

Chris examined the man. He obviously knew Imogen well if he knew her designs were not the same as Tour de Force’s.

Imogen ignored the question and instead introduced the two of them. “Simon did an internship with us many years ago.”

“Yes, and it was back then I told you you had the talent to have your own label. Why are you wasting your time there where you’re not needed?”

Imogen stiffened next to him. “I’m needed there. I have to make all the decisions when Papa isn’t there.”

“Of course. What I meant was they have other designers.” Simon was quick to soothe.

“I imagine it’s quite difficult to set up your own label,” Chris said.

“It is,” Simon replied and focused some attention on Chris, pleased he understood. “I still work out of my home and it’s a constant struggle to make sure I keep costs as low as possible.”

Chris blinked. How could it be that bad? This man’s clothing sold in the hundreds of dollars. That set of hat, gloves and shoes had gone for close to two thousand dollars in the end. And he still worked from home.

Chris considered Imogen’s business plan. He now wanted to have a closer read of it. To figure out what her numbers were so he could help her work out what the start-up costs were going to be. If it was as difficult as that, maybe she was sensible not to go out on her own just yet.

“If you’ll excuse me, Imogen and Chris. I’ve spotted Chantelle and I must catch up with her.” Simon turned to Imogen. “Remember my offer still stands. If you want help setting up your label, I’m here for you. My time at Tour de Force was life-changing and I would like to pay it back if possible.” He directed the last sentence at Chris before walking off.

“He seemed nice,” Chris said. Imogen had been quiet since the comment about her not being needed.

“He is.” She was distracted.

“Would he be a useful resource when setting up your own label?”

She nodded.

“We can go over your business plan tomorrow as well if you like,” Chris said, eager for her to make a move against her father.

Her eyes were sad. “I’m not ready for that.”

She’d gone from really keen to uninterested in the space of a couple of weeks and it was her father’s fault.

“The plan might need a little bit more work, but it won’t take long,” Chris said pretending to misunderstand.

“No, Christian.” She turned away from him and then said, “Ah. There’s Michelle.” She walked away without waiting for him.

Chris paused a moment to swallow his annoyance. Now was not the time to fight about it. He would talk to her tomorrow, make her realize she couldn’t put her life on hold for her father.

She deserved more than that.

*

Imogen pushed down her irritation at Christian’s comments. Things were rocky enough with her father as it was. She wasn’t willing to test him further. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t do her own label eventually, just not right now.

She smiled as she walked up to Michelle and kissed both of her cheeks. “You look gorgeous,” she said. Michelle was the owner of a chain of high-end boutique shops in Texas.

“So do you, babe. Who’s that gorgeous guy you
’
re with?”

Imogen glanced back at Christian, who was talking with Abigail. “That’s Christian.” She didn’t want to talk about her relationship, at least not with Michelle. “Are you enjoying the evening?”

“Always do. It’s the best event on the calendar. Ah, it looks as though your father wants a word.” She gestured to Remy who was walking over with a guy about Imogen’s age. The guy’s blond hair was messily styled with gel and he wore a dark grey tuxedo. The color was a brave choice considering the event, but he carried it off well.

Imogen pasted a smile on her face.

“Imogen, you must meet David Randall. His father is the CEO of Dionysus Oil and Gas.”

Imogen shook David’s hand. He had a firm grip and his blue eyes twinkled at her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your father has told me so much about you and I see he hasn’t exaggerated.”

Alarm washed over her. What had her father been saying to this man? “Well now, he hasn’t told me anything about you.”

“How about we have a dance and we can get to know each other?”

Too polite to refuse, she took the hand he held out and said goodbye to Michelle and her father, who was beaming. What was he planning?

The music was slow and David drew her close, his hand on her waist. She put her hand on his shoulder to keep a decent distance and hoped the song would be short. 
“I like your suit. The grey really works.”

David laughed. “My father nearly had a conniption when he saw it. Said it wasn’t appropriate.” There was defiance in his tone, which Imogen warmed to.

“Well you can tell him I approve,” she said.
“What is it you do?”

“I’m the finance manager at Dionysus. If you need help with your finances, I’m your man.” He said it in a lighthearted way and Imogen found herself smiling at him.

“Oh, my boyfriend Christian works there.”

“Ah. Your father gave me the impression you were single. He insisted I meet his beautiful daughter.” David shrugged self-consciously.

Imogen stopped dancing. Her father was playing matchmaker? He knew about Christian.

Which explained the setup.

Anger stirred in her stomach, but it wasn’t David’s fault. She started moving again. “I’m sorry if he gave you the wrong impression.”