Money Shot (74 page)

“I need a gown, black tie.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

The expected explosion bounced off the walls of his office.

“Are you out of your mind? I have a show in less than a week and you want me to pull a gown out of my ass by tonight?”

“That I’d like to see.”

“Hilarious, Marc. I can’t do it.”

“I don’t need anything from scratch. Do you have a sample you’re not using? One that can be altered?”

“If you have her measurements, I just might.”

“I don’t have numbers, but I can come over and show you.”

He could almost hear her rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to ask how you got
those
measurements. I have half an hour I can give you, if you get here in the next ten minutes.”

“Already on my way.”

Leah looked up as her boss strode out of his office. He flashed her a smile, pushed up his wire-rimmed glasses, and jogged toward the elevators. She managed to wait until he was out of sight before she hunched over her desk, both hands pressed against her fluttering belly.

“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.

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.

Her heart pounded as she slowly, carefully lifted the lid. Silver tissue greeted her, crinkling when she peeled back the multiple layers. She caught her breath at her first look. Embroidered blue velvet peeked out of the tissue. She took a deep breath, and lifted the gown out.

It was stunning.

I’ll never be able to wear this. What was he thinking?

She shoved down the negative thoughts, ran into her bedroom and stopped in front of the mirror, holding the gown up.

“Oh, my God.” Embroidered vines and flowers trailed down the bodice of what was obviously a halter top, spreading out over the full skirt. A thick band of midnight blue satin joined the two, a double vine running along each edge. It was daring, bold, and so not her.

She pulled her oversized sweatshirt off, glad she’d already showered and left her bra off. There was no way in hell she’d be able to wear one, and her skin was smooth from scrubbing it like a maniac. But she figured, for one night, she could show off her hourglass figure. A room filled with strangers would only make stepping out easier. Having Marcus Hawkins at her side made it dangerous. After hiding from her feelings for months, she was terrified, but the need to break free of her past eclipsed the nerves already fluttering through her.

Besides, they’d all be staring at Marcus, and not even notice her.

She slipped out of her sweat pants, dug the lacy white thong she bought on a whim out of her underwear drawer, slipped it on, and stepped into the gown.

The heavy, luxurious velvet slid over her skin. She tied a temporary bow on the halter, adjusted the thick waistband, then pulled up the zipper, blinking in surprise when it settled around her small waist. Like it had been made for her. She bent over, loosened the halter, and adjusted her breasts before she pulled the velvet ties up and straightened, making a secure knot. Swallowing, she turned around and faced the mirror.

Her skin looked pale, and almost—luminous. She had always liked herself in blue, but this—God, this color made her glow. The halter gave her more cleavage than she’d ever had, the plunging V almost too daring. As long as she didn’t bend over, or breathe too deeply, she might be all right.

The skirt skimmed over her full hips, draping beautifully. Every time she moved the silk embroidery shimmered. She let out a laugh and twirled, watching the skirt bell out around her. When Marcus had told her he would send her a gown, she didn’t know what to expect. But this—it felt like a dream, and she looked…beautiful.