Nothing but the Best

by Kristin Hardy

  "Not necessarily," she pointed out, turning to button his shirt. "We'l be representing Danforth and the Annex, so we can at least sit together. Trust me, you'l love it," she assured him. He smel ed clean and just a little spicy. It was too short a distance between them for her to resist leaning in for a kiss. Such a shame it was a weekday, she thought, luxuriating for a moment in the softness of his mouth.

  Work, she remembered, and pushed away.

  "I'l love it, huh?" Rand said, and stole one last peck before turning back to dressing. "We never established just what, exactly, it is."

  "The Video Style Awards and Charity Auction. We're cosponsors."

  He rol ed his eyes and turned to pul a pair of trousers off their hanger.

  "You real y are quite the clotheshorse," Cil a observed, peeking past him into his packed closet.

  "Looking good paves the route to success." He tucked in his shirt and buttoned up his trousers. "So can our marketing budget afford the sponsorship?"

  "We can't afford not to." To her, it was as simple as that.

  "That's not what I asked," he said, a slight edge to his voice.

  "Danforth has covered half of it. We had a last minute chance to pick up some of it for the Annex, so I jumped on it. Al the major fashion magazines wil carry stories on it, and maybe Entertainment or the Times. "

  Rand threaded a belt through the loops in his trousers and snugged it up. "I don't remember hearing about this."

  "It just came up. Forth's gets the TV spots, but we can work the event for the Annex."

  "TV?"

  She shrugged lightly. "You're running with a fast crowd now."

  "I'l say. Next time you make a decision like this, though, let's talk it over first. We don't have much of a budget and we both need to be in on the numbers, at least for a while."

  "Sure. So wil you be my date?"

  He hung a tie around his neck and walked over in front of his mirror. "Gee, I don't know. I could be sitting here by myself with a beer watching the game, or I could be out in public with you in one of those sexy little numbers." He considered as he began wrapping the tie into a knot. "Tough choice, but I think I have to go with the game."

  Cil a launched herself at him, tipping him back on the bed. "Say uncle," she demanded, kissing him. "Say it."

  He rol ed over until she was underneath him on the bed. "Uncle," he murmured. "And just how long does this charity event last?"

  Cil a sighed. "Dinner, then the auction. After that, we just have to sit in the dark and clap. We could probably even leave after the break."

  He pul ed her close. "I think that's a must," he murmured.

  * * *

  RAND WALKED THROUGH the back door of the Annex, threading his way through the maze of boxes in the stockroom to emerge by the changing rooms. Paige had already worked her magic in this area, the doors of the cubicles bold splashes of color amid black and white. The look was emerging, and he liked it. In the main part of the store, the fixtures were going up. A radio played faintly in the background over the sound of an electric dril . Cil a stood talking with Paige, watching the contractors hang wal paper.

  It never failed, the buzz he got from seeing her. It was like going to the ice-cream store when he was a kid: the anticipation of a sweet treat, the excitement of not knowing the flavor of the day, and the sheer pleasure of the moment he placed a bite on his tongue and let the rich sweetness flow through him.

  Cil a's face lit up as she caught sight of him.

  "Wel , if it isn't the Boy Wonder himself," she said as he approached.

  "In the flesh," he agreed. "Hi, Paige."

  "Hi, Rand."

  "The place looks good. We going to be on schedule for the opening?"

  "We should be." She consulted her clipboard. "The holdup was the wal paper, but once you guys gave the okay to pay for a separate production run at the factory, we were al set."

  "Real y?" He looked at Cil a. In his personal life, he might like surprises. In his professional life, almost never—and this was the second one that day. He bit back the urge to demand information, though. Maybe it wasn't what it sounded like. Later, he promised himself. They'd deal with it in private.

  "The couches came in." Paige walked them over to the display windows, now screened off from the outside world with heavy brown paper. "It's hard to see under al the plastic, but they're fabulous."

  They looked familiar to him. "Isn't that a Barcelona chaise?"

  Paige looked impressed. "You've got a good eye."

  "Not real y. I lived over in Italy for a while and did some furniture shopping." And a real Barcelona was pretty spendy, he recal ed.

  "Cil a and I went to the Pacific Design Center and picked these out." She smoothed a hand over the back of the chaise. "Quality shows."

  And quality costs. "It looks great, Paige. Wil you excuse us a minute?"

  * * *

  HE TIPPED HIS HEAD toward the back and started walking, expecting her to fol ow him like an unruly child about to be disciplined, Cil a thought with a surge of temper. Wel , she wasn't going to explain herself. She was in charge of the redecoration and the decisions were hers to make. Rand shut the stockroom door behind them and turned to face her. "How much are we over budget, Cil a?"

  She had to hand it to him, he didn't waste time. "Not much. You get overage on any project like this."

  "Not this kind of overage."

  "What do you mean?" And how did he know?

  "We're looking at an expedited delivery fee for the wal covering, and I know those chaises cost a bundle because I was looking at them myself when I lived in Milan. I make six figures and I couldn't justify them."

  "You were looking at retail price. Paige gets them at trade."

  "How much, Cil a?"

  She capitulated. "We're about twenty percent over."

  His eyes widened a fraction, and for the first time she felt a little spurt of alarm. "The project is twenty percent over?"

  "No." She moistened her lips. "The redecoration."

  She saw the temper flare. "Cil a, we had a budget for a reason."

  "Al projects have overruns, Rand. This one was no exception."

  "We're facing some very aggressive profit goals, here. It'l be a miracle if we make those numbers, even if we do stay on budget, but at least we've got a fighting chance."

  "Look, higher profits means higher revenues, and that means getting the traffic in here," she said hotly. "The store has to look right. If it even hints at bargain hunting, we won't get the customers we need."

  "You think a couple of couches are going to do it?"

  He made her feel as if she was being cal ed to account by a parent or a boss and she bridled. "It's not just the couch, Rand. It's the overal look. And the chaises weren't what blew the budget. No one thing was. It was piecemeal, and they were the right choices to make."

  "Individual y, maybe, but a smart project manager makes trade-offs. You put the money out in some places and hold back in others. We could have worked something out." He raked his hair back off his forehead with one hand. "You should have asked me."

  "I didn't know I needed your permission for everything," she flared.

  "You don't need my permission." He stepped up to her. "You need my agreement. We're partners, remember?"

  It was about more than irritation over the project, she realized. It was about being let down, being kept out of the loop. And that quickly, her anger evaporated.

  Cil a shook her head. "I'm sorry. I just didn't think about it. It was five hundred here, a grand there. It didn't seem like that much money." She met his eyes. "I figured it would come out in the wash. I was wrong." And it was al so obvious to her now that she should have kept him informed.

  "It's okay." Rand took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders. "It's okay," he said again. "We're just figuring out how this al works."

  "Do you want me to cover it? I can," she offered.

  He gave a crooked smile. "If we miss our marks because of t
hat, we've got bigger problems than just a decorating overrun. Just talk to me next time, okay? Are we a team on this?" He stared at her.

  Cil a let out a breath. "We are." She wanted to touch him, to reassure herself that everything was right between them. Now was not the time, though.

  Rand leaned in to press a kiss on her forehead. "It's okay. We're okay," he said softly, and stepped back. "Now why don't you show me what's new?"

  * * *

  CILLA HAD THE TOYS laid out in a discreet room tucked away in the back.

  "Christmastime for good little girls," Rand said dryly.

  "And boys." She slanted him a look. "It's not al about us, you know."

  "That's when it's most fun, though."

  The look in his eyes gave her a little shiver in the pit of her stomach.

  He picked up a bottle at random. "So, you've got the garden-variety lotions and oils."

  "Something to be said for lotions and oils," Cil a reminded him.

  "And how." His voice was fervent.

  She'd set out a few of the items on the display area Paige had designed. It was an alcove set back from the rest of the store, made to look like a boudoir, with a dressing table, a nightstand and a slice of bed showing. Cil a D. lingerie hung from the closet bar and showed in the open drawers of a fixture similar to a bureau. The bottles and toys sat on the bedside table.

  Rand poked at a pale pink oblong plastic egg that sat next to a vibrator. "What's this, defective merchandise?" he asked, tossing the egg in his hand.

  Cil a didn't say anything, just picked up a smal gadget that looked like a garage-door opener with a butterfly emblazoned on it.

  And Rand jumped as the egg buzzed in his hand.

  "Our future top sel er." She tossed the remote control to him.

  "For the girl who has everything." He set the egg down on the dresser.

  "Something like that, yes."

  Rand pressed the switch and the egg jumped and began to rattle on the table. He caught it before it rol ed off. "This has some seriously interesting possibilities," he told her.

  "Ain't modern technology wonderful?"

  "Not nearly as good as the old-fashioned way." He checked his watch. "Speaking of which, it's after five. Maybe we should cal it a day. Want to meet at your house or mine?"

  "Mine. I've got to change."

  "I'l stop by the office then and pick you up at what, seven?"

  "I'm going to head out right now. I've just got to stop and pick up a couple things and I'l go right home. Why don't you meet me at six?"

  "Sure. I can help you get undressed."

  * * *

  IN THE END, RAND SAT on her front step until six-thirty, another chunk of time after a long, frustrating day of look-but-don't-touch. The wanting was a physical throb within him. When he saw her, it rose to an ache, and they were no sooner in the door than he caught her to him. In the aftermath of their argument, he'd wanted only to hold her. He hadn't been able to do that then, but he could now, he thought, luxuriating in the feel of her springy body against him. "So where is it that we have to go again?" he murmured against her neck. "Mmm. The charity auction."

  "Can't we just send them a check?"

  "We already have, sil y. What we're going to do tonight is get the payoff." She pressed a kiss on him. "Now let me loose, I have to change."

  "We can be late," he told her, his fingers searching out her zipper.

  Cil a twisted away from him. "We're already late."

  "We can be later."

  "I'l miss the press people I want to see," she explained. For just a moment, she took him deep with lips and teeth and tongue, pressing her mouth to his. Then she broke the kiss, resting her forehead against his chin, breathing hard. "I don't want to do this now but I have to, especial y after the conversation we had today."

  Rand sighed. "Al right, I'l suffer."

  "You're so understanding. Do you need to change?"

  He looked down at his suit. "What, Armani isn't good enough?"

  "Good point." For a moment, she just stared at him. "You look wonderful."

  "I look even better naked."

  Cil a just laughed. Rand fol owed her to her bedroom and leaned against the wal to watch her change. He'd always loved this part, the concentration and pleasure that women brought to dressing to go out. Guys just grabbed clothes and dressed. For women, it was like a military operation. The choice of outfit was just a start, the selection of accessories critical. The hairstyling alone was a delicate minuet. And there was that special something in the way a woman held herself when she was perfumed and primped and looking her best.

  Cil a opened up her closet and studied the clothing inside for a moment, then pul ed out a hanger. On it was a silky robe, deep blue with a copper edging that gave it a vaguely Roman look. Cil a slipped into it and clasped it at the waist with a wide copper belt. Rand blinked. "Is that for inside or outside," he asked.

  Cil a just laughed and ducked into her bathroom, closing the door. When she came out, she'd added copper links at her earlobes and a copper cuff around her wrist. The cosmetics weren't obvious but her mouth was lush and kissable, her eyes more vivid.

  She was beautiful.

  He final y got his jaw to move. "Do we real y have to go?"

  Cil a kissed him lightly. "Duty cal s." Then she laughed. "Don't look so down. We'l be back in two hours, I swear."

  "It's the two hours I'm worried about."

  They walked out into the living room and Cil a transferred her wal et and keys into a copper envelope purse she carried. She opened the front door and looked back at Rand. "Maybe this wil keep you entertained in the meantime." She walked outside.

  Rand looked to see what she'd given him and grinned.

  It was a remote control with a butterfly.

  12

  THE ENTRANCE to the Video Style Awards and Charity Auction was padded with a red carpet. Camera flashes popped as fashion mavens from Hol ywood and the music industry alike walked in. It was interesting, Cil a mused, how intermingled style and entertainment had become.

  Magazines, cosmetics and clothing lines chose actresses for their models even as models crossed over into acting.

  As far as Cil a was concerned, it didn't matter where their loyalties lay. She wanted the entertainment A list at the Annex. The resultant buzz would give the store the exposure it needed. She could see it now—Buzz Builders Like Megan Barnes Dip Into The Annex For Cil a D. And The Latest Designers. It would only take a couple of stories like that for the spin to become self-perpetuating.

  It helped that the magazine editors were old friends that she'd grown to know over the years at runway shows in New York, Tokyo, Milan, Paris. The casual references she'd made at the spring shows bore fruit now in equal y casual conversations about the progress of Cil a D. and its launch. Yes, they'd be able to see the line in a matter of days; yes, she was setting up a show the fol owing month at the Annex. Oh, hadn't they heard about the Annex? It was the latest and greatest from Danforth, opening in days, and the exclusive source for Cil a D.

  She laughed and joked and introduced Rand, who charmed them al . By the end of it she'd received demands for invitations to the grand opening.

  By the time cocktails were over, she'd managed to let it drop to a number of actresses and performers. Al in al , a good night's work, she told herself as the lights dimmed slightly for the auction and the audience focused on the podium.

  "And have we done our duty?" Rand asked softly.

  Cil a nodded. "You've been very good."

  "I don't have to actual y buy anything, do I?"

  "You can just sit here and look pretty." She patted his thigh.

  A truly awful outfit went up on the block, a silvery butterfly-sleeved fright that looked as if it was made from the foil off a package of Jiffy Pop.

  "Now, that comes under the heading of 'wouldn't be caught dead in it,'" she murmured.

  Rand chuckled and the sound of it hummed in her bones. "Don't be so hars
h. I think it's kind of sexy."

  "Then you buy it."

  The auctioneer started into his singsong. "Okay, bidding starts out at five thousand dol ars, am I bid five thousand, five thousand."

  And abruptly, a buzz went through her, starting between her legs and jolting her down to her toes. Her hand flew up.

  "Five thousand from the young lady in blue," the auctioneer said instantly.

  Cil a's eyes widened. "I didn't…" she protested, but the auctioneer was already back into his singsong chant.

  "Five thousand, five thousand, we've got a five thousand dol ar bid, ladies and gentlemen. This is an original design by Koizumi in silver sequins. It retails at more than twenty thousand dol ars. Come on, folks, this is to benefit the L.A. Charities Foundation and it'l look good on the red carpet.

  Bring out your checkbooks."

  Cil a leaned over to Rand. "I'd better not win this," she muttered. It was improbable, but in the hustle of working the reception, she'd forgotten the egg, and perhaps Rand had, too.

  He'd remembered now, though.

  Under the tablecloth, his hand settled on her thigh. "It's for a good cause," he said, and buzzed her again.

  This time, the vibration sent a shudder of awareness through her. When it stopped, her nerve endings shimmered with sensation.

  It left her wanting.

  Rand shifted his hand on her thigh, his fingers trailing down along the inside. When the vibration came again she felt the little curl of tension and her lips parted.

  Rand just looked at her and smiled.

  The auctioneer went off to another prize, having coaxed the bidding on the silver dress up to wel over retail. Cil a didn't care. Her attention was occupied elsewhere.

  Rand just leaned back in his chair, one hand on her leg, the other in his pocket. He was maddeningly inconsistent, sometimes teasing her with brief pulses that set al her nerve endings on end, other times turning up the intensity so high that she fought to keep from shuddering. Sometimes it was only enough to make her wiggle a bit.

  She could feel herself getting wet.

  Cil a shifted in her seat. She caught her breath and tensed. When she moved just right, the pulsation felt as if it was running through her body to her clit. And the wanting thrummed through her.