by A. C. Arthur
“Thanks, Dad!” London kissed her father’s cheek and headed toward the hallway.
“Clarisse, where are you going?”
“To call my agent to make the appointment with Ace.”
“In the middle of dinner?”
“It will just take a moment. I’ll be back before my food gets cold.”
London took the stairs two at a time. She was a veteran, had performed in amazing runway shows all over the world. But none had felt quite as exciting as this one. Because if London had her way, she’d walk directly off that runway into Ace Montgomery’s bedroom.
Chapter 8
The next day a knock sounded on Ace’s office door. It opened before he could say a word.
“By all means, Mira, come on in.”
She did—smiling wide, eyes beaming. “I’ve got great news and an even greater idea.” She sat in one of two chairs facing Ace’s paper-strewn desk. “London’s agent just called. She’s in.”
Ace nodded, still absorbed in the designs on his computer screen.
“Ace, did you hear me?”
“Yes. London has agreed to meet with us. I knew she might.”
“No, not just meet with us. She’s agreed to walk the runway in all four shows!”
Ace slowly raised his head. “Are you sure?”
“I know, it’s amazing. I can’t believe she’s available. And believe it or not, her fee is such that once the shows are over, we’ll still have money in the bank.”
Ace sat back, searching for meaning behind London’s quick and affirmative answer. “That is great news.”
“I thought you’d be more excited.”
“I am. Just stunned. I mean, I talked to her, but—”
“You’ve talked to her?” He nodded. “How cozy.”
“No big deal. We exchanged numbers in Temecula. She’ll be amazing.”
“Is there something I need to know about you two?”
“Nope. Nada.”
“Because as the person overseeing marketing and branding, a romantic liaison happening between an owner and a celebrity model repping the line is something I’d rather learn from you instead of a tabloid.”
“There’s nothing going on, Mira.”
“Has there ever been? I’m asking that not as the company rep but as a nosy peer.”
Ace smiled. “London and I traveled in the same circles, and our paths crossed a time or two—parties, shows, stuff like that. But we were both so busy then—she was the star of Incomparable and I was the face of Noire Underwear. Before our chance meeting in Temecula, I hadn’t seen her in years.”
“If I have my way, you’ll be seeing her a lot more. We all will.”
“You’ve got my attention.”
“I think we should make London more than just our star model for fashion week. I think we should make her the face of OTB Her.”
Ace’s response was immediate. “Okay, whoa. Having her star in our shows is one thing. But an ongoing relationship? I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“It’s a great idea. A fantastic one! We’ll be lucky to get her, and if we do, she’d make an amazing spokesperson for OTB Her. She’s young, gorgeous, successful and popular. The paparazzi are always trying to get a shot of her. The tabloids and celebrity websites adore her. We should be so lucky that she’d agree to represent us. Now—” Mira leaned forward and looked Ace straight in the eye “—give me one reason why I’m wrong.”
“Okay. You’ve got me. I can’t think of any.”
None that he could voice, anyway. All he knew was that his life had just gotten complicated. Because there was no way he and London could be around each other on a regular basis and ignore the sexual energy between them. She’d made her intentions clear. He’d held back, but wanted her just as much. The attraction was too strong, the physical compatibility undeniable. The question wasn’t if, but when. And how to involve his body while protecting his heart.
“I’ve scheduled a meeting for this Thursday. Her agent and publicist will be joining us. I also think it would be a good idea for us to have some of the clothes ready, even if only the muslin mock-ups.”
“Agreed. I’ll have Lucien get on the final piece right away, to see if what we’ve envisioned can actually work.”
“It’s not an original idea, but I haven’t seen it done quite the way you’ve planned. If we can pull that off... Wow!”
“Hey, what’s all the excitement about in here?” Tyler walked in wearing a suede OTB suit, looking like a model himself.
“We got London,” Mira answered.
“Yes!”
“And she’s going to be the face of the line.”
“Damn right!”
“Slow down, you two. She’s said yes to walking the shows, nothing more.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Tyler replied smugly. “Just pour on the charm, Ace, do what you do. She’ll say yes to it all.”
Ace simply nodded and looked away. Her saying yes to everything both frightened and excited him at the same time.
Had anyone pointed it out, he would have disagreed, but as Ace arose on Thursday morning he took special pains with his appearance. Since he’d gotten a facial and a manicure the day before, his clean-shaven cocoa skin was smooth to the touch and blemish free. The black silk OTB suit with leather embellishments showed off his six-foot frame to perfection. The open-collar tan shirt he wore beneath it both complemented his skin and highlighted the signature color of the OTB Her line. The gold jewelry was a perfect finish, along with his Burberry wing tips. Someone on the outside looking in might have thought it was Ace going for a position and not the other way around.
His extra sharp appearance didn’t go without notice. Mira was in the break room when he entered for coffee. She took a step back, and then another. “Dressed to impress, I see. Very nice, Mr. CEO.”
Tyler passed him in the executive hallways and offered a knowing smile. “I see you’re pulling out all the stops to win over our client. My man!”
Ace blew them both off. They were right. But he didn’t need to tell them.
The day passed quickly. Everyone prepared for the afternoon’s meeting. Just before she headed home, Frida walked into his office. “They’re here, Ace. Tyler is already in the conference room.”
“Make sure they’re comfortable. I’m on my way.”
Frida nodded and left. Ace looked at his watch. Four thirty exactly. London, on time? He stood, a slightly smug smile on his face as he buttoned his jacket and reached for his tablet and phone. If she kept offering nice surprises like this, their partnership might go better than he imagined.
* * *
London admired everything about OTB’s offices. The decor was sleek and classy, just like its owner. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been nervous at a meeting. If she ever had. But there were little butterflies fluttering around her stomach. When Ace entered—no, sauntered, strolled, ambled into—the room, the butterflies took off flying, causing other areas of her body to flutter, as well.
“Good afternoon,” he said as he walked over to give a handshake and cheek kiss to London’s agent and publicist.
“And to you, London, the star of the OTB runway.” He leaned down for a hug. “Thanks so much for coming and for agreeing to represent our new line.”
He smelled like daring and machismo and good lovemaking. His body was hard, his hug nice and firm. She took in his perfectly coordinated look. They could have done a photo shoot on the spot. Her off-the-shoulder tan mini with faux-fur trim was the exact same color as his shirt. She too wore gold jewelry laced with black onyx, tying together her ensemble with her black Taylor Plateau pumps. Her hair had been pulled back in a high ponytail to expose her flawless skin, high cheekbones and long neck. She’d considered
showing up in jeans and a tee. She was glad her agent had changed her mind.
London watched as Ace walked to the front of the conference room. He was poised and commanding, looking every inch the company exec. She saw him in a new light. The brightness looked good on him.
“Again, thank you all for coming. I know everyone’s time is valuable, so we’ll get started right away. London, on behalf of my partners, Tyler Dent and Mira Jacobs, we couldn’t be more excited about you joining us for these upcoming shows. You’ll rock these looks and ensure that during the course of these shows all over the world, OTB Her is all everyone is talking about. The head of our design team, Lucien, has put together a video presentation of the new line and has also created muslin mock-ups for the featured pieces. So, without further ado, I present OTB... Her.”
Ace connected his tablet to a wall projector outlet. With the push of a button near him, the room lights dimmed. The projector started and into the room burst picture after picture of bold, unique looks done in various shades of tan, accessorized with bright primary colors. Few comments were made as two dozen images were cast against the projector wall. But when the final piece was revealed, the room was filled with a collective gasp—London’s among them.
The end of the presentation was met with applause. The room brightened once again. There were smiles all around.
“Ace, you’ve outdone yourself. That last piece is stunning...more than that, really. I have no words. The way it’s designed, though, with all of that crinoline and the funky train, it will be a beast to walk in and looks to work better on someone seven feet tall.”
“Which brings me to my next question,” Ace calmly countered. “Can you walk in stilts?”
London’s look to her agent read, are you kidding? Then she voiced the question.
Ace met her skepticism with laughter. “Totally appropriate response, but hear us out. We have someone designing a special set of eighteen-inch stilts that will take us head and shoulders above the competition, literally. All our models will wear them. That finale piece that you raved about will require stilts two and a half feet tall. I think you can handle it, London. And be the talk of the town.”
They discussed specifics about the line. London agreed to try the stilts. Once all the questions about the runway shows had been answered, Ace had just one more question.
“You’ve agreed to be our star model for fashion week, but we want more.” His pregnant pause was enough to birth a love affair. “We want to offer you the job as spokeswoman for and face of OTB Her. Is that something you’d want and think you could handle?”
For a second he and London were the only ones in the room. Oh, yes, she could handle that and much, much more. But again she held her cards close to the chest with four of her favorite words.
“I’ll think about it.”
Chapter 9
Later that evening, everyone from the meeting joined a couple investors at a trendy seafood restaurant located near San Francisco’s affluent Nob Hill. Ace ordered a bottle of their best champagne. Once flutes had been filled, he lifted his up.
“To London, the supermodel and superwoman who will bring OTB Her...out of the box.”
“Hear, hear!”
“Cheers!”
“Yes!”
“Absolutely!”
Responses mingled with the clinking of crystal before everyone took a sip of the pricey bubbly.
Michael Watson, a hip-hop artist from Oakland known to the world as 100 Proof, who’d been diversifying his $100 million portfolio into real estate, restaurants and more, sat back and gazed at London. “I see you brought the fire,” he said to Ace, his eyes still on her. “I was about eighty percent sure I’d invest when it was just the men’s line. But now you’ve got one for the ladies? Starring this one right here? It’s a game changer, brother. Count me all the way in.”
“Good to hear,” Ace replied with a slight smile that London observed didn’t quite reach his eyes. When Michael reached over for London’s hand, she saw Ace’s jaw clench and release, even though he maintained his smile.
“We’re hoping all three of you will come on board,” Mira said. “And quickly. We were going to try and keep OTB Her under wraps until the show, but the publicity division feels it better to leak the information and create a buzz and a mystery around the woman wearing the clothes. We’ll be doing photo shoots as early as next week, and throughout the season. It’s too late for print magazines, but we plan to have a heavy presence on fashion websites, blogs and billboards and buildings in Times Square. With all three of you investing, we could do much more.”
The other two investors—one a former football player, the other a Silicon Valley executive’s wife—took a little more time to convince. But after two hours and a steady stream of some of the best seafood in the Pacific Ocean—roasted mussels, Dungeness crab, pan-seared sea bass and cioppino, the seafood stew that originated in the city by the bay, along with thin slices of Wagyu filet mignon—and London’s effortless banter about time spent traipsing her European playground, the investors were putty in her hands and their money was headed toward OTB’s coffers.
Outside the restaurant, the group said their goodbyes. Ace was standing on London’s left side. Michael, Mr. 100 Proof, sidled up to her right. “Hey, London, I know a spot over near the financial district, a private club owned by a friend of mine. Why don’t you come hang out with me and, you know, let me show you off a little bit?”
London sensed more than felt Ace stiffen beside her. “Thank you, but I have another engagement. In fact—” she looked at her watch “—I really should be going.”
Michael looked her up and down. “As fine as you are, we’ve got to hang out.”
“Thanks, Michael. I’ll be pretty busy between now and New York Fashion Week.”
“In New York, then. I’m a patient man.”
Ace gently squeezed London’s elbow as he turned and addressed Michael. “Nothing personal. It’s business.” And then to London he said, “One of the cars can take you to your next appointment, if you’d like.”
“That would be great, Ace. Can you call it for me?”
“It’s right around the corner. I’ll walk you over there.” He extended a hand to Michael. “Mira and our finance office will be in touch with you and your team to get everything squared away.”
“For sure, man.” They shook hands. “Just make sure I get a ticket to the show.” He looked at London. “Front row.” Leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Until then, young lady.”
London waved as Ace’s grip on her elbow tightened slightly. He steered her away. She waited until they’d turned the corner to address him. “That was a fairly possessive move back there, Mr. Montgomery.”
“It was meant to be.” He eased his hand away from her. They walked in sync, unconsciously, two beautiful people casually strolling on a Thursday night. “No need to say you’re welcome. I know you’re glad I helped you get away from that presumptuous fool.”
“A wealthy fool who’s just invested in you.”
“He invested in OTB, which was a smart move. I don’t have to like a guy to do business with him.”
They reached the town car. Ace motioned for the driver to stay seated while he opened the door for London to enter.
Ace got in beside London. “Where’s your next appointment?”
“My condo.” Ace’s face showed his confusion. “I don’t really have a meeting. I just didn’t want to deal with Michael’s ego.”
Ace released a chuckle—low and raspy—the kind that sent tingles southbound from London’s heart to her heat. “But I didn’t do anything for you back there? Okay.”
“I could have handled it.”
He slid a look her way, one filled with passion, humor and daring.
She leaned over, placed soft cushy lips ag
ainst his clean-shaven jaw. “Thank you, Ace.”
Ace tapped the back of the front seat. “Hey, buddy, take us to my car.”
“I thought this car was for me.”
“I changed my mind.”
He fixed her with a stare from dark brown doe eyes. It was a wrap. Ace got a call from Tyler. London took in the sights and returned a few texts. They reached the garage beneath the office building where OTB was housed. The driver stopped. Ace got out and reached back for London’s hand. When she stepped out, he pulled her into a hug.
His lips grazed her ear before he whispered into it. “Thanks for being amazing tonight.”
London shuddered, tightened her arms around his waist. Nipples pebbled and feminine muscles clenched. She looked up and didn’t know that the desire she saw in his eyes mirrored her own.
“Excuse me a minute. Hey, Randy. Thanks, man.” He walked over to the driver’s side of the town car and wrapped up business with the driver. London looked around and then walked over to a shiny silver Porsche 911. She ran light fingers over its sleek, smooth design. It reminded her of Ace—exactly the type of car she thought he’d drive.
“You like it?” Ace walked up behind her, placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Very much. It looks brand-new.” She turned to him. “Is it?”
Ace shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, since that’s not the car I’m driving.”
“Oh.” She scrunched her eyes as she scanned the few remaining cars in the garage for another luxury ride. “Where’s your car?”
Ace pointed his key fob toward a ten-plus-year-old SUV. “Right there.”
London took in the black GMC with silver accents. Clean. Shiny. A perfectly good car for one of Ace’s employees. She never would have guessed it for him. Didn’t matter. The way her body hummed with desire for him, he could have rolled up riding a donkey, and in designer duds and five-inch heels she would have jumped straight on that ass.
They got in the car. It smelled manly, musky, like Ace.
“Where are we going?”