“Nope. A fashion designer. Do you know what that is?”
She shakes her head, looking embarrassed.
I lean closer as though I’m about to share a secret. “Well, a fashion designer makes clothes for people to wear, but it’s so much more than that. They decide the fabric and color of the clothes, and how it should be cut out of the cloth. They can help people feel good about themselves by making them something beautiful to wear.”
She’s still silent, but she’s listening intently.
I write the last numbers on the line and place it in front of her. “But measurements are important. You have to make the clothes fit the person’s body or it doesn’t look right. Moving a seam just a tiny bit can make the difference in a person looking just okay or beautiful.”
Her eyes widen. “It’s like magic.”
I smile. “It sounds like it, doesn’t it? But it’s really math. Knowing how to add up the measurements and subtract them is the trick of it. And it all starts here.” I tap on the paper with her subtraction problems.
We work on the problems for several minutes, using the number line and Desiree is more confident when we finish. “I get it now.” She offers me a shy smile.
“Good. It just takes lots of practice. And do you know what?”
She shakes her head, her gaze on me.
“Maybe you’ll like math so much you’ll study it in college like my friend Scarlett.” I look up at the doorway. Reed is standing on the threshold watching me with an unreadable face. I have no idea how long he’s been there. “And my friend Reed.”
His eyebrows lift in surprise.
Scarlett would choke if she could hear me right now. I’ve done nothing but tease her about her math-geek status and here I am suggesting this little girl consider it for a major. “Math is really important. You use it for everything, and it’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it.”
“But you make people beautiful.” Desiree says. “I wish you could make me beautiful.”
A lump forms in my throat and I try to swallow it to answer. “Oh, Desiree. You’re already beautiful.” But I know what she’s saying. I was her years ago. I see her faded and worn jeans. Her stained T-shirt that’s been worn many times.
“Why do you want to be a fashion maker?”
“A fashion designer?” I could give her my pat answer, the one Reed made fun of, and she’d never know the difference. This little girl was me. She deserves the truth, but Reed is standing in the doorway listening to everything I say.
I brush her hair from her face and wipe a smudge off her cheek with my thumb. “Once upon a time, there was a little girl who didn’t fit in with all the other kids. She felt ugly while all the other girls were pretty and wore pretty things.”
“Did the little girl get pretty dresses too?”
No, the little girl didn’t, but I can’t tell Desiree that. She’s waiting for me to give her a fairytale ending, but there isn’t one. The little girl didn’t find a prince. She didn’t become a swan. She went off to college with the hope of scoring a rich boyfriend/husband and ended up alone. The major she picked was mostly because it was what she already knew. Already loved. And now she was scrambling to figure out what to do with it. I can’t tell Desiree any of this, but I can empower her. “She learned to make them herself.”
Her eyebrows scrunch together as she thinks about what I said. “Like she’s her own fairy godmother?”
“Yes, exactly.” I take a breath. “The pretty girls in my story, they may have worn pretty clothes and had pretty hair, but they weren’t pretty on the inside, Desiree.” I tilt my head down to look in her eyes. “They’re pretty packages with nothing but fluff and jealousy inside. There will always be people who tell you that your clothes are ugly or that your car is old and rusted. That your house needs to be painted or your shoes have holes, but those people will never be your friend. Not even if you get all the pretty things they have. Real friends don’t care about any of that and they love you for you.”
She looks unconvinced. “But I still wish I had a pretty dress and looked like a princess.”
“Of course you do. All girls do.” I laugh. “Do you know what? If you try really hard with your math homework for the next week, I’ll make you a pretty dress.”
Her eyes widen. “You mean it?”
I smile. “Yes.”
The other girls at the table have remained quiet but now burst into shouts.
“I want one!”
“Me too!”
What have I started?
Even as their excited voices shout in my ears, I realize this is the answer to my problem. I can create a children’s line and maybe I can use actual children in the center as my models. It’s the perfect blending of the event and the cause.
Reed moves next to me. “Caroline, a word, please.” It’s a demand, not a question.
I stand and turn to face him, already knowing his concern. “Reed, I know you think it’s a lot to promise to make them all—”
He grabs my arm and pulls me into the hall. “You can’t toy with these children’s hopes.”
“But if I can use them as models in the show then—”
His eyes fly open. “You can’t use them as models for the show!”
Anger tempers my excitement. “Why in the world not?”
“Haven’t you heard of confidentiality? Do you really want these children to be paraded on stage? It would be like them wearing signs that say I’m a charity case.”
While I understand his concern, I’m not fond of the derision he uses. “And are you saying these children aren’t worthy of being in the show because of who they are and where they come from?”
“Of course not!” But his tone reeks of backpedaling instead of conviction.
“Did it ever occur to you that these little girls might feel better about themselves if they were models on a runway? That for one day, they’ll feel pretty and special. They’ll be the envy of the mean kids in their class instead of the other way around?”
“Well, no….”
“We don’t have to announce that they receive help from the organization. No one has to know. They could be children from the rich side of town.”
“I never thought….”
“No.” I swallow my disappointment. One hot kiss and some lustful looks, and for some reason, I forgot he was the arrogant ass who thinks the worst of me. “It’s obvious you didn’t.” I walk around him. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
I’ve left five little girls in the room who want me to make them pretty clothes. Now I need to see what I have to do to make that happen.
Chapter Ten
Evelyn is delighted by my plan, but Lexi is even more so.
When we leave the office and head out to the car, Lexi loops her arm around mine. “I knew bringing you would be a good idea! I hoped it would spur your creativity, seeing firsthand the organization you were helping raise money for. I just never imagined it would be so literal.”
Reed is waiting outside, his backside to the car as he watches the street. He’s wearing a scowl, as usual, but damned if he doesn’t look good wearing that too. I stuff my wanton feelings down. What the hell is wrong with me? Lusting after a jerk. I’ve never been one of those girls, and I don’t intend to start.
“Well, nothing’s for sure yet.” I need to focus on my project now that I have inspiration. “Evelyn has to get the parents’ permission.”
“But that was a fantastic idea for you to use the children as models for the other designers too.”
I shrug. “They need child models, so I figure why not?”
“Have you got a style or color to tie your collection together?”
“Not really. I want to sit down with my sketchbook and play around with some ideas first.”
As we approach the car, Reed opens the passenger door and stands next to it. I have no intention of sitting in front next to Reed, but Lexi sneaks around to the driver’s side and climbs in the back. Reed’s ey
es flash with alarm, and I’m not sure if I should be happy he’s as freaked out as I am by the idea of sitting next to me. But to protest and sit in the back would not only be rude, it would look like I can’t handle sitting next to him. I have no intention of letting him know he’s gotten under my skin.
I give him a tight smile. “Why, thank you, Reed. You really can be a gentleman when you want to.” I slide into the seat and he shuts the door without a retort.
We drive back to campus in tense silence. Reed keeps both hands on the wheel. I don’t know whether it’s because he feels the need to strangle something or whether he’s trying to keep from touching me. Or both. Neither is good.
“Reed.” Lexi’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “I need you to drop me off at the bank.”
His head jerks up. “The bank is a good ten minutes from where we are now. The opposite direction from the campus.”
She leans forward, her hand resting on the seat next to his shoulder. “I forgot to mention I had an appointment with one of the investment bankers at five-thirty.”
“It’s five-fifteen now. There’s no time to take Caroline back and drop you off at the bank.”
“Then drop me off and take Caroline back to campus.”
Reed hesitates.
“For heaven’s sake, Reed.” She groans. “I know you don’t have any more classes today. What’s the big deal?”
“Reschedule your appointment.”
“I can’t. It’s for a class project and I have to bring my notes to class tomorrow.”
I suspect she’s lying. For all her cheeriness and fluff, Lexi doesn’t seem the flighty type, especially after seeing her in action today. If she really had a meeting, she would have already made prior arrangements for me to get back to campus. She’s either lying about her appointment or she’s purposely set it up for Reed and I to be alone.
Lexi’s matchmaking, and I don’t like it one bit.
And neither does Reed. He shoots an anxious look in my direction then up to the mirror to look at her. “Lexi, you live by your Google calendar. You’re telling me that you just now remembered your appointment?”
She shrugs with a smug grin. “What can I say? Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. Even you, big brother.”
I can see Reed wants to call her on it. I want him to call her on it. But he grumbles under his breath and turns at the next intersection—away from campus.
“Wait.” I say before I come up with a reason why this won’t work. I could say I have a class but both Reed and Lexi have a copy of my schedule. We all shared them the day of our first meeting.
Reed turns to me and lifts an eyebrow.
I sink back into the seat and release a heavy sigh. I’m being ridiculous. We’re adults here, albeit, barely. I can sit in a car with him for twenty-five minutes, fifteen of them alone with him. I’m mature, mostly. I can do this. “Never mind.”
Lexi sits back in her seat and begins to talk about the nonprofit and ideas that came to her for future fundraising.
I look over the back seat to glance at her. “You really love this, don’t you?”
“Yes. I feel like I’m actually accomplishing something other than….” Her voice trails off as her eyebrows knit.
“Other than what?” I prompt.
“Other than going to classes. Do you ever feel like you’ve spent your whole life in school and you’re dying to get out?”
Right now, school is the only security I feel. The big bad world scares the hell out of me, but I’m not going to tell her that. Not in front of Reed. “Yeah, sometimes I do.”
“So when I get to do something like this fundraiser, I feel like I’m making a difference. I’m helping someone.”
I can’t think of the last time I felt like I made a significant difference in anything. Perhaps I’ll find it helping the kids at the tutoring center. Still, I’m not naive enough to think one pretty dress and an afternoon on a runway are going to change these kids’ lives, but at least it’s something.
“So you’ve helped with other fundraisers before?” I ask.
“Tons.”
“How did you find so many opportunities? You’re only a sophomore in college.”
Her smile falters.
“We grew up in Boston.” Reed interjects. “All you have to do is toss a rock across the street and you’ll hit a nonprofit. Lexi was part of a high school club that worked with charities.”
“Huh.” I’m trying to decide if my brother knew anything about my high school activities, let alone hang out with me. I haven’t seen him since the summer I left. Last I heard, he took off for L.A. with his rock band.
“So you haven’t done charity work before?” Lexi asks.
“No.” I’m fairly certain receiving charity isn’t the same thing. “Where did you go to high school?”
They both remain strangely quiet until Reed answers. “We went to a small Catholic school.”
Why is Reed answering such simple questions for his sister?
“So you’re Catholic?”
His eyebrows twitch. “Do you have anything against Catholics?”
“Well, no….”
I clamp my mouth shut. This conversation has derailed, and I don’t see the point of trying to fix it.
Reed pulls into a parking lot of a three-story building and parks at the curb. “What time is your appointment over, Lexi?”
“This is a meeting, not a therapy session. There isn’t a predetermined end time.”
A therapy appointment is an odd comparison.
He grunts in frustration. “An hour?”
She grins. “An hour should be sufficient.” She opens the car door. “Why don’t you two go get something to eat while you wait for me?” Then she jumps out and runs into the office building.
“I think we’ve been set up,” I say as I watch her disappear behind the revolving door.
“Yeah.” Reed sounds as thrilled as I feel.
“No offense, but I don’t have time to hang out with you for an hour.” Not that part of me doesn’t want to. Maybe I should just give in to temptation and get him out of my system. Isn’t that what Tina does? Has her fun with a guy and moves on. But Reed doesn’t seem like fling material, and I’m not that kind of girl. Not to mention we still have three weeks to work together. No, giving into temptation is the worst of worst ideas.
His shoulders tense.
As he drives to the parking lot exit, and I realize how rude my statement sounded. I sigh and rub my forehead. “Reed, we have to work together for several more weeks, and we both know that something happened between us.” Something happened between us. Talk about the understatement of the century.
Thankfully Reed doesn’t call me on it. He doesn’t say anything, just hangs onto the steering wheel for dear life.
“We can ignore that something happened and fight this … feeling we experienced.” I can’t bring myself to say attraction. “Or we can address it and meet it headlong.”
Reed smirks. “And how do you plan to face it headlong? You’re not proposing we get it out of our system, are you?”
I’m tempted. Lordy, I’m tempted. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, not. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a boyfriend—”
“You could have fooled me with your date last week.”
“That was one date, and we both know how well that went. And besides, when you asked me out, you said you hadn’t met many people yet. Wasn’t that your reasoning for asking me out?”
“Caroline.” He sighs. “Sometimes I’m socially inept.”
“You think?” I try to keep a straight face, but I can’t help laughing. “The high and mighty Reed Pendergraft admitting he’s imperfect. I do believe that’s the eighth wonder of the world.” I tap my chin with a finger. “Or is it a sign of the apocalypse?”
To my surprise, he actually laughs. “Are you calling me the Antichrist?”
I laugh again. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Then maybe you could have
a chat with some of my Algebra 101 students and convince them otherwise.” He laughs. “But then again, maybe it’s better if they have the fear of God in them.”
“Or in this case, I think you mean fear of Satan.”
“True enough.” A dazzling smile spreads across his face, and I realize this is the first time I’ve seen him actually smile. Sure, I’ve seen smirks and sarcastic grins and plenty of derisive looks, but Reed actually looks happy.
Could it be that he’s so cross all the time because he’s unhappy?
Is it my business if he is?
But now that the seed has been planted in my head, it takes root like a fast-growing weed. I like this side of him, even if it’s only a glimpse. But seeing a side of Reed that I like to go with the hot chemistry we share is dangerous territory. “We’ve gotten off point.”
“Have we?” he asks, trying to look innocent.
“It’s obvious that there’s something between us, but the truth is we have nothing in common.”
“Don’t you mean I don’t have a big enough paycheck?” His cold tone is back. Damn my mouth.
“I was out of line to say that at Scarlett’s party. I didn’t mean it.” I lean toward him and the musky scent of his cologne fills my nose. I fight the urge to move closer. “You had just suggested that we go out because you were desperate. I was hot and cranky. Not a good combination for me. Throw in hungry and you have the trifecta of bitchiness. I’m not proud of it, and I’m truly sorry I said it.”
He’s silent for several seconds. “Apology accepted. I have to admit, it was probably the worst pickup line in history.”
I laugh. “I suggest you mark it out of your playbook.”
He waves his hand in the air. “Consider it gone.”
“I hope we can get along for the rest of our time working together. You’re kind of fun when you take the stick out of your ass.”
“Do you realize your accent is thicker when you curse like that?” His grin broadens.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I like your drawl.”
“You could have fooled me. I think your observation of my accent the night of Scarlett’s party was neutral, with a hint of insult.”
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