“Don’t tempt me. What if I invited you to mine? I know it is kind of last minute and my family can be a bit overwhelming, especially this time of the year when the ones back east and Montana fly in.”
“There are Fitzgeralds in Montana?” he asked.
She grinned at his incredulous tone. “Aunt Marge is married to a rancher. One of her sons is following in his father’s footsteps and just started a horse-breeding ranch. Anyway, I know it’s a lot to ask, so if you’d rather go to the Bahamas I’ll understand.”
“Okay.”
She shook her head. “Okay you’d rather go to the Bahamas or okay you’ll stay here with me?”
“I choose you, Faith Fitzgerald.” Relief flashed in her expressive eyes. It bugged him she’d been worried about it and that O’Neal probably had something to do with it. “Where is the big occasion being held?”
“At my Aunt Viv’s place in Sonoma. Most of us just drive out on Thanksgiving Day. The ones flying in tend to come the day before and spend the night at her place, or drive back to L.A. with us.”
“So we’ll drive out Thursday morning and come back in the evening?”
She nodded. “That’s right.”
“I’m leaving on a business trip tomorrow, but I’ll be back on Wednesday.”
“Then it’s settled,” she said with relief. “I’ll tell my aunt I’m bringing a guest.”
“I’ll call you when I get back.”
She squeezed his hand, then pushed her chair back and started gathering the utensils from the table.
Ken joined her, picking up the serving bowl and plate.
“No, you are my guest.” She placed their wine glasses in his hands and nudged him toward the living room. “Watch something while I finish up in here.”
Cleaning up wasn’t his thing so he didn’t argue. Ken placed their drinks on the coffee table, found the remote control on top of the TV, and tuned to ESPN. A basketball game was on.
The papers on the coffee table caught his eyes just as he reached for his drink. Frowning, Ken glanced at the top one. Realization dawned when he saw the figures neatly broken down in Faith’s neat handwriting. Something cold settled in the pit of his stomach when he saw what she had written at the end of the page. Would she really cancel the show if she didn’t get a sponsor?
A loud cheer from the screen drew his attention. He kicked off his shoes and got comfortable. Soon he was lost in the game.
“Come on,” he yelled. “What was that?”
“Are we winning or losing?” Faith called out.
Ken blinked, her voice reminding him of where he was. “Depends on who you are rooting for, baby.”
Faith appeared in the arched doorway between the kitchen and the living room and pointed a ladle at him. “You’d better be a Lakers fan or you’re in trouble, mister.”
Ken laughed. “We’re losing. Kobe’s head isn’t in the game tonight.”
When she joined him, she settled against his chest and cheered as loud as he. She didn’t just love basketball; she knew the rules, the players, and the refs. By the time the game ended, he’d found something new to love about Faith Fitzgerald. He scooped her up.
“What are you doing?” she asked, looping her hands around his neck.
“Taking you to bed, where I plan to hold you until you fall asleep. Which way is the bedroom?”
She laughed and pointed the way. “Does that mean we’re not going to…” she wiggled her brow, “you know.”
“No. You tired me out last night and I need a day or two to recuperate.” They entered her bedroom which was done in white and a softer shade of blue. He lowered her onto the bed. “But feel free to have your way with me.”
“Nice to know I have your permission.” She held on to him when he would have straightened up his body and kissed him. “But I like your idea better.”
“Thank you. Now get out of these pants and into something unflattering, so you don’t continue to tempt me.”
Faith giggled, lifted her hips off the bed and shimmy out of her jeans. The urge to kiss the gentle swell of her stomach and thighs had him clenching a fist. Looking for something to replace his amorous thoughts, he gripped the legs of her jeans and tugged until he pulled them off. He folded them and went to place them on the leather bench at the foot of her bed.
When he turned around, she was removing her T-shirt. He swallowed as she bared a bra matching her panties, then groaned when she threw the shirt to him. It was still warm from being in close contact with her skin.
She was determined to make him suffer.
Faith crossed the room in her panties and bra, threw a glance at him, and chuckled before disappearing inside her closet. He shook his head. What a tease. Loving her was going to be a full-time job, one he looked forward to. She came back in a one piece, black lingerie, shooting his blood pressure shot through the roof.
“You are screwing with my head now.”
“No, sweetie,” she purred. “I sleep in this.” She stopped in front of him and tapped his nose. “Shouldn’t you be getting undressed? I have unused toothbrushes on the second drawer on the right.”
Oh, forget it. He yanked off his shirt, undid his pants and pulled them off along with his underwear. His mindless organ responded when she caressed him with her eyes. Not that he needed a reason to get hard. His control when it came to her was nonexistent.
“Now who’s not being fair?” she reprimanded him and flung back the covers.
“Not me. I sleep naked.” He walked to the bathroom and grinned as he brushed his teeth. She was already between the sheets when he reentered the bedroom. He crawled in beside her and brought her flush against him, so her back was to his front. It was going to kill him but he was determined to just hold her and talk.
“How was your store?” he asked.
“How did you know I went there?”
“The dress forms are missing from your living room and you mentioned the contractor was done.”
She chuckled. “I keep forgetting how observant you are. The store looked great. I don’t know how Lex did it, but he found the exact display counters I used before. I think he’s also the one who convinced the landlord to change security companies. Ron’s people will guard the building from now on.”
“That’s great.” From what Ron told him, Lex Fitzgerald was like General Hannibal. Once he set his mind on something, he moved mountains to make it happen, a tough act to follow for any man. A good thing Ken wasn’t interested in impressing him. Faith was the only Fitzgerald that mattered.
“Do you realize you’ve fulfilled your contract?” she asked, breaking into his thoughts.
He frowned. “What contract?”
“Remember why I hired you? To find the traitor at my store and confirm that Sean stole my designs. You did that last night and this morning. All I need to do is write you a check and we’re done.”
He didn’t want her money and he definitely wasn’t through with pinhead O’Neal. “He hasn’t paid for what he’s put you through.”
Faith turned sideways, her hand coming to rest on his chest. “Punishing him wasn’t in the contract, sweetie. That is a bonus.” She turned again until she faced him. “I’ve decided on something else.”
She was driving him crazy. Her sweet breath kept brushing his face, making him ache with desire. “Ante up my torture?”
She chuckled and kissed him. “No, silly. I’ve decided to fight back.”
He stiffened. “How?”
“I plan to sell the jackets in my collection. This way everyone will know Sean copied them if he uses them in Fashion Week.”
Her words filled him with relief. For one agonizing moment, he’d though she planned to confront Sean. “That’s brilliant.”
“Thank you. I’ll start designing new ones tomorrow.” Her hand left his face and moved lower to his chest then even lower until she found his erection.
***
Faith spent the next day doing laundry and cleaning her house,
and then she sat down and tried to sketch. But the muses had either deserted her or her mind was elsewhere. Nothing she sketched jelled with the rest of her collection.
She went to bed frustrated.
On Monday, she got up bright and early, and was at her store an hour before her usual opening time. By the time her seamstresses arrived, Faith was already settled in. Without Molly, she was one employee short, which meant she had to keep an eye on the store while sketching and making phone calls. She hated that.
As soon as she sat behind the desk, the calls started. Some from assistants to editors, whom Faith had invited to her show but were on the sideline until now. Stylists to young stars and aging divas looking for gowns to award shows. Bloggers, journalists, assistants…the calls kept coming all morning. A single article had done wonders to her status, moving her from being unknown to someone fashionistas wanted.
Halfway through the morning, the door opened and three twenty-somethings walked in. Faith recognized two of them from a reality TV show. They browsed and mumbled among themselves while throwing sly glances her way.
“I’m going to try one,” one of them said, studying the jacket on the mannequin.
“Me, too.” The second one smiled at Faith. “Can we try these?”
Faith removed the jackets then led them to the changing rooms. When she turned around, she almost bumped into their friend. She carried a dress in her arm. “I hope you don’t mind waiting. I only have two changing rooms.”
“That’s okay. I don’t mind.” She studied Faith. “I read about you in the papers.”
“Yeah, it was a rather flattering piece,” Faith said.
“From what I see here, I’d say they were right. These clothes are exquisite. Do you have them in other colors?”
“Sorry. They’re one-of-a-kind. In fact, I created them for fall next year but decided to sell them instead.”
“Lucky for us,” she said and giggled.
By the time they left her store, Faith knew she had acquired regular clients. For the rest of the day, customers streamed in. Most of them had read the article and wanted to try her clothes, others were just curious. Despite the publicity, the call from GGC never came. Instead, Faith received one from her bank about her frozen account. Soon Marcella would want to know the status of the balance Faith owed her and the firm GGC hired to plan the post-show party probably knew she was no longer attending. It wouldn’t kill her if she missed the party, but the opportunity to mingle with editors and buyers would be gone.
Faith dropped her head on the desk and sighed with frustration. It wasn’t fair. She’d worked her butt off to make it this far. Refusing to feel sorry for herself, she got up and went from room to room, turning off lights. Back on the main floor, she froze as a limo pulled up in front of her building.
Aunt Viv. What was she doing at Falasha?
The chauffer opened the back door and her aunt, in her signature Dior suit, stepped out, then he proceeded to walk her to the store entrance, held the door open, and waited until her aunt entered before closing it behind her. As though no one was supposed to enter the store, he crossed his arms and stood smack in front of the doors. That wasn’t a good sign.
Faith’s attention moved to her aunt, who was gently tugging off her gloves. She always complained of cold hands even when the weather was warm. “Aunt Viv, what a surprise.”
“Hello, my dear.” The smile and the endearment were perfunctory. “I came to see the work Jordan did. Lex told me he worked tirelessly to get the place done in under a week.”
“They did a wonderful job replacing everything.”
“That comes from knowing the right people,” Aunt Viv said as she walked farther into the room and studied the gowns on the mannequins.
Faith followed her, trying to see Falasha store through her aunt’s eyes. Some of the shelves were bare since she decided not to carry Deidre’s jewelry. Faith had been tempted to continue selling whatever she had left and send the money to Molly’s parents to help cover part of her hospital bills, but decided against it. It wasn’t in her to be that vindictive.
“I read the article they did on you. It was well done and about time you got some recognition.”
Faith wasn’t sure where that came from. “Thank you, Aunt Viv.”
“You and Sean make a wonderful team. I always knew you would.”
“I was not at the show with Sean, Aunt Viv. We just happened to bump into each other.”
Aunt Viv chuckled. “I hardly call attending a show Sean hosted and sitting by his side a bump.”
Faith’s hand tightened around the strap of her purse. She couldn’t very tell her aunt why she’d gone to the show hosted by a man she claimed to dislike. “There’s nothing between us, Aunt Viv. Not anymore. This was merely a fashion event and our paths crossed.”
Her aunt smiled. “Whatever you say, dear. How’s the preparation for Fashion Week?”
“Okay. I’ve had a few bumps, but everything will be okay.”
“A few bumps?” Aunt Viv asked with a gleam in her eyes.
Faith lost it. “What is it you want to hear, Aunt Viv? That someone stole my designs and sold them to Sean? That the timing of the vandalism in here had something to do with it? Or that Sean called my sponsor and spread lies about me, forcing them to drop me?”
“There’s no need to raise your voice or blame your problems on other people. As a Fitzgerald, you must accept responsibility for your actions.”
“That’s too bad—”
“I’m not done, young lady. You made the mistake of going into business with a female sociopath, who stole your designs then hired thugs to destroy your business. When you told her she couldn’t use her jewelry during Fashion Week, she called your sponsor and destroyed all your chances of making it to New York.”
Shock rendered Faith speechless.
“And when she got caught, she looked for a scapegoat and found one in a man from your past.”
Faith laughed though mirth was the last thing she felt. If she didn’t know the truth, everything her aunt just said would have made sense. “Is that Sean’s version of the events? He’s lying to you, Aunt Viv. How does he explain the gown Mrs. VanderMarck wore on Friday in the show? It is exactly like his.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Aunt Viv said, her hand coming to rest on Faith’s shoulder. “How often do you peruse past and present styles before you sit down and start sketching? You know that designers are influence by other designers, and students tend to follow their mentors, consciously or subconsciously. So of course there’s similarity between your style and Sean’s—”
“Similarities?” Faith shrugged off her aunt’s hand. “It was an exact replica down to lace placement and buttons. You’re so blinded by Sean, Aunt Viv, you can’t see what’s obvious. He’s a thief and a liar.”
Aunt Viv crossed her arms in front of her and sighed. “He cares about you and only wants what’s best for you. Even after that sick woman spread lies about him, he still wants to work with you.”
Faith shook her head. “He needs help, Aunt Viv. Did he explain how he knows so much about Deidre?”
“The police went to see him to return the gowns that woman stole. Do you know he offered to use her jewelry in his showroom as a favor to you? She told him the two of you were friends and she was struggling to make ends meet.”
Faith closed her eyes, so frustrated she wanted to scream at her aunt. What hold did Sean have over her? “We have proof—videos of him removing those clothes from his vault and half-an-hour later, walking into Deidre’s building, talking to her.”
Aunt Viv wore a bewildered look. “Proof?”
“Solid evidence he can’t deny,” Faith said with glee.
“How did you get them?”
“I hired a private investigator when I learned someone was stealing my designs. Sean can spin a tale about everything that’s happened the last several weeks, but he can’t deny what we have on him.”
Aunt Viv picked up her glove
s and wiggled her fingers through one. “I’d like to see them. These videos you claim you have.”
Claim? Even now her aunt doubted her. That hurt. An inner voice told her to let it go, but a gate had opened and there was no stopping the ugliness from coming out. “I’m your niece, your brother’s daughter. Why is it so easy for you to believe him, an outsider, and not me?”
“This is not about who you are or—”
“Isn’t it? Who am I, Aunt Viv? Your brother’s daughter? Or the daughter of a woman with questionable morals who used her beauty to snare your brother into marriage?”
Aunt Viv’s eyes widened. “Faith Fitzgerald! What’s gotten into you? What are you talking about?”
“I overheard you, Aunt Marge, and Aunt Cathleen that first Thanksgiving in Sonoma. You said terrible things about…” her voice shook, “my mother, about me. Did Dad ever perform a paternity test to prove I was his?”
“Child that was years ago. Have you been carrying this burden all these years? Doubting who you are? Is this why you’re always pushing people away? Never asking for help even when you need it?”
Anger and pain gripped Faith’s throat, making it hard to speak. She never pushed people, not really. She just protected herself, so she wouldn’t get hurt again. The doubts weren’t a burden, just pesky thoughts that crept in when she was vulnerable.
She took deep calming breaths. “It doesn’t matter, Aunt Viv. Believe Sean if you like. I know the truth and that’s what matters.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Aunt Viv took a step toward Faith.
Faith stepped back, her chin lifting. “I’d like you to leave now.”
“Faith—”
“Please,” Faith ground out, tears threatening to flow.
“You’re an impossible child to have a conversation with. If you need a spons—”
“No, thanks, I’ll pass.”
Her aunt humphed, grabbed her remaining glove, and stomped out the door. Faith flinched when the door closed behind her. She sagged against the counter and took deep calming breaths. She and her temper finally did it. No one had ever stood up to her aunt.
***
“Irene’s darling child is all grown up,” Gemma Frost muttered.
Dangerous Love Page 25