by Opal Carew
As if he sensed her looking, his gaze lifted. Astonishing blue eyes met hers.
Once he glanced Naomi's way he quickly drew his business to a conclusion.
The receptionist reacted, turned to Naomi, and smiled at her in welcome. "Good Afternoon. How can I help you?"
"Hi, I'm Naomi Kildare. I have an appointment with Georgio Melandros."
The man paused to listen to her discussion with the receptionist. The weight of his attention affected Naomi, making her more self aware than she would like to be at this point. She glanced his way and didn't register what the receptionist was saying immediately, because the man observing her made everything else fade into insignificance. His stare was assessing and blatant, softened only by the hint of a smile – a smile that held sensual promise. Was he the fashion buyer? She tried not to look his way again, but her attention was magnetized.
The receptionist's voice invaded her consciousness. "I'm so sorry, Ms Kildare, our buyer has been called away on a family emergency. We were just looking for your contact number to try to let you know."
When the words reached her, Naomi's heart sank. It felt as if she'd been tripped up before her designs even had their moment in the spotlight. It was incredibly frustrating.
The woman on reception looked genuinely apologetic. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to rearrange your appointment."
"Rearrange? I spent the day traveling from Scotland for this meeting."
As she voiced her dismay at the situation, the man standing to one side stepped forward. "That won't be necessary. I'll take the meeting."
The receptionist looked surprised, but nodded.
He came to Naomi's side and took the handle of her portfolio case from her as he directed her to his office. "It'd be a shame to ask you to travel down again, since you're here now."
"Thank you, I appreciate that." Who was he though? He didn't look like a fashion guru. Then again, he was wearing a gorgeous designer suit. She'd read an article about Georgio Melandros and he was described as a flamboyant man. This guy was striking in the extreme, but flamboyant he was not.
"Please ask Diane to hold all my calls until we're done," her companion said to the receptionist, then led Naomi along a corridor.
Stepping alongside him she noticed his posture. Elegant but understated, his large, fit body was something he wore easily. He looked powerful, but it wasn't just that. He had the elusive quality of a man in control. It made her feel self-aware and it made her hot. Quickly, she reminded herself of the purpose of the meeting and mentally ran through her key selling points.
When he ushered her through a doorway Naomi scanned for a nameplate, but there wasn't one. The door opened into a grand office with floor to ceiling glass windows on the far wall, offering a magnificent vista over London. It was late afternoon and the September sky was aglow. Naomi glanced around, trying to ground herself. It was difficult, because the place was ostentatious and the man at the center of it had such presence.
It was a massive space, simply furnished with classic pieces in dark wood. There were three desks, arranged to provide options to work facing the view or with your back to it. Beyond the desks she could see St Paul's Cathedral and many other notable London landmarks amongst the rooftops and skyscrapers.
"Please, take a seat." Her companion stepped behind the main desk and gestured to the simple black leather chair opposite him. He'd left her portfolio case close to the chair.
"Thank you." As she took her place, she put her clutch bag down on the floor and glanced to either side. On one wall six clocks displayed the times in various cities around the world, the city named below. A sleek, glossy black cabinet below looked as if it might contain refreshments. On the opposite wall a long and wide black leather couch looked suspiciously as if it offered the owner of the office the chance to sleep there overnight if necessary. Such were the requirements of a prestige retail agency like this, she surmised. Next to the sofa and facing out across London was a high tech running machine. It definitely had the makings of a home away from home, Naomi decided.
"I didn't catch your name," she said, as she straightened her outfit. The light was behind him, the glass windows flooding the offices with natural illumination.
"Lucas." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. "I apologize for the change of circumstances. It can't be helped. Georgio was called away at short notice. His father has been taken into hospital."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Lucas. Family must come first."
"Just Lucas, please. And you're…Naomi?"
"Yes, Naomi. Naomi Kildare."
"You've had a long journey, Naomi, I appreciate that. I can at least offer you a hearing. If necessary I'll confer with Georgio when he's back in the office." His manner was somehow intimate, as if was genuinely interested in hearing her pitch.
As flattering as it was to have this gorgeous man paying her attention, she couldn't help wondering if it wouldn't be better to postpone her appointment until Mr. Melandros could see her himself. "I sense you're not a fashion buyer yourself."
"Very astute. Georgio Melandros is our fashion expert. Rest assured I do know a good product and I'm in a position to offer contracts and engage top exposure, should I think a product warrants it."
Naomi eyed him cautiously. He wasn't a fashion guru, so what was his role? Advertising, or perhaps marketing – yes, that could be his game. The fact he wasn't the fashion expert put her at an immediate disadvantage, though. This agency only represented a tiny percentage of the products they saw, and they rejected hundreds without even looking. They had an esteemed placement list in all the top retail outlets. If her work was contracted by the Eaglestone Agency it might be seen in airport shops and top-class London stores like Harrods and Selfridges. She'd already felt like she was clutching at a slim hope when she came in, because of the small client list they chose to back. If she didn't even have the actual fashion buyer's attention, what hope did she have?
"Can I get you a coffee or something else?"
"No, thank you."
He rested back in his chair. "Why don't you start by telling me a bit more about yourself and your background?"
"Is that as important as the product itself?" As far as she was concerned, her designs should be judged on their own merit.
"Most of our retailers want a face for the product and whilst we can manufacture that, if necessary, it helps if the designer's background is somehow special, reflecting the uniqueness and creativity of their product. A talented designer who's prepared to be the face of the product vastly enhances the marketing potential."
Yup, definitely a marketing guy. She could see his point, but she was itching to open up her portfolio and show him the samples she'd brought with her. "I have a good education in fashion design, a first-class degree from St Martin's College here in London and a Masters from Edinburgh College of Art. I apprenticed with Scotland's leading knitwear designer before going out on my own. My family lineage is in the Highlands, although I was brought up in Edinburgh, and it's from the dramatic textures and colors of the Highlands I draw inspiration for my fashion design."
"You know your field. That's obvious." Again he was looking at her with curiosity, and seemed in no rush to see the designs she was talking about.
"Do you follow developments in the fashion industry yourself?"
His eyelids lowered and he smiled. "The fashion industry represents twenty-six billion pounds of income for the British economy, every year. It would be foolish for anyone involved in retail finances to underrate its importance in national terms."
Naomi tried not to squirm. She'd made a foolish remark and wished she could withdraw it. She was on edge and worried she wasn't speaking to the right guy here.
Lucas was still mid-flow. "The Eaglestone Agency is experienced in the field and handles several well-known fashion design clients—"
"I know," she interrupted. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to quiz you. I'm nervous."
He locked eyes with he
r, holding her attention for the longest moment. Something about the way he looked at her made the tension she felt diminish. Instead, she felt aroused. It was a direct response to the sexy look in his hooded eyes. "Don't be nervous."
Naomi's breath felt as if was trapped in her lungs, held as she was by those piercing blue eyes. His comment forced her to his will – she felt compelled to trust him. She breathed, and a strange shiver ran through her. Release of tension, she figured, trying to ignore the fact it felt decidedly sexual. The thought wouldn't go away. Why would it, she thought wryly, when the suave man who had granted her a hearing had so easily established a more intimate connection with her.
"You come across well," he continued. "I wouldn't have guessed you were nervous." He smiled, clearly attempting to put her at her ease. "Tell me where you're at with marketing and disturbing the range yourself."
She took a deep breath. "I'm at a crossroads. I sell my designs from my own shop and I have placements in a small number of the larger Edinburgh stores, exposure I sourced myself. I believe there are two distinct paths, to diverge into online sales, or to build prestige first then launch an online outlet at a later date."
"You're clearly aware of the options."
"That doesn't make it any easier, deciding what to do for the best. That's why I felt I needed expert guidance and representation."
He nodded, his expression watchful. He was giving nothing away.
She took the initiative. "May I show you some items from my range?"
A flicker of humor lit his sharp blue eyes. "I assumed you were wearing one."
Well, that showed her up. She'd planned to stand up, take off her jacket with a flourish, and begin with a demo of the fitted dress she was wearing. He'd known all along. An astute, sharp guy, in every respect – in fact he looked as if nothing could undermine him or put him at a disadvantage. He'd folded his hands in front of him as he considered her, a simple act but it characterized him completely. Ultimate control in a man — how could she not notice and admire that? It was a turn on, too. You're here to negotiate, to push your business and make a future for yourself, focus.
"Yes, the dress is my day-long little black dress." She rose to her feet and turned her attention to her portfolio case. Undoing the zips and clasps, she selected several items and laid them out on the desk in front of him.
"This range of scarves is currently my best seller. I believe that's due to my location. My shop draws tourists who are looking for Scottish gifts they can take home to friends and family. You can squeeze one or more of these into your hand baggage if your case is already full." Unrolling one of her twin sets she carefully moved the fabric in the natural light to show it at best advantage. The set was pale grey wool with darker grays and greens. "Several of my designs have been taken up by Edinburgh stores, but my aim is to reach a wider market. The fabric is designed to appear fragile and yet be flexible and durable for everyday wear."
"Fragile and durable. That sounds like a tall order." His eyelids lowered as he studied her.
Naomi had the feeling he wasn't thinking about the fabric at all – which frustrated her. Was he casting doubt on her claim? "The secret is a mix of threads in the fabric. I work with a fabric manufacturer in Fife. My foundation belief is flexibility combined with beauty. A woman wants attractive things to wear but she also wants to be able to wear them all day and still look good in the evening. She wants to be able to fling her jacket off," she paused and took off her jacket, draping it over the chair she had abandoned, "and have the dress looking good to go to the bar with friends for a glass of wine. She doesn't want to be rumpled or tired and look as if she's been wearing it all day."
He nodded. "Makes sense to me, so how do you achieve it?"
"It's a canny mix of man-made fibers shot through with wool and silk and cotton thread. That's where the colors and textures of the Highlands come in, so when you turn, you get drama in different lights." She demonstrated, one hand on her hip, turning from side to side. She knew this would take a lot of nerve to do, but she hadn't realized how self-conscious she would feel about doing it. Mind you, she was imagining some effervescent Latin fashion buyer not Mr. Cool-as-a-cucumber here.
Secrets flashed in his eyes, as if his thoughts were running in an entirely different direction to fabric and colors. Easing back in his chair he surveyed her, his eyes gleaming with humor and interest. The man was pure sex. He looked as if he were picturing her naked. It was as if she'd given him a green light to do so by standing up and parading her wares. Her skin tingled with awareness as his gaze swept over her. Naomi took a moment to picture him naked too. Those shoulders were so broad and large. He worked out, she could tell, more than just the running machine. His chest would be muscular under her hands.
Where had that come from? She cleared her throat. "Before I put each item out to full production and retail I test the durability myself."
"You wear the items on a long day hiking around Edinburgh, doing the housework, or what?"
He didn't believe her, was that it? Naomi didn't like to be doubted, not when her heart and soul was in this project.
"I'm not trying to pull the wool over your eyes," she said with a bright smile. She hoped she didn't sound too sarcastic. "I've been wearing this dress since around six this morning, and it's pretty hard to find an outfit that doesn't appear rumpled after a six hour journey on a crowded cross country train."
She glanced around the office and her attention went once again to the running machine she'd spotted earlier. "However, I don't expect you to believe it without seeing it for yourself. If you'd allow me to demonstrate, I can prove just how durable the fabric is." She nodded across at the fancy gym machine.
Lucas rotated his chair to look at the machine, and his mouth moved in a long slow smile before he replied. "Be my guest."
Naomi quickly kicked off her heels and padded toward the machine in her stockinged feet.
Her companion quickly joined her, and his hand touched her shoulder briefly as he accompanied her to the machine. The touch was fleeting, but it affected her nonetheless. The pit of her stomach fluttered eagerly and she felt light headed and wired. Nerves hit her. Was she about to make a complete fool of herself? Luckily a quick glance at the machine proved it was similar to one she had used at her local gym. She stepped up, programmed it for a twenty minute slow jog, and set it going.
Lucas stood nearby, arms loosely folded as he observed her.
"The man-made aspect of the fabric is what gives it its shape and its ability to hug the figure." As she spoke she had to suck in her breath because she realized the positioning of the machine meant she was close to the massive windows. It felt as if she was about to jog right out onto a precipice above London. That set off a bleep-bleep noise in her head, like a warning that she was about to drop from the sky if she kept running.
It's an illusion, she told herself quickly.
Mercifully Lucas stepped closer and rested one elbow on the front bar of the machine, observing her actions. She was pleased to see he was looking at the garment. She tried to focus on him instead of the dramatic view behind him. Her companion's eyebrows were drawn together, his expression thoughtful. She tried to picture him in casual clothes to keep her mind off the view.
In a flash her mind presented an image of him naked.
She grabbed the rail with one hand.
Lucas smiled. Her hand was close to his elbow.
God, he's so incredibly good looking. Naomi withdrew her hand and tried not to stumble. Close proximity to him turned out to be just as unnerving as running full pelt at a window high in the sky. Presumably it didn't bother him, that ridiculous view. No, he'd be just fine with it, she decided.
He watched her every movement, as if each and every thing she did was important to him. Nervous butterflies gathered in her stomach. It wasn't just that he was attractive and powerful looking and the future of her business rested on his opinion. Just by being close to her he affected her, turning her into
a puddle of lust. She kept going, chin lifted, and she was doing just fine until her hair started to slip free of its clips and began to fall around her shoulders. "Oh, damn!"
"Hey." He reached over and touched her on the shoulder. "It's the fabric you're demonstrating, and you've done that." He smiled his encouragement then moved his hand to lower the speed, nodding at her to indicate he was switching the machine off.
Naomi's hands went to the grab bar and once she drew to halt she shook her hair back.
He stared at her openly. He seemed totally relaxed, chilled even, but the glint in his eye as he assessed her was possessive. "You have the most beautiful hair."
It wasn't what she expected him to say. Her heart kept racing. It wasn't the jogging that caused it. It was him, the way he was and the way he looked. The shape of his mouth alone made her want to be kissed by him, to feel his sensual smile against her lips. It was so tempting to reach out and trace the rugged bones of his face and jaw. Arousal pulled heavily inside her, heating her body through, making her skin sizzle and her fingertips twitch.
She could only hope she hadn't made a fool of herself. If she had, she'd done it willingly – making an exhibition of herself as well as her dress.
"Are you okay?" His voice was low.
She nodded.
He put one finger under her chin, looking deep into her eyes. In that one touch he conveyed his authority. It made her wet. "Would you be prepared to be the face of your Highland Range? For magazine articles and promo shots?"
"It's not something I've thought about."
"You're a very beautiful woman."
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the touch of his hand making her nerve endings go crazy. A muted "thank you" escaped her lips, her face heating.
While he observed her he flexed his shoulders, as if he was limbering up. Her legs went weak under her as she considered he hadn't even begun to reveal his true nature to her. As if he knew what she was thinking, he smiled, and then she saw it – desire in his eyes. It was blatant, raw, and incredibly powerful. He could tell she was aroused too. It was there in his eyes. Tension charged the air between them.