Is this love at last?

Lark Randolph is ready to give up on men...especially after her last disastrous relationship! A business trip to Italy with designer Dash Migilio is the kind of getaway the Manhattan fashion tycoon really needs. As they explore Italy’s vast countryside, dining in romantic cafés, the sinfully seductive younger millionaire awakens a desire that tempts Lark to cross the line from business...into pleasure.

Dash has admired the beautiful businesswoman from afar. And now the charming Italian is reveling in the passionate side of his boss that he has just discovered. But once back in New York, it’s business as usual—until a ruthless adversary threatens everything Lark has worked for. With both their futures on the line, can Dash convince her to take a chance on him—and them—before it’s too late?

Lark gazed at Dash as their bodies moved to the beat.

The more she watched him, the more she realized how much she was falling for the young designer. Even though he was at least ten years younger than she, he was mature beyond his age. If Lark was ever going to find love, then she would have to take a leap of faith and trust that Dash felt the same way.

Here goes, she thought as she danced closer and draped her arms around his neck.

Lark searched his eyes, trying to get a read on him as she moved her body against his.

Dash didn’t shy away. He took her by the waist and hugged her tightly.

Lark exhaled. She felt safe and secure within his arms and let her inhibitions go. Although the beat of the music was fast, they began slow dancing to a rhythm of their own.

Lark closed her eyes and rested her head on Dash’s shoulder. She was so close to him that she could smell the scent of his cologne. Lark nuzzled her nose closer and took a deep breath...

Dear Reader,

Thank you so much for picking up a copy of Season for Love!

Sometimes we overlook that one person who is offering us love, for one reason or the other. It could be a difference in age, or maybe a forbidden work liaison, much like Lark and Dash. In Lark’s case, when she gives herself permission to be happy, she falls head over heels in love with the stunning younger man.

Season for Love is a story full of romance and a bit of intrigue. There is someone from Lark’s past who crops up at the most inopportune time. But with Dash by her side, Lark’s nemesis has his work cut out for him!

Stay tuned for my next titillating novel!

Happy reading,

Velvet Carter

Season for Love

Velvet Carter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

VELVET CARTER is not just the name of a luxurious fabric, but it’s also the name of one of the world’s leading writers of “exotica.” She’s a prolific novelist, who paints pictures with her words. Velvet has her finger on the pulse and knows how to make your heart race with her tantalizing stories filled with romance and seduction. Her novels have been translated into German, and released in London to critical acclaim. Velvet uses the world as her muse, traveling the globe for provocative inspiration.

To Earl Milloy and Terry Brantley, two “Good Brothers” whom I not only had the pleasure of knowing, but of loving!

You guys will truly be missed, beyond words!

Acknowledgments

I’d like to thank the team at Mills & Boon, especially Shannon Criss and Caroline Acebo for your insightful edits that really helped flesh out the story! And to my wonderful agent, Sara Camilli, you are the best!

To my family and friends who understand when I have to go undercover, lock myself in a room and create another page-turner!

And to my mom, Alline Carter, whom I love dearly!

Peace and Blessings!

Velvet

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Copyright

Chapter 1

Lark Randolph was taking a long, relaxing bubble bath, complete with soft music, candles and a glass of crisp chardonnay. After a long, stressful day at the office, she was now pampering herself before her much-anticipated date. It had been a while since Lark enjoyed a night out with a man, and the possibilities of that evening made a smile form on her lips. As she lounged in the warm, fragrant water, she fantasized about this guy being The One. Although she hadn’t had much success with relationships, Lark hadn’t given up hope of finding her soul mate.

She lathered soapy suds all over her skin with an oblong loofah. After gently rubbing her body, she rinsed off and stepped out of the Jacuzzi tub. Lark toweled off, wrapped herself in a white terry-cloth robe and made her way into the adjacent bedroom. Spread out on the king-size bed were a black cocktail dress with a plunging neckline and a multistranded pearl necklace. She was going for a sexy yet sophisticated look for the evening, much like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

Being a workaholic, Lark hadn’t put too much emphasis on finding a man and cultivating a relationship. This had culminated in a string of short-lived involvements. As the years ticked by, while most of her friends got married and started families, she focused on growing her family’s fashion-design business. Despite some challenges, Randolph on the Runway was still one of the industry’s leading designers of women’s clothing.

Lark was in her late thirties. She knew if she didn’t shift her attention from her work to her personal life and put in a concerted effort to find a husband, then the family she had always dreamed about would probably elude her forever. Lark was determined that would not be her destiny. In the past, friends had set her up on blind dates but nothing had materialized.

To hasten her search to find a mate, Lark had followed the trend and had joined several online dating sites. She was serious—she had mapped out a plan and was approaching the electronic dating process like a business. She would spend her evenings scanning profiles of men whom she found visually appealing. Lark took her time and closely read their answers to various stock questions designed for compatibility. She took notes and didn’t waste time deleting those men who had nothing to offer but a pretty face. Once she narrowed down her search, she devised the next step.

Before meeting a potential candidate, she would communicate with him via email. If the electronic exchanges went well, Lark would agree to talk on the phone with him. And if the conversation flowed, she would have a face-to-face meeting with him, usually at a coffee shop over a cappuccino or a latte. If there was chemistry between them, Lark would agree to dinner with her prospect.

Lark was excited about tonight’s date. Edwin Spears, a mature, successful investment banker, was the third man she had met online, but the only one she had actually met in person. The first two guys hadn’t even passed the preliminary email test. Their lewd comments had alluded to getting her between the sheets. Lark had wasted no time in setting them straight. She had zero interest in a one-night stand.

After a nice online chat with Edwin, they had agreed to meet over coffee one afternoon, and it had lasted for hours. She and Edwin had covered the basic getting-to-know-you questions—Where are you from? What school did you attend? What do you do for a living? Do you golf or play tennis?—and had talked explicitly about their individual future plans. They both wanted to eventually get married and raise a family. Edwin was candid and refreshing. During their first conversation, Lark had asked him point-blank if he was involved with anyone else, to which he had emphatically replied, “No!”

Lark had been relieved. She had a rule never to date someone else’s man. She believed a man could only be unfaithful if he had a willing partner to cheat with. Lark didn’t care how many sob stories she heard about a man’s marriage being on the rocks, putting him on the verge of filing for divorce. Or the line to beat all lines: My wife and I have an understanding. As far as Lark was concerned, marriage was marriage, whether happy or not.

Over the next few weeks, Lark had found Edwin to be consistent and considerate. He had phoned every evening to ask about her day. She looked forward to hearing his sexy baritone voice and often fantasized about him lying in bed cuddled next to her. He’d sent bouquets of white roses to her office, with notes that read “I’m thinking about you.” After a month of Edwin’s steady calls and old-fashioned courting, Lark began warming up to him, even though she had seen him only once. Lark didn’t think this was odd since they both had demanding careers. Edwin had told her that he didn’t want to plan their first date until he completed a major deal he had been working on. Lark totally understood. She even told her best friend, Darcy, that he might be The One.

Darcy had warned Lark to tread cautiously. Darcy said that she had read numerous articles about the hazards of internet dating and that some people used those sites like an electronic meat market, looking for sex partners. Lark had halfheartedly listened to her friend’s advice. She knew Darcy had stern opinions when it came to the business of dating.

Lark finished dressing, slipped on a pair of black Jimmy Choo shoes to complete her look, combed her chin-length auburn hair and applied her makeup. She dabbed the backs of her earlobes with the sexy scent of Burberry’s Brit Eau de Parfum before leaving.

Outside, she hailed a taxi in front of her condo building and headed over to Jean-Georges, the swanky Michelin award−winning restaurant located in the Trump International Hotel & Tower. Edwin had chosen the restaurant and made the reservations. He had told Lark not to worry about any of the details, just to meet him at the restaurant looking beautiful. Lark loved a man who could take control and make plans on his own. In her past relationships she had been the one to orchestrate the details of dates, so needing simply to show up was a welcome change.

Lark could feel her heart beating quickly with excitement as she exited the taxi and made her way up the steps to the entrance of the restaurant.

“Welcome to Jean-Georges. Do you have a reservation?” the tall, model-looking hostess asked.

“Yes, table for two for Spears,” Lark answered, using Edwin’s last name, which rolled off her tongue with ease. “Mrs. Lark Spears”—I like the sound of that, she thought, getting ahead of herself.

The hostess scanned the reservation book and then said, “Right this way.”

Once again, excitement flowed through Lark’s veins with each step she took. She was looking forward to sharing a gourmet meal with Edwin and lingering over after-dinner drinks—and maybe, just maybe, going back to her place. She wasn’t ready to sleep with Edwin yet, but she wasn’t opposed to other forms of intimacy. During their coffee date, she had taken notice of Edwin’s full lips and had wondered whether or not he was a good kisser. Lark was sure tonight she would find out the answer.

“Here’s your table. Your waiter will be right over,” the hostess said, placing menus on the table.

“Thank you.”

Lark sat down. She was a bit disappointed that Edwin hadn’t arrived ahead of her. He always called her at the designated time. She automatically assumed that he would be prompt for their long-awaited romantic evening.

“Hello, my name is Jeff, and I’ll be your waiter this evening. Can I start you off with a cocktail or a glass of wine?”

“I’ll have a Manhattan.”

“Coming right up.”

Lark peered around the restaurant. It was mostly filled with couples having cozy dinners. She was the only person sitting alone, and she began to feel self-conscious. I wonder what’s keeping Edwin. Maybe he got caught up in traffic. Lark glanced at her watch. It was a quarter past eight.

She took out her cell phone and dialed his number. It rang and rang before going to voice mail. Instead of leaving a message, Lark sent him a text, thinking he would get her message sooner.

Hey where r u? I’m @ Jean-Georges waiting 4 u.

The waiter came back with her cocktail. “Would you like to hear about tonight’s specials?”

Lark looked at the front entrance, hoping to see Edwin walking through the door, but he was nowhere in sight. “Actually, I’m waiting for someone. Can you come back in a few minutes?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Ten minutes passed with no sign of Edwin. Lark was starting to worry. Maybe he was in a car accident. She called his phone again. This time it went straight to voice mail without ringing, an indication that his phone was turned off.

“Hi, Edwin. It’s me, Lark. Where are you? I hope you’re okay. I’m at the restaurant waiting. See you soon.”

Another ten minutes passed. The waiter returned and Lark ordered another drink to ease her nerves. She had read the menu twice, trying to bide her time. Worry began to turn to disappointment and disappointment to anger at the thought of Edwin standing her up. Lark ran a company dependent on deadlines and she considered time to be a precious commodity. The thought of someone wasting hers was unacceptable.

Lark took the phone out of her purse and dialed Edwin’s number again. She was now fuming. She was going to give him a piece of her mind for not showing up for their date.

“Hello?” a female voice answered on the first ring.

“Oh...I must have the wrong number,” Lark said.

“No, Lark, you have the right number. Edwin won’t be joining you at Jean-Georges tonight or any other night.”

Lark’s mouth fell open. She was speechless. “Who is this?” she finally said.

“I’m Edwin’s fiancée. I read your text and listened to your message. I don’t know what Edwin has been telling you, but he’s taken. Please don’t ever call this number again.”

The line went dead before Lark had a chance to respond. She sat there, staring at her phone in total disbelief.

“Are you still waiting, miss?” the waiter asked, standing at the side of her table.

“Uh...no... No, I’m not.”

As the waiter rattled off the names of the gourmet entrées, Lark stared into space. She couldn’t believe the sudden turn of events. The words I’m Edwin’s fiancée kept reverberating in her ear. Lark was dumbfounded. She had totally misjudged Edwin’s character. He had lied to her about being single. Not only was he not single, but he was engaged to be married! His intention was probably to have no-strings-attached sex with her—as Darcy had warned—but he was taking the slow, drawn-out approach.

“Excuse me, miss... Would you care to order now?” the waiter asked after he had finished explaining the specials of the evening.

“I’m sorry,” Lark said, coming back to reality. “Can you repeat the specials?”

After the waiter reiterated his spiel, Lark ordered.

“I’ll have the salmon, medium rare. And can you bring me a glass of champagne?”

“Right away, miss.”

After the waiter brought the champagne over, Lark slightly raised the glass and whispered, “Here’s to the end of my online dating career.”

She wasn’t about to sit there crying her eyes out and mourning the loss of a potential relationship. As far as she was concerned, it was Edwin’s loss, not hers. Lark knew she had a lot to offer the right man, and obviously Edwin was not that man.

Chapter 2

The Seventh Avenue offices of Randolph on the Runway—RR—were bustling with activity. The fall shows were over and the company was busy filling the last of the orders, designing a new line and preparing for the next round of fashion shows.

Being the chief operating officer and creative director, Lark was right in the thick of things. She strutted briskly down the corridor in a snug black pencil skirt, a white cotton shirt with huge billowy sleeves and a pair of pointy black stilettos. Her short hair was tucked behind her ears and her lips were painted blood-orange, her signature color, which was a blend of two different lipsticks. Lark spoke quickly to her assistant, Angelica, as she walked alongside her.

Although the fall fashion shows were long over, Lark had recently called some of the buyers she knew personally and had been able to convince them to purchase a few pieces. The sales numbers had been dwindling over the past few seasons and she desperately needed to increase revenue before the company drowned in debt.

“Do we have the final sales numbers yet from Patricia Taylor?” Patricia was one of the buyers whom Lark had contacted.

“No, but I’m sure I’ll have them later this afternoon,” Angelica responded.

“Okay, sounds good. What time is my next interview scheduled for?”

Angelica referred to her tablet and said, “Two o’clock.”

Lark had been meeting with some of the hottest designers on Seventh Avenue. She had let go of her lead designer and was having a difficult time finding his replacement. Most of the candidates she had met with either didn’t have the design skills or the right vision for her company. And with profits plummeting, she needed a designer who not only had major cutting-edge talent, but whom she could work with in harmony.

As she made her way to the conference room, she reflected back on the incident that had sparked the blowup with the previous designer.

Lark and Sebastian, the lead designer, who had been with Randolph on the Runway for years, had been in the company’s showroom scrutinizing the collection just days before the start of the fall show. He had wanted to pull the final piece from the collection, saying the hemline was dated and the gown didn’t fit in with his designs. Lark completely disagreed. She respected Sebastian’s opinion, but she felt strongly about her design. What started off as a civil disagreement quickly turned into a screaming match, with them going toe-to-toe, neither one giving an inch.

“This piece is passé!” Sebastian sniped, plucking at the rose-colored taffeta gown. “And who uses this fabric any longer?”

“No, it’s not passé. I designed this piece myself and I think it’s perfect for the grand finale.

“This gown gives the line a touch of elegance. I realize that taffeta is a material from a time long ago, but I want to re-create a 1940s-type feeling. A time of romance, and this gown depicts that era perfectly,” Lark said.

“Romance is overrated, and this gown’s above-the-ankle hemline is off-putting to say the least. Maybe you should stick to being the COO, hire a creative director and leave the designing to us professionals.”

“I have a degree from FIT in fashion design as well as an MBA from Harvard. I’m more than capable of running this company and designing a gown!” Lark sniped.

“Obviously your creative side isn’t as developed as your business side.” He took the dress off the rack and held it in his hands. “Look at this thing. The color is dull. The neckline is too high. Basically, it’s...it’s...just horrendous!”

Lark was quiet for a moment. “Why are you being so nasty, Sebastian? We’ve always worked so well together. What’s wrong? Are you having some type of personal issues? Did you and Peter break up?”

“He moved out, but I’m perfectly fine. My love life has never affected my work. Why are you trying to overrule me? I’m the lead designer. Or have you forgotten?”

His nasty remark incensed Lark. There was only so much more she could take from him. “And I run this company. Or have you forgotten?”

“Without my fabulous creations, RR would just be another wannabe design company manufacturing run-of-the-mill dresses,” he said.

Lark could feel her blood pressure rising. Not only was he insulting her design ability, but he was now also insulting the company her grandfather had founded. “That’s enough, Sebastian. This conversation is over!”

He clenched the gown in his hands. “No. What’s over is this hideous thing you call a gown. I’m not putting it in the show.”

“That’s not your call, Sebastian. As the creative director, the final word is mine,” Lark said, getting more frustrated by the second.

“Like I said before, you need to stick to management and leave the designing to the professionals,” he reiterated, further insulting his boss.

She took a deep breath in an effort to calm down. Their disagreement had gotten out of hand and it was time to put it to an end. She counted to ten in her head. Lark lowered her voice and measured her words. “Sebastian, the gown is going into the show...period. End of discussion.”

“If you put that thing in the show, it’ll ruin the collection. A collection I worked so hard to perfect, and I refuse to let that happen.” Sebastian began ripping the seams of the gown with his bare hands, destroying what Lark had created.

“Stop! What are you doing? You’re ruining my dress! You’re...you’re fired!” Lark screamed.

“You can’t fire me. I have a contract!” he said arrogantly.

“I can, and I did.” Lark exhaled. “Obviously your business side isn’t as developed as your creative side. There’s a clause in your contract that allows the company to buy you out at any given time—a clause that I designed, by the way. So you can pack up your things and leave today!”

Sebastian stood there in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, but he didn’t utter a sound. Finally he said, “What about the show?”

“Not your problem anymore. I think you need to start your own company, since you have such strong opinions on designs. It’s unfortunate, but we can no longer work together. I’ll have security escort you to your office so you can get your personal things.” Lark started to leave, but she turned back.

“In case you didn’t understand the legal jargon in the contract, there’s also a clause that states all of the designs you created while employed by RR are company property. If you try to take any sketchbooks or upload company files, I’ll have no choice but to sue you for breach of contract.”

“We’ll see about that! You can’t get rid of me that easily! I’ve invested too much time and energy in this company to just walk away.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Lark said calmly.

Sebastian made a hissing sound and stormed out of the room.

Lark hadn’t intended to fire Sebastian that day, but she wasn’t going to allow anyone to speak down to her and treat her with such blatant disrespect. Lark was more than a fair boss, and she didn’t have problems with any of the other employees. Although she ran a tight ship, the work environment at Randolph on the Runway was creative and productive.

“What’s the name of the designer who’s coming in at two?” Lark asked Angelica.

“Dash Migilio. I emailed you a copy of his résumé and bio. Also, here’s a hard copy.” She handed Lark a folder.

Lark opened the folder and scanned the information as she walked. “Impressive.”

When they reached the conference room, a tall man dressed in a gray European-cut suit was standing at the window with his back to the door. Lark cleared her throat and he turned around.

Lark took a good look at the handsome stranger. He had curly, coal-black hair, an olive complexion and warm, greenish-brown eyes. His face looked like that of a young Warren Beatty. Lark scanned the length of his toned physique. She could feel her throat becoming parched as she stood there staring at the gorgeous man. Normally, she wasn’t attracted to younger men, but this guy had her full attention.

“I’m sorry I’m early.” He walked toward Lark and extended his hand. “I’m Dash Migilio.”

“Hello. I’m Lark Randolph,” she said, still studying his chiseled face.

“I know. I’ve seen your picture in the trades numerous times. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” He beamed a bright white smile.

Even his teeth are perfect, Lark thought. “Please have a seat. This is Angelica, my assistant, and she’s going to sit in on the meeting.”

“Nice to meet you, Angelica,” he said, extending his hand.

And he’s polite, too!

After they were seated at the conference table, Lark took a breath and refocused. She had been momentarily taken aback by his good looks and charm, but now she needed to move on to business. She glanced down at his résumé.

“I see that you interned at Ralph Lauren.”

“That was during my senior year at Pratt. I worked closely with several designers there. The experience was invaluable.”

“After graduation you worked with Andrew Marc for a few years.”

“Yes, I was a junior designer and learned a great deal about the outerwear business.”

“You’ve only been employed by male designers. Do you have a problem working with women?” she asked point-blank.

“Not at all,” he said, smiling.

Ohh...I could get lost in that smile of his.

Lark cleared her throat, trying to free her mind of unprofessional thoughts. “There’s a twelve-month gap on your résumé. Why?” she asked.

“I spent a year in Italy at my family’s estate. I’m a first-generation New Yorker. My parents are from Florence, where they own a textile mill. The plant manager had retired, so I took over until they could find his replacement. They eventually promoted the assistant manager, but I stayed on for a while. I love Italy and enjoy spending time there whenever I can.”

“So you’re familiar with textiles?”

“Yes. I spent many summers in the mill. I know everything there is to know about fabrics.”

Lark nodded her head. She liked what she was hearing so far. “Why didn’t you stay on at your family’s company? Sounds like that business is in your blood.”

“It is, but I’m a designer at heart. After my extended holiday, I came back to New York to continue my design career. Much like Mr. Lauren and Mr. Marc, I plan to make my own mark in this industry.”

Lark immediately flashed back to her argument with Sebastian. Although she wanted a talented designer on her team, she wasn’t about to hire another person who undervalued her talent. “Mr. Migilio, let me be clear from the start. As the creative director, I work closely with the lead designer. Although I’m the chief operating officer of Randolph on the Runway, I have a degree from FIT, and I design, as well.”

“That’s awesome,” he said, flashing his one-hundred-watt smile again. “As far as I’m concerned, the bottom line should be what designs will catapult RR ahead of the rest and make our company the best in the business.”

Our company? He’s thinking like a team player. I like that. Lark nodded her head again. “I totally agree. Can I see your portfolio?”

“Sure.” Dash reached into his leather messenger bag, retrieved a silver tablet, powered it up and handed the device to Lark.

Lark began swiping through pictures of his designs. His work was indeed impressive and unique. He had a keen eye for detail. There were pictures of women’s clothing, menswear and even accessories. The more she saw, the more she wanted to see. Dash was talented beyond belief. His work was a cross between Gianni Versace and Valentino—classy with an edge.

Lark swiped her finger across the screen once more, and this time, instead of seeing another one of his unique creations, staring back at her was a picture of Dash in aqua-blue swim trunks, lying on a beach next to a pretty blonde woman in a skimpy red bikini. Lark didn’t say a word. She stared at the picture, her eyes roaming over Dash’s manly chest and well-defined abs. Lark could feel herself heating up as she admired his half-nude body.

“So...do you like what you see?” Dash asked.

“I sure do.” Lark smiled. She swiped past his personal picture, turned off the tablet and handed it back to him. “I’d like to offer you the position of lead designer.”

“That’s great! I’m eager to start as soon as possible.”

“I like your enthusiasm. However, the offer is contingent upon a thorough background check. If your references come back positive, then the position is yours.”

“No worries there. I left on good terms with all of my former employers.”

“That’s good to hear. Angelica will take you to the human-resources department so you can fill out the necessary paperwork.”

Dash stood up. “I look forward to working with you, Ms. Randolph.”

“And I with you. Please call me Lark.”

After Angelica and Dash left the conference room, Lark went over to the window and stared out. “I hope offering him the position isn’t a mistake,” she said underneath her breath.

Lark had reservations about working with someone she was physically attracted to. She thought about calling down to HR and rescinding her offer of employment. Lark pondered the situation for a moment instead of making a rash decision. There was no denying that Dash’s talent would benefit the company, and with the new spring/summer line going into development, RR desperately needed a top designer. Besides, he was at least ten years her junior and Lark had never dated a younger man. She preferred her men to be more seasoned. And thinking back on the photo she’d seen on his tablet, he was probably in a relationship with the blonde in the picture.

Lark took a deep breath. Hiring Dash was right for the company, and with her personal life on hold for the moment, work had taken precedence once again.

Chapter 3

Dash was meeting Vance Shelton, his best friend and attorney, for a drink at the Monkey Bar, one of Manhattan’s renowned bar-restaurants. Dash had completed the preliminary paperwork at Randolph on the Runway earlier that day, but he wanted his attorney to read over the contract before he signed it.

Dash arrived first and settled in at the bar, which was full of businessmen and -women, as well as wealthy older gentlemen vying for the attention of younger beauties. Dash drank his Manhattan and eavesdropped on the conversation unfolding next to him.

A silver-haired gentleman dressed sharply in black gabardine slacks and a baby-blue tailored shirt was trying to entice a buxom redhead, wearing a skimpy hot-pink dress and matching spike heels, who was perched on the stool near him.

“So...have you ever cruised on a yacht in the Mediterranean?” the silver fox asked.

“No, but I’ve slept on several water beds here in Manhattan,” she replied, sipping her wine.

What the hell does a water bed have to do with a yacht? Dash thought as he listened.

“Well, I’ve got one of those on my yacht,” the man said, resting his hand on her bare thigh.

Dash watched as the man ran his hand up the woman’s leg and under the hem of her dress. She did not protest.

“Your glass is almost empty.” The older man motioned for the bartender and then asked him, “What is she drinking?”

“Chardonnay,” the bartender responded.

“Enough wine. Bring us a bottle of Dom.”

“Oh, champagne! I love champagne! The bubbles tickle my nose,” the woman said, giggling.

He’s going to ply her with liquor, pop a little blue pill and then show her his water bed, Dash thought, shaking his head. Women with low IQs were not his cup of tea. He liked his women to be attractive and smart, like Lark Randolph. Dash had read about Lark’s career in the industry trades over the years and had not only admired her beauty but also her accomplishments. Lark had taken her family’s company from a middle-of-the-road dress manufacturer to a leading designer of womenswear.

He sipped his cocktail and thought back to their meeting. He had found it hard to concentrate on the interview while staring into her beautiful face. Her features were picture-perfect—small hazel eyes, keen nose and pouty lips. She could easily have been a model instead of COO of a thriving fashion company. Her lips were painted a lovely shade of red that enticed him with every word she spoke. Dash’s mind had kept focusing on what he could do with those lips outside of the boardroom and in the bedroom.

In preparation for his interview, Dash had searched Lark’s name online. He had learned that after graduating from college, Lark had worked as a junior designer at Randolph on the Runway, under the tutelage of Darcy McCay, the lead designer at the time. Lark had learned every aspect of the business from the older designer. She had even gone back to school and earned an MBA from Harvard, which Dash found to be quite impressive.

Dash had had his pick of design firms with which to interview after he returned from Italy, but Randolph on the Runway had been his first choice. Lark Randolph had a stellar reputation in the industry for being an astute businesswoman and designer in her own right. He had wanted to meet her in person. Lark had said that his offer of employment was contingent upon his background check. Dash didn’t have any skeletons in his closet to worry about. It was only a matter of time before he was designing closely with the strikingly beautiful woman.

Working in his family’s textile mill during the summers of his youth, Dash had learned early on not to mix business with pleasure. He had gotten burned once, when he briefly dated one of the other employees. She had wanted a relationship, and at the time he had wanted nothing more than a quick fling.

From then on, Dash vowed to keep his personal life and business life completely separate. But being in close proximity to a knockout like Lark, keeping his vow was going to be a challenge.

As Dash waited for Vance to arrive, he took out his tablet and browsed through the portfolio he had shown Lark, in order to get a jump on design ideas for RR’s spring/summer line.

“Oh, shit!” he said underneath his breath when he saw the picture of himself and Heather lying on the beach in Italy. I’ll bet Lark saw this picture.

Heather and Dash had met in design school and had dated the last two years of college. They both had similar interests—both were talented designers and loved to travel—and they had quickly fallen in love. He’d had every intention of proposing while they were visiting his family in Italy—he’d even bought a three-carat diamond ring—but he hadn’t followed through. Unbeknownst to Heather, Dash had overheard one of her phone conversations while she was standing on the balcony in the guest room of his parents’ home overlooking a grove of lemon trees.

“No, I haven’t asked him yet... Yes...I promise I’m going to tell Dash the truth tonight. I love you, too, babe. ’Bye.”

“Tell me the truth about what?” Dash had said, walking out onto the balcony where Heather was standing.

She whipped around. “Uh...Dash...hi.”

“Who were you talking to?”

“That was Stacy.”

“Your roommate?”

“Yes.”

“Why were you calling her babe? What’s going on, Heather?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while, but Stacy isn’t just my roommate. She’s my...my...girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I know she’s your friend.”

“No...Stacy is also my lover.”

“Lover?” Dash’s eyes widened. “When...when did you turn gay?” he’d asked in total disbelief.

“I’ve always been bisexual, Dash. I...”

He cut her off. “Heather, why are you with me if you’re into women? Has this entire time we’ve been together been a lie?” Dash stood silent for a moment as the news of his girlfriend’s true sexual identity sank in.

Heather stepped closer to Dash, but he moved back. “No, it hasn’t been a lie. I love you, Dash.”

“Apparently you love Stacy, too.”

“The truth of the matter is I want to be in a relationship with both of you. Stacy and I have discussed it, and we want you to join us in a polyamorous relationship.”

“A poly...what?”

“A polyamorous relationship is a committed relationship between multiple people,” she explained.

“Look, Heather, I’m not into threesomes.”

“It’s not a freaky ménage à trois. Our relationship would be exclusive, exactly like a regular relationship, except with three people instead of two. I really think it could work. Whenever the three of us are together we always have so much fun. Remember the time we ordered in pepperoni pizza and watched that sci-fi movie from the eighties? We all laughed so hard at the bad special effects that our sides hurt. Remember?”

“Of course I remember. What does that have to do with anything? Watching a movie together is a far cry from having a relationship.”

“I was just reminding you how well we get along. To warm up to the idea, we could start out slow by going on a date with Stacy,” she had said, trying to sway him.

“I don’t think so. Sorry, but that’s not for me. Heather, you should have told me the truth about your sexuality and let me make the choice whether or not I wanted to be with someone who is bisexual. Instead, you made the choice for me.” Dash was hurt and a bit confused. Heather had never let on that she was also sleeping with a woman. Now it totally made sense why Heather and Stacy had only a one-bedroom apartment. Heather had told Dash that Stacy slept in the living room on the pullout sofa. Looking back now, he realized that was obviously a lie.

Dash didn’t have a problem with homosexuality. As far as he was concerned, whom a person slept with was their business. He just chose to sleep with one woman at a time.

“I’m sorry, Dash, for not telling you sooner.”

“So am I,” he had said with disappointment in his voice.

“Don’t let this interfere with what you and I have. I truly love you, Dash. Although I was hoping the three of us could have a relationship, I’ll be content with just you and I.”

“I don’t think so, Heather. I wouldn’t want you to resent me later. You should be able to have the type of relationship you desire.”

Heather had moved closer to Dash, and this time he didn’t shy away. They hugged for one last time.

“I wish you the best, Heather.”

After Heather’s true confession, he’d cut their vacation short. Dash had planned to take her for a gondola ride in Venice and propose, which of course had never happened. Dash hadn’t spoken to Heather since they’d returned to New York over a year ago.

“Hey, man, you look deep in thought,” Vance said, approaching his friend.

“I was thinking about Heather.”

“Instead of breaking up with her, you should have invited her roommate to join you guys in Italy. Now, that would have been a trip to remember,” Vance said, chuckling.

“I don’t like sharing my woman or my body.” Dash had grown up in a religious family with good moral values, values he’d carried over into adulthood.

“You’re a better man than I am. I for one would have enjoyed both women...together and separately.”

“I’m sure you would have.”

Growing up, Vance had always been more adventurous than Dash. Vance’s parents were extremely liberal and had allowed their children to explore and express their imagination.

As they were talking, the older gentleman and the redhead staggered out of the bar arm in arm. Vance took a seat next to Dash.

“So...congratulations on the new gig.”

“Thanks, but it’s not official yet.”

“I got your message, and I’ll be happy to look over the contract. But why are you going to work for another company when your family has a multimillion-dollar textile business in Italy? You could move there and live a life of luxury. You could have the plant manager do all the heavy lifting, so you could work a few days a week and play the rest of the time.”

“I’m not ready to kick back just yet. Don’t get me wrong—I’m grateful for the opportunities my family’s wealth has afforded me. My grandfather started that company with nothing and made it into a thriving business. I want to do the same with my designs. I don’t want to ride on the coattails of my family’s success—I want to make my own mark on the world of fashion.”

Dash was tired of people thinking all he had to offer were his good looks. He was well educated and had a natural gift for designing clothes, jewelry and even handbags.

“That’s admirable of you, man. Most people in your position would relax and enjoy the spoils.”

Dash and Vance had been best friends since high school. They had been the stars of the school’s soccer team and had remained close friends after graduating.

“Excuse me, but those two women at the end of the bar would like to buy you guys a drink,” the bartender said.

Dash peered down the bar and saw two attractive women, both dressed in tight black dresses that exposed way too much cleavage and both wearing heavy makeup. The ladies were exposing nearly all of their teeth and indelicately waving their arms.

“I’ll take a pass,” he said. Dash had spent more than enough time drinking with random women and was ready to find that special someone to settle down with.

“Come on, man. Don’t be a party pooper. They look eager and willing to please,” Vance said as he waved back to the duo.

Dash and Vance had that “wow” effect on women. They were both handsome in their own way. While Dash had olive skin and curly hair, Vance’s complexion was dark, nearly chocolate, and he wore his hair closely shaven. Whenever the two were together, women approached them as if they were rock stars.

“Vance, don’t let me stop you.” Dash went into his bag, took out a folder and handed it to his friend. “Here’s the contract.”

“I’ll look it over first thing in the morning and get back to you.”

“Thanks. I’m going to call it a night.”

“You sure?” Vance stuck the folder in his briefcase and then glanced down the bar at the two women. “They are gorgeous. Come on—just have one drink with us.”

“No, thanks, but knock yourself out. Hey, maybe you’ll have that threesome you’ve always dreamed about,” Dash said, getting up from the bar stool.

“Here’s hoping!” Vance said, making his way toward the women.

As Dash walked down Fifth Avenue on his way home, his mind drifted back to Lark. He had read about her professional life online, but all he had learned about her personal life was that she was single. There hadn’t been any mention of Lark being involved in a relationship—past or present. There hadn’t even been any pictures of her in a social setting. He smiled at the possibility of dating Lark.

Man, keep your mind on business. She’s your new boss, not your new girlfriend.

With that thought in his mind, he shifted focus and began thinking about the new and exciting clothing he was going to design for Randolph on the Runway, whether he was dating his boss or not.

Chapter 4

Dash’s background check had come back clean and Lark was eager for him to start. Not only to see what designs he was going to come up with for the new collection, but to also get another gander at the strikingly good-looking younger man. Although she had no plans of ever dating her new hire, she saw no harm in letting herself look.

Today was to be Dash’s first day. After her early workout at the gym, Lark had taken a little extra time that morning getting ready. She wore a feminine floral dress with prints of pink and orange blossoms that she’d designed herself. A thin green belt cinched her slim waist and her bob-length hair, left loose, framed her face perfectly. She finished the look with a pair of mint-green, pointy pumps. Lark’s lips were stained with her signature blood-orange glossy lipstick, and she wore a hint of perfume.

Lark was sitting at her drawing table in her large corner office, working on a sketch for the new spring/summer collection. She had come into the office early to get a jump on the designs before her duties as COO took over her day. Lark was busy putting the finishing touches on a drawing when she heard someone knock. She looked up and smiled slightly.

“Good morning. You’re here early,” she said.

“I have some ideas in my head that I want to get down on paper. You’re here early, too. You must have had the same thought,” Dash said from the doorway.

Lark took in his physique as he stood there looking like a modern-day Adonis. He wore a baby-blue skinny-leg suit that fit his body to perfection with a crisp, stark white shirt and a pink tie. His look was professional, with an artsy edge. Lark had always prided herself on her style of dress, but now with Dash on her team, she would have to step up her game.

“Yes. I’ve already started sketching for the new line.”

“Let me see what you’re working on,” he said, walking over to her drawing table.

Dash was standing so close to Lark that she could smell his cologne. She took a soft whiff and inhaled base notes of bergamot, jasmine and vanilla.

He smells good enough to eat, she thought.

“I like the leg of the pant. It fits the ankle nicely. But what about dropping the crotch half an inch? Do you mind?” Dash asked, picking a pencil up from the drawing table.

“Go for it.” Lark moved back so he could have easier access to the sketchbook. As he drew, Lark stared at his strong hands and imagined his long, lean fingers caressing her skin.

Dash made the quick adjustment to the drawing. “What do you think?”

Lark peered down at what he had done and nodded her head. “Wow, moving the crotch down a bit makes a huge difference. Now the pants have more movement.”

“I’m going to like working here. We’re going to make an awesome team,” he said.

Lark looked up into his face and found herself mesmerized by his bright smile. A few seconds passed before she glanced away. Lark was determined to keep her mind on business and not get lost in the younger man’s charm.

“Did you bring the contract?” she asked.

Dash opened his messenger bag and took out a folder. “Here you go, signed and delivered.”

Lark took the folder and placed it on the drawing table. “Did you have an attorney look over the contract so you know what you’re signing up for?” Lark didn’t want a replay of what she had experienced with Sebastian.

“Yes, I did, and he pointed out the proprietary clause.”

“You do understand that everything you design for Randolph on the Runway is the property of the company?”

“Of course.”

“And you don’t have a problem with that?” she asked.

“No, not at all. My creativity is endless, and while I’m here, I plan to give you a hundred and ten percent.”

“Great. That’s what I want to hear. Now let me give you the dime tour and show you to your office.”

Employees had started to arrive and settle in as Lark and Dash made their way across the opposite end of the floor. The loft offices of Randolph on the Runway had been redesigned by Lark, who had worked closely with an architect to create an inviting environment. The former outdated space had been dark and cramped. The renovated offices were now hip and chic, with cream leather seating and sleek teak furniture. There was colorful abstract artwork on the exposed-brick walls. The interior offices, framed in floor-to-ceiling plate glass, were visible from the corridors, giving the entire space an open and airy feel.

“This is our kitchen. The refrigerator is stocked with water, sandwiches, salads and healthy snacks. There’s a single-cup coffee machine, which also makes tea. This drawer,” she said, pulling out a drawer to her left, “is filled with take-out menus from nearby restaurants.”

“That’s good to know. Sometimes when I’m working, I don’t want to interrupt my flow by going out to lunch.”

“I know what you mean. Sometimes when I’m on a roll I can work straight through lunch. Come on—let me show you the rest of the space.”

Lark led the way out of the small kitchen and continued down the hall. She stopped in front of a closed door, opened it, stepped inside and turned on the lights. “This is the showroom.”

“I love the exposed-brick walls and vaulted ceiling.”

“Thank you. I had the entire space redesigned. I wanted a loft-type atmosphere. This is where we keep our collections, meet with buyers and fit models for upcoming shows.”

Dash went over to a rack of clothing and browsed through the items. He pulled out a dress. “This gown reminds me of the dresses they wore in the forties. The rose taffeta material looks authentic. What happened to the seams?” he asked, holding the ripped gown.

“It’s a long story that I’d rather not retell. But I’m glad you like the dress. It’s one of my designs.” Lark was pleased that Dash had commented on the gown. She knew her instincts about the dress had been right all along and it felt good to be validated by the young designer.

“You’re quite talented.”

Lark felt herself blushing as if she were the new hire and he were her boss. “Thank you. Let me show you to your office before my morning meeting.” She turned off the lights and walked out with Dash following closely behind.

“This is your office,” Lark said, entering a well-appointed room. The space was almost identical to Lark’s, but smaller, with a teak desk, drawing table and sitting area. “The junior designers who’ll be working under your supervision sit out here,” she said, stepping back through the doorway and gesturing toward four cubicles.

As she was talking, a short, shapely brunette dressed in cargo pants and a T-shirt and wearing shades approached them. “Good morning, Ms. Randolph.”

“Hi, Jessica. Let me introduce you to Dash Migilio, our new lead designer. You’ll be reporting directly to him as stated in the email that Angelica sent out.”

Jessica lifted her sunglasses and stared at Dash. “I’m really going to love coming to work now,” she mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Lark asked.

“Oh, nothing.” Jessica moved closer to Dash and extended her hand. “So very nice to meet you, Dash. Or should I call you Mr. Migilio?” she said, batting her eyes.

“Nice to meet you, too, Jessica. Dash is fine.”

“You sure are,” Jessica said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Lark gave Jessica a disapproving look. “Jessica, if you’re going to have a problem working with the new lead designer, I’ll be happy to move you over to Aisha’s team,” Lark said sternly.

“No need, Ms. Randolph. I won’t have a problem working with Mr. Migilio,” Jessica said, changing her tune.

“Jessica, when you get a chance, let me see what you’ve been working on,” Dash said.

“Sure,” Jessica responded. She made her way to her cubicle, but not before turning around and giving Dash another appraising once-over.

Jessica’s lustful glance didn’t go unnoticed by Lark. She was going to admonish the young designer, but Lark really couldn’t blame Jessica for staring at Dash. He was without a doubt worthy of a second and even a third look.

Once Jessica was out of earshot, Lark turned to Dash and said, “I like the way you handled that.”

“What?” he asked.

“The way you ignored Jessica’s not-so-subtle innuendos. You acted as if she weren’t drooling all over you.”

“Lark, I’m a professional. I don’t mix business with pleasure. My personal life is just that...personal.”

“Good to hear, because I think she’s developing a crush on you. I can move her over to the other team if need be.”

“Trust me. I can handle Jessica and any other employee who tries to make an inappropriate advance.”

Does that include me? Lark wanted to say, but of course she didn’t. She knew she had to stop thinking of Dash in a lustful way. He had been hired to do a job, and unfortunately, that job didn’t include seducing the boss.

Chapter 5

Lark was meeting her best friend, Darcy McCay, at a day spa in Union Square for an afternoon of relaxation and pampering. Lark and Darcy’s relationship had started off a bit rough when they’d first met at Randolph on the Runway. Lark had moved up from the drafting department, where she had worked for six months learning the art of pattern design. Lark’s grandfather felt she had spent enough time in that part of the company and had promoted her to the ready-to-wear division to study under Darcy, a senior designer. Darcy was a few years older than Lark and was eager to teach the ingenue, but Lark proved to be quite a challenge. Instead of soaking up the information Darcy was dispensing, Lark had her own opinions about how the line should be designed.

“Instead of putting the split in the back, why don’t we place it off center?” Lark had said.

“No, I like the split right where it is,” Darcy had replied.

“Most designers place the split in the back. Don’t you want to stand out?”

Darcy had looked up from her sketchbook. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t you want to make your mark on the industry?”

“I have made my mark. The inside-out jumpsuit I designed won the Council of Fashion Designers Award a few years ago.” Darcy’s voice had been filled with pride.

“I remember seeing that jumpsuit in the trades. It was so unique and different. I had no idea you won a CFDA. Congratulations. But I still believe the split should be moved.”

“I realize this is your family’s company, but I’m currently your boss, and the final decision is mine. Your grandfather sent you to my division so I could take you under my wing. Please do us both a favor and learn what I’m trying to teach you.”

From that day on, Lark did more listening than talking, and as a result she gained a wealth of knowledge from the senior designer, not only about the business of fashion, but about life. Lark had always been mature for her age. She hadn’t gone out binge drinking like most of her college classmates had. She’d preferred hanging out with Darcy whenever she had spare time. They would dine at four-star restaurants, go to fashion industry events and relax at Darcy’s summer home in the Hamptons. Darcy would school Lark on nuances of men, teaching her to not act eager and desperate when a man was interested. Darcy had told Lark that men were hunters, and that they liked the art of the chase. Lark was an only child, and she thought of Darcy as an older sister and willingly took her advice.

Darcy eventually left Randolph on the Runway to start her own design firm, but she and Lark had remained close.

Lark arrived first. She had never been to the trendy spa and glanced around at the zebra rugs and modern decor.

“Welcome to Brigitte Mansfield European Day Spa,” the receptionist said.

Before Lark could respond, Darcy rushed into the spa. “Sorry I’m late...” Darcy said. She was tall and thin as a reed. She had bronze skin and long, honey-blond hair. Before becoming a designer, Darcy had been a teen model. She was dressed in a sleek, cream-colored sheath and gold gladiator sandals.

Lark hugged her friend. “Hi there.”

Darcy air-kissed Lark. “How are you, sweetie?”

“Good. Just a bit stressed.”

“Well, that’s why we’re here. I promise you, after our spa day, we’ll feel as good as new. The masseuses here have magic fingers.”

“Right this way, ladies,” the receptionist said, leading them toward the back.

After Lark and Darcy had changed into terry-cloth robes, they were shown to a private area where they each had the spa’s signature facial.

“Hmm, this mask smells delectable,” Lark commented.

“That’s because it’s made with cranberries, truffle oil and almonds. I get this facial on a regular basis. This mask really helps to ward away those unsightly frown lines.”

Once their faces had been treated with tender loving care, they went into another room to get massages. They lay facedown on the table and let the masseuses work their magic. Lark closed her eyes and let her mind drift as the tension in her shoulders was kneaded away. The masseuse’s hands gliding over her skin felt wonderful. Suddenly, Lark’s thoughts shifted to Dash.

I wonder if he gives good massages.

Lark could picture Dash naked, drizzling oil on her skin, straddling her backside and rubbing his masculine hands up and down her back, caressing her tired muscles. After he had finished with her backside, she would turn over and let him smear the oil all over her breasts. She smiled at the thought of Dash taking her nipples between his fingers and rubbing them until they hardened. He would then admire her beckoning breasts, lean down and ever so gently lick and suck her nipples. Lark imagined Dash getting so turned on by her that his manhood would grow inch by inch until he was swollen with desire. He would then rub the head of his penis against the inside of her thigh and work his way up to her G-spot. Before slipping on a condom, Dash would tease her clit with his manhood until she was on the verge of coming. Lark’s face would twist with pleasure and then she would cry out the words Make love to me! They would take turns pleasing each other all night, until the bottle of massage oil was empty and their bodies were spent from hours of making love. Only then would they drift off into a well-earned slumber.

“Didn’t I tell you the masseuses here are amazing,” Darcy said, interrupting Lark’s naughty little daydream.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Were you asleep? I don’t blame you. This massage will definitely lull you into total relaxation.”

“Yes, among other things...”

After a few hours of being pampered like queens, Lark and Darcy left the spa feeling like a million bucks. They headed over to a Brazilian restaurant that had legendarily fresh cuisine and potent caipirinhas.

“Word on the street is that Sebastian quit RR and has started his own design firm. I understand he’s ramping up production to debut his line at the spring/summer show,” Darcy said once they were seated.

“Really? Is that so?”

“Yes, it’s all over the fashion blogs. He’s really ramping up a word-of-mouth buzz about his new collection.”

“Sebastian might talk a good game. However, I seriously doubt his line will be ready in time for the spring/summer show. And anyway, he’s lying about quitting RR. He didn’t leave on his own will. I fired him.”

“Oh, that’s news to me. Why did you let him go? When I interviewed Sebastian as my replacement, I thought he was a good fit for Randolph on the Runway.”

“He was, until he started getting arrogant and out of control. I hadn’t planned on letting him go, but he had no respect for me as his boss,” Lark told her and then recounted the story of how Sebastian nearly destroyed one of her designs.

“Oh, a bit like you were when you first started working with me, minus ripping one of the pieces,” Darcy said with a chuckle.

“Was I that bad?” Lark asked, sounding ashamed.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle. After you checked your attitude at the door, we got along perfectly.”

As they were talking the waiter came over. “Are you ready to order, ladies?”

“I’ll have the coconut shrimp with the mango salsa,” Lark responded.

“What’s better—the roasted chicken with plantains or the beer-battered fish?” Darcy asked.

“They’re both yummy. Personally, I prefer the beer-battered fish,” the waiter responded.

“Okay, fish it is.”

After the waiter left the table, Lark continued.

“Thanks again for having patience with me, Darcy. You really taught me a lot.”

“You were a quick study. Have you hired another lead designer?”

Lark’s mouth formed into a slight smile. “I have. His name is Dash Migilio.”

“What’s that smirk for?” Darcy asked, noticing the expression on her friend’s face.

“Just thinking about him makes me smile. Not only is Dash talented, but he’s gorgeous. He’s Italian-American with a handsome face and killer body. You should see the way his suits fit—it’s as if they were sculpted to his body. And he’s extremely talented.”

“Sounds like you have a major crush.”

Lark thought for a moment. “I guess I do. But of course I haven’t let on that my heart beats a little faster when I’m around him. See, that’s another thing you taught me—to act cool and collected around attractive men.”

“It might be hard to maintain control sometimes, but the more aloof you act, the more they’ll want you. Good-looking guys aren’t used to women ignoring them. They’re accustomed to ladies throwing themselves at their feet. Is he married?”

“No, but I think he has a girlfriend. I saw a picture on his tablet of him and a beautiful blonde cozied up on a beach. They seemed really happy.”

“Well, that’s probably for the best. A relationship with a coworker can be a slippery slope. When the relationship is going good, work can be heaven, but after the breakup...and there’s usually a breakup, coming to work can seem like a nightmare. Trust me, I know. I’ve had my share of work relationships gone awry.”

“You’re right, and that’s why I’m keeping my feelings to myself. Dash will never know how I feel. Besides, its just a little crush, which will soon fade away.”

Although Lark spoke the words, she had an inkling that her feelings for the young designer were more than a crush. A part of Lark was glad that Dash wasn’t available; she needed to stay focused on developing the new collection. However, another part of her wanted nothing more than to make her daydream of making love to Dash a reality.

Chapter 6

Dash had settled into his new position as lead designer with full confidence and had taken charge of his team as if he had been with the company for years. Within a few days of starting, he had met with his team of four to present his vision for the new collection. He then reviewed their work individually and quickly assessed their strengths and weaknesses. Jessica had the most talent out of all her counterparts. Her designs were cutting-edge and out of the box. Dash had been reluctant to shower her with too much praise. He didn’t want Jessica to get the wrong idea. Dash had no romantic interest in the younger designer.

Although he was still in his twenties, Dash was mature beyond his years and a seasoned businessman. Having spent many summers working in his family’s textile mill, and learning every aspect of the business, Dash knew how to manage employees effectively. He could also design unique fabrics, clothing and accessories.

Late in the day, Dash sat in his office at the drawing table. He had attached his phone to mini speakers and the soft sounds of Michael Franks flooded his office. Dash was working on a leisure suit for the new line. He was in a zone, wielding a pencil and sketching feverishly. His shirt’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing dark hair on his forearms.

“Excuse me,” Jessica said, standing in the doorway.

Dash swiveled around on the padded stool. “Hey, Jessica, what’s up?”

“Some of us are going out for drinks after work to celebrate Aisha’s birthday. You wanna come?”

“No, thanks. I’m on a roll designing a piece for the new collection and will be working late tonight.”

“Oh, okay. Well...if you want, I can skip the party and stick around in case you need any help.”

Dash gave Jessica an appraising look. She had on a sexy black dress that hugged her ample breasts and full hips. Dash noticed she had been coming to work lately wearing provocative clothing, no doubt trying to seduce him. It wasn’t working. Jessica was attractive, but Dash had no interest in pursuing her on a personal basis. To him, she was just another employee, no matter how sexily she dressed.

Dash watched as Jessica’s gaze traveled down to his crotch area. He closed his legs, ending her peep show. “No, that won’t be necessary. Go out and have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks. I’ll try. Are you sure you don’t need me?”

“Positive.”

“Good night, Dash.”

“Good night.”

Once Jessica was gone, Dash turned his attention back to the sketch pad in front of him. He rendered three different versions of the suit within two hours. He wanted to give Lark a variety to choose from. One suit had slim pencil-leg pants with a long blazer, the second suit had cropped pants with a waist jacket and the third had full palazzo pants with a bolero jacket. By the time he’d finished working, it was well after hours and most of the employees had gone for the day.

Dash stood and stretched. He had been sitting so long that his limbs had grown stiff. He hadn’t eaten since lunch and his stomach was beginning to growl with hunger pains. He tucked the pencil behind his ear, left his office and headed down the hall to the company canteen. The automatic lights flickered on as he stepped inside. The small kitchen was well-appointed, with black marble countertops, stainless-steel appliances, a gourmet coffee machine, a high-powered juicer and small café-type tables and chairs.

One of the things Dash loved about working at Randolph on the Runway—aside from seeing Lark daily—was the fully stocked kitchen. He took a knife-and-fork packet out of one of the drawers, opened the fridge, reached for a prepackaged Cobb salad and a bottle of water and sat at one of the small tables. He opened the lid on the container, ripped the cellophane from the plastic utensils and began chowing down.

“I see I’m not the only one burning the midnight oil,” Lark commented, coming into the room.

Dash stopped chewing midbite and eyed Lark. She had been in meetings the entire day and he hadn’t seen her since yesterday. Dash admired her outfit. She wore a tailored navy-and-white-striped shirtdress with a beige belt clenching her waist and a pair of pointy beige sling-back pumps. Her hair was tucked behind her ears and her lips were stained with reddish-orange lipstick.

I wonder if her lips taste as good as they look was the first thing that popped into his mind. Dash exhaled and said, “I just finished sketching three variations of a suit for the new line. I was on a roll and didn’t want to break the momentum by stopping to eat.”

“I know what you mean. It’s hard to stop when the ideas are flowing.”

Lark went over to the coffeemaker, popped a tiny pod of hazelnut-flavored coffee in the machine, put her mug underneath the spout and waited for the liquid to brew. Once the steaming hot coffee filled her cup, she went over to where Dash was sitting and took a seat beside him.

“I’d love to see what you’re working on. I’ve also sketched a couple of dresses that I want to include in the collection.”

“I’ll show you my sketches if you show me yours,” Dash said with a flirtatious smile.

“Deal... So how’s your first week going? I’ve been meaning to stop by your office all week, but I’ve been putting out fires left and right.”

Dash studied her face as she spoke. He noticed a frown line creasing her brow. “Is there anything I can help with?”

She took a sip of coffee and then said, “Not really.”

“You seem stressed. What’s the matter?” he asked with concern in his voice.

“One of my suppliers is going out of business. I just got the word this morning. I’ve worked with this company for years and love their craftsmanship. I’ve spent all day on the phone trying to find a replacement, but none of the companies I’ve talked with so far can deliver the goods in time for production of the new line.”

“What type of supplier are you looking for?”

“A textile mill, but not just any factory. I need one capable of producing a custom line of silk fabrics. I’ve designed new patterns that will help us stand out from the rest.”

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