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“No.”
I placed the thong on the mannequin and stared down at her. “Then what are you running from?”
She looked away, dismissing my question.
“You know, I might be able to help you.”
“No one can help me…” She ran her fingers through her hair then walked to the table. She grabbed a few pins before she returned and helped me with the bottoms. “I’m not your problem, and I don’t want to become your problem.”
The more she refused help, the more I wanted to give it to her. She reminded me of my sister in a lot of ways, fearless and stubborn. Sometimes it made me admire her. And other times, she was just being stupid. “What’s your name?”
“You know my name.”
“I’ve been taking care of you, but you can’t tell me your name?” If it weren’t for me, she’d still be on the street right now. There were a lot of men out there who would quickly take advantage of her. Rather than let that happen to her, I made sure she had what she needed. Not too many people would be so generous.
“I thought it didn’t matter what my name was?” She crossed her arms over her chest, closing herself off from me.
“What are you afraid of?”
She wouldn’t meet my gaze. “I don’t want you to know anything about me. I need a clean slate.”
“Did you kill someone or something?”
She scoffed, like the mere suggestion was ridiculous. “Do I look like a killer?”
“Just because you don’t look like a killer doesn’t mean you aren’t one.”
“I don’t know about that…”
“Well, do I look like a killer?”
She turned her eyes back to me, unsure whether she should answer me or not.
“It doesn’t matter if I do or not. Doesn’t mean anything.” I finished the bottom piece and put it together well enough to show Nicole. It would require more detailed sewing and elasticity before it was ready for completion. “Did you rob a bank?”
“No.”
“Did you piss someone off?”
Her eyes shifted away. “Enough with the questions.”
I pulled the lingerie off the mannequin. “Put this on.”
She didn’t hesitate before she removed her clothes and pulled the lingerie onto her body. She left her thong on underneath and turned the other way when she removed her bra and pulled the top on.
I enjoyed the view while she was turned away, seeing the way her hair reached halfway down her back. The slight curls at the end were sexy, and I imagined how those strands would feel wrapped around my fingertips.
She turned around slowly, her feet flat on the floor. But she didn’t need heels for her body to look marvelous. Just as I expected, the gold sparkle and the deep black looked perfect on her. The measurements of the material fit her body exactly as I planned. One of a kind and perfect, it made her ready for the runway without all the extra makeup and preparation.
She really was a natural.
I’d never made a piece of lingerie like this. It was simple but spectacular. I hadn’t drawn on the inspiration from a different piece or something from a dream. The idea formed in my mind just by looking at her gorgeous figure.
She was the one who did this.
“Perfect.” Now that she had it on, I never wanted her to take it off. I wanted her to lie back on the bed and open her legs to me, silently begging me to slide between her thighs. I wanted the fabric to part over her belly and show her bare skin. I wanted to see that sexy belly button and drag my tongue across it.
Instantly, I was hard.
And not just a little hard. So hard it actually hurt.
7
Conway
Nicole walked inside my office at nine in the evening. She was usually gone by five and never had to work late, but this was important. A quick text message got her down there in ten minutes.
She made an incredible living working for me, so she would do anything I asked. I could replace her with another eager employee in five minutes. Actually, in five seconds.
Nicole set her folder down and held her pen, ready to take my instructions. “What can I do for you, Conway?”
“I have to get these down to the factory tomorrow.” I placed the pile of lingerie on the counter, the seven different ensembles I’d created just from looking at Ten’s luscious body. “I want to have them ready by the show, if possible.”
She went through the pile, examining each piece with a designer’s scrutiny. She’d been working with me for ten years, and she saw every design that I created. Some she adored, others she didn’t care for. But she knew my work well and wasn’t afraid to critique it. “Wow…these are gorgeous.”
I organized everything on the counter because I’d made a mess when I was working with Ten. “Thank you.”
