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He snorted even as he slapped his palm against mine. “What? So I can be like your boyfriend? Pass.”
I pulled back, not understanding. “Huh?”
“Oh, don’t act as if you have no idea what Nash drives.” Glancing down at my desk to the scratch pad I’d been writing on in the midst of my research and email correspondence, he pointed. “What’s this?” He picked up the notepad, curious. “Changing your doodles from Elton to Nash, yet?”
I scowled at him and ripped my notepad from his hands. “No, I have not—hey!”
He swiped the pages right back from me only to spin away so I couldn’t steal them again.
“Give that back!” I lunged around his shoulder, but he lifted his elbow to block me and then went and held the notepad just out of my reach before he turned the page, revealing one of my drawings.
“Huh,” he said in surprise. “It’s a shoe.”
“Congratulations,” I muttered, wiggling my hand in a silent demand that he return the sketch. “You recognize basic objects. I’m so impressed. Now give it back.”
But he kept staring, tilting his head from one side to the other. “Open toe, ch
unky heel platform with buckles,” he murmured. “Interesting.” Pointing out one part, he said, “You went with an ankle strap instead of t-strap.”
I stared at my design over his shoulder, feeling suddenly nervous, not sure I liked how it was being dissected so thoroughly. It was kind of my baby. “Yeah, I, uh… Yeah.” I shrugged. “I don’t like how the back of my heels look on my feet, so I thought… Hide those suckers away, right?”
Brick glanced at me. “Shiny finish, I presume?”
I shook my head. “No. Actually, I was thinking suede.”
“Suede,” he murmured, turning his attention back to the design. “And what are these dots here?”
“Oh. Those are silver beaded rivets.”
“Really?” His eyebrows lifted.
“What?” I demanded, beginning to chew on the inside of my lip. “What’re you thinking? Stupid? Overdone? Ridic—?”
He lifted his eyebrows at me as he held up a single finger, making me stop talking. A second later, he said, “I think you’ve managed to design something that’s sexy, yet innocently adorable, with a hint of hardcore all mixed into one.”
Uh, was that even possible?
I glanced at my design. After a moment, I nodded, beginning to see his point. I mean, the buckles and rivets did kind of lean them in the direction of bondage boots, while the heel and ankle strap made it sexy. But innocent? I tilted my head the other way, wondering about that until… Okay. Maybe, I could see it. The wider heel and thicker back part of the ankle strap, plus the softness of the material, could suggest some comfort and security, possibly. The hint of innocence.
But really. Who knew so much personality could be derived from a single shoe? Brick was right about everything he’d said, though. The shoes were pure sexy, hard-core innocence. The only thing was…
I turned to Brick, biting my lip. “Is that a good thing?”
It took him a second to respond. At first, I wondered if he was trying to think up a polite way to let me down easily because he found my strange mix so terrible, but then he blew out a breath and shook his head. “I’d say it’s fucking brilliant. They’re like a good girl who secretly wants to do dirty, nasty things, like she’ll give a hand job in her Sunday dress while I’m driving her out to meet my mother.”
I frowned over that description and opened my mouth to defend my poor shoes, only for him to cut in with, “A general, normal mother. Not my mother, of course.”
Flustered by his interruption, I only sighed and shook my head. The man was impossible.
He lifted the notepad again and drew in a deep breath. “Oh yeah,” he murmured and nodded, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I would totally find these shoes on my dream woman.” He tore the picture from the notepad.
I jumped as if he’d just torn an appendage off me instead. “What…what’re you doing?” I’d actually liked that design. If he even tried to throw it away, I’d—
“I’m showing this to Hayden. He’s the one who deals with shoes.”
I blinked at him, at first unable to believe what I was hearing. It was just too startling for someone to think one of my designs was good enough to show someone else, but to show it to the person in charge of the Shoe department at a fashion-design company made this feel suddenly too real. My heart began to thump. Nervous anxiety clashed with excitement in my stomach.
As Brick grabbed his portable scanner next to his computer and tugged it toward him, even more reality struck me.
