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After putting my bag in the desk drawer and hanging my coat over the chair, I race down to Juliette’s design room. I stop short in the doorway. Portia Livingstone is perched on top of a dais. Finn is circling around her, his gaze roaming from her head to her feet. My heart squeezes. It was only last week I was standing there with Finn’s eyes on me wearing one of Juliette’s gowns. Portia Livingstone is a vision in white. The bodice of the dress is sheer, tight, and lined with pearls that wrap around her neck. The skirt of the gown flares out from under her hips in layers of sparkling fabric lined with soft strings of feathers.
“Amazing! One of your best designs yet,” he says, smiling at Juliette.
Of course, Finn was checking out the dress. Not Portia. I breathe a sigh of relief.
Juliette waves her fan in front of her face, pretending to be embarrassed by Finn’s compliment. “Oh, darling, stop. I’m blushing. But yes, it’s fabulous if I say so myself.”
“He’s right. This is gorgeous. I feel privileged wearing it,” Portia says as she admires her reflection in the tall, arched mirror propped against the wall. She swishes from side to side like a little girl wearing her first pretty dress.
I stop hovering in the doorway and enter the room. “It looks stunning on you, Ms. Livingstone.”
Turning to me, she smiles. “Thank you…what’s your name?”
“Harper,” I answer, feeling a little giddy that she’s talking to me!
“Thank you, Harper. I love Juliette’s designs.” Again, she swishes her skirt.
You hear stories about a lot of actors being stuck up and horrible, but she genuinely seems lovely.
Juliette snaps her fan closed. “All these compliments are going to give me a big head.”
“You already have a big head.” Finn laughs. Turning to me, he says, “Do you need me for something, Harper?” I’m relieved to see a gleam of mischief shining from his eyes. Portia and Juliette are too busy fussing with the gown to notice.
We are at work; I need to stay professional, especially with the head designer and a famous client in the room. “Bianca wants to me to pack the gown for Ms. Livingstone’s stylist to pick it up.”
Juliette points to a corner with a mannequin and a huge, white box. “Everything you need is over there. I’ll help Portia get this off and you can have it.” Juliette helps Portia off the dais, and they head behind a privacy screen. I can hear chatter and the rustle of fabric.
Stepping closer to me, Finn’s warm breath fans over my neck. “Meet me in my office when you’re done here.”
My head snaps back, and I glance at the privacy screen, hoping the women behind it didn’t hear Finn. I lower my voice and say, “I told you we’re not having sex in the office during work hours.”
“Ms. Madden, I’m shocked that you would think such a thing. I have a job for you to do.” His faux innocent expression isn’t fooling me. I know exactly the kind ofjobhe wants. I pull an I-don’t-believe-you expression. I’m keeping clear of his office just in case I succumb to temptation.
Tapping my nose with his finger, he gives me a sexy grin then leaves the room. A few minutes later, Portia and Juliette follow. I’m left with packing the garment, taking extra-special care not to damage it. By the time the stylist arrives to pick it up, my nerves are a jittery mess and sweat trickles down my spine.
I can’t wait to see Portia arrive at the Gala. This gown is going to be the talk of the evening.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
FINN
Attheendofthe day, I stand at my office door watching Harper at her desk. She shrugs into her coat then checks her phone before putting it into her bag. She’s so beautiful and distracting, I’m finding it hard keeping my hands to myself.
I walk to her desk. “Are you ready to go? I’ll give you a ride home.”
She gives the area a quick scan. The office is empty. Seemingly happy we’re alone, she steps closer and straightens my tie. “That would be great. Thanks.”
“We can stop somewhere for dinner—not McDonald’s,” I quickly say before she can suggest it. “Then I’ll take you back to your place and haveyoufor dessert.” My hotel would be more comfortable, but I don’t want to take her to my suite where I fucked another woman a couple of weeks ago.
Her hands hook around my neck, and she presses her breasts against my chest. “How about we skip dinner and head straight for dessert?” She places kisses along my neck.
A throat clears behind us. Harper springs away, her face flaming red. My father is flicking his gaze between us with a shocked expression on his face. Shit! This is not the way I wanted him to find out about Harper and I.
“Hey, Dad,” I say. “What brings you to the office this late? Everyone’s gone home.”
“Not everyone.” He pins Harper with a hard stare.
I can feel the tension vibrating from him toward Harper. I know it was hard for him to watch my destruction after she left. Being in the same room with her can’t be easy. We’ll have to take it day by day, and hopefully, he’ll come around and see that Harper isn’t the villain he believed she was.
