I really have to explain how that was an invasion of privacy?”
“I assumed you’d want your privacy invaded,” she mumbled. “Diamond was mad at me, too.” She sat back, dejected. “It’s stuff like this that got me sent away in the first place.”
“I don’t mean to make you feel bad.”
“I can leave if you want.”
“If I’d wanted that, I wouldn’t have invited you to dinner.” He studied London’s troubled expression. The pain he saw there troubled him, too.
“Where were you sent away from?”
He watched as she shook off the melancholy and donned a nonchalant air. “Let’s just say going to school in Europe wasn’t my idea.” She looked at him then offered a sincere smile. “It’s a long story. Maybe some other time.”
“Is that your subtle way of trying to ensure another date?”
“I’m the bold, rude ingrate who crashed your massage, remember? There are many words that could be used to describe me. Subtle isn’t one of them.”
The honest answer touched Ace’s heart and awakened an unexplainable desire to protect her. He quickly squashed the notion. A woman like her didn’t need a man like him. Her company was refreshing, though. He soon realized what made being with her different. He was enjoying himself, feeling relaxed and complete, and he tried to remember the last time he’d felt this way. It had been a while.
“There isn’t a woman here. Surprising for the Ace I remember. What’s up with that?”
While he’d come here to get away from work, Ace welcomed the change of subject. “Right now my woman is a new line being unveiled at fashion week.”
“Next month? In New York?” Ace nodded. “What’s the line?”
“It’s a secret.” London fixed her mouth in a pout. Sexy, luscious, but Ace didn’t budge. “You know how the industry works. It’s all about the big reveal.” He paused for a drink of water, gazed at her over the rim as he drank. “I really want to tell you, though. Maybe I will soon.”
“If not, I’ll just make sure to attend your show.”
“How many shows are you doing?”
“I don’t know yet. I hadn’t planned to do any, but...those plans have changed.”
“Because of your breakup with Max?”
“Partly. We were supposed to be filming his movie right now. But it’s also to take a break. I’ve lived overseas for years and promised my parents I’d spend time with them.”
“Coming on to me the way you have makes it seem you’ve gotten over him. But that could be an act, like your being hurt when I didn’t call you back. Are you okay?”
“Max didn’t want to let go, but I’m okay.” London finished her soup and reached for the chilled Chardonnay the waiter had poured them. She took a thoughtful sip. “And just for the record, I was hurt that you didn’t call me back. A little bit.”
“You had plenty of guys lined up behind me. Wasn’t there even a stalker for a while?”
Now it was London’s turn to be surprised. “How’d you know about that?”
“Insider information. You know we run in the same circles, or used to.”
“My people signed confidentiality agreements regarding this. We didn’t want it leaked to the public and give some other troubled soul ideas. So who told you?”
“It was Trent Corrigan. He told me in confidence and I haven’t shared it further.”
“Quinn’s best friend. She’s one of my sisters-in-law.”
“So it was true.”
“Unfortunately, yes. A guy I’d met casually while living in Paris. He interviewed me for his website. That’s how he got my number. After a series of interviews, he asked me out. When I declined he got crazy. I got a restraining order. He violated it several times before they finally put him in jail.”
“That had to be scary.”
“At first it was just annoying. But when he followed me back here to the States...”
“He came over here?”
“Right up to my hotel room door in New York City.”
“That’s insane. It’s a wonder you don’t walk around with bodyguards.”
“For a while I did. Guards named Terrell, Niko, Warren and Ike, otherwise known as my older brothers.”
Ace laughed. “How’d that go?”
“It didn’t last long. They wanted me to hide out in Paradise Cove, my hometown, but I refused to live in fear. With him in jail, I went back to Paris, where I lived at the time. Thankfully they have lives, wives and careers, and couldn’t follow me. Until then, I was shielded by a wall of Drakes.
“Has that ever happened to you? The whole stalker thing?”
“Yes, but not to the same extent as it did to you. My stalkers got the message before law enforcement had to be involved.”
“Stalkers plural, huh? I’m not surprised.”
Ace was. Not at her comments, but at the feelings bubbling in his heart for the woman he now drank in with his eyes.
“Why do you keep staring at me?”
“You should be used to people staring at you. Ready for the entrée?”
“I’m starving for it.” Though the pecan-crusted lemon swordfish smelled heavenly, the look she gave suggested her comment was not about that at all. Ace understood. He felt the same way. But he couldn’t give in to the desire for physical pleasure. Not now that he’d decided she was the one, the perfect model to anchor the OTB Her line. He’d conduct himself professionally. This was about business. Or so he told himself. Time would tell.
He wasn’t expected back until Tuesday, but Ace strolled into his office on Monday morning at eight o’clock sharp, motivated, excited and ready to work. Seeing London had brought all his thoughts about the runway show together around a cohesive concept and had inspired an idea for a showstopping final piece. He now knew exactly the type of woman the new line represented. He’d spent the day with her. London was his muse.
After a trip to the break room to fortify himself with a cup of java, Ace returned to the office, rolled up his designer shirtsleeves and pulled out a sketch pad. The pencil fairly flew across the paper as lines, swirls and varied strokes brought Ace’s vision to life. The sketch was detailed and specific. Lucien, the TV design show winner who’d sent in his portfolio just last week, would have no
