The Best of All. Vanessa Miller

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The Best of All - Vanessa Miller Mills & Boon Kimani

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would want to wear the designs of a fraud?

      “I know you’re busy, so I don’t want to waste your time by beating around the bush.” Surry turned toward him and continued, “I was just about to sign a contract to have two very high-end chain retail stores carry my designs. In anticipation of this contract, I put all of my earnings into increasing production of my designs. Since John Michael started shooting his mouth off, the contract has been put on hold. And to tell you the truth, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

      “What kind of claims?”

      “He says that the designs for my spring and summer collection were stolen from him.”

      “Did you and he work on designs together?”

      “Never! I don’t like John Michael’s designs, but we worked a few fashion shows together and split the cost of both rentals at two expos about seven years ago. But since then I haven’t collaborated with him or anyone else. To tell you the truth, I much prefer to work on my own.”

      “A loner, huh?”

      She didn’t like the way he said “loner.” He made it sound as if there was something wrong with a girl needing her space and preferring to work alone. But Surry saw nothing wrong with her choices. Besides her girls, Danetta and Ryla, Surry didn’t hang out with anyone. She had a business to run and that required most, if not all of her time. But that didn’t make her a loner, did it? She shrugged, “Okay, yeah, I like being alone. I do my best designs that way. No television, no music...just me and the chirping of the crickets.”

      “That must be how you creative types like to do your work. Me, I’d go crazy if I didn’t have my iPod or my radio going most of the time. I love music and it helps me think.”

      “To each his own, I guess.”

      “Yeah, I guess so,” Ian said, and then silence fell. After a few moments, he rubbed his hands together. “So, how can I help you?”

      “Ryla says that you’re a good guy and the best when it comes to handling image problems.”

      “Ryla said that, huh?” There was a slight smile on his face, as if he wanted to break out into a laugh from things he knew, but wouldn’t say.

      “She sure did. So, after John Michael did this blog interview—” she handed him the interview that she’d printed off the internet “—and then his lies got reported in the paper this morning, I rushed over here, hoping that you could help me. I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before. So I didn’t know what else to do.”

      * * *

      Was he hearing her right? She hadn’t bothered to respond to his offer of dinner, and she was in his office at this moment only because she needed an image makeover? He stood, read the blog that she handed him and then turned back to her. “This guy obviously has a problem with the success you’ve had with your line of clothing. But I’m not sure how I can help you.”

      Flipping her hair off her shoulder, she said, “I don’t know, either. I’m about to lose everything if John Michael gets away with the lies he’s spreading. Ryla spoke so highly of the way you were able to help Noel, that I just...” Her shoulders slumped as her voice cracked. Her eyes said that she’d rather be anywhere but here, dealing with this issue. “I just hoped that you would be able to do something to help me also.”

      The woman he met at Noel and Ryla’s wedding was dynamic, self-assured, ready to take on the world. But Surry looked so helpless as she sat on his couch worrying about losing everything that he wished he could help. But how on earth could he help her and work his own plan?

      Ian Duncan was nothing if not focused. He knew from the day he first interned with his father that he would be in the game of politics for the rest of his life. Even with the craziness now going on in Washington, Ian still desired this life as he desired his next breath. Thankfully, he’d never wanted the frustrating job of being a politician. He wanted to be the puppet master, the one behind the scene pulling all the strings, making kings of mere men. His father had become known as a kingmaker because he’d headed three campaigns that had catapulted two former governors and one former statesman into the White House.

      It was now Ian’s turn to prove that he had what it took to be a kingmaker. Since his college days, Ian had vowed to let nothing stop him from achieving his goals. He’d loved playing basketball but had never been interested in going pro. He’d spent years giving all he had to the game of politics, and at the age of thirty-one he was about to reap the fruits of his labor. He couldn’t allow this thing with Surry to get him off his game. He’d be a fool to help her when the prize he’d strived for all this time was now waiting for him in Charlotte.

      Looking at Surry was not helping him. He wanted to scoop her up and protect her from the storm. But to do that, he’d have to put his own dreams on hold, and Ian couldn’t do that. He averted his eyes. When that proved to not be enough, he went and stood in front of the window that overlooked the parking lot and then said, “I know politics. I don’t know the first thing about fashion. So, I’m not sure that I’m the one to help with this issue.”

      Surry stood and walked over to the window. She put her hand on Ian’s shoulder and turned him to face her. Her eyes implored him as she said, “You don’t understand. If you don’t help me I could lose everything. I’ve worked so hard for what I have. I can’t lose it just because of a lie.”

      He rested a hand on her arm as he leaned against the windowpane. This woman was so beautiful. She was everything he wanted in his personal life. But he was also a professional. “Surry, believe me, it’s not that I don’t want to help you. I can’t. I will be leaving the state in a few days to talk with a man who is interested in running for president. If he and I decide to work together, I’m going to be very busy trying to build a team to get his campaign up and running.”

      Running her hand through her hair, she looked at him with determination in her eyes. “The sad part about it is that I was prepared to come over here and beg for your help if I had to, and you wouldn’t have been able to help me even if I had begged.” She patted him on the shoulder, stepped back and said, “Congratulations on the new client. I’ll find a way to resolve this issue.”

      As Ian watched Surry walk away, he wanted to reach out and pull her back to him. Was he a fool? How could he let her walk away like this? The phone on his desk started ringing, jarring his mind back to the business at hand. As she closed his office door, he picked up the phone. “Ian speaking.”

      “Well, my boy, what’s it going to be?”

      Ian wanted to tell Governor Monroe that he was no one’s boy...had been his own man since he was nineteen and wasn’t trying to go back to school for nobody. However, this man might become the next president of the United States of America, so he’d hold off on telling him how he could and couldn’t address him. “Hey, Governor, I was just in a meeting. But if you hadn’t called me, I would have given you a call within five minutes or so.”

      “I don’t have the patience of Job, my boy. I’m a man of action. I gave you the night to think about it, so what’s it going to be? Can I expect to see you in Charlotte on Monday or not?”

      Ian went back to the window and watched Surry climb in her Mercedes C300. He didn’t know why, but Ian felt in his gut that he would forever regret not being able to help Surry. But he had a business to run, so he closed his eyes and took the plunge. “One question, Governor. Why me?”

      “What

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