afford to let her mind become distracted by anything or anyone. Too much work lay ahead of her before she made the move to Blanchard Fabrics and too many issues with her family remained unresolved.
Backstage, she helped the model change and then carefully handed the clothing to her assistant to be put on a mannequin for the viewing after the show.
“Juliet, come on,” Giles Manfred called as he hustled his students out onstage for introductions. Juliet reluctantly went. She didn’t have anyone in the crowd cheering for her. Her five sisters were all busy with their own lives and her father wouldn’t have come, even if she’d asked.
Onstage Juliet accepted the applause for what it was: an acknowledgement of her designs. She felt gratified to know her work was well received.
A movement on the audience floor to her right caught her attention. Mr. Tall, Blond and Yummy had weaved his way through the crowd, halting at the foot of the stage steps. The cutting-edge styling of the olive-colored suit fit his broad shoulders and long, lean legs to perfection. Juliet tilted her head in silent question as his warm brown eyes studied her intently. The man inclined his head in acknowledgement.
Intrigued, Juliet smiled. What was up with this guy?
Shaking away the question, she moved down the steps. The man shifted forward. His warm hand cupped her elbow as she descended. She drew back slightly.
“Do I know you?” she asked over the din of excited voices.
With a slight pressure to her elbow, he propelled her through the throng of people to the back edge of the crowd where the noise level dropped significantly.
“No, you don’t know me. But I know who you are, Juliet. And I’m very impressed with your designs.”
The combination of his deep voice and his praise sent pleasure and pride sliding over her skin. “Thank you. Can I ask what brings you here?”
He gave her a boyish grin that set her heart pounding. “You can. And I’d love to tell you about the connections I have in Paris. But I’d like to tell you over dinner.”
Dinner? With a stranger? She could just hear her eldest sister, Miranda’s, shocked tsk echoing in her head.
“I really don’t think that would be appropriate, considering I don’t even know your name,” Juliet replied.
Mr. Tall, Blond and Yummy stuck out his hand. “Brandon De Witte.”
She shook his hand, setting off a firestorm of sparks shooting up her arm. “Juliet Blanchard. But you already know that. So, why me?”
One side of his generous mouth curved upward. “Come to dinner with me and I’ll tell you.”
She extracted her hand and shook her head, ready again to explain why that was impossible.
He held up a hand to stop her from speaking. “We’ll be in a public restaurant. What can happen?”
“People might talk,” she countered, even though the excuse sounded lame.
He made a face. “Who and to whom?”
Obviously he didn’t really know who the Blanchards were or he wouldn’t ask. She’d chosen a school far enough away from anyone remotely connected to her family that gossip very rarely reached her sisters’ or her father’s ears. Unlike when Juliet was in high school.
Back then she couldn’t make a move, no matter how innocent or rebellious, without someone informing her siblings. Being the youngest of five successful sisters, Juliet had a lot to live up to. Striving to prove herself capable in a family of overachievers kept Juliet busy most of the time.
But here was this handsome—she glanced at his ring finger and was glad to see no shiny gold band—seemingly unattached man asking to take her to dinner in a public setting. What harm could come from accepting the invitation?
And while working in Paris had to stay a dream for now, getting to know someone with connections there wasn’t a bad idea. As she’d heard her father say often, look ahead to the future if you want to accomplish anything.
“All right,” she said, deciding that tonight she’d let the untamed streak inside her rule. “Let me grab my purse.”
She hurried backstage to locate her purse and coat. On the way back out, Giles stopped her. His rotund body blocked the exit.
“Where are we off to?” her instructor asked.
“Dinner with a…friend.”
A sly gleam entered Giles’s gray eyes. “With the man I saw you talking to? Hmm. Interesting.”
Heat crept up Juliet’s neck. “It’s just dinner. Nothing romantic.”
“Right.” Giles nodded sagely.
“The show went great,” Juliet said to change the focus.
Giles clapped his hands together. “Exceptionally! Your designs specifically were touted as the best. I really wish you’d reconsider taking that job at your family’s factory. Darling, you are so much better than a factory worker.”
Juliet refrained from rolling her eyes. “I’ll be heading the marketing department.”
“Honey, you’re a designer, not some pencil pusher!”
“I have a minor in marketing, Giles,” she pointed out for the umpteenth time.
He made a scoffing sound.
She laughed. “I’ve got to run. I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Have fun,” he called out to her as she hurried back to where she’d left Mr. De Witte.
“Ready?” He held out his arm.
She linked hers through, conscious of the strong muscles beneath his sleeve. “Where are we going?”
“Do you like Italian food?”
“Love it.”
“Great. Fratelli’s right next door it is then.”
A few minutes later, they were seated by a large plate glass window overlooking Lake Champlain. The moon hung low in the clear fall night sky and cast a luminescent glow across the water’s surface. Twinkling lights marked the homes along the shoreline.
A waiter approached, took their orders and left. In the background above the soft clinking of dinnerware and low conversations, the music of Vivaldi played.
Juliet twirled the mineral water in her goblet. “Are you a local?”
“No. I’m in town to study a few companies that I’m interested in.”
“Companies? What do you do?” She took a sip of the water.
“I find companies that are struggling and either buy them or revitalize them.”
“Ah, a corporate raider.”
He
