to enjoy her evening.
Mimi knocked with her knuckles on the door and pushed it open a little wider.
Poppy was still sitting at her desk, but sprawled across the whole length of the small office, and blocking her path to the desk, were the long denim-clad legs of a man who looked like a fashion stylist’s idea of a playboy biker. Except that one of his legs was wearing a casual training-shoe while the other was encased from toes to knee in what looked like a surgical-support boot.
Conscious that she was staring at his leg, Mimi looked up into his face just as he turned to face her. Two dark-brown eyes gazed at her so intently that she almost blushed under the fierce heat of that focus.
He could have passed for a male model for the fashion show if it was not for the crutch leaning against Poppy’s desk and the distinctive thin, white scar which curved across his forehead and down one side of his temple. And the dark, heavy eyebrows which made him look almost fierce.
His well-used black-leather jacket was stylish rather than beaten up and cut so as to accentuate the broad shoulders and slim waist beneath the T-shirt.
All blended with something more intangible, something which had nothing to do with the ego of a male model.
He had not said one word but in those eyes and that face she saw something powerful, at the same time quiet and deep.
This man filled the small office with his presence. Not in an intimidating way; far from it. She simply recognised that this was someone who knew what it was like to give instructions and have them followed to the letter. He was authoritative, commanding and probably the most handsome man she had seen in a very long time. Most definitely not the kind of man who came into her knitting shop.
He could be Poppy’s date, but everything about him screamed power, position and authority. He had to be one of Poppy’s other clients, one of the influential, powerful ones who paid her large fees to manage their corporate events so that she could afford to run charity fundraisers.
Poppy laughed out loud in delight at something he had said, whoever he was, lifted her head to face Mimi and waved at her to come in.
‘Mimi; perfect timing. I need your help. I’ve just been trying to persuade my brother Hal here to work with us on the fashion show, and he is pretending to be reluctant.’
‘Oh, no. I haven’t forgotten all of the fashion events I organised when you were working as a model and we were struggling to get this company off the ground. I think it put me off for life,’ he replied as he glanced back from Mimi to Poppy. ‘Now, if you need a photographer, that I can help you with.’
Her brother!
Mimi’s body locked into a ‘half in the corridor, half in the room’ position. She simply could not move. It was as though her feet were bolted to the carpet tiles. Just as firmly her eyes found something deeply fascinating in the cardboard tray she was still holding so tightly that it had started to develop a definite wobble. She dared not turn around or move one step forward.
It was his voice, of course, deep, husky and sensual—and just about as far away from the voices that she heard in her ordinary life. All she could do was stay rooted to the spot, feeling slightly stunned as the whirlwind of masculine energy twirled around her.
Oblivious to her predicament, Poppy reached forward with one arm and hugged Hal with a beaming grin. ‘I might take you up on that. There is still a lot to do behind the scenes, and we have a list of events over the next few weeks where I am desperate for a photographer I can rely on. But this week I need help with the show. What can we do to convince you to get involved?’
‘Would iced coffee help?’ Mimi finally managed to squeak out as she inched forward a little closer to the desk, terrified that she was going to spill coffee over her precious plans or Hal Langdon’s knees.
Only then did Poppy give a dramatic sigh. ‘Oh, fantastic! And now I am being horribly rude. Hal, this is the fashion designer who is working with us for Tom’s charity fundraiser next week. Mimi, meet my brother, Hal, the other half of Langdon Events.’
She cursed her vivid imagination. Mimi’s attention was riveted by the sounds created by leather sliding against leather, the crunch of his boot and the scrape of the crutch on the carpet as he pulled his leg back, slid his left arm into the crutch and heaved himself to his feet. All set against the gentle whirring from the desk fan, which was totally failing to cool her hot neck. Her hair felt clammy and damp against her neckline. Not her best look when she was trying to impress her events manager—or that manager’s brother.
‘Oh, please don’t get up,’ Mimi said, and stepped forward just as Hal bent and stretched out his right hand towards her.
Only the gap between them was too close, and as she half-turned to shake hands she could not avoid colliding with the solid mass of his muscular frame and the crutch.
Her cardboard tray tilted as it was crushed between them, and it was only at the very last minute that Mimi’s brain kicked into action and her arm whipped out sideways to prevent an explosion of iced coffee.
Her plan almost succeeded.
The tray stayed intact, but in the sudden movement a trickle of coffee escaped over the top of the ill-fitting plastic lid of one of the cups, dribbled down over the tray and onto her foot, soaking through her thin stocking and into her favourite black shoes.
As Mimi gasped in horror, it took a few seconds for her to realise that Hal had taken hold of her arm and was physically holding her steady. As she looked up from her damp shoe into his handsome face, he frowned and said in a low voice, ‘I am so sorry. That was very clumsy of me. Are you okay?’
Standing only inches away from his body, she was very much aware of the remarkable, overwhelming masculinity of this man. If she inhaled deeply their bodies would be pressed together chest to chest. He smelt of dust, man sweat and something fragrance manufacturers had been trying to capture and bottle for decades without success: masculine energy and drive, with a shot of pure attraction and goodness knew how many pheromones.
It was a heady combination that many women would save up to be able to afford—and she was one of them. This magical aroma, combined with the sensation of the rough skin of his fingertips on the back of her arm, sent a shiver of totally shocking but delightful anticipation and sensory pleasure through her body and robbed her of speech.
‘Fine. Not a problem,’ she eventually managed to say. ‘No damage done.’ And she braved a small smile before slipping out away from his grasp and lowering her tray to the safety of Poppy’s desk.
Poppy looked across to Mimi with a shake of the head. ‘Ignore my brother, Mr Famous Mountaineer, outdoor man. It’s the bungee jumping, you know. High Altitudes. Affects the brain.’
‘I like to think of myself as the overseas section of the company.’ Hal smiled at Mimi with a gentle nod, his eyes locked onto her face. It was not a casual glance but a stare so deliberate and focused she felt uncomfortable under the hard, bright heat of it. His heavy, dark eyebrows were squeezed together as though he had recognised her from somewhere and was trying to place her.
One thing was certain—if she had met Hal Langdon before, she would certainly have remembered.
‘Pleased to meet you, Miss …?’
Swallowing down a nervous lump the size of Scotland, Mimi managed to croak out,
