had ever pushed herself before. There was so much work she could still do. It was not surprising that she felt so stretched out, beyond tired and pushed to the limit.
And so very much alone.
She envied Poppy so much; at least she had a brother who was willing to drop everything to come and help when she needed him.
Sniffing away the wave of sleep-deprived grief that threatened to overwhelm her, Mimi forced herself onto her feet with a sigh and drew open the full-length glazed patio doors which led to the flight of stairs linking her flat to the shop below, and the paved area which was both her delivery bay and what served as her small private garden.
Through this open door she looked out onto the gardens of the family homes on the other side of the small lane that separated the shops from the residential area around them.
She had been looking at the same view every morning for as long as she could remember.
Seasons were measured through the changes in the tall mature trees which towered over the lane from her neighbours’ gardens: the fresh green leaves of beech and lime blossom in the spring; lilacs and apple blossom; a silver birch with its silvery leaves and shiny bark.
And her favourite: a mature cherry tree which had to be at least forty feet tall. Soft pink-and-white blossom had been replaced now with young cherries, much to the delight of the wild birds that spent much of their day in the tall branches.
These trees and gardens were such a part of her life now that she could not imagine eating breakfast without that view to enjoy. But the risk was very real. Without extra income she was in serious danger of losing the shop she had inherited from her parents, her chance of making a living and her home. The only home she had ever known—or ever wanted.
She had often wondered what it would be like to be a traveler, rootless and wandering, without a fixed place to call home.
Someone like Hal Langdon, for example.
Perhaps that was the reason he was so very, very fascinating. As a person, as a professional and very much as a man.
He was a mystery, a muscular, handsome, unshaven and challenging enigma. He was a man used to being completely spontaneous in his life and his work. Used to making decisions on the run.
But if anything that made her worry all the more.
Poppy knew her brother, and clearly must trust him well enough to leave him in charge of the charity project, but what if Hal had his own ideas for the show? Poppy Langdon had spent most of her working life either as a professional fashion model or in the trade. But what about her brother? All Mimi knew was that he was an adventurer, photographer and had once worked with Poppy when they were getting the events company off the ground—but that had been years ago.
Well, she would find out soon enough.
He had called late the previous evening to tell her that Poppy had arrived safely in Florence and to arrange to meet at the studio the next morning to talk through the plans. She had explained that she would be at a student exhibition most of the day but that had not seemed to deter him in the least.
Mimi suddenly felt the need to sit down as the enormity of what she had taken on threatened to overwhelm her.
The last time she had trusted a photographer with her work had been at her first-ever photo shoot. He had been a well-known fashion photographer who had agreed to work with some of the top fashion-school graduates as part of a newspaper feature on new British talent. Her tutors adored him, the other students had sung his praises and she had been green enough to trust him with the theme for her graduation show. He’d even brought his own stylists.
It had been a complete and utter disaster, beginning to end. She had never been so humiliated in her life. Being laughed at and mocked was not fun. How did she know that Hal was not going to be the same? And now he had taken over from Poppy at Langdon Events, which effectively meant that he was the boss—whether she liked it or not.
Yet she knew that she had no choice. She had committed to supplying the clothing; she had to go through with this.
It would be so wonderful to spend the whole weekend working on the show, but her normal salary paying life had to come first.
Saturday was the busiest day in the shop for the knitting classes she had started, so she had asked her friend Helena to help out in the shop and run the classes. Helena was one of her best customers and a natural saleswoman.
Apart from the shop, there were going to be six of her fashion-design students crammed into her studio for most of the morning—the ones who had left their hand-knitting course work to the very last minute—and they would all need help to complete their projects and get them to the gallery for their end-of-year exhibition before noon.
She exhaled loudly. The students needed to make the grades for their course work and it gave them a showcase for their work. She could not let them down now, especially when some of them had helped make the clothes for her collection.
And now Hal Langdon was going to turn up in person and add even more stress!
No pressure, then. None at all. Whimper.
She was exhilarated, exhausted and more excited than she had been for months.
Her mind kept wandering all by itself to
Hal Langdon. The sexy way his amazing eyes creased around the edges as he smiled. That sensuous mouth.
It totally infuriated her that he had wormed his way into her brain like that.
It all went to prove one thing: she really should get out more!
But not now. Not when she was so close to achieving her dream.
Birdsong from the cherry trees rang out clear, sweet and invigorating through the open window and Mimi looked out into the faint sunshine and smiled.
In the same way that the trees broke out from their winter hibernation into fresh green buds of new growth, she needed to move forward to a new season in her life.
Poppy Landon might have given her a chance, but now it was her turn to prove that she knew what she was doing.
She was going to show Hal Langdon that she was capable of handling any challenge that he could throw at her. They both wanted a great show and that was what they were going to create. She would listen; she would give her suggestions, help him understand how important elegance and sophistication were to her designs, and everything was going to be fine.
She was going to have to trust him. Because one thing was becoming so very clear: whether she was prepared to say it out loud or not, there were simply not enough hours in the day to do everything she needed to make this show a success. She needed Hal and Poppy even more than ever.
She had promised her mother that she would prove to the world that Mimi Ryan was as fine a designer as any other member of the Fiorini family.
But she was not just doing this for her mother. No. This was for her. She needed this boost to break her out of the past six months of painful grief and save her business.
Mimi turned to face a silver-framed photograph of a stunningly pretty dark-haired woman which was propped up by a cushion on the table, and raised her
