Page 9 of Kissing Danger

Holding a leather folder to his chest, which probably held images and samples of his work, Deacon looked around for a chair on his side of the desk but found none. He didn’t say anything but looked at me in confusion.

With a slight grin, I tapped the chair beside my own, which had gone overlooked.

An attractive blush spread over his cheeks, but he straightened his shoulders and came around to my side of the desk to sit beside me. “Here. I brought my portfolio. This Saturday’s fashion show had a very specific theme, so it wasn’t the best example of my overall work. My portfolio has a better general sampling, unless there’s something specific you’re looking for.”

I flipped through a few pages in the portfolio, mostly out of courtesy. I’d already seen his work on the runway and didn’t need any more proof of his skills.

“There is something specific I’m interested in.”

Pulling out a magazine from the drawer of my desk, I tossed it down on the desk. The front cover advertised the new spring collection of clothing from a brand calledMinestra.

Deacon looked at me in confusion. “Minestra? Yeah, they’re not that old, but they’ve been making it big recently. What about them?”

“Just as a test, I want you to redesign a few of their outfits. Make something better that can compete with them in their own game.”

Although Deacon still looked confused, he was automatically pulling out a sketchbook and pencils stored in the back of the portfolio case.

“Like, right now? I mean, sure. I can sketch something out real quick, but it won’t be particularly good quality.”

“It doesn’t need to be,” I said, flipping open the magazine to the spread page in the middle that showed the most ofMinestra’snew designs. “This is just a proof of concept, that your designs and abilities match what I need.”

His pencil was already tapping on the paper, eager to draw, but he hesitated. “All right, I can do this, but... first, I need to know why? You’re not up to something sketchy, are you?”

Yes, I was up to lots of things, but in this case I could actually answer honestly.

Well, mostly honestly.

Honesty was a novel concept in my life, and when presented with an opportunity for it, I jumped at the chance.

Placing my arm over the back of his chair, I leaned a little closer.

“A... colleague of mine did me a big favor a few years ago. I owe him. Now, the owner of this company...” I jabbed at the nameMinestrawritten in metallic font across the glossy magazine page. “Is threatening him and he’s asked for my help. I boughtFantaisisteso I could compete in the same industry and...” Leaning in even closer so I was almost speaking directly into Deacon’s ear, I let my voice drop down into a pleasantly rough tone. “...take the bitch down a peg.”

As I’d hoped, Deacon visibly shivered. He was dressed a little more casually than the outfit he’d worn at the fashion show. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and I watched as goosebumps broke out over the skin of his arms.

I fought the urge to run my hand over his skin and soothe him like one would a frightened animal, leaning back in my chair to remove myself from the temptation.

Still, nothing could tear my eyes away as I watched the bob of the Adam’s apple in Deacon’s throat as he swallowed. Theman managed to regain his composure quickly, and pulled the magazine closer just to give his hands something to do.

“Must have been a big favor, if you’re willing to buy a whole company and go to all this effort just to pay him back.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, though I kept the sound soft in respect for Deacon’s close proximity. I’d been told in the past that my laugh could be off-putting, even terrifying, up close.

“D’Angelo thrives on big favors. It’s practically how he makes his living. But yes, I owe him a lot, so I’m willing to do anything to protect him from someone threatening him. Plus, I was already toying with the idea of getting into the fashion industry, so if I can also make a profitable business at the same time, then it’s a win-win. To do that, however, I need a designer capable of outshiningMinestra’sown designs. I think you could be that designer, but I’ll need to see the proof for myself before moving forward.”

Seemingly coming to a decision, Deacon nodded to himself and started sketching out some ideas. As he’d said, the drawings were quick and rough, just a suggestion of an idea rather than a polished presentation, but that was all I needed for now.

It took some time. Even the most proficient artists couldn’t pull something out of thin air. His pencil flew over the page, bringing recognizable forms to life with just a few lines. He even seemed to have his own style of shorthand symbols marking fabric types and other design elements that couldn’t be shown in black and white. It was a fascinating process, but I didn’t want to crowd him, so I tried not to stare too much.

With time to myself to think, I remembered a detail about the model’s death at the fashion show that I’d forgotten. Deacon hadbeen the one to report the body, and apparently the victim had been wearing his missing dress.

“Did the police give you a hard time?”

“Hmm?” He made a vaguely questioning sound without looking up from the page he was working on.

“You found the body, and apparently, she was wearing your dress. I imagine the police had a lot of questions for you.”

Even when he looked up from the page, his fingers never actually stopped moving. He seemed to read the page like Braille, and continued to bring his vision to life.

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