Page 17 of Fitting the Financier
“Good luck, but none of them will be me.” I may be small-time but my work is top notch. When McKenzie slams the door behind her, I exhale a trembling breath I don’t realize I’m holding.
“Are you okay?” Nathan puts one arm around my shoulders, hugging me against his side.
I nod, not trusting my words just yet. Whatever that confrontation was about, I know what it isn’t — a serious offer. McKenzie dislikes Charity and me enough to fire me once the holidays are over and she gets what she wants. One thing is clear, there’s no way I’m going to prove either Cooper right about me. “Did you mean what you said last night?” I face Nathan. “About transforming me into a successful designer? One Quadpoint won’t want to drop?”
“I meant every word.” His thumb brushes my cheek and I involuntarily shiver.
I squeeze my eyes shut to avoid focusing on the sensation.
“You won’t always agree with my decisions, but you’ll have to trust me.”
I can handle that. After all, running a successful business is his expertise. “Okay,” I sigh, reluctantly agreeing to his terms.
“We’ll be working closely together. Here.” The statement sounds like a challenge.
I snap open my eyes.
No way.
“Sharing a workspace isn’t necessary, Nathan. I’ll email you my invoices, client list, and whatever else you need.” I’m not naïve to believe working with Nathan won’t be tempting.
“We don’t have time for baby steps. You’ll have to get used to me being here.”
I inwardly groan, but can’t back out now. Not with McKenzie, her father and God knows who else, hoping for my failure. I’ll just have to remember he’s older and my best friend’s father — off-limits.
“McKenzie is wrong, you know.”
I grimace. How much had he heard?
“She’s wrong about you. You don’t have nothing, Naomi. You have me.”
My heart lurches to my throat. I know he means it in the most professional way, but after last night’s kiss, my stomach is doing back-flips.
“She’s also wrong about not being invited to the masquerade ball.”
I frown, pretty sure I didn’t miss getting an invitation.
“As my date.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I begin, then pause “Wait. You’re going?” The man’s in town for twenty-four hours. “How did you snag an invitation?”
“I get an invitation every year.” Nathan shrugs his broad shoulders. “The mayor’s wife will demand I attend now that I’m in town.”
“Oh.”
“It’s settled.”
Not in the least.My pulse is working overtime. “If it’s a working date, then sure,” I say, hoping his agreement will stop the butterflies from swarming in my stomach.
He doesn’t answer. “Will you dress me … us, Naomi?”
When he asks like that, with a slight quirk on his lips, I can’t help picturing him naked and me with my measuring tape in hand. My skin heats under his penetrating gaze and I clear my throat.
“Who … who will you be?” I have the materials to create a couple of costumes, as most of my clients' outfits are complete and the ones that remain only require final adjustments.
“I’ll be whoever you want me to be.” His head dips. I lose my breath. “Whoever you need me to be.”
Then his mouth fuses against mine.
