Lavish Loving. Zuri DayЧитать онлайн книгу.
working our runway but about whether or not she was totally booked. She isn’t. But there were other reasons. I didn’t want to make a decision based off a gut—or loin—reaction to seeing her so unexpectedly. London is one of the most beautiful women on the planet. Period. But everyone in the industry knows she can be temperamental and scandalous. Plus, she commands a hefty fee. We need to weigh the pros against the cons.”
“When it comes to cons, I don’t see any. The world loves controversy. If London makes headlines, let’s just hope she does so while wearing OTB.”
“I hate to agree with that callous observation.”
“But you know it’s true.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Ace had unwittingly caused a scandal or two himself. Like dating a thirty-three-year-old top model when he was just nineteen. Or getting trapped inside an Atlanta hotel room after someone leaked his room number and dozens of women showed up outside his door—some in their underwear. Hotel security had been overwhelmed. Police had to be called. One woman was arrested for indecent exposure. The media had eaten it up.
“Booking London is a no-brainer. What were your other reasons?”
Ace hesitated. He’d told no one about the weekend he’d spent with London years ago. No one but the two of them knew they’d shared those lascivious forty-eight hours. Only Ace knew that the torch he’d once carried for her had burned very brightly. He planned to keep it that way. And he intended to keep his distance from her. His heart was still raw from betrayal. He was older now. Established and thinking of settling down. If that fire got stoked again, making her his exclusively was just about the only way he could see putting it out. This past weekend she’d made it clear that marriage was not on her mind.
“Booking her is a matter for Mira to handle, not me. I want London’s agent contacted the moment Mira arrives.”
Mira Jacobs was the company’s tough-as-nails attorney who handled OTB’s legal matters and also oversaw the company’s brand.
Tyler pulled out his phone. “I’ll text her now, find out when she’s planning to come in.”
While Tyler texted Mira, Ace took a photo of what he’d sketched and sent it to Lucien along with the message, Let’s talk.
Tyler placed his phone on the desk. “Now let’s discuss what’s really important.”
“I can’t think of anything more important right now than fashion week, but...go ahead?”
“Did you hit it?”
Ace’s look? Deadpan.
“Don’t give me that look as if I asked something crazy. She’s a beautiful woman. There’s no way I’d have passed up the chance for some of that!” A beat and then Tyler finished, “If I weren’t as gay as the earth is round.”
“Can’t say I didn’t think about it. What red-blooded man wouldn’t? But right through here I’m all about business. Getting this line ready should be the only thing on our minds.”
The day passed quickly. Shortly after Tyler left Ace’s office, Lucien arrived, excited about and impressed with the design Ace had texted him. Ace spoke with Mira about London and then called a meeting with the designers to implement his latest ideas. More changes were made to the fall menswear line that they would be showing this spring, and the direction of the OTB Her line was clarified and expanded. After a phone powwow with finance, the PR and marketing budgets were increased. The partners decided not to reveal the news about London until it was a done deal, but in regard to the design team, he’d let it be known that a famous face would be among the models wearing the clothing.
Speculation ran rampant. Ace didn’t mind. Nothing like a bit of healthy competition among the models to bring out everyone’s A game. Throughout the day, his cell phone was nearby. Now that everyone was on board with London as the fashion show’s star model, he wanted to get the contract signed and make it official. Five o’clock came and went, and then six. He contacted Mira. There was still no word. He turned off his office lights and left the building just before seven without an answer. As he entered his driveway around seven thirty, his phone rang. The number showed up unknown, a common occurrence on his company phone. He pressed the answer button on the steering wheel, and heard a familiar voice.
“So... Ace Montgomery... I hear you want my body after all.”
London looked at the phone, cold and silent in her hand. He hung up on me? The thought barely finished before her ringtone sounded. The words of her favorite song—Jan Baker’s “Who I Am”—blasted from the speaker, the words OTB Fashion showed on her screen.
“For someone wanting my services, that was not a good move.”
Ace chuckled, a low, sexy sound that made London’s kitty purr.
“I apologize. I’d just gotten home, and when I turned off the car my phone didn’t switch over. It normally does.”
“I guess I’ll forgive you...this time.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Is it true? You want my body?”
“Yes.”
A pause, pregnant with possibilities and promises, followed his response.
“Then why were you acting all reserved in Temecula? I could have easily been your dessert last night.”
“I was speaking professionally. Our new line was designed with women like you in mind. My partners and I would very much like to make you the star model in the OTB Her fashion show.”
“So that’s the big secret you couldn’t share the other day. OTB is introducing a women’s line.”
“Not just a women’s line, but the embodiment of a woman’s attitude. It’s been in development for a while, a couple years, really, since its conception. But in being around you, I saw all the pieces come together. You embody the woman these clothes are designed for. When I suggested to my partners that you might not be booked up for fashion week, they couldn’t get to your agent fast enough.”
“Now I understand the gift of the flower.”
“What flower?”
“That stunning single Kinabalu orchid, and in a Baccarat vase, no less. Classy move, Mr. Montgomery. It doesn’t happen easily, but I’m impressed.”
“Wow. I’m tempted to keep my mouth shut and take the credit. But when the real person came forward I’d look like a dishonest fool.”
“You didn’t send the flower?” Discomfort replaced intrigue.
“No, London, I didn’t. Where was it delivered?”
“The hotel’s front desk. I called the bungalow, but you’d checked out already.”
“You must have made quite an impression on another hotel guest.”
“No. I stayed in one of my family’s private guesthouses. Was only in the hotel a couple times and tried to stay incognito. One guy recognized me, though. We took a selfie. Oh, well. I’ll call the hotel later and see what information I can get from them. Right now—” the flirty tone returned “—I’m trying to see what I can get from you.”
“You are a very tempting morsel, London. Even all these years later, I remember those nights we shared. But I’m no longer that promiscuous, impulsive man you met in London, the one for whom having sex was as common as eating lunch, and indulged in almost as often. These days, for me, it’s not so much about having sex as it is about making love.”
“So who is she?”
“Who?”
“The lucky woman who’s getting that love.