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clothing dummy. No, that suit draped along his form like it
was supposed to, caressing every muscle as he moved. He
and the suit became one and pleasing to the eye.
Chelsi assessed him. He'd stood to be measured and fitted
for that suit, or it was from a tailor that knew his
measurements well. Someone who could create the exact
image the designer wanted to display success, power, and
confidence. A man had to be confident to wear pink.
Nothing about the man's clothing struck Chelsi as odd; it
fascinated and awed her. Hell, she was a clothing designer
after all, and she admired apparel and materials like a horny
woman would a collection of sex toys. It was arousing.
"Ohmygod, thank you." The mother oozed with relief as
she thanked the man.
"You're welcome." A raspy timber, subtle and captivating
like a feather tickling your ear, was the voice that came out of
the man. It wasn't one of those deep Barry White type sounds
but masculine nonetheless. The kind of voice that made a
woman trust him, non-threatening but no less seductive,
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bringing visions of lying in bed and having him whisper sexy
dirty things in ear.
Oh, God, I've been alone in my condo for too long.
"Impressive." The woman standing behind him in some
green knock-off DKNY Boat neck dress giggled and smiled.
She flipped her dye-me-red number five, stringy, thin hair off
her shoulder as she leaned into the man.
Miss Obvious in lane four. Chelsi barely stopped herself
from laughing out loud, but she allowed herself the luxury of
rolling her eyes toward the ceiling for a moment.
Mister tailored and dangerous turned to say something to
the woman who was practically breathing on his neck. His jet-
black wavy hair was complimented by thick long lashes that
outlined breathtaking pool blue eyes and a face that could
have belonged to an archangel. Kind and strong.
Chelsi didn't hear a word of what he said because her
world stopped, her breathing halted, her ears clogged like
she'd gone too high up the side of a mountain, and her vision
tunneled, centering on the man's face.
Vincent Poindexter stood less than twenty feet away from
her, giving a sexy smile to the fake chick preening for his
attention.
Damn it. This couldn't be happening. Chelsi took evasive
action and darted to her left down the aisle. She could care
less about the pet items and paper products stacked on the
shelves in that area. Oh, no. Her mind was on the man
behind her, a man who'd risen from her past like a phoenix
from the ocean. Changed. Different. Amazing.
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She hustled down the aisle and away from Vincent and his
admirer, her mind flooded with images of him and how he
looked. Gorgeous and sexy.
But that didn't fit with the Vincent Poindexter she had
known in high school. The guy that was kind, funny and a
geek. Poindexter had been the perfect last name for the tall,
lanky nerd who wore glasses, off colored striped shirts, a
pocket protector, and was president of the math club and co-
captain of their school's debate team. The one who'd been her
high school sweetheart.
Chelsi's feet halted by the end cap a good distance away
from the line of customers. Her knees were going to buckle;
she just knew it. Then she'd be embarrassed if someone had
to call out on the loud speaker "fainter on the pet/paper
aisle".
She'd loved Vincent with all of her heart. They'd been
nominated the most unusual couple. Back then she didn't
care what he looked like or what others had thought of him.
He'd been her math tutor in the eleventh grade, helping her
in economics class, and his gentleness and patience stole her
heart.
She'd dealt with the jeers and taunting from her peers who
thought she was planning some big prank being with him.
Soon other teens realized they were truly an item and kept
their jokes to a minimum.
Now, the joke was on her. Chelsi glanced down at what
she was wearing. She didn't even look as good as Miss Knock-
off. After three days of designing one sketch after another for
a major contract her company was vying for, she had barely
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slept, food had come at a nibble here and a nibble there, and
water on any part of her body hadn't been a thought at all
until forty-five minutes ago. That was the only thing she could
say she did for the sole courtesy of the general public of
Charlotte.
After cleaning everything from the face down, she'd tossed
on her old college t-shirt that was three sizes too big, usually
for the purpose of sleeping in it, and slipped on a pair of cut
off jeans that she normally only donned for spring cleaning
her condo. A hapless knot wrangled her hair into one area of
her head, and her only touch of class was her Stacie Bass
blue peacock designer flip-flops which didn't match her
wretched color scheme at all.
The last thing anyone would think if they saw her now was
that she was second artist to a top designer. She'd worked
with the best in Atlanta and New York before joining her
current boss, and when the head designer of Densa Fashions
decided to move their home office to North Carolina, she'd
been happy to come home.
Inhaling substantial amounts of oxygen, Chelsi moved
down the back of the store until she reached the aisle where
the line of customers bled into, hoping she would see that
Vincent had purchased his hand basket of items and was
gone. Spotting the top of his thick, neatly trimmed black hair
clearly above the other customers, she could see she was not
going to be so lucky.
Thank goodness he had at least resumed facing forward [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]