Simon searched through his mind for an appropriate response. “Since my wife died, a few women have been aggressive in assuming I must be interested in them. They would have tried to turn a business dinner into something else.”
Her lips twitched. “I thought that was a stereotype. You know, a widower being fair game.”
“I’m not saying all women, just enough to make me wary. I doubt I’ll ever get married again. It’s too big of a risk.” A risk in every possible way, he added silently. He’d been lucky to find Olivia and doubted that sort of good fortune could happen twice in a lifetime. Losing her had hurt more than he’d believed possible; if it hadn’t been for Livvie, he didn’t know what he would have done.
“You have my sympathy,” Rachel said. “Everyone except my closest friends seemed determined to match me up with a guy after my divorce, and I didn’t want to be matched. I’ve come to the very practical conclusion that friendship is better for me than romance, and it’s worked great that way ever since.”
If she was being genuine, then it was possible they could have a successful business relationship.
“All right, what time shall I be here tomorrow?” he asked.
“How about four? I’d prefer seeing the design studio first. That way we’ll have more to discuss over a meal.”
“That should work, because they close early on Fridays. I’ll be here.”
Simon left the agency, feeling encouraged. His decision to seek Rachel’s advice about Liv’ing Creations had been pragmatic and logical, despite his attraction to her. Under other circumstances he would have avoided her as much as he could. But the design shop was too important.
There was somebody else he could consult, as well. While waiting for coffee one morning, he’d met Mark Revel, who had a first-floor condo at the Carthage. Mark had mentioned owning a clothing store that had once carried Olivia’s designs. It was a reminder of how close the connections between people could be. Some people talked of six degrees of separation, but he often found it to be even fewer.
The downside of speaking with Mark was that Simon didn’t want it known that Liv’ing Creations was struggling. If the news got around it could just make things worse.
THE NEXT AFTERNOON Simon arrived a few minutes before the agreed-upon time. The receptionist recognized him.
“Hello, Mr. Kessler. You can go directly back to Rachel’s office.”
“Thanks.”
As he walked down the wide hallway, a woman was coming from the opposite direction. He recognized Nicole George. She was almost as beautiful as Rachel, though in a different way. While Rachel was ethereally lovely, Nicole was taller and exuded vitality.
“You must be Simon Kessler,” she greeted him with a smile. “I’m Nicole George. Rachel told me about your interest in revitalizing Liv’ing Creations. I’m glad. Your wife was a wonderful designer.”
“Er, thanks.” Simon was faintly annoyed; the problems with Olivia’s studio were his business, not to be shared. But he hadn’t asked for confidentiality and it was natural Rachel would discuss the matter with a colleague. Besides, another opinion could be helpful.
Rachel’s door was ajar and she stepped out. “Hello, Simon. I see you’ve met one of my business partners. Nicole and I have been coming up with a list of new, young designers we know who might be worth exploring.”
“Excellent. Would you like to join us this evening?” he asked Nicole.
“Thanks, but I can’t. My fiancé and I are...uh, having a conference call with our parents about wedding plans.”
Little showed on her face, but Simon could tell it wasn’t something she expected to enjoy. He also noticed Rachel’s wince of sympathy, so figured there was a story behind the planned conversation. Or maybe not. He and Olivia had got married in Las Vegas, but he knew weddings could be stressful at the best of times.
Rachel locked her office and walked with him out to the parking lot. “I used alternate transportation this morning,” she explained. “I assumed you wouldn’t mind taking me back to the Carthage instead of returning here.”
“That’s sensible.”
He opened the door and she slid into the passenger seat.
“Your colleague seems nice,” he commented once he’d pulled out of the parking space.
“She is. I’ve been friends with Nicole, Logan and Adam for years.”
“So you decided to go into business together.”
Rachel shifted in her seat to look at him. “We were ready to make a change. For different reasons, I suppose, though we talked for a long time about starting a talent agency where we could pursue our individual interests.”
“And what are those?”
“While we all have clients, Adam edits the blog and is making plans for developing a literary division for the agency. Nicole’s specialty is teen talent, not only models, but actors and singers...that sort of thing. She recently placed a talented singer in a movie being shot up in Vancouver. Logan plans to work with both models and photographers.”
“How about you?” Simon glanced at her, admiring the way every movement Rachel made seemed graceful and alluring. With difficulty he banished the thought—this meeting was business and had nothing to do with male-female attraction.
“I’m especially interested in clients who don’t fit stereotypes of popular beauty, but have their own unique qualities.”
“Aren’t all advertisers looking for distinctiveness?” he asked, thinking it was ironic that a woman who looked like Rachel, and who was such a classic beauty, wanted to work with clients who were different in some way.
“Yes and no. There’s a tendency for one type to become popular and suddenly everyone wants a version of it. But in recent years there’s been an exploration of talent that’s broader in scope.” She laughed. “I should say a renewed exploration. It’s cyclic, like the antihero in film and television or literature. You go through a period where a certain type is popular, then people start wanting something new.”
It made sense. “Do the unique individuals get the big contracts?”
“Occasionally, though it’s less likely, especially in modeling. People can find it challenging to recognize nontraditional beauty or good looks. But it’s happening.”
“Surely representing that sort of client isn’t the most profitable choice for a talent agency.”
Rachel cocked her head. “Perhaps, but we want to develop talent, whether it fits a certain mold or not. I never had the impression Liv’ing Creations was trying to compete with the huge designers, either. You said yourself that your wife wasn’t interested in becoming a clone of other fashion houses. The same goes for Moonlight Ventures—we don’t want to be a clone of other agencies.”
Simon thought about his father’s scorn at Olivia’s lack of mega-aspirations. She’d laughed about it, unconcerned that her father-in-law had disapproved of her goals. “Liv used to say she wanted to fill a niche in the market, but didn’t care about being the market.”
“I would have liked your wife. It... Well, it must still be hard without her.”
He managed a nod. Most of the time he could think about Olivia without being overwhelmed with pain, but it wasn’t easy. “At least the pain no longer hits like an 18-wheeler the way it did at first.”
Rachel straightened and stared through the windshield; her face seemed sad. “I’m sorry you lost what you had together. You were fortunate to have found someone like that.”
“Thank you.”
Strangely, for all the urging