The Best of All. Vanessa Miller. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Vanessa Miller
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия: Mills & Boon Kimani
Жанр произведения: Короткие любовные романы
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781472013286
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like a man who’d just been knighted. In Ian’s wildest imagination he never would have thought that he’d get a chance to work on a presidential campaign this soon. Ian thought he’d have to continue proving himself through the Senate and gubernatorial elections. But now that this awesome opportunity has presented itself, Ian was going to ride it until the wheels fell off. Or better yet, he’d ride it all the way to a White House victory.

      He rounded the corner, getting ready to greet his office manager, when out of the corner of his eye he spotted someone seated on the brown leather couch in the waiting area. Ian took a step back, peeked into the room and was caught off guard by the vision of loveliness before him.

      He’d asked this woman out twice in the short time he’d known her. She’d never given him an answer, or even called him back for that matter. Ian had wracked his brain six ways from Sunday trying to figure out if he’d said or done anything to offend her. Maybe he’d drooled a bit too much when he was first introduced to her at Noel’s wedding. But he couldn’t help himself. She was an exotic beauty. Even this morning, with the way that white dress clung to her creamy cocoa-brown skin and her hazel eyes danced as she looked his way, he nearly stuttered as he said, “Surry, what are you doing here?”

      Surry stood and sauntered over to him.

      Ian wondered if Surry knew how seductive her movements were as she strutted toward him in a dress that accentuated her hourglass frame.

      “I was hoping that you would be able to speak with me this morning. I need your help.”

      Her voice was as sultry as her image was exotic. She reminded him of one of those island beauties he’d seen on those “come to the beach” commercials, enticing folks to vacation in the Bahamas, Jamaica or some other place made for running barefoot in the sand. “Um, I think we should go to my office—” he pointed to the door across the hall “—so we can continue this conversation in private.”

      “Thanks. I appreciate that you would make time for me.”

      He’d like to do a lot more than make time for this woman. But so far, she hadn’t been willing to give him the time of day. So, he was intrigued by this visit. Maybe he’d actually get that date before leaving for Charlotte.

      Chapter 2

      Things didn’t seem so cut-and-dried anymore. Yes, Surry needed help, especially since some blogger interviewed John Michael and allowed the man to spill his lying guts to anyone with an internet connection. Her phone was ringing off the hook this morning with reporters asking her about John Michael’s allegations. So, yeah, she needed help. But she didn’t want to take advantage of Ian or get herself involved in something she couldn’t easily get out of.

      Crossing her legs to get comfortable on the sofa in Ian’s office, she watched as he took his jacket off and slipped it around his high-backed chair. The man was a dream in motion. He was much lighter in complexion than any of the men she normally dated. The waviness of his hair also indicated to her that his parents were not of the same ethnic group. If she had to guess, she’d say one of his parents was white and the other black.

      But none of that mattered to Surry. She was here in a strictly professional manner. She tried to turn her head away from the vision in front of her, because she truthfully couldn’t care less that with his jacket off she could see that the man had biceps, triceps, muscular pecs and... Watch yourself, she admonished herself.

      “Do you have some water? My mouth is a little dry,” Surry said while scratching her throat and then coughing. It was getting hot in here. Surry felt like unbuttoning her top to get a little air, but decided against that.

      “Sure.” Ian opened the small fridge he kept in his office and pulled out an assortment of iced tea, Coke, root beer and a simple Pure Life water bottle. “Do you need anything else?”

      “I’ll just take the water.”

      Ian handed it to her, held back the iced tea for himself and then put the other bottles back in the fridge. “So, how’s business at the new boutique?”

      “How did you know I opened my boutique?” She hated the suspicious tone of her voice, but these days she didn’t know whom she could trust. She prayed that Ian would be in her corner.

      “Noel told me.” He put down his drink and said, “I haven’t been checking up on you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

      Shaking her head, Surry waved the notion away. “I’m sorry about the way I sounded just now. I guess I’ve just become a little paranoid during these past few weeks. I’ve got too much going on.”

      He sat down on the sofa next to her, giving her his full attention. “Want to tell me about it?”

      “Where do I begin?” Surry was at her wits’ end. The expansion deal for her clothing line was about to blow up in her face. No one would want to carry Designs from the Motherland if they thought she stole any of her designs. She’d be forever branded a fraud, and what customer in her right mind would want to wear the designs of a fraud?

      “I know you’re busy, so I don’t want to waste your time by beating around the bush.” Surry turned toward him and continued, “I was just about to sign a contract to have two very high-end chain retail stores carry my designs. In anticipation of this contract, I put all of my earnings into increasing production of my designs. Since John Michael started shooting his mouth off, the contract has been put on hold. And to tell you the truth, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

      “What kind of claims?”

      “He says that the designs for my spring and summer collection were stolen from him.”

      “Did you and he work on designs together?”

      “Never! I don’t like John Michael’s designs, but we worked a few fashion shows together and split the cost of both rentals at two expos about seven years ago. But since then I haven’t collaborated with him or anyone else. To tell you the truth, I much prefer to work on my own.”

      “A loner, huh?”

      She didn’t like the way he said “loner.” He made it sound as if there was something wrong with a girl needing her space and preferring to work alone. But Surry saw nothing wrong with her choices. Besides her girls, Danetta and Ryla, Surry didn’t hang out with anyone. She had a business to run and that required most, if not all of her time. But that didn’t make her a loner, did it? She shrugged, “Okay, yeah, I like being alone. I do my best designs that way. No television, no music...just me and the chirping of the crickets.”

      “That must be how you creative types like to do your work. Me, I’d go crazy if I didn’t have my iPod or my radio going most of the time. I love music and it helps me think.”

      “To each his own, I guess.”

      “Yeah, I guess so,” Ian said, and then silence fell. After a few moments, he rubbed his hands together. “So, how can I help you?”

      “Ryla says that you’re a good guy and the best when it comes to handling image problems.”

      “Ryla said that, huh?” There was a slight smile on his face, as if he wanted to break out into a laugh from things he knew, but wouldn’t say.

      “She sure did. So, after John Michael did this blog interview—” she handed him the interview that she’d printed off the internet “—and then his lies got reported in the paper this morning, I rushed over here, hoping that you could help me. I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before. So I didn’t know what else to do.”

      * * *

      Was he hearing her right? She hadn’t bothered to respond to his offer of dinner, and she was in his office at this moment only because she needed an image makeover? He stood, read the blog that she handed him and then turned back to her. “This guy obviously has a problem with the success you’ve had with your line of clothing. But I’m not sure how I can help you.”

      Flipping