Читать книгу Girl in a Vintage Dress - Nicola Marsh - Страница 10

THE moment Lola stepped into the strategically lit loft she knew she’d made a mistake.

This was so not her scene.

Rake-thin models, slick corporate suits, elite sport stars, the cream of Melbourne’s A-list mingled and schmoozed and air kissed in a scene so reminiscent of her past she froze.

But this party wasn’t the worst of it. Oh, no, the car ride from Dazzle to here with Chase flirting with practised determination had shot her nerves to pieces before she set foot in this place.

Some hotshot party she could handle. It was handling the hotshot himself that had her in a real tizz.

Chase cast a quick concerned glance her way before placing a hand in the small of her back and gently propelling her into the throng, nodding and smiling like a professional but moving all the while, determinedly cutting a path to the other side of the loft where a quiet pocket of low slung leather sofas framed an L-shaped corner.

Grateful for the reprieve while she regrouped her shattered resistance to sexy, smooth, utterly gorgeous guys, she sank onto a sofa.

‘Would you like a drink?’

What she would like was to get the hell out of here and away from him but the thought of her skyrocketing mortgage and dwindling bank account forced her to smile and nod.

‘Sure, a lime soda would be great.’

He saluted. ‘Coming right up.’

He headed for the bar, as trendy and sleek as the loft’s occupants, running the length of one wall. Chase blended with the hip crowd, another gorgeous guy in a designer suit with a winning smile and a trillion dollar bank account. He fitted in while she stood out like a pin curl on a twenty-first century model.

She glanced down at her skirt, at the hint of tulle petticoat peeping out from beneath, loving the fullness it created, the fun flare, the white polka dots stark against an ebony background.

Dresses like this spoke to her. They whispered stories of the beautiful women who’d worn them many decades earlier, of a time when women’s curves were embraced, not ridiculed. Such a special era…and so far removed from the present to be laughable.

Looking around at the stylish women in the crowd, swathed in head to toe clingy black, she doubted they’d ever had to battle bullies at school who’d tormented them over their lunch boxes, count calories under a beauty queen mother’s watchful eye or hide backstage and pretend to be another lackey at a supermodel sister’s catwalk show.

Not that she was jealous exactly but she envied them their carefree ‘togetherness’, as if they knew their place in the world, taking for granted their easy self-assurance.

She’d worked hard for her confidence, worked at it on a daily basis; with every wave of the mascara wand over her naturally pale lashes, with every tuck of her curls, with every slash of her signature Crash Crimson lipstick, she put together an image to the world. An image that showed a confident businesswoman who loved anything vintage, who enhanced her assets and made the most of the curves she’d once hidden.

But sitting here in this trendy loft, surrounded by Melbourne’s A-list, she recognised her confidence was as brittle as her bank balance.

And it was all because of the man striding through the crowd towards her, that roguish smile directed solely at her, unsettling her far more than the hip crowd.

‘Here you go.’

Chase appeared from the left and handed her a drink. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

He studied her face and she quickly schooled it into the bright, bubbly mask she used to greet customers.

‘You were looking mighty pensive when I was grabbing these.’

He’d been watching her? She tried to hide her surprise. In a room of wall to wall revealing outfits and glamorous women he’d been eyeing her?

‘Guess I’ve just revealed my hand,’ he said, his smile rueful as indecision flashed across his face for a second then cleared.

Before she knew what was happening, he’d taken hold of her hand in a firm, warm grip that sent excitement ricocheting through her.

‘I have to tell you, Lola, you fascinate me.’

If she’d been any other girl, a whole host of witty replies would’ve tripped from her lips, making him laugh and easing the awkwardness of the moment.

As it was, she sat there, stunned, hoping her jaw hadn’t dropped as she frantically searched for a suitable response other than, Say it again.

She hated feeling this uncertain, this panicky. It reminded her of being put on the spot countless times in her past when she never had the right reply or frustratingly thought up something witty to say hours later.

Chase made her nervous and she’d spent an eternity battling her anxiety in social situations, honing her confident mask to project an assured image to the world and enhance her business. Sadly, the more attention Chase paid her, the more cracks appeared in that carefully constructed mask.

To her relief, he smoothed over her gauche-ness with a slow, sexy smile that tied her tongue into a thousand more knots.

‘I know you think I’m crazy for saying that after only meeting you earlier today but I’m blunt in business and it tends to spill over into other areas of my life.’

He paused, squeezed her hand gently before lifting it to his lips and brushing a soft kiss across the back of it. ‘You’ll get to know that about me.’

She would?

As her hand tingled with the delicious touch of his lips, she reacted how she always did in a situation like this.