Page 61 of All the Drama from New York

That would be nice.

Talk soon. Must work

Je t'aime

I love too

Camille turned off her phone and went back to work. As a heavy silence settled over the room, she found it hard to focus on her design. She managed to get knock out a rough sketch of a new dress, but her heart wasn’t really in it.

Concentrating on work while Ryan sat a few feet away was almost impossible. At five o’clock she set down her pencil, and closed her sketch book.

“What are you working on?” she asked.

Ryan’s fingers ceased their merry dance on the keyboard, and he glanced over his shoulder at her. “Putting a schedule together for the runway show. Who needs to be where and at what time. Come and take a look.”

Earlier in the week she’d mentioned they would need to create a timetable, to manage their workload in the weeks before fashion week. Ryan in his super organized way, had taken that suggestion to heart.

Camille rose from the dining table and came to where Ryan sat working on his laptop at the kitchen counter. That first day when she’d panicked over Hope abandoning her was now a distant memory. Fate had decreed she needed more than Hope in her life. She needed Ryan.

He pointed at the workflow and planning app. “I’ve broken the weeks and the days up. You can see the work you will have to complete. The stuff I will need to cover. I have also listed other people’s services we might need, such as a graphic designer, and a photographer. As you come up with your design concept for the actual show, I can add those pieces in, what we need to order, and also manage their costings.”

Her creative soul might have winced at the structure and order which sat on the computer screen, but her stressed out mind took it all in. The actual runway show was for a maximum of thirty minutes. Before that they had to get two hundred guests seated and settled, so that the show could start on time.

Seeing her mental to-do-list laid out so neatly in a day and date format gave Camille a welcomed sense of calm and peace.

“You really do have a logical mind, Ryan.”

“That’s because I don’t have a creative bone in my body,” he snorted.

As she leaned in close, her breasts brushed against his arm. They were hidden beneath several layers of dress and bra, but the light sensation of touching him had Camille’s nipples instantly hardening to pebbles.

Ryan shifted in his chair, breaking the contact. It was only then that Camille realized what she’d done. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to crowd you like that,” she said.

He had kept his distance all afternoon. Perhaps he was having second thoughts about them. And her being so close was making him feel uncomfortable.

Camille took a step back, away from the chair, and pointed at the laptop’s screen. “It’s probably a good time to get in touch with some of the modelling agencies, and check about booking models for the runway show. I know a few girls who I think would work well with my clothes. Once they know the sort of models I want, they will be able to fill the rest of the roster.”

“Ok. I’ll get onto that later this evening, or even better first thing tomorrow,” he said, and closed the laptop.

Camille’s heart began to race as Ryan rose from his seat and moved toward her. His six foot four frame towered over her barely five feet six, but she wasn’t intimidated. Instead, she drank in every inch of this enticing male.

Please let him touch me.

“Tell me Camille, how much work have you been able to get done this afternoon? I mean with all that licking of lips and silent undressing of me, I doubt it’s been all that much.”

She had been staring at him. Sneaking a thousand stolen glances. But the only way he could have known she was doing that was if he’d been doing the same. Had been looking at her.

A shy smile crept to her lips. He was gorgeous. And clever. And kind.

I am in so much trouble.

His fingers tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, and he bent and whispered, “It’s a good thing you weren’t pinning muslin to the dressmakers model, because if you had, I’m sure you’d have pricked yourself many times.”

The way he spoke, it was the sort of gentle tease that promised long nights of them sharing secrets, knowing that the other would keep those confidences safe.

“I’m an expert tailor. It’s rare for me to catch myself with a pin.” She settled her hand on his faded t-shirt. “This looks better on you than my brother’s designer shirt did. I think it’s more Ryan.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really? How so?”

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