I’d taken Dylan to a local bistro for lunch after I’d heard that he particularly liked the schnitzel he’d tried in Berlin. I contentedly watched him devour his lunch, and then we returned to the store and studio for the afternoon. Despite all of my assistant designer Maisy’s teasing, I wasn’t able to restrain myself from “checking in” on Dylan again downstairs in the store.
My sales assistants had already told me at lunchtime what a stellar job he’d done all morning. Apparently, the sales were noticeably up with Dylan working the floor too. As I lingered at the bottom of the stairs, watching his tall, muscular form strut across the room, I could well believe it. I was sure that all the female customers would only too gladly receive any attention my handsome mate gave them.
I studied the strong profile of his face, the edge of his jaw, cheekbones, and the slope of his nose. Already, I felt greedy for his attention, and I missed his dark stare on me.
But a customer had just approached him. She wore one of my claret dresses and had another one in hand. “I need a second opinion. I don’t know whether to go for the size 38,” she explained, gesturing to herself, “or the size up.”
“I think the one you’re wearing is perfect,” Dylan said.
He was right, I noted. The bell-capped sleeves kissed the woman’s shoulders perfectly, and the ruffled bodice accentuated her cleavage, narrowing down to highlight her slim waist as the satin skirt flared out around her hourglass figure. My claret dress was a bestseller this season and one of my favorites. So named for its color, the shade of a rich claret making it sensual, while the bell sleeves and flared skirt made it fun and romantic.
The customer smiled alluringly at Dylan, chuckling. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
Dylan shook his head. “I always tell the truth.” The comment brought another smile to the customer’s lips, and she said, “Would you like my number?”