STONE
Twenty-four hours after sending the invitation to Desirae, I receive a response via email.She’s in!I have to admit, it was an impulsive decision when I proposed it to the board, which isn’t normally my style, but something about this woman has me abandoning all of my senses. And when the board member threw down the gauntlet with his threat, it made me even more determined to do things on my terms. I don’t actually have the next step planned out, as I have no idea what a fashion show entails. I should turn this over to my mother, but then I wouldn’t have a reason to see more of the lovely Desirae.
What is this thing with her?Attraction? Infatuation? Curiosity?She’s not the type of woman I usually date, not that I date all that much. The superficial, status-conscious, money-loving women of West Palm do nothing for me. Besides, I’m married to my job; at least that’s what my ex-wife said when she asked for a divorce, so I’ve got no time to seek out a relationship.
But Desirae is like a breath of fresh air. Her passion and confidence are downright sexy, and she appears to be as serious about her career as I am about mine. I think now’s a good time to see for myself the building and business that drive her passion.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m standing outside of the Reilly building, taking in the stately early twentieth-century architecture. The construction is solid, reminiscent of a time when builders took tremendous pride in the quality of their work. Located on Pelican Point’s main street, I can easily imagine what downtown looked like in its heyday, with shopkeepers standing outside their stores, families walking along the sidewalk hand-in-hand, stopping to sample wares and peer into the display windows. The showcases in the storefront of the Reilly building are decorated in a classic style, with dress forms wearing beautiful gowns. Desirae’s designs, I assume. Through the glass door, I can see the shop bustling with activity, as women are browsing through catalogs and magazines, and others are looking at various displays.
The bell above the door jingles, announcing my arrival. Once inside, I inhale a scent that is distinctly feminine, but not overpowering, like a subtle bouquet or perfume. I’m standing, the lone male figure, surrounded by a delicate sort of chaos composed of silk, tulle, sparkles, and lace. The interior of the building is just as charming and classy as the exterior, exuding an unexpected warmth that can’t be found among the glass, steel, and chill of my modern office. Despite being the only guy in the place, I feel comfortable, at home.
The sound of a distinct throaty laugh, which I just know is Desirae’s, drifts toward me from behind a rack of wedding dresses, drawing my attention like a moth to a flame.
As she catches sight of me, she raises a brow, which appears to be her trademark expression, and calls out. “I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”
She turns back to her client, and I can’t help but stare, drawn by her natural ability to make the woman feel at ease.
After she finishes up with the customer, she steps over to me.
“What brings you to Pelican Point?”
“I figure you’ve seen me in my domain, so it’s time I saw yours.”
She lifts a chin, in silent challenge. “So, we’re on my turf now. Seriously, why are you here? Wouldn’t an email or phone call suffice?”
There’s an edge to her voice, not rude exactly, just wary.
“You don’t trust me, do you?”
“Mr. Anginelli, I don’t know you.”
“Please. Call me Stone.”
She lets out a huff. “Stone. I don’t know you well enough to know whether I can trust you or not. The only reason I agreed to your proposal is because it will be good for the town. Hopefully you’ll get to know Pelican Point better, and perhaps see why erasing our history is not a good idea.”
Her brutal honesty is something I’m not used to hearing from a woman. Frankly, it’s a turn-on.
“Touché.”Challenge accepted. “Perhaps if you share with me your ideas for the event, it will help me understand.”
“Follow me.”
She leads me down a hallway to a room that appears to be a combination office and war room. Except, instead of war plans and strategies, there are swaths of fabric everywhere, and drawings of dresses tacked up on the walls. A large whiteboard already has notes scribbled about the event. She motions for me to sit at a small conference table, then gestures at the board.
“As you can see, I’ve already started planning. My friend Joselyn Vargas is the marketing and events coordinator for the Celtic Knot winery, a local, family-owned business. She’s offered the use of their events barn for the show, and will be working with me.”
I ignore the subtle underlying message:I don’t need your help. “Celtic Knot. I’ve had some of their wines. That sounds like a fantastic venue. I’m happy to cover the rental fee for the use of the space.”
She rolls her eyes at me as if I’ve said something to offend her. Apparently, every time I open my mouth, I insert my foot.
“That won’t be necessary. The winery understands this event is for the benefit of the citizens of Pelican Point. That’s what we do here—take care of each other. They want to do their part to help raise as much money as possible.”
“Understood.” She must think I’m the biggest asshole ever.
“Joselyn will handle the logistics, while I will befocused on the creative aspect of the show. If you’ve looked into my background and my business”— she pauses, as if expecting me to admit I googled the hell out of her—“then no doubt you’ve learned that my passion is making all women look beautiful. I’ll be showcasing various designs, as well as putting together some new ones, and I’ll be using locals to wear my designs, not professional models.”
She then gives me a look as if she assumes I would know what a professional model looks like. Another unspoken insult. But all I can focus on right now is her. As she speaks, I’m mesmerized. Her eyes light up and sparkle like diamonds when she talks about her designs and her vision for an inclusive runway.
I don’t even notice the time as she goes over some of the drawings with me, then spontaneously begins sketching out new designs as ideas flow. After ignoring the vibration of my phone from several instances of incoming calls and texts, I finally look at it, realizing I’ve missed several calls from Kyle and my assistant, and I missed two meetings. For some reason, I’m not even bothered by that. I’m content to just sit here and watch Desirae sketch designs, her creative energy both fascinating and unsettling to my typically well-planned and structured world.
