Snapping my resolve into place, I push back from my sewing machine and cross one leg over the other. I watch as Simon’s eyes follow my leg, a slow perusal as he takes me in.
I’m thankful that I always put effort into how I look. No matter if I’m in the store or in the workroom, I like looking put together.
With a white fitted crop top and overalls, it’s simple, yet has Simon taking his fill.
Huh. I guess I’m not the only one intrigued by the other person in this arrangement.
“Looks like you used that dossier of yours.”
“It seems I did.” He quirks a brow at me before turning his gaze around my small studio.
As far as workspaces go, it’s nothing fancy. Female dress forms line the room, all with half-finished pieces from the fall’s new line. A corkboard hangs on the wall facing me with all the ideas I have for the store and my lingerie collection. Spools of fabric and thread cover every spare surface.
“This is where you work?”
“It is.”
“And it’s only you making all this?” He walks over to where I have a top pinned onto the form. I dropped everything to make Gemma’s wedding dress.
I wiggle my fingers in front of him. “I’m good with my hands.”
“Is that so?”
Dropping my elbows on the worktable, I clasp my fingers and place my chin on my hands. “Not sure if that’s something that would be in that little file of yours.”
“You’re quite interested in this dossier, love.”
I give Simon my biggest smile. “Look at you. Calling me love. Already we’re a match made in heaven.”
He laughs, low and deep. It’s a sound I could get used to.
Simon shrugs out of his jacket, dropping it on the love seat I have back here. It’s small, but cozy.
“Tell me why I should go through with this.”
I knew this was coming. Simon has every right to think I’m crazy. First I accuse him of being a paparazzo. Then I pull him into some crazy scheme to be my boyfriend.
“Come with me.” Opening the door to the main shop, I shoo Simon in front of me. The store has long since closed. “This place is my entire life.”
I watch as Simon takes an assessing sweep of the space. Old chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Racks of clothes fill the space. Lingerie from my new collection is on tables in the back near the dressing rooms. Purple oversized chairs sit in front of the black and white striped wallpaper. The store’s sign hangs in the middle of the wall—the perfect focal point.
“Pinstripes & Push-Ups is everything to me. The way people always leave here feeling beautiful. Empowered. I love knowing I did that. It got me through my divorce. I can’t lose it because some people in town don’t deem it an appropriate business for a woman.”
Simon turns, dropping into one of the two chairs. He crosses his legs at his ankles, giving me an assessing stare. “And you think pretending to date is going to make all those people go away?”
“Maybe? I see the looks they give me. It’s like I can’t be an accomplished woman unless I have a man on my arm.”
Simon scoffs. “That’s a bit old-fashioned, isn’t it?”
I give him a fake smile. “That’s what being in a small town gets you.”
“Christ. I can’t imagine that.”
His accent is thick and delicious. I could sit here and listen to it for hours. Why I’m asking the most attractive man I’ve met in ages to do this for me, I don’t know. Maybe I should be rethinking it because of that small fact.
“It’s my reality. And if I have to pretend for a few weeks to make it look like I have my life together, then so be it.”
Simon leans closer. Up close, I can see flecks of gold reflecting in his green eyes. “And what happens when I go back to London?”
