CHAPTER SIX
PEDRO had sent Sarah a half a dozen texts before she even got out the door, warning her that Karl was on the warpath about the Frederick K shoes, wondering where they were and if both they and Sarah had skipped town. “He sez U better B in the Witness Protection program or B dead,” Pedro texted. “Did U find Prince Charming yet?”
Oh, she’d found a prince all right. The prince at the head of LL Designs. And he was definitely charming. But as for being the right prince for this Cinderella—
All she wanted from him was the shoe, not the ride into the sunset on the back of a white stallion.
Except her hormones didn’t seem to be getting the message. After Caleb had left the night before, Sarah had lain awake for hours, replaying those moments in the kitchen. What if he had kissed her? What would she have done?
Pushed him away—or drawn him closer still?
“You can go in now.”
Sarah jerked to attention. “Oh. Thank you.”
The gray-haired woman at the assistant’s desk nodded and went back to typing entries into the scheduling program open on her computer. Clearly, she was Caleb’s assistant and chief guard dog, judging by the way she’d fended off employees stopping by and the unending phone calls.
Sarah squared her shoulders, then strode into Caleb’s office. Regardless of yesterday, and that moment of weakness in her kitchen, she refused to let him affect her today. She was here for business reasons. Nothing else.
He stood by the window, his tall, lean frame silhouetted by the bright sun. A stunning view of the city painted in the spaces around Caleb, but Sarah’s gaze remained on the man. He had a tension to his stance. A set to his jaw. And when he turned to face her, she saw a flicker of melancholy in his blue gaze.
She opened her mouth, about to ask what was wrong, then shut it again.
How did she know for sure he wasn’t just using her, like so many others she had met, to drum up publicity? What if his interest was merely a guise? How many heartbreaks had she witnessed, just by covering the incestuous revolving world of fashion? Models dumped for aspiring actresses, aging CEOs trading in wives for girls barely out of college.
Starry-eyed reporters left in the dust by narcissistic designers who used the people around them for PR. She had to be honest with herself. She wasn’t a model. She wasn’t devastatingly beautiful. She was just Sarah. An ordinary girl with ordinary looks and an ordinary job. Nothing glamorous in this package, nothing like the kind of woman she normally saw on Caleb’s arm. And that meant there was a distinct possibility that was all Caleb wanted, even though a part of her wanted to believe otherwise. Wanted to read more into that moment by a sudsy sink.
“Sarah.” A smile curved across Caleb’s face, and every protest in Sarah’s mind flitted away.
His smile was intoxicating.
“I realize you probably have a busy day ahead of you,” Sarah said, reminding herself to focus, “so I won’t take up too much of your time. In fact, I think I have about everything I need for my article, so if you have—”
“It’s fine. I was looking forward to your visit today.” He gestured toward the visitor chair across from his desk. He slipped in behind the massive cherry piece, then pulled open a drawer. “I believe this is yours.” He set the Frederick K stiletto before her.
She’d brought the mate from home, intending to go to the office as soon as she left LL Designs. Sarah wrangled the left one from her purse, then sat it beside the right. It seemed as if both shoes brightened once they were paired again. Alone, one shoe had been pretty. Interesting. But together, the two together screamed sexiness, allure. Sarah reached out and ran a finger down the slim T-strap, her fingers skipping over the delicate stitching, the gold buckle ornamentation at the crux of the T. She skimmed over the arch, then down the heel. She’d seen hundreds of pairs of shoes in her years at the fashion magazine, but these ones seemed to embody the woman she wished she’d had a chance to be.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” she said.
“They are. Frederick K might not be the kind of guy I’d want to share a beer with, but I have to admit he is brilliant at his job.”
“It’s like he read my mind and produced the perfect shoe. Exactly what I was dreaming of buying.” She’d spent her life being practical, being the responsible one. She worked, she took care of her family and she worried. Stilettos didn’t fit in that equation.
“Then why aren’t you wearing yours?”
“What are you talking about? These ones aren’t even for sale.”
“I saw the shoes at your apartment yesterday.”
The closet door, the one in the hall by the cabinet where Caleb had put away the serving dish. She’d forgotten that it had been ajar. She rarely closed it, because she rarely had company. “You saw my collection.”
“Gathering dust, I assume.”
“I just don’t get occasions to wear them.”
“Why not?” Caleb leaned over his desk, and with the movement, she caught the notes of his cologne. The subtle woodsy scent, chased by spice.
“It’s complicated.” She sighed. “I’m…practical. I buy those shoes on impulse, but I never wear them. They don’t fit into my world.”
“You work in the fashion industry—doesn’t wearing high heels go along with the job description?”
“Aren’t you quite the question man today? Why are you suddenly so interested in my footwear selection?”
Caleb wove his hands together and put them on the desk. “Let’s call it research.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him a hundred percent, but decided to play along anyway. After all, he’d been answering her questions all week. The least she could do is answer a few of his. “All my life, I’ve done the responsible thing. Paid my bills on time, balanced my checkbook, put in the hours at work. And yes, every once in a while, I go a little crazy and buy a pair of shoes like this, but Lord only knows why, because…” She hesitated, then finished the sentence. “…I don’t have any place to wear them.”
There. The truth was out. Sarah Griffin had the social life of a turtle. The only time she went to a hot, hip spot, it was to work. Not on a date, not out with friends.
“Well then, we’ll just have to do something about that, won’t we?” Caleb said.
Sarah couldn’t read the look on his face. Was he asking her out? Or merely making a comment? “I’m not so sure it would be a good idea for the gossip reporter to be seen out on the town with the subject of her gossip column.”
“Except you aren’t writing that column right this second, since you’re doing the articles instead. So it’s not really a conflict of interest, is it?”
He had a point. Still…going out with Caleb Lewis would only bring them closer together, and given the way her thoughts refused to leave the kiss-me-now path, that probably wouldn’t be a good idea. She glanced again at the Frederick Ks. “These shoes are the epitome of impractical. They’re like the poster shoes for reckless living.”
“True,” Caleb said. “Either way, they’d look amazing on you.”
Sarah jerked her hand away from the stilettos. “Oh, I can’t wear these. I’m supposed to be writing about them, not putting them on.”
“What size are you?”
“Seven, but—”
“That’s what these are.” Caleb nudged the shoes closer to her. “Try them on.”
“Oh, no, I shouldn’t—”
“You should.” He grinned, and in that moment, she couldn’t tell which was more tempting—the forbidden shoes or the forbidden man. “Indulge, Sarah.”
For a second, she wondered about indulging in Caleb Lewis. In his lips, his touch, letting herself fall into the deep tones of his voice. Finish what they had started in her kitchen last night, fulfill the fantasies that had filled her dreams after she’d gone to bed. Because something had definitely started by her sink yesterday—and ended much too quickly. “In-indulge?”
He rose, and came around his desk, then picked up one of the shoes and dropped to the space beside her chair. “Shall I?”
With him right there, his smile cemented on his face, and his blue gaze locked on hers, anything other than assent seemed impossible. She put out her foot, and nodded. “Please do.”
Who was this woman? Sarah Griffin didn’t get swept up by charming men. Sarah Griffin didn’t live life as Cinderella. Sarah Griffin was practical, resolved and focused.
But that Sarah Griffin seemed a hundred miles away as Caleb reached over, slid off the sensible black boots that were her everyday shoes, and replaced them with the Frederick K stilettos. His hand brushed against her instep, and a shiver chased through her.
Oh, this was bad. So bad. Not just wearing the shoes but the way she reacted to him, her hormones clamoring for more. More touches, more smiles and just…more in general.
“Beautiful, like I said.” Caleb rocked back on his heels and gestured at her feet.
Sarah glanced down and saw the same feet she’d had her entire life, but transformed somehow into sleek, elegant, sexy appendages. The shoes’ soft leather caressed her skin, begged to be worn, walked in. Suddenly everything about her that had felt dowdy this morning—the jeans, the sweater, her hair down and unadorned—seemed to disappear, as if she hadn’t just changed her shoes, but had also changed every ounce of her appearance. She felt beautiful. Desirable. Confident. Sarah rose and before she could think about the wisdom of what she was about to do—
She walked across the room. Goodness, she even carried herself differently. Her hips held a sway they never had before and her chest seemed to thrust forward on its own. “It’s like walking on clouds. Really, really high clouds.”
Caleb chuckled. Then he crossed to her. “That’s the look I want to see.”
Her breath caught. “You do?”
He nodded, and his smile seemed to hold her captive. “Perfect.”
“Thank you.” The words escaped her on a breath. What were they talking about? And did she really care anyway?
Caleb caught her jaw in his palm and cradled her gently. His thumb traced the corner of her smile. The added height of the shoes brought her gaze even with his blue one, and brought her mouth right to his. “Sarah…”
Her name was a whisper between them, and for the first time in her life, Sarah realized the intoxicating power of having a man’s full attention on her. She’d dated, yes, but always in a sort of distracted way, with her mind back on the millions of things waiting for her at home. The people who counted on her, who needed her. Never had she had the freedom, the luxury, to just enjoy a man’s attention.
Her body swayed, and the distance between them closed from inches to centimeters. Sarah’s gaze dropped to Caleb’s lips. Desire surged inside her.
Kiss me.
The need for his touch arced in her body. She was a hundred times more aware of him than she ever had been before. Aware of every beat of her heart, every breath that escaped her. Was it the shoes? Was it the way they had made her aware of herself as a woman?
She didn’t care. She wanted him. Now.
Instead of waiting for Caleb, this new Sarah, the one who had been emboldened by a pair of sexy shoes and simply couldn’t stay in the shadows anymore, leaned in toward him, and brushed her lips against his. His eyes widened in surprise, but then he cupped her head, and drew her in even more. His lips drifted over hers, but she didn’t want a simple, quiet kiss.
She wanted more.
She wanted it all.
She grabbed his back and pressed him to her, then opened her mouth against his. Her tongue danced across his lips, and when he opened and yielded to the touch, she tasted him, teasing his tongue with hers.
Caleb groaned, heat exploding between them as the kiss deepened. He didn’t just kiss her—he captured her mouth with a magic that set off fireworks inside her, that awakened parts of her body she hadn’t even been aware were slumbering. She moved closer to him, the hard solidness of his chest meeting her soft curves with a protective strength. Her hands roamed up and down his back, slipping over the muscles rippling beneath the cotton fabric of his shirt.
He pulled back, but didn’t release her. Her heart kept on racing, as if it were an engine that refused to slow. “Well,” Caleb said, his grin extending to his eyes. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Neither did I.”
What had she been thinking?
She hadn’t been, that was clear. But right now, she didn’t care. She moved closer again, hoping to pick up where they’d left off. Finish that kiss and begin another, for one.
“I, uh, was going to say that your reaction to wearing those shoes was exactly the kind of reaction I want to see in the faces of the women who wear LL Designs.” Caleb’s words poured an ice bath on her senses. She stepped back, the desire that had been a fire in her earlier cooling. “But, ah, then you took it a step further than I was picturing.”
Oh, damn. He’d been talking business, and she’d thought he was talking attraction. What a fool she had been. All along this had been about business, not a relationship.
Sarah stumbled back, nearly toppling in the five-inch heels. What a fool she had been. What a colossal mistake she’d made. “I’m sorry. I should have…” She couldn’t find words to explain what had just happened. All she wanted to do was get out of there.
She didn’t care about the article. Didn’t care about the deal she’d made with Caleb Lewis. She turned, grabbed her purse from the floor, and ran out of his office before she could be tempted any further.
Caleb was halfway out of his office when he stopped himself. He should let her go. He had no business getting involved with Sarah Griffin. Or anyone, for that matter.
But particularly not with a woman like Sarah. She wasn’t one of the flighty models who pursued him as though he was the lone chocolate bar at an all-vegetable buffet. She wasn’t one of the hundreds of women he’d met who were interested only in what he could do for their careers.
No, Sarah Griffin was a strong, independent woman. One who offered the kind of challenge that intrigued Caleb, drew him in like a spider to a fly. Made him want to touch her, kiss her, talk to her.
And she was also the woman who held the power in her hands to completely destroy his reputation and by extension, that of LL Designs. He needed to keep that in mind rather than allowing himself to get lost in those green eyes and that sassy mouth. A mouth that had tasted like honey. Felt like satin beneath his.
Damn. Already he wanted her again. Wanted to see where that kiss would have led if he hadn’t tried to be a gentleman. Not that he’d been so smooth about that, what with his idiotic comment about how he wanted his customers to react to his shoe line.
Moron.
All he’d been thinking about was bringing the heat between them to a halt before things got out of hand.
Out of hand—
With Sarah Griffin, Caleb suspected that would be an adventure to remember.
“What the hell just happened?” Martha waved toward the elevator doors. “I’ve never seen a woman leave your office that fast before.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Sorry, boss.” Martha spun in her chair until she was facing him. Over the year that Caleb had been in charge of the company, his mother’s former assistant had gone from being a right-hand help to being a mentor of sorts. She bridged the old world and the new, and had no compunctions about telling him where he was going wrong. “So what was her problem with you anyway?”
“I kissed her,” Caleb said.
“You…you kissed Sarah Griffin?” Martha’s jaw dropped. “Why?”
Caleb chuckled. “Well, I think the why is obvious. She’s an intriguing, beautiful woman. And technically…she kissed me first.”
“She kissed you?” Disbelief tinted every word. “You?”
“Am I that much of an ogre?”
Martha laughed. “No, not at all. Just…I thought she hated you.”
“I did, too.” But in the last couple of days that they had been together, Caleb had realized that the layers of his relationship with Sarah Griffin, if one could call their interactions a relationship, were complicated. She wasn’t the evil gossip writer he’d painted her to be. She wasn’t vindictive or cruel.
She was honest.
And if he sat back and looked at those articles, ignoring the exclamation points and the oversized headlines, he knew he’d get a story about his life. One he didn’t want to read.
“I need to get back to work,” he said.
Martha wagged a finger at him. “No. You need to go talk to that girl.”
“Are you kidding me? She’s probably back at her office, writing up two pages on how the lonely CEO seduced her.”
Martha laughed. “You said she kissed you. I’d say those tables were turned.”
And they had been—in a way that had surprised, and, yes, delighted him. He’d never expected take-no-guff Sarah Griffin to make the first move. “True. Still, it’s better if I stick to work. The company—”
“Won’t go bankrupt in the next hour. Haven’t you ever heard the old adage?”
“What adage is that?”
“If the CEO ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. And you, Caleb, aren’t happy. At all.” Her face softened. “You haven’t been in a long, long time.”
“I don’t need to date a reporter to be happy.” Especially not that one. If he got involved with Sarah, he’d be mixing business and pleasure, and that could only lead to disaster.
Who was he kidding? He was already involved. More than he wanted to be, more than he’d imagined being. And yet he couldn’t seem to untangle himself from the web with Sarah Griffin.
Martha shook her head. “I disagree. That woman could be the one.”
“No matter how intriguing she is, she’s still the gossip reporter at the magazine.”
“True. Though I think that kiss is a sign that you’re changing her mind about the kind of man she thinks you are.” Martha leaned forward, and her kind light-blue eyes met his. “I already know the truth, and I think it’s about time the world does, too.”
Caleb scowled. “I don’t need to splash my private life onto the pages of a fashion magazine.”
“Oh, Caleb,” Martha said, sympathy coating her tone, “what makes you think the media would be such a harsh judge?”
Because he had already judged and convicted himself of his actions in his mind. Guilty of abandonment. Guilty of being too consumed by his own life to be there when he was needed most.
If only he’d come in earlier that day. If only he’d been more of a partner to his mother, as she’d asked. He would have been there in her office when the stroke hit early that Tuesday morning, and he would have called the ambulance within that golden hour.
Instead, she’d waited. Suffering. Caleb completely unaware of what was happening just a few blocks away. Out for brunch with a date instead of sitting on the other side of his mother’s desk.
All he’d done ever since was try to make it up to her. Try to prove that he did care, that she could trust him with her company. Thus far, he’d done a lousy job.
Martha was the only one who knew the truth about the decisions he had made and the ones he had yet to make. Why she still sang his praises, Caleb didn’t know, but he suspected half of it was her unswerving loyalty to Lenora, the company and, under that same umbrella, himself.
Martha spun back toward her desk. “I didn’t say you had to splash your private life all over the magazine,” she said. “But it would be nice if you got honest with the press. And with yourself. Maybe once you do, you’ll find some peace.”
Peace. That didn’t exist for him. Maybe never would.
“I’m fine.” But even as he said the words, he knew they were a lie. And knew Martha was right. He had been floundering at the head of this company for months, searching for the solutions that would turn it around, and he had yet to find them. Martha would tell him it was because he had yet to straighten out the mess of his personal life, so how could he expect to tame the corporate one?
“You want to know what made your mother so successful?” Martha asked as she typed away on her keyboard.
“She knew what she was doing.”
Martha laughed. “No. She didn’t. I was here with her from day one, and she was as lost as a puppy on a cat farm. She made a million mistakes. But what she did that made her succeed was put her heart into this company. Into every design she created. That showed, and that’s what customers responded to. And she wasn’t afraid to ask other people for help once in a while.”
“Martha, I’m putting everything I have into LL Designs.”
“Everything but your heart.”
Caleb shook his head, and his gaze went back to his mother’s portrait on the far wall. “That’s the one thing I can’t afford to put into this company.”
“Where the hell have you been?” Karl stood over Sarah’s desk, arms crossed over his chest, face an angry mask. “And why the hell are you wearing the exclusive, one-of-a-kind, not-supposed-to-be-seen-by-the-public Frederick K shoes?”
“I have a great explanation,” Sarah said. Across the cubicle, Pedro raised an eyebrow in disagreement.
“And that is?”
Sarah scrambled for something to tell her boss. Something that wouldn’t make him explode. “Remember how you told me I could write a story on the shoes?” she said, rising out of her seat to make her point. “Well, I thought I could work on it at home—” A partial lie. “—so I took them home the other day. And, uh, my sister accidentally threw one out the window.”
“Your sister accidentally threw a Frederick K stiletto out the window?” Karl’s brows peaked in twin triangles. “Did she mistake it for bird food?”
“It all worked out, though, because someone found the shoe.”
“Don’t tell me. Cinderella? One of the seven dwarves?”
“Caleb Lewis.”
The name hung in the air for a long time. Karl’s scowl dropped off his face, and then a predatory smile darted across his lean, sharp features. “Oh, really? Well, isn’t that interesting?”
She could see Karl formulating the headlines in his mind already. Undoubtedly, every mental word was geared toward shedding the worst possible light on Caleb Lewis—the one that also sold the most issues. “And as soon as I found out, I retrieved the shoe.” She left off everything that had happened in between. And certainly didn’t talk about the kiss they had shared this afternoon.
That insane, heady, amazing kiss.
One she’d been unable to forget—and unable to come to terms with. What had she been thinking?
She hadn’t been. She’d let the shoes overpower her common sense. That was all. Nothing more.
Uh-huh. Then why was she still thinking about kissing Caleb Lewis? And wishing that kiss had never ended?
Karl pointed at her feet. “None of that explains why you are wearing them now.”
She’d forgotten her regular shoes back in Caleb’s office but telling Karl that meant explaining everything that had happened between her and Caleb. She’d run out of there so fast, she hadn’t realized that she was still wearing the designer stilettos. “I, uh, wanted to write an article on how the shoes make a woman feel. How they can transform her personality.”
Karl opened his mouth as if he was going to scream at her. Then he thought a second, and nodded twice. “I like that idea. It’s different.”
“Good.” Sarah hoped her voice didn’t betray her relief that Karl had agreed with her.
“And you…you’re a good candidate for that kind of transformation thing.”
“Because I’m not a supermodel?”
“Because you’re a regular woman.” He gave her shoulder a pat. “The kind a guy could have a beer with.”
Wow. Rousing endorsement for her femininity. If anything could make her feel less like a supermodel, that was it. Except, with the shoes on her feet, Sarah realized Karl’s words didn’t pack any ego punch. “Gee, thanks, Karl.”
“Run with that idea, then come talk to me. Might make a good feature,” Karl said, and started to leave.
He hadn’t promised her the article. She hadn’t moved any further away from the gossip pages nor any closer to the main section of the magazine. She could see her best opportunity for the career she wanted stepping away the farther away Karl got. If he wasn’t going to let her run with the shoes idea, then she’d just have to hit him with another one until he said yes. “I also wanted to do a piece on Caleb Lewis and LL Designs. In fact, I’ve been working on it all week while you’ve been out. He’s really doing some amazing things over there.”
“That man is practically a one-person gossip machine.” Karl turned back, chuckling. “What’s our favorite playboy up to now?”
Kissing the reporter who ruined his reputation? Turning my world inside-out and my thoughts into a revolving door of his mouth on mine?
“I meant a serious piece. One that would go into Smart Fashion, not the tabloid,” Sarah said. “Caleb is taking the company in new directions and really revitalizing it. Readers love that kind of climb-back-to-success story.”
Karl chewed on his lower lip. “Maybe. What I’d like is the scoop on Lenora. Where is she while her company is in trouble? Living it up in the South of France? That’s the story we should be doing. Just credit some vague ‘source,’ or ‘close friend’ saying she’s partying like a rock star while her son runs the company into the ground.”
Sarah forced herself not to roll her eyes at her boss’s insensitivity. “The real story is what Caleb’s doing with the company this year, Karl,” she said. “He’s got some fabulous ideas for a new shoe line and—”
“Fine. I’ll get Laura on it.”
Laura. The magazine’s main features writer, who covered virtually everything in the fashion industry. And whose job Sarah had wanted for years. “Karl, I want to write it.”
“You?” His gaze roamed over her. Assessing. Calculating. He rubbed his jaw. “All right. I’ll let you have this one. But you screw it up—”
“No. I want more. I want both stories.” A new kind of strength rose inside her. Not just because of the shoes, but because in the last few days, she’d found a new confidence in herself. In the job she knew she could do with these articles. “I want to do the one on the shoes, too. And after I prove myself to you with these—and I will—I want to be transferred to the main magazine.”
“Moxie. I like that.” Karl nodded. “You got it, Sarah. But you better do a damned good job, because our fall issue is our biggest seller. The last thing I need is crap on the pages.”
“You can count on me.”
As Karl walked away, Pedro sent Sarah a thumbs-up and a whispered, “You go, girl.” The thrill of victory peaked inside her. She’d done it. Now all she had to do was live up to everyone’s expectations—
And hope that kissing Caleb Lewis hadn’t made him change his mind about working with her.