Season for Love. Velvet Carter
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everything there is to know about fabrics.”
Lark nodded her head. She liked what she was hearing so far. “Why didn’t you stay on at your family’s company? Sounds like that business is in your blood.”
“It is, but I’m a designer at heart. After my extended holiday, I came back to New York to continue my design career. Much like Mr. Lauren and Mr. Marc, I plan to make my own mark in this industry.”
Lark immediately flashed back to her argument with Sebastian. Although she wanted a talented designer on her team, she wasn’t about to hire another person who undervalued her talent. “Mr. Migilio, let me be clear from the start. As the creative director, I work closely with the lead designer. Although I’m the chief operating officer of Randolph on the Runway, I have a degree from FIT, and I design, as well.”
“That’s awesome,” he said, flashing his one-hundred-watt smile again. “As far as I’m concerned, the bottom line should be what designs will catapult RR ahead of the rest and make our company the best in the business.”
Our company? He’s thinking like a team player. I like that. Lark nodded her head again. “I totally agree. Can I see your portfolio?”
“Sure.” Dash reached into his leather messenger bag, retrieved a silver tablet, powered it up and handed the device to Lark.
Lark began swiping through pictures of his designs. His work was indeed impressive and unique. He had a keen eye for detail. There were pictures of women’s clothing, menswear and even accessories. The more she saw, the more she wanted to see. Dash was talented beyond belief. His work was a cross between Gianni Versace and Valentino—classy with an edge.
Lark swiped her finger across the screen once more, and this time, instead of seeing another one of his unique creations, staring back at her was a picture of Dash in aqua-blue swim trunks, lying on a beach next to a pretty blonde woman in a skimpy red bikini. Lark didn’t say a word. She stared at the picture, her eyes roaming over Dash’s manly chest and well-defined abs. Lark could feel herself heating up as she admired his half-nude body.
“So...do you like what you see?” Dash asked.
“I sure do.” Lark smiled. She swiped past his personal picture, turned off the tablet and handed it back to him. “I’d like to offer you the position of lead designer.”
“That’s great! I’m eager to start as soon as possible.”
“I like your enthusiasm. However, the offer is contingent upon a thorough background check. If your references come back positive, then the position is yours.”
“No worries there. I left on good terms with all of my former employers.”
“That’s good to hear. Angelica will take you to the human-resources department so you can fill out the necessary paperwork.”
Dash stood up. “I look forward to working with you, Ms. Randolph.”
“And I with you. Please call me Lark.”
After Angelica and Dash left the conference room, Lark went over to the window and stared out. “I hope offering him the position isn’t a mistake,” she said underneath her breath.
Lark had reservations about working with someone she was physically attracted to. She thought about calling down to HR and rescinding her offer of employment. Lark pondered the situation for a moment instead of making a rash decision. There was no denying that Dash’s talent would benefit the company, and with the new spring/summer line going into development, RR desperately needed a top designer. Besides, he was at least ten years her junior and Lark had never dated a younger man. She preferred her men to be more seasoned. And thinking back on the photo she’d seen on his tablet, he was probably in a relationship with the blonde in the picture.
Lark took a deep breath. Hiring Dash was right for the company, and with her personal life on hold for the moment, work had taken precedence once again.
Dash was meeting Vance Shelton, his best friend and attorney, for a drink at the Monkey Bar, one of Manhattan’s renowned bar-restaurants. Dash had completed the preliminary paperwork at Randolph on the Runway earlier that day, but he wanted his attorney to read over the contract before he signed it.
Dash arrived first and settled in at the bar, which was full of businessmen and -women, as well as wealthy older gentlemen vying for the attention of younger beauties. Dash drank his Manhattan and eavesdropped on the conversation unfolding next to him.
A silver-haired gentleman dressed sharply in black gabardine slacks and a baby-blue tailored shirt was trying to entice a buxom redhead, wearing a skimpy hot-pink dress and matching spike heels, who was perched on the stool near him.
“So...have you ever cruised on a yacht in the Mediterranean?” the silver fox asked.
“No, but I’ve slept on several water beds here in Manhattan,” she replied, sipping her wine.
What the hell does a water bed have to do with a yacht? Dash thought as he listened.
“Well, I’ve got one of those on my yacht,” the man said, resting his hand on her bare thigh.
Dash watched as the man ran his hand up the woman’s leg and under the hem of her dress. She did not protest.
“Your glass is almost empty.” The older man motioned for the bartender and then asked him, “What is she drinking?”
“Chardonnay,” the bartender responded.
“Enough wine. Bring us a bottle of Dom.”
“Oh, champagne! I love champagne! The bubbles tickle my nose,” the woman said, giggling.
He’s going to ply her with liquor, pop a little blue pill and then show her his water bed, Dash thought, shaking his head. Women with low IQs were not his cup of tea. He liked his women to be attractive and smart, like Lark Randolph. Dash had read about Lark’s career in the industry trades over the years and had not only admired her beauty but also her accomplishments. Lark had taken her family’s company from a middle-of-the-road dress manufacturer to a leading designer of womenswear.
He sipped his cocktail and thought back to their meeting. He had found it hard to concentrate on the interview while staring into her beautiful face. Her features were picture-perfect—small hazel eyes, keen nose and pouty lips. She could easily have been a model instead of COO of a thriving fashion company. Her lips were painted a lovely shade of red that enticed him with every word she spoke. Dash’s mind had kept focusing on what he could do with those lips outside of the boardroom and in the bedroom.
In preparation for his interview, Dash had searched Lark’s name online. He had learned that after graduating from college, Lark had worked as a junior designer at Randolph on the Runway, under the tutelage of Darcy McCay, the lead designer at the time. Lark had learned every aspect of the business from the older designer. She had even gone back to school and earned an MBA from Harvard, which Dash found to be quite impressive.
Dash had had his pick of design firms with which to interview after he returned from Italy, but Randolph on the Runway had been his first choice. Lark Randolph had a stellar reputation in the industry for being an astute businesswoman and designer in her own right. He had wanted to meet her in person. Lark had said that his offer of employment was contingent upon his background check. Dash didn’t have any skeletons in his closet to worry about. It was only a matter of time before he was designing closely with the strikingly beautiful woman.
Working in his family’s textile mill during the summers of his youth, Dash had learned early on not to mix business with pleasure. He had gotten burned once, when he briefly dated one of the other employees. She had wanted a relationship, and at the time he had wanted nothing more than a quick fling.
From then on, Dash vowed to keep his personal life and business