When he began speaking perfect, fluent Italian her jaw dropped, food threatening to spill out of her mouth.
She turned away to hide the potential mess. Get it together, woman. After a fortifying swallow, she looked back. Andrew had stood and searched for something on his desk.
He lifted folders open and slid loose papers in and out. Gwen gave a soft sigh. Damn, this man made filing look hot and steamy.
All his movements were slow and measured, like a panther stalking his prey. Her eyes wandered to his beautiful hands and long fingers. She gasped, noticing a braided gold band on his ring finger.
He’s wearing his wedding ring.
Had he worn it that night? She wouldn’t claim to have been drunk, except high on Andrew’s kisses and touches. She may have missed it because she couldn’t take her eyes off his face.
“Ciao.” He hung up and met her eyes. “Sorry about that.”
The moment grabbed her, but swooning over a man still in love with his deceased wife was ridiculous. “Before we get started, Andrew, I wanted to say I’m very sorry when I heard about your wife.”
Gwen’s own loss had taught her to respect the suffering of others. A kind word of acknowledgement had significant meaning to people who had lost a loved one. Having lost her mother, she could relate.
Andrew’s body froze, though, and his lips curled into a shape that suggested he tasted something bad. “Excuse me?”
Uh-oh. “Enrico told me what happened. I’m just letting you know that I’m very sorry. Cancer is
—”
“Okay. That’s kind of my personal business.” His fists were tight and a vein in his neck looked ready to pop.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” She released a sharp breath. “I just thought it would be rude to sit here, look you in the eyes...” As gorgeous as they were. “And not say something. That’s all.” She folded her arms across her chest.
He stared for a long moment. “She’d been gone just over a year when...” He coughed. “You and I...”
Gwen’s hand shot up to stop him. Dear God, don’t say it. We know it’s best if we don’t talk about it. “I...get it. I’m still very sorry.”
“Thank you.” He pursed his lips, like saying those simple words were difficult. “She was everything to me,” came out just above a whisper, but he’d meant for her to hear it.
“Everything,” Gwen repeated softly, watching him.
Andrew looked back with dark questioning eyes, but said nothing. He filled a room with his presence. To say a woman was everything to him, was deep to say the least.
She cleared the emotion from her throat. “Back to the show, I’ve written some preliminary press releases. Can I see the event planning that went on at other shows to make sure I’m not missing anything?”
“Yeah.” Andrew spun gracefully and sauntered to the row of file cabinets.
God, he was tall. In a flourish, he yanked out folders, binders, accordion files, and large brown envelopes. One by one, he piled them all in front of her. Some almost toppled to the ground before she caught them.
“Here,” he said. “This is everything you need to create the media kits, write the press releases, and set up the interviews.”
“That’s a lot of paper.” She organized the pile. “Ever hear of this thing called the computer?”
He flattened his smile. “Your computer skills went to good use at Starlight Elegance?”
Her eyelashes fluttered. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t understand how a promotions person at a lingerie company—”
“I was the promotions manager. And I don’t remember you having a problem with Starlight’s lingerie when you peeled it off my body.”
Yep, we’re going there.
The blood drained away from Andrew’s face, leaving a startled ghostly expression. Damn it!
Gwen pushed the pile aside. “Listen, I’m sorry. I know it’s best if we never speak of that night, but I will defend my experience.”
The color in his face hadn’t returned. She’d pushed him too far. And on their first day together.
Stupid. He’d done this job by himself all these years and never had to open up or let anyone in.
The messy office was a symbol of what Andrew had become. Lost. Just as Enrico had said.
He rubbed one thick eyebrow, suggesting she’d given him a headache, and said, “Please have everything completed before we go to L.A.”
It was best to let him cool off. She slipped a brief look in his direction, hoping for another chance to apologize. Then his cell phone rang.
Looking at the screen, he said, “I need to take this, and I need to be alone.”
She nodded. “Right. Sure.”
He gave her a great view of his back and answered his phone. “Mira, what is it?”
With the bundle in her arms, Gwen stood, and stepped toward the door. Once she passed the threshold, it slammed behind her, sending a burst of air across her shoulders. Her long hair flew forward and around her face. She spit out a curl that lodged inside her mouth.
And who might Mira be?
“Oh, my gosh.” Thalia had been walking by and must have heard the commotion. “Let me help you with these.”
Gwen gently released the pile. She assumed Andrew didn’t label or date his documentation.
“Thank you, Thalia.”
“Come on.” She shook her head in Andrew’s direction. “Enrico is at Flagship for the rest of the day. You can sit in his office.”
Walking by desks of people, Gwen brushed off the mixed reactions of smirks and smug chin lifting. She suspected many of these women salivated over Andrew and were probably jealous as hell of how close she got to work with him.
Heh. I just make it look fun.
ON TUESDAY MORNING, Andrew sat at his desk with a model across from him crying hysterically when Gwendolyn whirled in like a tornado.
“Sorry. Trains. Delays.” She plopped a slate blue trench coat and a creamy white leather tote on her desk. “Let me get my laptop, and I’ll get out of your way.”
Before she could fly out of the office, he stood. “Gwendolyn, wait.”
She stopped and slowly turned around, a look of mild panic on her face. “Yes?”
He’d been too harsh on her yesterday. Dragging Starlight Elegance into the conversation was a low blow. He had planned to apologize as soon as she came in, but then the weepy model showed up.
“This is Mira, she’s a model in the L.A. show,” he said.
“Oh! Hello.” Gwendolyn sounded like he’d shown her a puppy.
Andrew huffed. Mira’s depressed mood swings were triggered by reactions such as that. Models felt like objects. The scrutiny got to them more than the starvation sometimes.
Mira attempted to compose herself with a weak smile. “Hello.”
“Mira, look at Gwendolyn.” Andrew spun her chair in that direction. “She’s what? A size four?”
“Four?” Gwendolyn smoothed her black pencil skirt.
He shrugged, figuring he guessed wrong. It didn’t matter what size she actually was. Her figure was phenomenal. Perfectly proportioned. Her cheeks glowed with fresh skin and she looked so incredibly healthy. Full of life. Full of fire. Her mouth, her kisses...