in. He hooked her up to the dog harness, then slid the box of her things onto the seat next to her. As he got into the driver’s seat, he could hear Baxter’s howls. “I hear you, Baxter,” he muttered.
He felt strangely unsettled. This was clearly the end of his brief and strange acquaintance with Carly Kennedy, she of the weird clothes and short temper. He liked her in spite of that short temper, because on some level it amused him. And he was truly sorry he wouldn’t see her again.
He was sorry he wouldn’t see Baxter again for that matter. He glanced in the rearview mirror at his dog in the back seat. What Hazel felt would remain a mystery, because she didn’t look like she cared who she would or wouldn’t see and was perfectly content to go with the flow.
Eight
Carly woke up with a start the next day because the image of handsome Max Sheffington was dancing in her dreams—a literal dream in which he’d been dancing on an arena stage wearing a Victor Allen design, only the shoulders were much larger than normal. Carly was trying to hold the two dogs as people around them went wild.
She sat up and blinked. “Jesus,” she muttered.
She slowly lay back down and closed her eyes. She tried to banish the current image of Max from her brain, the one of him as he’d appeared last night in the black Henley and slim chinos. She’d been mortified that he should look so hot when she was stuck in a skirt.
She’d been mortified and strangely disappointed, too, because in that moment, she thought he’d spent the weekend with a woman. But then her mortification had ratcheted up when she understood he was not in Chicago having crazy sex. He was hot and apparently unattached, and Megan Monroe said, Put your best foot forward, every day in every way. She had not put her best foot forward. He thought she was nutty. And she’d been stuck in that damn skirt.
It was all Victor’s fault.
They were due to meet with the Couture photographer this week. This was the chance she’d worked so hard to get for Victor. They wanted the red pieces, and after his visit on Saturday, she’d worried and fretted and finally called him that evening with the hope of getting him to see reason. To make him “feel it.”
Victor’s response was curt. “I’ve made up my mind, Carly. That’s it. None of the red.” He’d hung up.
Anybody else might have taken that as the last word, but Carly knew Victor pretty well. Nothing was ever “it” with him. His ideas turned and morphed into something new and better every day.
Her job was to get those red pieces in front of Couture. She’d come up with a hastily put together and ridiculous plan B and had called Victor back Sunday morning and asked if she could borrow the red suit. Her totally crazy plan was to wear one of the red outfits herself to meet the Couture guy when he flew into town. She would pretend Victor had been stuck in traffic, and then at least show him one of the red pieces. She’d say, “Oh, I just happen to be wearing one,” and she’d stand up and do a slow turn. Carly was no model, but she was desperate. This kind of exposure for Victor was worth its weight in gold, and while he might have cold feet, she was not going to let him squander this opportunity.
He answered on the fourth ring and sounded groggy. “Before you hang up,” she said quickly, “can I at least borrow one of the red pieces?”
Victor didn’t even ask why. “Take it, I don’t care. Keep it. Wear it, make a tablecloth from it, shred it. Whatever.”
She’d hung up. “Whatever my ass, Victor,” she’d muttered and had looked at the dogs. “Saddle up, boys. We’re going for a ride.” Hazel had launched herself at the door, clearly familiar with the word ride. Carly wasn’t sure if Baxter understood anything. But wherever Hazel led, he would follow.
A half hour later, with the leashes in one hand, and a key in the other, Carly unlocked the door to Victor’s darkened studio and stepped inside.
The place smelled musty, like someone hadn’t taken out the trash. She flipped on the lights and dropped the leashes, and the dogs headed straight for the kitchenette. Victor’s studio was small and cluttered with bolts of fabric. On one wall there