Nights In Black Lace by Noelle Mack Page A

down again—or afterward. Odette had cuddled up to him like a stray cat who’d just found a friend.
    It was strange, considering who she was, but he wouldn’t have changed a thing about their first encounter.
    Bryan wondered if she would confess before Friday. Fuck it. He didn’t care. Rule one: life didn’t follow the rules.
    He glanced at the street outside. The city looked rainwashed and sad, its workaday aspect revealed in the hurrying passers-by shielding themselves with umbrellas or folded newspapers. He wondered where Odette was and what she was doing.
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    Odette had entered her atelier later than usual, dressed more soberly than usual. She couldn’t wear sunglasses, not on a rainy day, and hide from the inquisitive stares. What had happened between her and Bryan Bachman was nobody’s business but hers.
    But gossip traveled fast. She’d made herself conspicuous by disappearing and not taking the customary bow at the show’s grand finale . Well, she wasn’t going to take any questions about it.
    â€œ Bonjour, ” she said to no one in particular, playing the role of lady boss as she strode by workstations cluttered with projects in various stages of development.
    Marc popped his head out of his office to wink at her, but he didn’t say a word. Odette breathed a sigh of relief.
    â€œThe show went well, Madame.” Lucie bustled up before Odette could disappear into her own sanctuary. “Today the Japanese buyers are coming in. Their Harajuku flagship store is placing a big order.”
    Odette gave a start. She’d forgotten about the meeting. That order ran into the millions. The Japanese loved French designer goods.
    â€œDo they want the line we showed?”
    Lucie sniffed. “Of course not. They insist on exclusivity.”
    â€œThen we will use the new patterns as templates and tweak the fabrics and trim,” Odette sighed. “There is no time to create a completely exclusive line for them, not if we are to meet our loan obligations. We need that order, Lucie.”
    Making millions meant borrowing millions. Her personal fortune was secure, apart from what she’d plowed back into the company, but the banks insisted on growth projections that she could not guarantee. Fashion was a risky business, even with a popular brand sold worldwide.
    â€œYes, we do.” Lucie made a few notes on her clipboard and bustled elsewhere.
    Odette headed for her office. The sloping windows of the old atelier rose from the top of the wall in back of her desk to the point of the roof. On a fine day, they let in so much light that shades had to be drawn against it. On a gray day, the light was muted, almost sad.
    Odette switched on her desk light, needing the touch of glowing scarlet that its beaded silk shade provided.
    Her assistant came in. She could guess what Marc was going to ask. She was almost surprised he’d been able to wait five minutes.
    Odette looked up at him and smiled.
    â€œSo,” Marc said nonchalantly, “how did your enchanted evening go? I didn’t tell anyone why you left.”
    â€œThey seemed to have figured it out. Did you take a bow for me?”
    â€œYes. The crowd called for you, though, when they saw the white satin set trimmed with real pearls— oo là là. The bride at the finale got a lot of applause.”
    â€œBrides always do.”
    â€œYes. Did you have fun with with M’sieu Neoprene?”
    â€œHis name is Bryan Bachman. He is very nice,” Odette said primly.
    â€œAh. So nice you stayed up until dawn.”
    â€œNot quite. The birds woke us up a little late.”
    â€œHow romantic. Breakfast in bed for two?” he purred.
    â€œYes, as a matter of fact.”
    â€œI’m jealous. You look weary but beautiful.”
    â€œI had no time to put on makeup, Marc. Take me as I am.”
    He folded his arms across his chest. “I approve. You should go out with him