More than Fashion

10

I peered inside the room, which was done in the same modern style as the lobby. It had a lounge area with charcoal gray couches on one side and a dining area with three groups of four-person tables on the other. Along the wall, a table had been set up with an assortment of appetizers and champagne. Normally I’d be down for champagne at 10:00 AM, but alcohol was just about the last thing I needed right now.

The other designers stood around the room, chatting with each other, while cameras and crew filmed everything, our hidden microphones recording it all. I scanned the crowd, a diverse group of both men and women. Most seemed to be in their late twenties or early thirties, but there were a few who were older. The variety of clothes they wore ranged from preppy to goth to hippie chic.

Head high, I walked through the doorway. Everyone in the room turned to face me, probably as anxious as I was to size up the competition. I offered the best smile I could with my head pounding and my pulse shooting through the roof.

And then I froze.

My smile fell.

I was pretty sure my heart stopped, too.

Because in the middle of the group stood my one-night stand with the glorious hair, sexy tattoos, and English accent—looking just as shocked as I was.

Gavin.

CHAPTER FOUR

This could not be happening to me. Nope. Not possible. No way in hell.

How could Gavin be here? On the show. Standing in the middle of the designers. Drinking champagne.

Wait, wait, wait. Hold the f**k up. Was he a designer, too?

No. Freaking. Way.

His HELLO MY NAME IS read Gavin Bennett, so yes, it was really him. Today he wore a black-and-gray plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his tattoos, and jeans that hugged his body in all the right ways. His dark hair still had that sexy tousled look. I wasn’t sure how it was possible, but he was even hotter now than he’d been last night.

Memories flashed in my head. The way he’d looked between my legs. The way he’d felt between my legs. How I’d made a fool of myself in front of him. And how he’d disappeared in the middle of the night without a word.

Now I had to spend the next few weeks with him. In close quarters. On camera.

Fuuuuuuuuck.

I never in a million years would have pegged him as a fashion designer. Sure, his clothes had been well made and he’d said he was an artist, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around him being here, of all places. When you hooked up with a guy from a different country, you weren’t supposed to ever seen him again, after all.

He stared back at me, and his mouth twisted, like he wasn’t all that thrilled to see me either. Well, he could go straight to hell because I wasn’t leaving.

Maybe he’d get kicked off the show early. I could only pray he wasn’t very good.

A woman I guessed to be in her sixties with big hair, a pink pantsuit, and a kind smile approached me. “You look a bit overwhelmed.”

You have no idea, I almost said. I tore my gaze off Gavin and turned to her. “A little, yeah.”

“Don’t worry, we all are. I’m Molly, by the way.”

I shook her hand. “Julie.”

She introduced me to a couple other people standing near us, who I barely registered meeting and whose names I instantly forgot. As we made polite small talk, all I could see was Gavin, talking to a girl with dark purple hair and the sides of her head shaved. He laughed, but then his eyes slid back to me, like he knew I was watching him. Heat rushed through me, and I quickly looked away.

Out of all the guys I had to pick up in a bar, of course it ended up being a guy on the show. Yes, I probably should have considered the possibility since we were staying at the same hotel and all…but to be fair, I’d been pretty drunk last night. And if it weren’t for this f*****g hangover, maybe I’d be able to figure out how to handle this whole mess.

I snatched a glass of champagne off the table and took a sip, hoping that hair-of-the-dog thing would work. But as the cool, bubbly liquid slid down my throat, I nearly gagged. Food—that was the solution. I grabbed a cheese puff and took a small bite, but my stomach twisted as soon as it hit my tongue. Ugh. Maybe food wasn’t such a good idea either.

“Aren’t the appetizers yummy?” Molly asked, smiling at me. “I love the mini-quiches,” added a pretty girl in a loose floral dress. Her name was something fitting like Summer or Sunny, but her long, golden hair hid her name tag.

I gave a noncommittal grunt and silently swore I was never drinking again. Yes, I said that every time I had a bad hangover. But seriously, I meant it this time.

Then he was at my side. I didn’t turn, but I still saw him out of my peripheral vision. A flash of his tattooed hand. The familiar whiff of his cologne. More than that, I sensed his tall, imposing presence towering over me. Brooding—that was the word for him.

I wished he’d go brood somewhere else.

“Hello, everyone,” he said to our little group. “I’m Gavin.” “Oh, I just love your accent,” Molly said, smiling and touching his arm. She quickly doled out all of our names, including the pretty blonde—Dawn. “And this is Julie,” she said, gesturing to me as I crammed the rest of the cheese puff into my mouth. Crap.

Gavin’s steely eyes focused on me, and I swallowed hard. I could tell he was about to say something, probably something about last night. Something I desperately didn’t want him to say.