“It’s the only way for you to get there on time.”
She sucked in a breath between her clenched teeth. He was probably right, and maybe she was a fool to strive for any scrap of dignity at this point anyway. The man had kissed every inch of her body last night.
And she’d told him she loved him.
A sharp pain pierced her chest.
She truly thought she had.
“Fine,” she bit out. “I’ll take the damn jet. But only as long as you’re not on it.” Then she turned away from him to jerk open a dresser drawer and plucked out the skirt and sweater she’d arrived in.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Jack” she said. “No. Actually. Go ahead and take it the wrong way if you like. But I never want to see you again.”
“Understandable,” he muttered.
She twisted around to look at him. “Gee, thanks.”
“I had my reasons,” he said.
“It was a great plan,” she mocked. “You must be really disappointed that it failed.”
One look at the expressions on the Sierra Sanchez buying team told Kristy she was going to fail.
Her sketches littered the top of the polished mahogany boardroom table, with swatches and samples draped on racks around them.
“The lines are technically strong,” said one of the men. She thought his name was Bernard.
“The fabric works, but it’ll be a challenge for the skirt to stand out in a crowd.” Irene Compton was the lead buyer for the chain.
“Overall,” said the one named James, sifting through her sketches like greeting cards. “The collection is…competent.”
Kristy felt herself shrinking in the luxurious armchair. Competent. Thousands and thousands of budding designers were competent. She didn’t have a hope unless she was outstanding.
“Hmm,” Irene nodded. “Maybe we could think about testing it in Value-Shoppe?” She named a European discount chain.
Value-Shoppe?Kristy had to bite down on her tongue to keep from protesting out loud.
The room went silent, while each of the team members contemplated the drawings. Bright yellow sunshine streamed through the window. Car horns honked a dozen stories below, and a mist of clouds gathered in the distance over the bay. The world outside was still spinning, even while her dreams were being dashed.
“Well,I think she shows promise,” said Cleveland.
Six jaws snapped shut, and everyone’s attention flew to the older man sitting at the head of the table.
Seconds of silence ticked by before Cleveland spoke again. “I was thinking about the Breakout Designer category at the Matte Fashion Event.”
Adrenaline hit Kristy’s system in a rush at the mere mention of the prestigious London fashion show. A designer couldn’t even enter the Breakout Designer Contest without a powerhouse retailer behind her.
Even in her wildest dreams…
“Perhaps if we mix and match some of the ideas,” Irene offered slowly, glancing at a patterned skirt and a white lace blouse.
Cleveland nodded his approval. “Now you’re getting creative.”
Kristy didn’t want Cleveland’s charity. But theBreakout Designer category? She swallowed her common sense, and let the conversation carry on around her.
Bernard jumped in. “This neckline is unique. And we can certainly scallop the hem and slim down the line.”
“We’d need at least a half-dozen new or revamped pieces for the contest,” James warned.
Cleveland brought the flat of his palms down on the tabletop. “That’s fine. Since we’re all on board, you can talk through the details later.” His attention turned to Kristy. “Right now, Kristy is joining me for a drink.”
She glanced at the buying team, bracing herself for narrow-eyed glares and sidelong expressions of condemnation. They might all think the way Jack did—that Kristy was Cleveland’s floozy. Why else would he overrule their judgment on her behalf?
But, to her surprise, everyone was smiling.
Irene rose from her chair and offered her hand. “We’re looking forward to working with you, Kristy.”
The other team members nodded and murmured agreement.
Kristy stood up to shake hands with Irene. “Uh. Thank you.”
Cleveland opened the boardroom door. “This way, young lady.”
She nodded her thanks to the rest of the team, then preceded Cleveland into the wide, bright, plant-adorned hallway.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said as they made their way to the bank of elevators.
“Do what?”
She motioned behind them, torn between being polite and shutting the heck up. “Back there. Give me special—”