It was his turn to trail off as he spotted her raised eyebrows.
‘That’s all very well, and I completely agree with you, but...’
‘But it doesn’t answer your question. What should I say to the customer?’
Disbelief touched Ben—why couldn’t he work out an answer? Instead he was sat here spouting manager-talk. Blah-blah-blah.
‘OK. I give in. What’s the answer? What would you say?’
Sarah speared a final scallop as she considered the answer. ‘I’m not sure there is a standard answer, because you have to consider each situation individually. You’d say something different to a teenager than you would to a middle-aged woman. But you could compliment her choice of outfit. So maybe, That’s a great combination—one of our best sellers, in fact. And then I’d ask questions—ask if she has any reservations, or what she wants the outfit for. Create an opportunity to offer a different choice. I might say, If you want, I can get you another of our most popular combinations, and I’d get her something more suited to her body type. Then I’d leave the choice to her.’
Ben studied her for a moment. Sarah Fletcher knew her stuff. She was intelligent, had a good grasp of fashion and customer service and could forge an excellent career in retail. At a guess he’d put her in her mid-twenties. So why on earth was she working as a cleaner when her interests were clearly elsewhere?
Not his business.
‘OK. I like that,’ he said. ‘I think it would be useful if we ran a few seminars for our sales assistants and put them through a few hypothetical scenarios like that.’
‘Another idea would be to have more ordinary-shaped mannequins in store. That way you can actually show that your new designs are really made for ordinary people.’
If they really are...
The words were unspoken, yet they echoed across the table and Ben stared at her. Had he really thought about that? Yes, he did agree in principle that the ordinary was extraordinary, that clothes should be designed for all shapes and sizes, and that had been his vision. But had he made sure that vision had been translated into the real world, where people came in very different shapes and sizes compared to the models he paid to advertise his products?
There were too many questions, and he certainly couldn’t get all the answers here and now.
Pushing his empty plate away, he looked up at the ceiling and then back at Sarah. She was a woman who made him think, and right now he needed that.
The idea that had niggled at the back of his brain suddenly came together. ‘I’ve got a proposal for you,’ he said.
CHAPTER FOUR
SARAH STARED ACROSS at Ben. ‘A proposal?’ she echoed. ‘What sort of proposal?’
For a completely mad moment she wondered if he wanted to turn this into a real date. Perhaps he’d actually meant proposition.
Daft.
Yet her hormones told her it wasn’t, and they informed her that inexplicably, against all the odds, Ben Gardiner was attracted to her. And now they were waving pom-poms and telling her to do something about it.
Clearly her hormones weren’t linked to her brain. Her brain told her that, lowering though it was, the chances of Ben being attracted to her were minimal. Yes, occasionally she’d had a vibe, but that was no more than wishful thinking—on her hormones’ part anyway. In truth, Ben Gardiner had been completely professional; if anything she had been guilty of sending out the occasional wrong signal. Well, no more. Because right now, hopefully—please, please, please—Ben was about to tell her that his proposal was to give her a job and allow her to bypass the interview.
Before he could answer, their main courses arrived, covered with silver cloches which the waiter removed with a flourish. Knowing how important it was to be appreciated, she reined in her impatience and smiled up at him, inhaling the delicate, tantalising aroma of her stone bass. ‘It looks and smells divine, thank you.’
The waiter smiled back, melted discreetly away, and she turned her gaze to Ben, waiting, trying not to appear overeager.
His cobalt blue eyes assessed her and she’d swear she could almost hear the whir of his brain.
‘I really want to continue this conversation,’ he said at last. ‘You’ve given me a good insight into the real world and I need that right now. I think you can help me make this new range work.’
‘Anyone off the street could do that.’
‘Maybe. But I don’t want anyone off the street. Because I’ve found you.’
Sarah wasn’t sure where this was headed, but she had to focus on her endgame: a job; she needed a job. ‘So what exactly is your proposal?’
‘I’m going to Milan Fashion Week and I’d like you to come with me. As a consultant.’
Sarah stared at him, heard a clatter as her fork dropped onto her plate. For a foolish second she allowed her imagination to grasp the idea and run, let a fantasy form pictures in the air. Milan. The city of fashion and culture. The cathedral, the gallery that housed the world’s oldest shopping mall, the catwalks, her and Ben walking the Italian streets...