16. Kate
Chapter Sixteen
KATE
This isn’t working.
I’ve been on the phone for a couple of hours, and I can’t seem to reach any of my European contacts. Everyone in L.A. and New York is still sleeping. “Maybe this was a bad idea,” I say, sliding my phone across the table. “If I don’t make any headway today, this plan will be a total bust.”
“It’s Sunday morning. Give everyone a chance to finish their mimosas first.” Beau replies, and I get the sense she would love a breakfast cocktail to go with her new job as my assistant and cheerleader for the day.
“I doubt there’s a single decent fabric store open today.”
Then my phone rings, and my stomach knots, thinking it might be Drew, even though I’ve spent the last hour calling everyone in my contacts list. “Who is it?” I ask, reaching for my phone.
Beau’s face lights up. “It’s Jean-Charles.”
Jean-Charles is a very well-known designer of men’s accessories like fine leather belts and silk neckties. He’s also a friend whose wife raves about my lingerie. While he’s French, his operations have always been in England.
“Jean-Charles, hi,” I answer.
“Ah, Kate. I hear you are in London for fashion week.” I resist the urge to ask if he’s heard it through the grapevine or if he saw me in the gossip rags.
“I am, and I need to call in a favor.” He listens quietly as I relay my sudden inspiration and plan without the whole Drew backstory and the very real desperation. I’ve generously sent pieces to his wife over the years, so I’m crossing my fingers that he’ll reciprocate in my time of need.
“Kate, you are in luck. I have a studio on Berwick Street. You can use whatever you need.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. Access to Jean-Charles’s sewing machines is huge. “Oh, my gosh. Thank you! How can I get in today?”
“I will meet you there myself. How is two o’clock?”
“Perfect. Do you know where I can purchase good fabrics today?” I ask, tapping my fingertips on my knees while Beau gawks at me wide-eyed like she’s dying to know what he’s saying.
“Silk House. I’ll make a call,” he says.
“Jean-Charles, you’re a lifesaver.”
“Just promise you’ll send over your best pieces for Nadine. Our anniversary is coming up.”
“Of course!”
Jean-Charles must be extremely well connected because within an hour, I’m rifling through the finest silk fabrics and lace. These will be perfect. It isn’t long before Beau and I arrive at Jean-Charles’s studio in Soho. We greet the designer with air kisses before he guides us inside. After a quick tour of the facility, he leaves me in the sewing room with a key, the code, permission to use any threads or fabrics, and his complete confidence.
“Call me,” he says, taking his exit, and we wave goodbye.
“So . . .” Beau begins. “I don’t know how to sew.”
This is a fun fact I’m well aware of after she did her best helping me with a junior design show in L.A. Let’s just say she is much better at modeling the clothes than she is at creating them.
“Leave that to me. You’ll be my live mannequin.”
She gasps. “Like Kim Cattrall in that ’80s movie?”
“Sure,” I say and immediately get to work.
A few hours in, I’ve found my footing and my flow. The machine’s clicking hums are mesmerizing. For now, I work on the pieces that don’t require custom lace. Tomorrow, I’ll need to find lace makers who can work fast. I’m completely focused on the task at hand, but every so often, my mind wanders to my night with Drew.
I drape a new piece over Beau’s body. Likely still jetlagged, she’s been incredibly patient throughout this whole day. “You’re a saint,” I tell her.
“I’m glad someone thinks so.”
My phone buzzes, vibrating against the nearby table, and I rush over to it in case it’s another contact calling me back. But this time, it’s Drew.
A huge grin spreads across my face, and my entire body ignites in excited tingles. I give Beau the just one-sec symbol and step into the other room.
“Hi,” I answer.
“Hey,” he says, low and seductive. Almost like he’s in bed waiting for me to join him. “That was some ride last night.”
I let out a breath as my pulse quickens. “Yes, it was.”
“I can’t stop thinking about it. About you.” He pauses for a moment, and I run my thumb across my lip. “I need to see you again. How’s tonight?”
A mix of excitement and disappointment swirls in my chest. “I want to see you too, but I can’t tonight. I’m in Soho working on some new pieces for the show this week.”
“Where?”
“Jean-Charles Monreau’s studio.”
“On Berwick?”
“You know it?” I ask.
“I’m in the business. I know all the big designers in London,” he says. “Why don’t I take you to dinner? You’ll need to eat sometime.”
That’s true. When I’m in this kind of mode, I don’t really think about food. “Beau’s here helping me. I don’t want to leave her by herself.”
“Bring her along.”
It’s a sweet offer, but there’s enough tension today without piling on Beau’s third-degree. “How about tomorrow night?”
“Sure. But if you change your mind, you know where I live.”
As the afternoon transitions into the evening, I can’t get Drew’s words out of my head— you know where I live . An open invitation. The day’s been so tense with me scrambling to bring my new lingerie to life. I thought back to my all-nighters before. About how I passed out, how that decision to pound away again and again led to the worst burnout of my life and set my business back big time. I need to take a break if I know what’s good for me.
Just as I decide to end my work day at a somewhat decent hour, my phone dings. It’s a text from a random London number. “That’s weird.”
“What’s up?” Beau asks, looking up from her phone.
“I just got a message saying I have a delivery at the front.”
Beau rises from lounging on the narrow sofa in the corner of the room and tosses her golden locks over her shoulder. “I’ll go check. Finally, something for me to do.” She’s only gone a few minutes before she returns with a large paper bag. “It’s from your boyfriend.”
“What?”
She holds out a folded piece of paper and clears her throat as if making a big announcement. “Kate, thought you and Beau could use a break. See you tomorrow. —D.”
My heartbeat speeds up, and my blood races to my hands and cheeks. “What is it?”
“It’s from Kyoto Ma. Their sushi is amazing.” Beau would know. She’s big on finding the best restaurants in every city she visits. You’d never know by looking at her, but the girl is a foodie. “Let’s eat.”
We each grab a pair of wooden chopsticks and dive into the salmon sashimi. The fish is so fresh it melts in my mouth. “Mmm,” I moan.
“Is that what you sounded like last night?” Beau teases, and I blush. She isn’t having any sex right now, so she’ll have to live vicariously through me. For once.
“Maybe a little.”
She stuffs another piece in her mouth. “This is nice. Dinner for you and me. Told you he likes you.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he’s trying to sweeten me up so I’ll meet him tonight.”
“Well, why don’t you?”
“It’s been a long day. I think I’ll finish this piece and call it a night.”
“How much longer will that take?”
I shrug. “Another hour, maybe two.”
“It’s only six o’clock. You’ll have plenty of time to get back to the hotel to freshen up.” She sets the takeout box aside and wanders to the sewing table. “You can show up wearing these?” Beau wiggles her hips and sends me a wink as she flashes me the finished ruby panty set. “And only these.”
“I know I had sex with a guy I hardly know in the park last night, but I’m not bold enough to show up to his place only covered by a little lace.”
“Of course not! You can’t publicly premier this until the show. Cheeri-Ooh! would have a field day. You have to go old-school.”
“Old school?”
“Yeah, the ‘ole trench coat and heels.”