Page 2 of Wicked Design
Rather than look at her, he glanced at her parasol then up at the increasingly cloudy sky.
She burned easily. So sue her. At least she’d snagged his attention as she’d hoped.
He met her gaze and held it.
Stunned, she grinned hard enough to hurt her cheeks and neck. Despite the pain, she couldn’t stop. His hazel eyes were beautiful, his blush unexpected.
Red crept up his throat, coloring his bristly chin and cheeks and then his nose.
Three things seemed possible. He was embarrassed, turned on, or worried she was a stalker—the last scenario possibly the most likely given the countless times she’d watched him through the window.
Wanting to look less threatening, she tried to relax and even stepped back.
His hard swallow sent his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing. An emotion she couldn’t read flickered in his eyes, but his expression softened slightly.
Good enough for her. She edged closer.
He turned away, his back to her, his attention on his work.
She deflated, hope seeping away. If she couldn’t even get him to look at her for long, how was she supposed to engage in dumb flirting, much less a prolonged conversation?
Past him, Jasmina and Lauren leaned against the front counter, gesturing Clover inside. Wasn’t going to happen. They knew about her futile quest for Van Gogh and didn’t pretend otherwise. Lauren, who owned Wicked Brand, wore a sympathetic look. The kind reserved for a loser. Jasmina, the manager, shook her head in understanding or disapproval. Easy for her to do. She lived with two guys, both hotties and cops. Talk about lucky. Lauren wasn’t a slouch, either, when it came to men. Her attorney husband was drop-dead gorgeous. No surprise. She and Jasmina were great looking, busty, and knew how to relate easily to men, their banter natural and fun. What guys preferred rather than a woman who bared her soul and scared them spitless.
The last thing Clover needed from Lauren and Jasmina today was a dose of reality or a lecture on how to snag a guy who wasn’t looking to be caught. Regretting having come, she pivoted.
“Hey, wait. Stop!”
Lauren’s barked order did the trick. Sort of.
Clover shifted her weight, prepared to flee.
Lauren clutched the door and panted, possibly breathless from having sprinted across the parlor. Cool air wafted out, along with a peppy Latin tune, laughter, and the waiting patrons’ conversations.
“Come in.” Lauren waved her inside. “I was going to call you about your jewelry.”
Sure.That had never happened before, even though her pieces had been available for sale at this place for months. Either something major had happened with them that Lauren had forgotten about until now, or this had to do with Van Gogh. Clover bet on the latter. Lauren was a nice person but a totally lousy liar.
Clover backed away. “What about my jewelry?”
“It’s really selling.”
She halted, more floored than pleased. Despite Lauren having displayed select pieces next to the T-shirts, belt buckles, and other stuff she hawked here, until now Clover’s work had simply laid in the cases, collecting dust.
She warned herself not to get too excited. However, optimism bubbled up. “You’ve finally moved the jeweled eyebrows?” A stunning design from a Chanel show she’d seen on the Net and had modified for her stuff, making it ultra-dramatic for a trendy event or a Halloween party, whichever the wearer preferred. The result was way better than the jeweled eyebrows Oprah wore in A Wrinkle in Time.
“Not yet. But we will.”
As soon as they found someone who wanted their face pierced to hold the things on, unless they opted for glue. Maybe she should do boring navel rings. “What about the gold-chain sunglasses?” Another design she’d seen and made her own.
“We’re working on it. We did move other items.”
“No kidding?”
Jasmina joined them at the door. “Yep.” She held up her hand, showing off the slave bracelet Clover had designed. Delicate links connected Jasmina’s ring to her bracelet, the pieces made of engraved silver, the finish antique.
Clover smiled wanly, appreciative at how great Jasmina and Lauren treated her. “Thanks for buying that.”
“I didn’t. Noah and Kyle did.” Jasmine flashed her perfect smile. “Since I’ve been wearing it, I’ve sold three more.”
