Loe raamatut: «Season for Love»
Is this love at last?
Lark Randolph is ready to give up on men...especially after her last disastrous relationship! A business trip to Italy with designer Dash Migilio is the kind of getaway the Manhattan fashion tycoon really needs. As they explore Italy’s vast countryside, dining in romantic cafés, the sinfully seductive younger millionaire awakens a desire that tempts Lark to cross the line from business...into pleasure.
Dash has admired the beautiful businesswoman from afar. And now the charming Italian is reveling in the passionate side of his boss that he has just discovered. But once back in New York, it’s business as usual—until a ruthless adversary threatens everything Lark has worked for. With both their futures on the line, can Dash convince her to take a chance on him—and them—before it’s too late?
Lark gazed at Dash as their bodies moved to the beat.
The more she watched him, the more she realized how much she was falling for the young designer. Even though he was at least ten years younger than she, he was mature beyond his age. If Lark was ever going to find love, then she would have to take a leap of faith and trust that Dash felt the same way.
Here goes, she thought as she danced closer and draped her arms around his neck.
Lark searched his eyes, trying to get a read on him as she moved her body against his.
Dash didn’t shy away. He took her by the waist and hugged her tightly.
Lark exhaled. She felt safe and secure within his arms and let her inhibitions go. Although the beat of the music was fast, they began slow dancing to a rhythm of their own.
Lark closed her eyes and rested her head on Dash’s shoulder. She was so close to him that she could smell the scent of his cologne. Lark nuzzled her nose closer and took a deep breath...
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for picking up a copy of Season for Love!
Sometimes we overlook that one person who is offering us love, for one reason or the other. It could be a difference in age, or maybe a forbidden work liaison, much like Lark and Dash. In Lark’s case, when she gives herself permission to be happy, she falls head over heels in love with the stunning younger man.
Season for Love is a story full of romance and a bit of intrigue. There is someone from Lark’s past who crops up at the most inopportune time. But with Dash by her side, Lark’s nemesis has his work cut out for him!
Stay tuned for my next titillating novel!
Happy reading,
Velvet Carter
Season for Love
Velvet Carter
VELVET CARTER is not just the name of a luxurious fabric, but it’s also the name of one of the world’s leading writers of “exotica.” She’s a prolific novelist, who paints pictures with her words. Velvet has her finger on the pulse and knows how to make your heart race with her tantalizing stories filled with romance and seduction. Her novels have been translated into German, and released in London to critical acclaim. Velvet uses the world as her muse, traveling the globe for provocative inspiration.
MILLS & BOON
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To Earl Milloy and Terry Brantley, two “Good Brothers” whom I not only had the pleasure of knowing, but of loving!
You guys will truly be missed, beyond words!
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank the team at Mills & Boon, especially Shannon Criss and Caroline Acebo for your insightful edits that really helped flesh out the story! And to my wonderful agent, Sara Camilli, you are the best!
To my family and friends who understand when I have to go undercover, lock myself in a room and create another page-turner!
And to my mom, Alline Carter, whom I love dearly!
Peace and Blessings!
Velvet
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Introduction
Dear Reader
Title Page
About the Author
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Copyright
Chapter 1
Lark Randolph was taking a long, relaxing bubble bath, complete with soft music, candles and a glass of crisp chardonnay. After a long, stressful day at the office, she was now pampering herself before her much-anticipated date. It had been a while since Lark enjoyed a night out with a man, and the possibilities of that evening made a smile form on her lips. As she lounged in the warm, fragrant water, she fantasized about this guy being The One. Although she hadn’t had much success with relationships, Lark hadn’t given up hope of finding her soul mate.
She lathered soapy suds all over her skin with an oblong loofah. After gently rubbing her body, she rinsed off and stepped out of the Jacuzzi tub. Lark toweled off, wrapped herself in a white terry-cloth robe and made her way into the adjacent bedroom. Spread out on the king-size bed were a black cocktail dress with a plunging neckline and a multistranded pearl necklace. She was going for a sexy yet sophisticated look for the evening, much like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
Being a workaholic, Lark hadn’t put too much emphasis on finding a man and cultivating a relationship. This had culminated in a string of short-lived involvements. As the years ticked by, while most of her friends got married and started families, she focused on growing her family’s fashion-design business. Despite some challenges, Randolph on the Runway was still one of the industry’s leading designers of women’s clothing.
Lark was in her late thirties. She knew if she didn’t shift her attention from her work to her personal life and put in a concerted effort to find a husband, then the family she had always dreamed about would probably elude her forever. Lark was determined that would not be her destiny. In the past, friends had set her up on blind dates but nothing had materialized.
To hasten her search to find a mate, Lark had followed the trend and had joined several online dating sites. She was serious—she had mapped out a plan and was approaching the electronic dating process like a business. She would spend her evenings scanning profiles of men whom she found visually appealing. Lark took her time and closely read their answers to various stock questions designed for compatibility. She took notes and didn’t waste time deleting those men who had nothing to offer but a pretty face. Once she narrowed down her search, she devised the next step.
Before meeting a potential candidate, she would communicate with him via email. If the electronic exchanges went well, Lark would agree to talk on the phone with him. And if the conversation flowed, she would have a face-to-face meeting with him, usually at a coffee shop over a cappuccino or a latte. If there was chemistry between them, Lark would agree to dinner with her prospect.
Lark was excited about tonight’s date. Edwin Spears, a mature, successful investment banker, was the third man she had met online, but the only one she had actually met in person. The first two guys hadn’t even passed the preliminary email test. Their lewd comments had alluded to getting her between the sheets. Lark had wasted no time in setting them straight. She had zero interest in a one-night stand.
After a nice online chat with Edwin, they had agreed to meet over coffee one afternoon, and it had lasted for hours. She and Edwin had covered the basic getting-to-know-you questions—Where are you from? What school did you attend? What do you do for a living? Do you golf or play tennis?—and had talked explicitly about their individual future plans. They both wanted to eventually get married and raise a family. Edwin was candid and refreshing. During their first conversation, Lark had asked him point-blank if he was involved with anyone else, to which he had emphatically replied, “No!”
Lark had been relieved. She had a rule never to date someone else’s man. She believed a man could only be unfaithful if he had a willing partner to cheat with. Lark didn’t care how many sob stories she heard about a man’s marriage being on the rocks, putting him on the verge of filing for divorce. Or the line to beat all lines: My wife and I have an understanding. As far as Lark was concerned, marriage was marriage, whether happy or not.
Over the next few weeks, Lark had found Edwin to be consistent and considerate. He had phoned every evening to ask about her day. She looked forward to hearing his sexy baritone voice and often fantasized about him lying in bed cuddled next to her. He’d sent bouquets of white roses to her office, with notes that read “I’m thinking about you.” After a month of Edwin’s steady calls and old-fashioned courting, Lark began warming up to him, even though she had seen him only once. Lark didn’t think this was odd since they both had demanding careers. Edwin had told her that he didn’t want to plan their first date until he completed a major deal he had been working on. Lark totally understood. She even told her best friend, Darcy, that he might be The One.
Darcy had warned Lark to tread cautiously. Darcy said that she had read numerous articles about the hazards of internet dating and that some people used those sites like an electronic meat market, looking for sex partners. Lark had halfheartedly listened to her friend’s advice. She knew Darcy had stern opinions when it came to the business of dating.
Lark finished dressing, slipped on a pair of black Jimmy Choo shoes to complete her look, combed her chin-length auburn hair and applied her makeup. She dabbed the backs of her earlobes with the sexy scent of Burberry’s Brit Eau de Parfum before leaving.
Outside, she hailed a taxi in front of her condo building and headed over to Jean-Georges, the swanky Michelin award−winning restaurant located in the Trump International Hotel & Tower. Edwin had chosen the restaurant and made the reservations. He had told Lark not to worry about any of the details, just to meet him at the restaurant looking beautiful. Lark loved a man who could take control and make plans on his own. In her past relationships she had been the one to orchestrate the details of dates, so needing simply to show up was a welcome change.
Lark could feel her heart beating quickly with excitement as she exited the taxi and made her way up the steps to the entrance of the restaurant.
“Welcome to Jean-Georges. Do you have a reservation?” the tall, model-looking hostess asked.
“Yes, table for two for Spears,” Lark answered, using Edwin’s last name, which rolled off her tongue with ease. “Mrs. Lark Spears”—I like the sound of that, she thought, getting ahead of herself.
The hostess scanned the reservation book and then said, “Right this way.”
Once again, excitement flowed through Lark’s veins with each step she took. She was looking forward to sharing a gourmet meal with Edwin and lingering over after-dinner drinks—and maybe, just maybe, going back to her place. She wasn’t ready to sleep with Edwin yet, but she wasn’t opposed to other forms of intimacy. During their coffee date, she had taken notice of Edwin’s full lips and had wondered whether or not he was a good kisser. Lark was sure tonight she would find out the answer.
“Here’s your table. Your waiter will be right over,” the hostess said, placing menus on the table.
“Thank you.”
Lark sat down. She was a bit disappointed that Edwin hadn’t arrived ahead of her. He always called her at the designated time. She automatically assumed that he would be prompt for their long-awaited romantic evening.
“Hello, my name is Jeff, and I’ll be your waiter this evening. Can I start you off with a cocktail or a glass of wine?”
“I’ll have a Manhattan.”
“Coming right up.”
Lark peered around the restaurant. It was mostly filled with couples having cozy dinners. She was the only person sitting alone, and she began to feel self-conscious. I wonder what’s keeping Edwin. Maybe he got caught up in traffic. Lark glanced at her watch. It was a quarter past eight.
She took out her cell phone and dialed his number. It rang and rang before going to voice mail. Instead of leaving a message, Lark sent him a text, thinking he would get her message sooner.
Hey where r u? I’m @ Jean-Georges waiting 4 u.
The waiter came back with her cocktail. “Would you like to hear about tonight’s specials?”
Lark looked at the front entrance, hoping to see Edwin walking through the door, but he was nowhere in sight. “Actually, I’m waiting for someone. Can you come back in a few minutes?”
“Sure, no problem.”
Ten minutes passed with no sign of Edwin. Lark was starting to worry. Maybe he was in a car accident. She called his phone again. This time it went straight to voice mail without ringing, an indication that his phone was turned off.
“Hi, Edwin. It’s me, Lark. Where are you? I hope you’re okay. I’m at the restaurant waiting. See you soon.”
Another ten minutes passed. The waiter returned and Lark ordered another drink to ease her nerves. She had read the menu twice, trying to bide her time. Worry began to turn to disappointment and disappointment to anger at the thought of Edwin standing her up. Lark ran a company dependent on deadlines and she considered time to be a precious commodity. The thought of someone wasting hers was unacceptable.
Lark took the phone out of her purse and dialed Edwin’s number again. She was now fuming. She was going to give him a piece of her mind for not showing up for their date.
“Hello?” a female voice answered on the first ring.
“Oh...I must have the wrong number,” Lark said.
“No, Lark, you have the right number. Edwin won’t be joining you at Jean-Georges tonight or any other night.”
Lark’s mouth fell open. She was speechless. “Who is this?” she finally said.
“I’m Edwin’s fiancée. I read your text and listened to your message. I don’t know what Edwin has been telling you, but he’s taken. Please don’t ever call this number again.”
The line went dead before Lark had a chance to respond. She sat there, staring at her phone in total disbelief.
“Are you still waiting, miss?” the waiter asked, standing at the side of her table.
“Uh...no... No, I’m not.”
As the waiter rattled off the names of the gourmet entrées, Lark stared into space. She couldn’t believe the sudden turn of events. The words I’m Edwin’s fiancée kept reverberating in her ear. Lark was dumbfounded. She had totally misjudged Edwin’s character. He had lied to her about being single. Not only was he not single, but he was engaged to be married! His intention was probably to have no-strings-attached sex with her—as Darcy had warned—but he was taking the slow, drawn-out approach.
“Excuse me, miss... Would you care to order now?” the waiter asked after he had finished explaining the specials of the evening.
“I’m sorry,” Lark said, coming back to reality. “Can you repeat the specials?”
After the waiter reiterated his spiel, Lark ordered.
“I’ll have the salmon, medium rare. And can you bring me a glass of champagne?”
“Right away, miss.”
After the waiter brought the champagne over, Lark slightly raised the glass and whispered, “Here’s to the end of my online dating career.”
She wasn’t about to sit there crying her eyes out and mourning the loss of a potential relationship. As far as she was concerned, it was Edwin’s loss, not hers. Lark knew she had a lot to offer the right man, and obviously Edwin was not that man.
Chapter 2
The Seventh Avenue offices of Randolph on the Runway—RR—were bustling with activity. The fall shows were over and the company was busy filling the last of the orders, designing a new line and preparing for the next round of fashion shows.
Being the chief operating officer and creative director, Lark was right in the thick of things. She strutted briskly down the corridor in a snug black pencil skirt, a white cotton shirt with huge billowy sleeves and a pair of pointy black stilettos. Her short hair was tucked behind her ears and her lips were painted blood-orange, her signature color, which was a blend of two different lipsticks. Lark spoke quickly to her assistant, Angelica, as she walked alongside her.
Although the fall fashion shows were long over, Lark had recently called some of the buyers she knew personally and had been able to convince them to purchase a few pieces. The sales numbers had been dwindling over the past few seasons and she desperately needed to increase revenue before the company drowned in debt.
“Do we have the final sales numbers yet from Patricia Taylor?” Patricia was one of the buyers whom Lark had contacted.
“No, but I’m sure I’ll have them later this afternoon,” Angelica responded.
“Okay, sounds good. What time is my next interview scheduled for?”
Angelica referred to her tablet and said, “Two o’clock.”
Lark had been meeting with some of the hottest designers on Seventh Avenue. She had let go of her lead designer and was having a difficult time finding his replacement. Most of the candidates she had met with either didn’t have the design skills or the right vision for her company. And with profits plummeting, she needed a designer who not only had major cutting-edge talent, but whom she could work with in harmony.
As she made her way to the conference room, she reflected back on the incident that had sparked the blowup with the previous designer.
Lark and Sebastian, the lead designer, who had been with Randolph on the Runway for years, had been in the company’s showroom scrutinizing the collection just days before the start of the fall show. He had wanted to pull the final piece from the collection, saying the hemline was dated and the gown didn’t fit in with his designs. Lark completely disagreed. She respected Sebastian’s opinion, but she felt strongly about her design. What started off as a civil disagreement quickly turned into a screaming match, with them going toe-to-toe, neither one giving an inch.
“This piece is passé!” Sebastian sniped, plucking at the rose-colored taffeta gown. “And who uses this fabric any longer?”
“No, it’s not passé. I designed this piece myself and I think it’s perfect for the grand finale.
“This gown gives the line a touch of elegance. I realize that taffeta is a material from a time long ago, but I want to re-create a 1940s-type feeling. A time of romance, and this gown depicts that era perfectly,” Lark said.
“Romance is overrated, and this gown’s above-the-ankle hemline is off-putting to say the least. Maybe you should stick to being the COO, hire a creative director and leave the designing to us professionals.”
“I have a degree from FIT in fashion design as well as an MBA from Harvard. I’m more than capable of running this company and designing a gown!” Lark sniped.
“Obviously your creative side isn’t as developed as your business side.” He took the dress off the rack and held it in his hands. “Look at this thing. The color is dull. The neckline is too high. Basically, it’s...it’s...just horrendous!”
Lark was quiet for a moment. “Why are you being so nasty, Sebastian? We’ve always worked so well together. What’s wrong? Are you having some type of personal issues? Did you and Peter break up?”
“He moved out, but I’m perfectly fine. My love life has never affected my work. Why are you trying to overrule me? I’m the lead designer. Or have you forgotten?”
His nasty remark incensed Lark. There was only so much more she could take from him. “And I run this company. Or have you forgotten?”
“Without my fabulous creations, RR would just be another wannabe design company manufacturing run-of-the-mill dresses,” he said.
Lark could feel her blood pressure rising. Not only was he insulting her design ability, but he was now also insulting the company her grandfather had founded. “That’s enough, Sebastian. This conversation is over!”
He clenched the gown in his hands. “No. What’s over is this hideous thing you call a gown. I’m not putting it in the show.”
“That’s not your call, Sebastian. As the creative director, the final word is mine,” Lark said, getting more frustrated by the second.
“Like I said before, you need to stick to management and leave the designing to the professionals,” he reiterated, further insulting his boss.
She took a deep breath in an effort to calm down. Their disagreement had gotten out of hand and it was time to put it to an end. She counted to ten in her head. Lark lowered her voice and measured her words. “Sebastian, the gown is going into the show...period. End of discussion.”
“If you put that thing in the show, it’ll ruin the collection. A collection I worked so hard to perfect, and I refuse to let that happen.” Sebastian began ripping the seams of the gown with his bare hands, destroying what Lark had created.
“Stop! What are you doing? You’re ruining my dress! You’re...you’re fired!” Lark screamed.
“You can’t fire me. I have a contract!” he said arrogantly.
“I can, and I did.” Lark exhaled. “Obviously your business side isn’t as developed as your creative side. There’s a clause in your contract that allows the company to buy you out at any given time—a clause that I designed, by the way. So you can pack up your things and leave today!”
Sebastian stood there in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, but he didn’t utter a sound. Finally he said, “What about the show?”
“Not your problem anymore. I think you need to start your own company, since you have such strong opinions on designs. It’s unfortunate, but we can no longer work together. I’ll have security escort you to your office so you can get your personal things.” Lark started to leave, but she turned back.
“In case you didn’t understand the legal jargon in the contract, there’s also a clause that states all of the designs you created while employed by RR are company property. If you try to take any sketchbooks or upload company files, I’ll have no choice but to sue you for breach of contract.”
“We’ll see about that! You can’t get rid of me that easily! I’ve invested too much time and energy in this company to just walk away.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Lark said calmly.
Sebastian made a hissing sound and stormed out of the room.
Lark hadn’t intended to fire Sebastian that day, but she wasn’t going to allow anyone to speak down to her and treat her with such blatant disrespect. Lark was more than a fair boss, and she didn’t have problems with any of the other employees. Although she ran a tight ship, the work environment at Randolph on the Runway was creative and productive.
“What’s the name of the designer who’s coming in at two?” Lark asked Angelica.
“Dash Migilio. I emailed you a copy of his résumé and bio. Also, here’s a hard copy.” She handed Lark a folder.
Lark opened the folder and scanned the information as she walked. “Impressive.”
When they reached the conference room, a tall man dressed in a gray European-cut suit was standing at the window with his back to the door. Lark cleared her throat and he turned around.
Lark took a good look at the handsome stranger. He had curly, coal-black hair, an olive complexion and warm, greenish-brown eyes. His face looked like that of a young Warren Beatty. Lark scanned the length of his toned physique. She could feel her throat becoming parched as she stood there staring at the gorgeous man. Normally, she wasn’t attracted to younger men, but this guy had her full attention.
“I’m sorry I’m early.” He walked toward Lark and extended his hand. “I’m Dash Migilio.”
“Hello. I’m Lark Randolph,” she said, still studying his chiseled face.
“I know. I’ve seen your picture in the trades numerous times. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” He beamed a bright white smile.
Even his teeth are perfect, Lark thought. “Please have a seat. This is Angelica, my assistant, and she’s going to sit in on the meeting.”
“Nice to meet you, Angelica,” he said, extending his hand.
And he’s polite, too!
After they were seated at the conference table, Lark took a breath and refocused. She had been momentarily taken aback by his good looks and charm, but now she needed to move on to business. She glanced down at his résumé.
“I see that you interned at Ralph Lauren.”
“That was during my senior year at Pratt. I worked closely with several designers there. The experience was invaluable.”
“After graduation you worked with Andrew Marc for a few years.”
“Yes, I was a junior designer and learned a great deal about the outerwear business.”
“You’ve only been employed by male designers. Do you have a problem working with women?” she asked point-blank.
“Not at all,” he said, smiling.
Ohh...I could get lost in that smile of his.
Lark cleared her throat, trying to free her mind of unprofessional thoughts. “There’s a twelve-month gap on your résumé. Why?” she asked.
“I spent a year in Italy at my family’s estate. I’m a first-generation New Yorker. My parents are from Florence, where they own a textile mill. The plant manager had retired, so I took over until they could find his replacement. They eventually promoted the assistant manager, but I stayed on for a while. I love Italy and enjoy spending time there whenever I can.”
“So you’re familiar with textiles?”
“Yes. I spent many summers in the mill. I know everything there is to know about fabrics.”
Lark nodded her head. She liked what she was hearing so far. “Why didn’t you stay on at your family’s company? Sounds like that business is in your blood.”
“It is, but I’m a designer at heart. After my extended holiday, I came back to New York to continue my design career. Much like Mr. Lauren and Mr. Marc, I plan to make my own mark in this industry.”
Lark immediately flashed back to her argument with Sebastian. Although she wanted a talented designer on her team, she wasn’t about to hire another person who undervalued her talent. “Mr. Migilio, let me be clear from the start. As the creative director, I work closely with the lead designer. Although I’m the chief operating officer of Randolph on the Runway, I have a degree from FIT, and I design, as well.”
“That’s awesome,” he said, flashing his one-hundred-watt smile again. “As far as I’m concerned, the bottom line should be what designs will catapult RR ahead of the rest and make our company the best in the business.”
Our company? He’s thinking like a team player. I like that. Lark nodded her head again. “I totally agree. Can I see your portfolio?”
“Sure.” Dash reached into his leather messenger bag, retrieved a silver tablet, powered it up and handed the device to Lark.
Lark began swiping through pictures of his designs. His work was indeed impressive and unique. He had a keen eye for detail. There were pictures of women’s clothing, menswear and even accessories. The more she saw, the more she wanted to see. Dash was talented beyond belief. His work was a cross between Gianni Versace and Valentino—classy with an edge.
Lark swiped her finger across the screen once more, and this time, instead of seeing another one of his unique creations, staring back at her was a picture of Dash in aqua-blue swim trunks, lying on a beach next to a pretty blonde woman in a skimpy red bikini. Lark didn’t say a word. She stared at the picture, her eyes roaming over Dash’s manly chest and well-defined abs. Lark could feel herself heating up as she admired his half-nude body.
“So...do you like what you see?” Dash asked.
“I sure do.” Lark smiled. She swiped past his personal picture, turned off the tablet and handed it back to him. “I’d like to offer you the position of lead designer.”
“That’s great! I’m eager to start as soon as possible.”
“I like your enthusiasm. However, the offer is contingent upon a thorough background check. If your references come back positive, then the position is yours.”
“No worries there. I left on good terms with all of my former employers.”
“That’s good to hear. Angelica will take you to the human-resources department so you can fill out the necessary paperwork.”
Dash stood up. “I look forward to working with you, Ms. Randolph.”
“And I with you. Please call me Lark.”
After Angelica and Dash left the conference room, Lark went over to the window and stared out. “I hope offering him the position isn’t a mistake,” she said underneath her breath.
Lark had reservations about working with someone she was physically attracted to. She thought about calling down to HR and rescinding her offer of employment. Lark pondered the situation for a moment instead of making a rash decision. There was no denying that Dash’s talent would benefit the company, and with the new spring/summer line going into development, RR desperately needed a top designer. Besides, he was at least ten years her junior and Lark had never dated a younger man. She preferred her men to be more seasoned. And thinking back on the photo she’d seen on his tablet, he was probably in a relationship with the blonde in the picture.
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