Again.
What was it about that man that made her want to get naked and have sex with him? What was it that made her so easily forget her vow to hate him for what he’d done to her all those years ago? He’d humiliated her once, and yet she was still wildly attracted to him. Today he’d made her forget that she had all these plans for her future, plans that hinged on her having laser focus and tunnel vision.
Only one thing in her life was important right now, and it wasn’t sex and a complicated relationship with a man that, despite all her protestations and determination, still seemed to linger in her heart and all over her body after all these years.
Even now she could smell him on her, and as she took a deep breath, lust filled her and she regretted throwing him out. Right now they could be having hot, passionate sex.
He was right about one thing—she was tense, and she could use a release. Her body pulsed with need and she’d been so close to having him, to feeling his hands and his mouth on her again.
Would that have been so bad?
She dragged her fingers through her hair. God, yes, it would have.
He weakened her resolve. He weakened her—everything. As strong as she knew she was, she became nothing more than a quivering mass of . . . female whenever she was around him.
And that just wasn’t acceptable.
She needed to steer clear of Drew Hogan, not only for the next few months, but forever.
NINE
THE QUIET OF THE HOLIDAYS—AFTER CAROLINA HAD gotten Drew out of her house, if not out of her head—had given her the opportunity to make some serious progress on her line. She’d buried herself in work, mainly because she needed to, but also because she wanted to forget the mistake she’d almost made.
Again.
He touched her so easily, slid past her defenses as if that hurt had never happened. Though it was her hurt, not his, so she had to stop blaming him for how he made her feel.
And if it was light and simple to him, again, that was on her. He wanted her, and she supposed she should feel flattered instead of insulted.
As she rolled her head around her neck to get the kinks out, and lifted her shoulders up and down, she realized Drew had been right on one count.
She was tense, could feel it in every muscle as she worked on hour ten of this day, which had started far too early and would likely keep going until she couldn’t see the thread or her eyes grew so tired the lines on the fabric patterns started to run together.
Today she was in her work studio, a space she rented so she and her assistants could sew and bring in the models for fittings. She was fortunate that she’d made a good living working as a designer for David Faber, and that she had family money to start her business. But that’s as far as the family money went. Now she was on her own, and she wanted to succeed—or fail—on her own merits. She didn’t want to rely on Preston money year after year to fund what others would think of as a hobby project. The pressure was on.
This line had to be a success.
At least she was seeing some progress, and that made a little of the tension ease.
“It’s coming together, Carolina.”
She nodded at Edward, one of her assistants, a talented designer in his own right. She’d hired him as soon as she knew she was going to design a line of her own. He’d been an invaluable asset, with a critical eye for what looked good on men, and sewing skills that she treasured.
“Yes, it is. At least there are finished products going up on the racks.”
He put an arm around her and hugged her close. “And beautiful finished products at that. One step at a time, is what you always tell me.”
She turned and smiled at him. “I know. I know. I just want it all to be done right now.”
“But it isn’t, and you need to have patience. Just breathe and take it one day at a time. The reward will be yours at the end, love.”
She laughed. “Quit throwing my own platitudes back at me and get back to work.”
Edward moved off. Carolina went to the rack, checking the finished products against her tablet so she knew what had been completed and what was left to be done.
Too many things left to do and not much time to accomplish them.
She fingered one of her dresses, a simple cotton shift she’d worked hours on designing. She slid her fingers along the scalloped edges. The hint of lace had been a perfect touch. The beige was subdued. She loved its simplicity and hoped the audience would, too.
But maybe it was too simple. Maybe if she amplified the color or changed to a print . . .
“You’re second-guessing yourself again, boss. It’s perfect just the way it is.”
She shifted her gaze to her other assistant, Tierra, a gorgeous, raven-haired beauty and the best seamstress a designer could ever ask for.