Cherry
I’d taken Dylan to a local bistro for lunch after I’d heard that he particularly liked the schnitzel he’d tried in Berlin. I contentedly watched him devour his lunch, and then we returned to the store and studio for the afternoon. Despite all of my assistant designer Maisy’s teasing, I wasn’t able to restrain myself from “checking in” on Dylan again downstairs in the store.
My sales assistants had already told me at lunchtime what a stellar job he’d done all morning. Apparently, the sales were noticeably up with Dylan working the floor too. As I lingered at the bottom of the stairs, watching his tall, muscular form strut across the room, I could well believe it. I was sure that all the female customers would only too gladly receive any attention my handsome mate gave them.
I studied the strong profile of his face, the edge of his jaw, cheekbones, and the slope of his nose. Already, I felt greedy for his attention, and I missed his dark stare on me.
But a customer had just approached him. She wore one of my claret dresses and had another one in hand. “I need a second opinion. I don’t know whether to go for the size 38,” she explained, gesturing to herself, “or the size up.”
“I think the one you’re wearing is perfect,” Dylan said.
He was right, I noted. The bell-capped sleeves kissed the woman’s shoulders perfectly, and the ruffled bodice accentuated her cleavage, narrowing down to highlight her slim waist as the satin skirt flared out around her hourglass figure. My claret dress was a bestseller this season and one of my favorites. So named for its color, the shade of a rich claret making it sensual, while the bell sleeves and flared skirt made it fun and romantic.
The customer smiled alluringly at Dylan, chuckling. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
Dylan shook his head. “I always tell the truth.”
The comment brought another smile to the customer’s lips, and she said, “Would you like my number?”
Anger simmered beneath my skin, and for the first time in my life, I momentarily hated my design. It was indecent.
“Thank you, but I have a girlfriend,” Dylan responded to the woman, making me let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
But instead of backing off, the customer seemed to take his words as a challenge. She laid her hand on his chest, “That’s a shame.”
I couldn’t contain my rage. My wolf prickled beneath my skin, wanting to snap at this woman. I fantasized about tearing apart the very dress I’d designed because it was on her.
I marched down the stairs, sidled up to Dylan, and wrapped my arm possessively around his. “Dylan, can I see you in my office for a moment?” I asked.
Dylan’s dark eyes danced with amusement as they held me. “Of course.” He turned to the customer who’d touched his chest and said, “Sorry, excuse me a moment, would you?” doing a far better job at maintaining a professional air than I did. I still couldn’t look at the woman because my wolf was in danger of defending what was mine.
I tugged Dylan up the stairs, keeping my arm wrapped around his. We’d almost reached the top of the stairs when he let out a low chuckle. Leaning down, he whispered in my ear. “Someone’s wolf is jealous, isn’t she?”
Meeting his amused expression, I flushed but admitted, “She is. I am.” Only now did my heart rate calm as I laid my hands on Dylan’s chest as if to chase away the other woman’s touch.
He stared down at me, pulling up my chin so that I met his gaze. “I have eyes only for you, you know,” he said, thinking I needed reassurance.
My silver stare locked onto him. “I know,” I affirmed. “You’re mine,” I purred, my nails scraping down his shirt, drawing a hiss from him.
The next moment, he’d shoved me against the wall, his chest heaving as he looked down at me, and I felt the tell-tale sign of his arousal pressing against my stomach. I bit my lip but shook my head. “Unfortunately, we’ve got a few hours until we’re closed. Come upstairs. I want to show you something,” I suggested in an attempt to distract us both from our instincts. I knew that if Dylan was feeling our burgeoning mating bond in the same way that had made me enraged at that customer, he needed distraction too.
I enjoyed watching him swallow down his desire, trying to collect himself. Still, it was my turn to halt on the top step and for an ache to build between my legs as I watched Dylan adjust his trousers discreetly before following me to the top of the stairs. He grinned wickedly at me as if to say that he could scent my arousal, which only proceeded to addle my brain more.
“Hey, Maisy,” I greeted my assistant designer as I stepped out into our open-plan office. She was at a sewing machine, hard at work on one of the dresses for my fall collection.
“Hey, Cherry.” Maisy looked up and noticed Dylan following behind me. “How’s it going in the store, Dylan?”
Dylan’s smile was captivating. “All good, thanks. Nina and Kendra have been great at showing me how to make a few sales. Besides, the dresses are so beautiful they mostly sell themselves.”
I blushed at Dylan’s compliment.
Maisy beamed too. “That’s great. And I know what you mean. I feel so lucky to be working for such a great designer like Cherry.”
“Well,” I replied to my assistant. “I couldn’t do half of what I do without my super-talented assistant.” Even as I managed to compliment Maisy in turn, I felt an aggressive territorial urge rise in me because of the smile and attention Dylan had awarded Maisy. By Nuu-Chah, this mating bond was making rational thought and human interaction difficult.
Finally, I brought Dylan over to my desk and opened up my sketchbook. “Remember the reason you came to Berlin?” I asked with a smile, showing him the design I’d sketched last week for him. There were suit designs in pencil, then some in color. I knew the dark blue tone would bring out the chocolate hue of Dylan’s eyes.