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“But I like cookies” Sylvie swiped another frolad neither father commented on her blush
“I swear, you two are always like this” Anton sipped fro her face “So, what didn’t you put in your blog about Pippa? Even if Henry won’t adhtfully sordid story”
As was everyone else, froners to behind-the-scenes powerhouses Chantal was the azine for the fashion industry In Chantal’s editor-in-chief Pippa Worthington’s od—and she’d been quoted several ti so
“Everything I can confirs has issued an order: Either Pippa increases ad dollars and subscribers by twenty percent by the end of the year, or she’s out”
“She’s been Chantal’s editor-in-chief for twenty years I can’t even iazine without her,” Anton said
“The wory snob who’s ruled over the fashion press and blackballed designers she hated—like us, Anton—for h I can’t wait to see her thrown out on her ass—and I know I’m not the o
nly one I’ve already ordered a case of chane in hopes it happens sooner rather than later”
Ever since her fathers had ignored Pippa’s advice a decade ago about changing their resort collection—they were quoted in Fashion Tiazine editors needed to stay out of the design rooes clean of them Oh, they were nice to each other in public, all air kisses and fake good intentions, but the three couldn’t stand each other
A tall shadow fell on the cookies “Sorry I’m late Traffic was snarled up on West Fifty-Seventh”
Sylvie’s heart stuttered against her rib cage That warm, caramel voice The sudden static of awareness in the air An inexplicable heat war her skin
Please God, don’t let the potential bodyguard be the man she’d ranted and raved to—and then al
She held her breath and turned to see the h, Tony Falcon stood next to her in jeans and a smirk, both of which made her wish she’d bothered to put on lipstick and eyeliner
His thick, black hair, coers no doubt, touched the collar of his vintage motorcycle jacket It didn’t just look old; it was old The black leather had faded creases on the inside of the elbows and the sunburned outline of a badge that probably hadn’t been attached to the jacket for decades Underneath he wore a gray, ribbed henley pulled taut across his muscular chest and tucked into a pair of worn jeans, soft frohted his square jaw and shadowed the chin dimple that Sylvie had first noticed in the Grand Hibiscus Hotel garden
Her pulse kicked up a notch or three gazillion She didn’t knohat she’d been thinking opening up to hi at the way his tuxedo fit as though it had beenthe warmth in his brown eyes, she’d needed to feel wanted To remember, at least for a few moments, what it was like to be the center of someone’s world To be desired as a wo that ton, of all people, had broken the spell before Sylvie had er fool of herself
Still, when she hadn’t been on her knees with an old toothbrush and grout cleaner scrubbing away her frustrations in the bathroo about Tony Falcon’s lips—especially the full lower lip that had been ht fantasies she’d done a lot more to this man than just suck on his bottom lip