Heidi Betts – Project: Runaway Heiress (страница 1)
“You were…extraordinary. As I knew you would be.”
His heartfelt compliment made her blush and filled her with unexpected pleasure. She shouldn’t be happy that he was so impressed with her performance tonight. She should be annoyed. Sorry that she’d helped to bolster his or Ashdown Abbey’s reputation in any way.
But she was pleased. Both that she’d maintained her ruse as a personal assistant, and that she’d done well enough to earn Nigel’s praise.
She was candid enough with herself to admit that the last didn’t have as much to do with his standing as her “boss” as with him as a man.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her throat surprisingly tight and slightly raw.
“No,” he replied, once again brushing the back of his hand along her cheek. “Thank you.”
And then, before she realized what he was about to do, he leaned in…
Dear Reader,
Want to know a secret? I’m a huge fan of television shows like
So when my editor and I began discussing ideas for a new Mills & Boon® Desire™ miniseries, PROJECT: PASSION leaped into my head. I just loved the idea of playing off
I can only hope you’ll love the Zaccaro sisters as much as I do. Lily Zaccaro—eldest sister and founder of Zaccaro Fashions—kicks off PROJECT: PASSION with
Enjoy!
HeidiBetts.com
About the Author
An avid romance reader since junior high,
Soon after Heidi joined Romance Writers of America, her writing began to garner attention, including placing in the esteemed Golden Heart competition three years in a row. The recipient of numerous awards and stellar reviews, Heidi’s books combine believable characters with compelling plotlines, and are consistently described as “delightful,” “sizzling” and “wonderfully witty.”
For news, fun and information about upcoming books, be sure to visit Heidi online at HeidiBetts.com.
Project:
Runaway Heiress
Heidi Betts
A huge American thank you to UK reader Amanda Jane Ward, who read much of this story and troubleshot details for me all the way to the end to help ensure that my British hero came across as authentic and, well, you know…British.
Any mistakes are my own—due entirely, I’m sure, to the fact that Jason Statham still refuses to accept my phone calls.
Thank you, Manda! If I couldn’t use Jason for my research, you were definitely the next best thing. ;)
One
Impossible. This was impossible.
Lily Zaccaro maximized her browser window, leaning in even more closely to study the photo on her laptop screen. With angry taps at the keyboard, she minimized that window and opened another.
Dammit.
Screen after screen, window after window, her blood pressure continued to climb.
More angry keystrokes set the printer kicking out each and every picture. Or as she was starting to think of them: The Evidence.
Pulling the full-color photos from the paper tray, she carried them to one of the long, wide, currently empty cutting tables and laid them out side by side, row by row.
Inside her chest, her heart was pounding as though she’d just run a seven-minute mile. Right there, before her very eyes, was proof that someone was stealing her designs.
How had this happened?
She tapped her foot in agitation, twisted the oversize dinner ring on her right middle finger, even rubbed her eyes and blinked before studying the pictures again.
The fabric choices were different, of course, as were some of the lines and cuts, making them just distinctive enough not to be carbon copies. But there was no mistaking
To reassure herself she wasn’t imagining things or going completely crazy, Lily moved to one of the hip-high file cabinet drawers where she kept all of her records and design sketches. Old, new, implemented and scratched. Riffling through them, she found the portfolio she was looking for, dragged it out and carried it back to the table.
One after another, she drew out the sketches she’d been working on last spring. The very ones they’d been prepared to work with, manufacture and put out for the following fall’s line.
After a short game of mix-and-match, she had each sketch placed beside its counterpart from her rival. The similarities made her ill, almost literally sick to her stomach.
She leaned against the edge of the table while the images swam in front of her eyes, sending a dizzying array of colors and charcoal lines into the mix of emotions that were already leaving her light-headed and nauseated.
How could this happen? she wondered again. How could this possibly have happened?
Wracking her brain, she tried to think of who else might have seen her sketches while she was working. How many people had been in and out of this studio? There couldn’t have been that many.
Zoe and Juliet, of course, but she trusted them with her life. She and her sisters shared this work space. The three of them rented the entire New York apartment building, using one of the lofts as a shared living space and the other as a work space for their company, Zaccaro Fashions.
Although there were times when they got on each other’s nerves or their work schedules overlapped, their partnership was actually working out surprisingly well. And Lily showed her sisters all of her design ideas, sometimes even soliciting their opinions, the same as they shared their thoughts and sketches with her.
But neither of them—not even slightly flighty party girl, Zoe—would ever steal or sell her designs or betray her in any way. Of that, she was absolutely, one hundred percent certain.
So who else could it have been? They occasionally had others over to the studio, but not very often. Most times when they had business to conduct, they did it at Zaccaro Fashions, their official, public location in Manhattan’s Fashion District, where they had more sewing machines set up, with employees to produce items on a larger, faster scale; offices for each of the sisters; and a small boutique set up out front. Something they hoped to expand upon very soon.
Of course,
She collected all of the papers from the cutting table, being sure to keep each of the printed pictures with its corresponding sketch. Then she began to pace, worrying a thumbnail between her teeth and wearing out the soles of her one-of-a-kind Zoe-designed pumps while she wondered what to do next.
What
If she had any idea who was responsible for this, then she might know what to do. Bludgeoning them with a sharp object or having them drawn and quartered in the middle of Times Square sounded infinitely satisfying. But even going to the police would work for her, as long as the theft and replication of her clothes stopped, and the culprit was punished or fired or chased out of town by a mob of angry fashion designers wielding very sharp scissors.
Without a clue of who was behind this, though, she didn’t even know where to begin. Wasn’t sure she had any options at all.
Her sisters might have some suggestions, but she
She’d been the one to go to design school, then ask their parents for a loan to start her own business. Because—even though they were quite wealthy and had offered to simply
She’d been the one to come to New York and struggle to make a name for herself, Zoe and Juliet following along later. Zoe had been interested in the New York party scene more than anything else, and Juliet had quit her job as a moderately successful, fledgling real-estate agent back in Connecticut to join Lily’s company.
Without a doubt, they had both added exponentially to Zaccaro Fashions. Lily’s clothing designs were fabulous, of course, but Zoe’s shoes and Juliet’s handbags and accessories were what truly made the Zaccaro label a well-rounded and successful collection.