Secret Crush Seduction, page 5
“Of course, we’re friends,” he said, a line deepening between his brows.
“Good.”
They were on the same wavelength. There would be nothing more than friendship between them. It was for the best.
Still...as their food arrived, a corner of Adelaide’s heart grew cold, as though a warm campfire flickered and died away inside her.
* * *
The next day in the studio, Chris, the sad-eyed lumberjack, in one of his endless plaid shirts, came to stand beside her. When he didn’t say anything, Adelaide glanced up from the sketch she’d been studying. He was thoughtfully rubbing his beard with his eyes focused on his design.
“It’s missing something,” he said.
“Mmm-hmm.” She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. The floor-length gown was on trend, and would sell well at any department store, but it wasn’t a design that captured her attention like his portfolio had. “It’s beautiful, but...”
“It leaves me cold. I don’t see much of myself in it.”
“Why did you enter the contest?” Adelaide knew many of the contestants had entered for a chance to intern at Hansol, but her gut instinct told her there was more to it where Chris was concerned.
“My kid brother’s on the spectrum,” he said with a helpless shrug. “He’s so smart, kind and funny, but he faces so many challenges dealing with everyday life. I feel helpless sometimes, because I can’t make everything better for him. This contest gave me a chance to do more. For him and others with ASD.”
“So you have special insight into what people with autism might want or need.”
“Well, I know what my brother likes and dislikes.”
“Then design something your brother would love to wear.”
“But he’s only nine. I thought we were focusing on business and formal wear.”
“You could design business and formal wear based on what you think your brother might like to wear when he’s older.” Chris’s gaze drifted into space, as though an idea had sparked to life.
“Thank you,” he said in a faraway voice, and carefully withdrew his sketch from her desk.
She smiled as he hastened back to his workspace. The creative energy in their makeshift studio was manic. Adelaide couldn’t remember the last time she’d sketched out so many ideas in one sitting.
The company had cleared out a large sample room for her and her team. She had five individual desks set up with an oversize table in the center of the room. Everyone came in when they had time, so the studio held five to six people at any given moment. If all ten designers showed up at once then they might need an additional oxygen source.
“I like your office.”
Adelaide bounced in her seat when the deep, familiar voice reached her ears. She swiveled around to find Michael grinning down at her. No, it’s Mike, not Michael. Calling him Michael had been her secret way to express her feelings out loud. Growing up, he was her guardian angel. He was by her side through the roughest times, and always knew how to make her feel better. Kind, gentle, vulnerable and sweet Michael. Her Michael...but no more.
“Hey, Mike.” She stood up so she wouldn’t have to tilt her head back like a Pez dispenser to look at his face. “What are you doing here?”
“Hmm.” A frowned creased his smooth forehead, but his voice remained light. “That’s not very hospitable. I am a member of your event team after all.”
“That’s true,” she conceded, and ground her heel into the burst of joy brought on by his sudden appearance. “Welcome then.”
“Any luck finding a venue for the show?” he asked casually.
“None.” She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I don’t want to spend half of my budget on the venue, which means my choices are limited at best.”
“Well, I have good news for you. A friend of mine has a loft studio in the arts district, and he owes me a favor.”
* * *
Everyone called him Mike.
He had no idea he hated the nickname until Adelaide made the switch. She’d always called him Michael, and he’d loved the sound of his name rolling off her sweet tongue. But now he was Mike, her friend. Dull, bland and impersonal. He absolutely hated it.
“A loft in the arts district?” Her eyes lit up with excitement.
“Yes, with lots of natural light and open space.” He felt his lips turn up at the corners. Mike or not, making her happy made him feel a hundred feet tall. “With a standard runway, it should seat about a hundred-fifty guests.”
“That sounds too good to be true. How much is he asking for it?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“A thousand dollars even.”
“Per day?”
“Nope. For the entire duration, including setup and clean-up time.”
“No freaking way,” she whispered. “That’s a full week. For a thousand.”
“Yes, it is. And you’re welcome.” His reluctant smile grew into a full-blown grin. “But you need to come with me right now. He’s leaving for San Francisco tonight and won’t be back for a few days. You probably want to check the venue off the to-do list as soon as possible, right? We’ll finally have a set date and location.”
Her dazed eyes snapped to focus, and she gathered her purse and rummaged around her cluttered desk until she found her iPad. “Let’s go.”
Most of her design team was too busy to notice her leaving, but she waved to the couple of them who looked up when she and Michael passed.
“Whose car are we taking?” she asked as they stepped into the elevator.
“Yours.” He’d walked over from his office. It was several blocks away, but he needed to stretch his legs. Adelaide could give him a ride back to his office later. He ignored the small voice that told him he was scavenging for a precious few extra minutes with her.
“Okay,” she said, unaware of his ulterior motives.
Michael cleared his throat several times. “I’ll drive, though, since I know the way.”
“Sounds good.”
He hadn’t seen her in days, and standing next to her was heady. She was wearing a silky cream dress shirt with a pair of slim black slacks and red oxfords. Her outfit was professional, and still functional enough to allow her to do the legwork for the event. But all he could see was how unbelievably beautiful she looked. The soft fabric of her shirt clung to the tops of her breasts and flowed loosely over her torso to where it was tucked into her slacks.
She tossed him her car keys as they approached her car, and he caught them by instinct. Adelaide slid into the passenger side, and Michael folded himself into the driver’s seat with a grunt. The auto adjust allowed him to inch the seat back and slowly lower his knees from his chest.
“I sometimes forget how short you are,” he said with a scowl. Adelaide was gripping her sides, hunched over in laughter. “It’s a wonder you don’t need a wooden block tied to your foot to reach the pedals.”
“Shut up and drive, Gulliver.”
They settled into a comfortable silence that came from years of friendship, and he clung to the familiar feeling. LA’s arts district was being gentrified, but it still hung on to its bohemian roots. Rough slashes of graffiti shared walls with stunning murals by professional artists, and ramshackle hole-in-the-wall restaurants stood between updated condos and art galleries. The eclectic but well-balanced vibe made for inspired wine and art walks, which took place every few weeks.
His friend’s loft was on the top floor of one of the buildings housing an art gallery. The bright red exterior stood out like a bright jewel on the street. He circled the building five times before he found street parking.
Adelaide shot out of her seat before he could open her door for her. He sighed and stepped out of the car. She usually snorted at his efforts at chivalry anyway.
“You must be joking.” Her jaw hung slack. “The meter doesn’t take cards. Who carries around a sack of quarters these days?”
Michael shrugged. He rarely used cash, and when he did he always left a tip, including any coins he got back as change. “There’s a Vietnamese restaurant across the street. Let’s grab something to drink for all of us, and get a sack of quarters.”
“Ooh. I’d kill for some iced Vietnamese coffee right now.”
“No murderous rampage necessary,” he said with a wink. “See? We’re already here.”
“Table for two?” One of the waitstaff approached them when they went inside.
“No, we’re not staying,” Adelaide said quickly. “Could we get three iced coffees to go please? Oh, and some change in quarters.”
“No snacks for the road? Some spring rolls maybe?”
“Um...” She pursed her lips, clearly tempted by the suggestion.
“It’s probably not a good idea to have your hands and mouth full while you tour the venue,” Michael said. “But we could come back for dinner if you’d like.”
“Ooh. Good plan.” She rubbed her hands together, smiling gleefully. God, she was adorable. “No spring rolls. Just coffee for now.”
“Sure. Let me put that order in and I’ll be right back to ring you up.”
When their server walked away, Adelaide grabbed a menu from the counter. “Jackpot. They have banh xeo.”
“I don’t think I’ve tried that before.” He peeked over her shoulder and glanced at the color picture on the menu. “It kind of looks like an omelet.”
“It’s actually this thin, crispy crepe filled with your choice of filling like pork, shrimp and bean sprouts. I rarely see it on menus, so I’m super excited. I hope they don’t disappoint.”
“It’s our signature dish. I promise you won’t be disappointed,” the server said with a kind smile.
“I’m so sorry.” Adelaide turned pink and fidgeted beside him like she’d been caught with her hand in the tip jar fishing for a penny. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I’m sure they’ll be lovely and I’ll eat like seven of them.”
“Please.” The server waved aside her apology. “I was only teasing. But I wasn’t kidding about the bahn xeo. It’s my grandmother’s recipe, and you won’t find its equal anywhere.”
“Wow. I can’t wait to come try some.”
Michael grinned at the exchange and pulled out a twenty to pay for their coffee only to have Adelaide slap his hand away.
“I got it.”
“Hell, no,” he said, blocking her attempt to pay. “You’re going to buy me dinner after you sign for the venue.”
Adelaide’s laughter enveloped him like the lovely strains of a violin. “Fair enough.”
With a tray of iced coffee in his hands and a pocket full of quarters, they crossed the street to her car. When he transferred the drink holder to one hand to reach for some quarters, the coffee wobbled dangerously with the uneven distribution of weight.
“Stop.” She spoke with such urgency that Michael froze on the spot. “Don’t you dare spill my Vietnamese coffee. Hang tight to those and I’ll get the quarters.”
A blinking red alarm went off in his head. But before he could shove the drinks at her and get the coins himself, Adelaide’s warm, small hand slid into his pocket. God. He didn’t know where the strength had come from, but he held in the desperate groan that filled his throat.
Her hand stilled in his pocket as though she was just now realizing what she was doing. Looking intently at the meter, she swept her hand in a giant, scooping motion and withdrew a small mountain of quarters. The good thing was she seemed to have harvested enough coins to not go in for a second time. The bad—and wonderful—thing was she’d managed to caress his taut thigh, forcing him to recite the alphabet backward in his head.
“Okay.” She cleared her throat and captured his gaze head-on, as if she was daring him to make things awkward. “Let’s go see this miraculous venue you found for us.”
Needing to walk behind her as he got his pants under control, he handed the drinks over. “Why don’t you carry these and offer him the coffee as a bribe?”
She took the tray, rolling her eyes. He opened the door for Adeleaide and they began climbing the back stairs to the loft. Unfortunately, walking behind her and watching her round backside rise and fall didn’t help with his hard on situation. He resolutely stared down at the steps and nearly bumped into her when they reached the fourth floor.
“Dude. Respect the coffee,” she said, steadying the drink holder.
“Sorry. I was lost in my thoughts,” he mumbled as he reached around her to open the door to the loft.
“Were you thinking about the bahn xeo, too? I’m so hungry right now.”
A huff of laughter escaped him. “Exactly. I can’t stop thinking about the bahn xeo.”
“Mike.” Glen, his college buddy, strode across the loft and pulled him in for a bro hug, complete with chest bump and robust back thumping. “It’s good to see you, man.”
“Glen, this is Adelaide Song, the producer of Hansol’s charity fashion show,” he said, finally comfortable enough to glance in her direction. “Adelaide, this is Glen, photographer extraordinaire and the owner of this loft.”
“Nice to meet you.” She handed the drinks to Michael, and extended her hand for a handshake.
“The pleasure’s mine,” Glen replied, taking her hand and covering it with both of his. “Mike gave me a brief sketch of what you’re planning, and I greatly admire your efforts.”
Glen held on to her hand two seconds longer than necessary, propelling Michael into action. “Why don’t you two grab your coffee, so I can put this tray down.”
“Is this Vietnamese iced coffee from across the street? I love that restaurant, especially this drink. Thanks, man.”
“Don’t thank me.” Michael deposited the drink tray in the recycling bin and turned toward her with his coffee in his hand. “Adelaide’s trying to bribe you.”
“Thanks, Adelaide. But I was sold the moment you walked in,” Glen said with a wink.
She laughed good-naturedly but didn’t respond to his friend’s flirting. Good. Because the back of his neck was hot and scratchy, and he had to fight his caveman impulse to plant his palm on her behind and pull her up against him. Mine.
“How about a quick tour?” she said, glancing around the loft.
The three of them walked through the space and admired the three-sixty view the surrounding windows provided. The setting sun added a warm hue to the white walls and walnut floors. They certainly could use the ambience and clean palette to their advantage in the fashion show.
“Of course, all the furniture and photography equipment will be cleared out for you,” his friend explained.
Adelaide held up a finger, her expression growing thoughtful. She paced a few steps back and forth, then clapped her hands together. “Thank you, and your setup here just gave me a great idea. I think it’ll be fantastic to have a photo opportunity for the guests. They could choose which set they want to be in and be captured like a model in a magazine.”
“That’s a fantastic idea,” Glen said.
“We could put together one photo booth with extra bright lights and loud music for the guests to experience how a typical setup with lights and music might feel for people with autism,” she went on. “And include a set with muted lights and music to allow any guests on the spectrum to participate as well.”
Michael was so proud of her, but he couldn’t spin her off the ground like he wanted to in front of Glen. Instead, he pulled her into light, friendly hug, and whispered before he stepped back, “You’re amazing. Do you know that?”
“Yeah, I know.” Her shy smile and lovely blush belied her cocky words.
“It sounds like we have a deal,” Michael said to his friend, not taking his eyes off Adelaide.
“But a thousand dollars for an entire week? That is much too generous,” she protested.
“I’ve changed my mind about that.” Glen paused for effect. He’d always loved hamming it up. “I would love for you to use the loft free of charge.”
“No, that’s too much,” Adelaide gasped.
Michael grinned and fist-bumped his friend. “You’re still one of the good guys. I’m glad all that drinking in college didn’t mess up your brain.”
“But—”
“Adelaide,” Glen said. “I love your enthusiasm and passion for your cause, and you’ve convinced me to do my part to help.”
“Well, damn. I don’t know what to say, Glen,” she said, excitement bubbling to the surface. “Thank you. I guess the Vietnamese coffee worked like a charm.”
“Yup. That must be it,” Michael’s friend replied with a robust guffaw.
Adelaide had always been amazing with people, but her passion for the charity made her a force to be reckoned with. They sealed the deal, disposing of the necessary contract with efficient professionalism, and everyone said their goodbyes with wide grins.
A new moon hung high in the sky by the time they strolled back to her car, but Adelaide was oblivious to her surroundings. Her hands were clasped in front of her chest and she looked blinding in her joy. He wanted to steal a taste of her sweet faraway smile.
“I still can’t believe we scored that venue.” Her whisper rose to a squeal on the last word. “It’s perfect.”
“It must feel great to check that huge box off your list,” Michael said a little stiffly, giving himself a firm mental shake. Her undiluted joy and sweetness weren’t his to take.
“It really does. Now I can finally get started with everything else.” She placed a hand on his arm before they crossed the street for banh xeo. “Thank you, Mike.”
