Nicola Marsh - Girl in a Vintage Dress

Looking around at the stylish women in the crowd, swathed in head to toe clingy black, she doubted they’d ever had to battle bullies at school who’d tormented them over their lunch boxes, count calories under a beauty queen mother’s watchful eye or hide backstage and pretend to be another lackey at a supermodel sister’s catwalk show.

Not that she was jealous exactly but she envied them their carefree ‘togetherness’, as if they knew their place in the world, taking for granted their easy self-assurance.

She’d worked hard for her confidence, worked at it on a daily basis; with every wave of the mascara wand over her naturally pale lashes, with every tuck of her curls, with every slash of her signature Crash Crimson lipstick, she put together an image to the world. An image that showed a confident businesswoman who loved anything vintage, who enhanced her assets and made the most of the curves she’d once hidden.

But sitting here in this trendy loft, surrounded by Melbourne’s A-list, she recognised her confidence was as brittle as her bank balance.

And it was all because of the man striding through the crowd towards her, that roguish smile directed solely at her, unsettling her far more than the hip crowd.

‘Here you go.’

Chase appeared from the left and handed her a drink. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

He studied her face and she quickly schooled it into the bright, bubbly mask she used to greet customers.

‘You were looking mighty pensive when I was grabbing these.’

He’d been watching her? She tried to hide her surprise. In a room of wall to wall revealing outfits and glamorous women he’d been eyeing her?

‘Guess I’ve just revealed my hand,’ he said, his smile rueful as indecision flashed across his face for a second then cleared.

Before she knew what was happening, he’d taken hold of her hand in a firm, warm grip that sent excitement ricocheting through her.

‘I have to tell you, Lola, you fascinate me.’

If she’d been any other girl, a whole host of witty replies would’ve tripped from her lips, making him laugh and easing the awkwardness of the moment.

As it was, she sat there, stunned, hoping her jaw hadn’t dropped as she frantically searched for a suitable response other than, Say it again .

She hated feeling this uncertain, this panicky. It reminded her of being put on the spot countless times in her past when she never had the right reply or frustratingly thought up something witty to say hours later.

Chase made her nervous and she’d spent an eternity battling her anxiety in social situations, honing her confident mask to project an assured image to the world and enhance her business. Sadly, the more attention Chase paid her, the more cracks appeared in that carefully constructed mask.

To her relief, he smoothed over her gauche-ness with a slow, sexy smile that tied her tongue into a thousand more knots.

‘I know you think I’m crazy for saying that after only meeting you earlier today but I’m blunt in business and it tends to spill over into other areas of my life.’

He paused, squeezed her hand gently before lifting it to his lips and brushing a soft kiss across the back of it. ‘You’ll get to know that about me.’

She would?

As her hand tingled with the delicious touch of his lips, she reacted how she always did in a situation like this.

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