His Convenient New York Bride. Andrea Bolter

Чтение книги онлайн.

      “Can I show you something?” Jin asked Mimi while she was sitting at a sewing machine in his studio a little later. “Just a couple of new things I was playing around with.”

      “Sure, just let me finish up this seam,” Mimi said as she turned her head toward him and then back to the dress she was doing in muslin as a prototype. She’d come in after her interview to use one of Jin’s industrial machines, as she had been doing for years.

      He kept a few machines near his office in the back, along with a cutting table, tools and shelves with fabric set aside for special projects. Now with his grandfather and father gone, nobody but Jin used the office.

      Employees busied about in front creating virtual models on the computers, fulfilling back orders and doing alterations for the customers who had bought pieces from the showroom downstairs. While the major manufacturing was handled by his uncle Fu in Hong Kong, there was always plenty of activity at Jin’s building.

      He pulled out some drawings he’d done.

      “I was toying with this,” he explained as she got up from the machine to join him. Pointing to details on the sketch he explained, “Wouldn’t this be kind of a practical look? Comfortable separates but with fine tailoring so that a woman can wear them anywhere? Business casual. With this maybe,” he said as he pulled over some fabric swatches.

      He handed Mimi a twill he was considering. Their fingers brushed in the process. The Jin sizzles that were as familiar to her as her own heartbeat crackled up her spine.

      A smirk she fought to hide reminded her of Aaron’s suggestion of her moving in with Jin. Living with this man, who occupied her dreams day and night, was out of the question.

      Although, really, she’d have nothing to worry about because in all the years she’d known him, he’d never done anything to encourage her secret feelings. There was no reason to think he ever would. The big brotherly hugs, chaste kisses on the cheek and the professional cheering on was the way they were with each other. For so long now it was set in stone.

      She rubbed the fabric between her fingers. “This would be wrinkly by the end of the day. Can you go with something stiffer?”

      “Will you work it through with me? I can’t meet my retailers with nothing to show.”

      “And you have no designer.”

      “I haven’t found anyone suitable to hire.”

      “You’re thinking of doing your own collection?”

      Jin slowly nodded as he looked over his drawings.

      “Was I wrong to fire Javier so hastily? Right before Fashion Week?”

      “Once you found out about him and Helene, how could you be expected to work with him every day?”

      “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

      Mimi lifted one sketch off Jin’s desk and inspected it carefully. Then she reviewed another. She trailed her finger along the drawing of a blazer jacket, commenting, “You could run a curved seam here, and here, and give it a little flare at the hem.”

      Maybe this was how she might help Jin. Offer what assistance she could in pulling together some pieces without a designer.

      “I like that,” he said, understanding her concept.

      “Kind of a nineteen-seventies vibe.”

      “Hmm. You’re good.”

      “I know! If I could ever get a job.”

      “How did it go today?”

      “Thanks, but no thanks.”

      Mimi had always wanted to be a fashion designer, even before she met the Zhangs. Whereas others loved music or books, she loved clothes. The artistry of fashion. The details. The variety. The act of personal expression that had to be combined with an almost science-like approach to construction. She’d taught herself to sew as a young girl and sitting in front of the hum of a machine was her happy place. For birthdays or holidays, she’d ask for gifts of fabric and supplies. Her parents encouraged her to chase her ambition so she’d gone to design school.

      Now here she was, unemployed.

      “Gunnar Nilsson is not going to bring me down.” Mimi grabbed a pencil from the holder on Jin’s desk and was quickly drawing a revised idea for his casual suits. “Didn’t your grandfather do a collection like this way back when? I feel like I’ve seen some photos.”

      “Yeah, it was a big hit in the eighties. With exaggerated shoulders and peg-leg pants but the same theory. I’ve heard that half of New York produced imitations after that.”

      “It will be a tribute to him, then.”

      Mimi continued making adjustments to the sketch. “See, I’m saying do a subtle pouf at the shoulder. A little all-business and a little rock star.”

      “That is fabulous, Miss Stewart.”

      Jin moved toward her for a hug that included three friendly pats on the back, like someone might give their long-lost uncle. Never did he give her the kind of embraces that Mimi fantasized about. “You’re a pal.”

      A pal to Jin, she was. Always would be.

      She pointed to her sketches. “Can I apply for the designer job?” she kidded. Was she really kidding, though?