Page 18 of Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye

Transactions for the day balanced, Simon joined her. Wandering through his boutique, he answered Leia’s questions about schooling (he had a BA and Master’s in Fashion Design Technology from University of the Arts London), financial investment (a bank loan and an early inheritance from his parents in Montréal), and how long he’d been in business (since summer 2015). Originally, he sold clothes by other designers alongside a few pieces of his own, sewn in his workroom upstairs. But as months passed, shoppers began to swoon over his pretty dresses, and eventually the small corner they occupied grew to the entire boutique. Four years on, Simon now outsourced the production of his collections to a trusted factory in South London and had a steady stream of devoted customers. More recently, he had begun winning over fashionistas in New York—two of his dresses were big sellers on the Bowery, and much to his delight, he was courting interest from three additional retailers in New York and Montréal. He regaled Leia with stories about taking his destiny into his own hands, booking meetings in the Big Apple during a holiday the previous summer, and how his ‘fake it till you make it’ boldness was paying off. His clothing now earned him a comfortable living, and along with the rent from the apartment above his shop, he was paying back his loans. Simon was a risk-taker, and Leia found his career path both hopeful and inspiring. She also liked him immediately, his Canadian warmth, wry humor, and love of ketchup potato chips making her feel right at home.

• • •

Forty-five minutes and thirty dresses later, the trio decamped to the Prince George pub and a table by a crackling fire where Simon bent Leia’s ear with questions about her upcycled outfit—a belted black shift dress made from reclaimed scraps of silk—and her New York fashion experience. She told them about her Master of Arts in Fashion and Textiles Studies from Manhattan’s Fashion Institute of Technology, and in between bites of her grilled harissa chicken and caramelized onion pilaf (so delicious!) shared stories about interning at one of the city’s most prominent design houses.

Opening the Frill-Seekers website on her phone, she showed off her lookbook of dresses, prompting Simon to ignore his potato gnocchi to scroll and pause, scroll and pause, his grin growing as each new image settled on the screen. “Beautiful.” “Bad ass.” “How on earth…?” As bon mots fell from Simon’s lips, Leia’s smile stretched wider and wider.

Waiting for the designer to come up for air, she enjoyed her meal and made small talk about London across the table with Tarquin. They danced around anything deep, and Leia sensed he was carefully taking his conversational cues from her. If she veered off course, he’d probably follow gladly. He’s charismatic and confident and has the most captivating smile. I bet he has charmed half the women in London.

“It’s great you’re loving it here,” said Tarquin, cutting a bite-sized piece of steak, cooked medium rare. “If you have time, I’d recommend the Fashion and Textile Museum in Bermondsey. It was made for you, Leia. You could happily get lost in there.”

“I’d love to check it out.” She nodded. “But I also want to get a bird’s-eye view of the city. What do you think—London Eye or the Sky Garden?”

“No! Go Shard. It’s higher, better—bigger! Bigger is always best.” A naughty glint in his eyes, Tarquin lowered his fork and raised his ruby-hued boulevardier for a sip. “Or so I’ve been told.”

Cheeky! Leia laughed and swept her hands through her hair, twisting it into an improvised bun before letting it fall around her shoulders. His playfulness is such a turn-on. Maybe I should relax my no-guys-into-Star Wars-rule. Just this once? “I guess I’d have to see it to believe it.”

Tarquin admired her for a few seconds before he licked his lips and pulled away. He set down his drink and picked up his knife and fork, but Leia’s eyes lingered, stealing every chance to check him out. His hair was unruly, thanks to the wind outside and his failed attempt at taming it when they sat down. The scruff he had sported at IKEA had been shaved, and strangely, Leia missed it. Tarquin made an effort. It can’t be for me, right? He thinks I have a boyfriend. Her attention swerved to his hands. Nails clean, neatly trimmed with no ragged cuticles—I bet he gets manicures. I like a guy who takes care of himself.

Looking up from his meal, he noticed her furtive glances, his mouth breaking into a cocky grin.

My face always gives me away. Leia’s pulse rushed, but she held her ground, refusing to look away. Okay, then. You wanna play, mister? Let’s see what you got. She sat up and smiled back, silently challenging him as she trailed a finger along her collarbone…back…and forth. Flirt with me, Tarquin. His heavy gaze wantonly followed her fingers and drifted to her lips, the heat of his stare replacing Leia’s thoughts of dresses and playing tourist with visions of slow, deep kisses, his tongue teasing, asking for more. Tarquin Balfour, never mind our London Q&A—what do you think of no-strings sex?

“How is everything?” The Scottish accent of an exuberant male waiter catapulted Leia from Tarquin’s mouth down to her plate.

“Great!” she blurted, dropping her hand to her lap as she flashed a grin. “Really great.” Her spontaneous outburst and the warm flush creeping across her cheeks roused a soft chuckle from Tarquin.

“It’s all good, thanks,” Simon added with a nod, his squint glued to Leia’s latest photos while his veggie pasta grew cold.

Leia’s glance boomeranged from Tarquin to Simon and back again. Everything IS good. If I asked, I bet Tarquin would hook up with me. She picked up her sparkling water, taking a long satisfying drink.

Tarquin wore an impish smile. “Someone’s thirsty. Another round, I think.” He ordered more beverages from the waiter and somehow got pulled into a chat about the pub’s quiz night. “It’s packed out Monday nights? That’s great!” The property developer kindly indulged the waiter’s giddy enthusiasm and rattled off another question, his gaze escaping to Leia every chance it could while his hands gesticulated, punctuating a sentence here, a word there. “Well, meat platters make great prizes. You can’t go wrong there.”

A laugh stuck in Leia’s throat, her eyes sweeping over Tarquin’s broad shoulders and the loosened black tie looped around his unbuttoned collar. He talks with his hands a lot. Free of his suit jacket, his form-fitting burgundy dress shirt skimmed over his toned arms and firm chest as he moved, hinting that Mr. Balfour wasn’t a stranger to the gym now and then. He’s gorgeous, kind, charming—a bit cocky, but he’s kinda goofy with it, which I like. And his passion for his work is sexy as hell. She bit her lip. He would be one hot hookup—

“Leia, you naughty girl,” Simon whispered conspiratorially, leaning into her right shoulder.

Shit! Leia squeezed her drink. Caught undressing his friend. She gulped her water, stealing a moment. Refocus! You’re here for a BUSINESS meeting. Sleeping with Tarquin isn’t on the agenda. But damn those dimples… and shoulders…

“Hiding these dresses from the world?” Simon grinned. “It’s a crime against fashion.”

Oh, phew. Simon didn’t notice. Leia swallowed, lowering her almost empty glass. Professional rep remains intact.

“They don’t look upcycled, and that’s a huge selling point.”

Simon likes them! “Thanks! That’s my goal.”

“Do you use much dead stock?” Simon scrolled through the photos again. “A lot of the fabric looks vintage.”

Ending his chat with the waiter, Tarquin’s gaze strayed to Leia. “What’s dead stock?”

“It’s surplus material from garment factories and textile mills,” said Leia. “They sell it off instead of dumping it in landfills.”

“Oh, that’s smart.” Tarquin picked up his cocktail, enjoying a long sip.

“Yeah, the fashion industry is one of the world’s worst polluters.” Simon squinted at the screen. “If leftover fabric can be repurposed, it helps the earth and designers like Leia.”

She nodded. “I also have an arrangement with a factory that sorts secondhand clothes. They know what I like and put aside a lot of vintage items for me. So, I mix those materials with dead stock and biodegradable fabrics made from hemp, organic cotton, and linen. I’m hoping to work with vegan leather, too. Frill-Seekers needs to be truly sustainable, so eco-friendly textiles and upcycled materials are the way to go.”