Then his phone rang. “Devonshire.”
“This is Hammond from the Leicester Square store. I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but we have an emergency.”
“Why isn’t the duty manager handling this?” Steven asked. He didn’t remember seeing Hammond’s name on the list of managers at that location.
“I’m a retail floor specialist. The manager isn’t here, she’s on her lunch break and won’t answer her phone. But we can’t wait until she gets back.”
“What is the situation?” Steven asked.
“Someone has set up and is doing a photo shoot in the middle of the selling floor. It’s Jon BonGiovanni, the rocker, and there is a crowd of people blocking the elevator. They just won’t move.”
“I’ll be right there.”
He hung up and grabbed his suit jacket before leaving to take care of the problem at the Leicester Square store. He didn’t have time for waffling—the last thing he needed on his first day was some sort of retail fiasco.
Upon reaching the Leicester Square store, he took two steps and stopped, gobsmacked.
The problem with the store was obvious. A model, photographer and photographer’s assistant milled about in the main retail section—just as Hammond had said. It was only as he walked closer that he saw Jon BonGiovanni, the aging rock musician from the seventies supergroup Majestica standing under the photographer’s lights.
He wore a pair of skintight jeans and a barely there American flag shirt displaying his bare chest with a tattoo of a fist in the center of it.
“What’s going on here?” Steven said as he approached the group.
“We are trying to do a photo shoot. One that your CEO has already approved, but today no one seems to know what was agreed on,” the photographer said.
“I’m the CEO. Steven Devonshire.”
“I’m Davis Montgomery.”
Steven had heard of Davis—who hadn’t? The man had made a mint photographing young rockers like Bob Dylan, John Lennon, Mick Jagger and Janis Joplin in the early seventies. His open approach to photography and his subjects had changed the way rock portraits were taken and revolutionized photography.
Steven shook the man’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. But you can’t shoot in the retail store during our busy selling time.”
“Ainsley received permission for us to be here.”
“Who is Ainsley?”
“I am.”
The woman who walked up behind him was…exquisite. She had thick, ebony-colored hair that hung from a high ponytail at the back of her head. Her dark hair and alabaster skin first captured his attention but as his gaze skimmed down her body, he was entranced by her feminine figure. Her blouse was slim-fitting with cap sleeves and a nipped-in waist, and then the curvy hips were hugged lovingly by the black skirt. She was his dream girl come to life. The thick red belt around her waist just accentuated her gorgeous figure.
And then he caught a glimpse of her legs and the silk hose that encased them.
He nearly groaned out loud. She was a Betty Page look-alike. That classic fifties pin-up girl who had captured his teenage imagination and never let it go.
“And who are you, Ms. Ainsley?”
She seemed a bit taken aback by the question, and he wondered if he should have known who she was without asking. But she had a distinctively American accent and she was clearly in either the fashion industry or music. But he knew he would have remembered her had they met.
“Ainsley Patterson, editor-in-chief of British Fashion Quarterly.”
“Your name is familiar, but I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before.”
“That’s great,” Davis said. “Now you know each other and I’d like to get back to work.”
“I’m sure that Mr. Devonshire will be more than happy to accommodate us. After all, we have the permission of his father’s solicitor.”
Steven was tired of hearing about his father. Malcolm and he were little more than strangers. Though the same could be said of his mother and him. He just had never been the kind of child who’d clung to his parents.
“That’s all well and good, Ms. Patterson, but neither Malcolm nor his lawyer are here right now. Let’s go up to my office and discuss what you need and find a time that will work for everyone.”
Steven expected Ainsley to back down, but she didn’t. He’d never met a woman who could be so sexy and so businesslike at the same time. It was a turn-on just talking to her, but somehow he knew that wasn’t the route he should take.
Ainsley didn’t want to spend any extra time speaking to a man who couldn’t remember her. But she hadn’t gotten to where she was in publishing by avoiding people who annoyed her. Davis gave her a look that said he was about to blow his top and they were going to have to deal with one of his infamous temper tantrums.