Page 35 of Her Dom's Secret Past

Chapter Eleven

Anabelle

I had no idea how I managed to conduct the interview with my prospective client. It were as if I was operating on two levels. One level, I was listening, offering suggestions, and discussing fabrics, but on the other my head was filled with John. My heart bounced around my chest, leapfrogging, making me a little light-headed.

Whenever I glanced up, Charlie was scrutinizing me rather speculatively. I knew once this client left I’d be in for the third degree. These past few months I’d skirted around whenever he or Justin asked me what had happened. Both men respected my privacy and didn’t press for answers, but I knew they were both as worried as Becky and Cass. Our meals together were a little strained, but I loved them all dearly.

I recalled the conversation with Charlie this morning when I’d got back to the boutique.

“A strange man was in here asking for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that. A man came in here asking if he could see you. He didn’t have an appointment.”

“And?”

He fluttered his eyelashes at me only because he knew how much it annoyed me. I stood threatening to wring his neck if he didn’t answer.

Pouting, he said, “I asked if I could help but he told me it was personal.”

“Get on with it, Charlie, what did he want?”

“I have no idea, but he told me he would be back about half past eleven and to tell you his name was John.”

My heart skipped a dozen beats as I grabbed Charlie’s arm. “John? His name was John? What did he looked like?”

Even to me my voice sounded slightly maniacal.

“Hey, calm down, Belle.”

I dropped my hand and he’d said rather dramatically, “Is he dangerous? Shall I call the police?”

Charlie was—well, Charlie. He tended to love playing the stereotypical “gay” guy merely to annoy me. Yes, he was gay, but he was also extremely butch, six foot three of solid muscle. I often saw our female clients sizing him up, even some of the brides gazed at him wistfully—he was a very hot sexy guy. Unfortunately, at the moment he was playing “I’m gay” to the hilt. Little gasps, hands covering the mouth, eyes wide open. Had to admit, when he acted the part, he did it well.

I angrily demanded, “Quit the gay act. Just tell me what he looked like, CharlieLyton, or I’ll fire you!”

Charlie had put a finger to his lips and exhaled loudly through his nose. He’d given a dramatic eye roll and moaned, “About six-foot-five of pure hot chocolate.”

My knees felt wobbly and I almost fell. I actually staggered and Charlie grabbed my arm with real concern.

The “gay” persona immediately dropped as he gasped in fear, “Belle!”

“I’m okay, Charlie. As soon as he comes, you get him up to my office.”

“So you actually know this hunk of chocolate gloriousness?”

“Yes.”

I kind of daydreamed for a second then said, “Yes,” again.

“Ah ha, this is Mr. Holiday Hunk, isn’t it?”

I glared at him. I hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he’d seen through me.

“It is! Whoopee.”

I shook myself internally and got back to the present, realizing the bride-to-be had asked me a question and I’d completely ignored her.