Lingerie Wars (The Invertary books) (33 page)

"Come on, Magenta," she tried again. "If we scrub off your makeup no one will recognise you anyway."

"I am not parading around in my knickers for anyone," Magenta told her. "Not even you. Plus it's freezing out there. Bits could fall off it's so cold. I don't want to risk it. I like my bits."

Magenta had a point. Kirsty needed to figure out a way to keep the models she did have warm. An idea flickered in the back of her head.

"Fine," she said. "If you won't model, will you run around town getting as many fur coats as you can rustle up?"

Magenta stared at her, black bob falling across one eye.

"Is this punishment for not doing what you want?" she said as her eyes narrowed. "Because if you're going to make up things for me to do, running around town asking folk for coats is a bit pathetic."

"No, it's not punishment. I need them for the show," Kirsty said. "To keep the models warm."

"In that case, it's my pleasure. While we're on the topic of getting your kit off in public, why don't you model? It's not like you haven't done it before."

Kirsty shook her head.

"I can't, I have a show to organise." She was surprised to hear that was her main concern, rather than hiding her scars. "Go," she told Magenta. "I'll mind the shop."

They actually had customers for a change as the tourists wandered in from the market. The posters around town advertising the fashion show were helping too. Unfortunately, they weren't only helping her shop. As she looked over the road she could see that Lake's shop was doing well too. At this rate, she'd never win the war. And she definitely didn't have a hope if she only got to show eight outfits while Lake showed ten. She bit her lip as she tried to come up with a solution.

There weren't any suitable women in Invertary—at least, none who were prepared to wear lingerie in public—but there was one thing she could try. She picked up the Christmas card from an old friend of hers and reread the message. It said:
Working in Edinburgh, will try to come visit when I'm done. Prepare to party!
Kirsty picked up her phone, but hesitated before she dialled. It was one thing expecting the local women to wear her designs, but quite another to ask her modelling friends. Especially seeing as she'd been less than sociable since her accident. She put the phone back down. It was a stupid idea. What made her think they would be able to come to Invertary at such short notice, let alone
want
to come? She would make a fool of herself asking these women to wear her stuff. Her little designs weren't professional. She barely knew what she was doing. It was stupid.

She folded her arms and paced in front of her phone. If she ever wanted business, now was the time. There would be press. Free advertising. Not only would she get the joy of beating her soldier boy, but she had a real chance at making the shop a success. She chewed her lip. Professional models would make a massive difference. Her palms started to tingle and her heartbeat sped up. It meant dealing with the world she'd left behind. No. The world she'd been forced out of. She had to tell herself to breathe slowly. What if they said no? What if they said yes? This was going to drive her crazy!

She snatched up the phone and dialled, all the while hearing Lake's voice in her head:
You can do it. Fight me. Fight back.

"Hello," she said. "Helena, it's Kirsty."

There was a whoop of joy on the other end of the line. Kirsty smiled as the tension seeped from her shoulders.

"I know you said you'd try to visit, but I was wondering if we could make it a definite thing. I was also wondering if you could get here by the weekend?" She sat on one of the kitchen stools. "I have a little problem," she said. "I could really use some help."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The snow had stopped falling and, thanks to Caroline's beautifully coordinated decorations, Invertary looked like something straight from a Christmas card. There were thick green garlands with red velvet bows wrapped around the lamp posts. Old-fashioned lanterns, which held real candles, hung from every shop eve. There were large tartan banners, and golden bells, and holly, and wonderful sparkling white lights strung across the street. Although the whole thing looked like fairyland in the dark, it was still beautiful in the soft morning light. Kirsty sighed contentedly as she looked out of her window onto the frosted white street.

Usually Kirsty had a stall in the market like everyone else, but this year there was too much to get done. For a while there, she honestly didn't think she would make it. She smiled at the thought. She'd made it all right. Not only did she have her best collection yet, she had not one, but
four
professional models to wear it. Helena had mustered up some help, fought her way through the Highland weather and turned up to rescue her friend. Kirsty's heart grew at the thought. She hadn't known there were so many people who cared about her. As she waved at Dougal, who was setting up a stall with hot toddies and even hotter chips, the window above Lake's shop opened and he stuck his head out. Kirsty's whole body hummed with need at the sight of his wicked grin and mischievous blue eyes. She opened her window too.

"You ready to concede?" he shouted over the road.

People setting up in the high street looked up at them and grinned. Kirsty blushed. He'd said those words to her in the middle of the night, but under very different circumstances.

"To the English?" she called back with her own naughty grin. "Never."

He shook his head.

"You're only going to be embarrassed when I win," he told her. "Think about it now—a lingerie expert beaten by an army guy."

Kirsty giggled.

"It's not going to happen. You might as well pack up and retreat over the border."

For once, she really believed her words. She knew that she wasn't going to lose her shop. In fact, she felt crazy for ever worrying about that in the first place. She's even go as far as to say that she was excited about the future and for the first time in years—she was having fun.

"I was trained never to retreat," Lake called over to her. "The special forces don't retreat. They regroup and pop up where you least expect them."

"Well, pop up in London," she shouted back.

They shared a look that was so hot, Kirsty half expected the snow between their shops to melt.

"I'll deal with you later," Lake promised with a grin before he went in out of the cold.

Kirsty actually felt a little lightheaded at the thought. Since their first night together, Lake had strolled over the road each evening as though he had every right to be in her house. She let him in, as though he had every right to be there. And although they spent their nights in the dark, Kirsty never asked him to leave before daylight. He did that all on his own. Not once had he pushed her to put on the light. Her heart pounded at the thought of a man with so much power who never pushed. To her shame, she missed having him around. He'd been gone only a couple of hours and her feminine flat seemed far too empty without him.

Kirsty looked at her watch. It was early. The shop was shut for the day so they could get on with last-minute preparations, but no one was due to arrive for another hour. The clothes were ready. Magenta was in charge of makeup and had sworn an oath to keep it normal. The local hairdresser had provided a stylist each for Lake and Kirsty. The accessory shop had lent them a heap of jewellery to use on the runway, and Donald's shoe shop had provided the shoes. Everything was ready. Especially since Caroline was in charge.

Caroline had decided that it was too cold for an outdoor show, so she'd put up a marquee. There were heaters installed and chairs laid out around a low runway that some of the men had built. The large tent was decorated beautifully. The local high school had spent hours stringing up thousands of fairy lights on the ceiling. When they'd checked out the lights the evening before, it was stunning. Like a sparkling sky over the catwalk.

Of course, it might have been warmer in the tent than outside, but it still wasn't warm, which meant her mother had spotted a business opportunity. She got the ladies of Knit Or Die to pull out all the woollen blankets they'd knitted over the years, and they planned to rent them out for the evening for people to cover their knees. Dougal had jumped on that idea, and now intended to sell hot drinks and warm snacks at the entrance to the tent.

There were two large caravans sitting outside the back of the marquee for the models to use while they waited, each loaned by a supportive citizen of Invertary. Kirsty was pleased she'd managed to get first pick and nabbed the Spencer family van. It was bigger, more modern and wasn't decorated in shades of brown. Each of the shops had sorted music for their show and tossed a coin to see who went first. Kirsty won. Dougal was going to MC the event and had been preparing lingerie-themed jokes that he wouldn't let anyone hear, which didn't bode well. Kirsty was too nervous about her own part in the events to care about whether Dougal made a fool of himself.

The market stalls were set up on the side of the marquee that faced the town. And as the tent was taking up so much space, the stalls filled the lower part of the high street and went up past Kirsty's shop. Kirsty honestly couldn't remember the last time the town had been this exciting. The place was buzzing with tourists, and in the last couple of days members of the press had joined their numbers. It was the biggest thing to hit Invertary since the failed declaration of independence in 1832—although most people were pleased that had failed. It would have been stupid if Invertary was independent of England and the rest of Scotland wasn't.

Kirsty honestly couldn't think what else there was to do. Everything was organised. Everything had been checked a million times over. In theory, she had an hour to relax before everyone arrived. She chewed her lip. There was only one thing she wanted to do. She picked up her cell phone and dialled.

"Calling to concede?" Lake said.

Kirsty smiled as her heart did the happy dance at the sound of his voice.

"Actually, I have an hour to kill and I've blacked out the window in the bedroom." She heard a sharp intake of breath. "I thought I'd try making a booty call. I hear they're all the rage."

"I'll be there in ten seconds."

The line went dead. Kirsty grinned widely at her phone.

"This is so exciting," said Rainne as they gathered the lingerie to take down to the runway. "Just think, in a couple of hours we're putting on a fashion show!"

Lake counted the outfits again and tried to think if there was anything he'd forgotten. It was worse than going over your gear before an overseas operation. At least then he knew what was supposed to be in his kit. Here he was guessing. Ex-special service men should not be putting on runway shows. He shook his head at the thought. Anyway, he had the lingerie and all the other crap the models had to wear and he was paying some women to sort out makeup and hair. That was something he wasn't going to touch with a barge pole. A man could have a healthy interest in lingerie without his testosterone levels plummeting, but he was pretty sure that if he even touched a lipstick, his package would shrink. It was bad enough that the only calls he got these days from old army buddies were to rib him about frilly knickers. He really didn't need to hear any makeup jokes.

"Are you listening to me?" Rainne prodded him in the back.

"I am now," he said as he tried to rub the spot she'd poked. "You need to cut your nails, that was sore."

She rolled her eyes.

"The whole town will be at the show. This has brought the community together and brought business to the area. It's amazing." She beamed at him. "We should do this every year."

Betty made a choking sound from her armchair by the changing room, as Lake felt his stomach sink.

"What do you think?" Rainne said. "Should we talk to Caroline about making this an annual thing?"

Betty gave Lake a look. He could practically hear her think. As much as she liked to torture Rainne, Betty didn't approve of stringing people along. She'd made that clear every time she nagged him about the shop. Lake rubbed his hand over his chin. The hopeful look on Rainne's face made him want to run.

"Look, Rainne," he said. "There's something I need to tell you."

The last thing he wanted was to hurt his sister, but this couldn't go on. He didn't want to run a lingerie shop and she wasn't capable of doing it.

The bell above the door rang and he turned to see his parents. Perfect timing as usual. Betty gave them the evil eye, but even that didn't boost his mood.

"Eric, Joyce!" Rainne bounded over to them like a big puppy.

There were hugs all around. But not for Lake.

"There's a lot of people out there," his mother said. "Eric and I have printed up some leaflets to hand out to the crowd. Otherwise this is a wasted opportunity."

She waved a leaflet headed
Stop The Greed
. Lake watched as Rainne's smile faltered. She heard the same message he did—supporting their children wasn't reason enough to make the trip worthwhile. He clenched his jaw.

"Glad to see you're getting into the spirit of things," Betty said dryly.

Rainne turned towards Lake.

"What was it you wanted to tell me?" she said.