Lingerie Wars (The Invertary books) (36 page)

Helena appeared, wrapped head to toe in Kirsty's fur coat. She stepped confidently onto the runway and let the coat fall open to reveal the red tartan lingerie underneath. The crowd went wild. As Helena strode down the runway she shed the coat, until it hung from her hand and trailed on the ground. Kirsty's eyes filled with tears. It was perfect. Her lingerie didn't look out of place at all. In fact, it looked amazing. Helena winked at the camera, cocked her hip and turned to stride back up the runway, dragging the coat behind her.

Kirsty flicked a look at Lake. He smiled sweetly at her, his eyes full of pride, and then he saluted. Kirsty wanted to run at him and kiss him hard. But she didn't. Instead she watched the rest of her models follow in Helena's footsteps. And even though you could tell the amateurs, it was still a fantastic show. Kirsty felt quite overwhelmed.

"How about that, folks?" Dougal roared at the end.

The crowd hollered their approval.

"Let's hear it for our Kirsty." Dougal led her onto the stage, where she took a bow. "I don't know about you lot, but even I want to put in an order for some tartan knickers after seeing that."

At the back of the crowd she could see her mother jumping up and down with excitement. Kirsty beamed at her before she left to congratulate her models. During the brief break between shows, when the pub stall made a killing in hot chips and warm mugs of drinking chocolate, Kirsty joined everyone back in the caravan. The level of excitement, and relief, was almost overwhelming. There were hugs all around.

"That was as good as any show I've been in," Helena told her.

Although Kirsty didn't believe her for a second, she appreciated the sentiment.

"Your designs are wonderful," Helena said. "I'm going to send the pictures to some of my contacts. You deserve a lot more exposure than a show in your hometown. I don't know why you haven't used your own contacts. People would have loved to have heard from you."

"In Scotland," Kirsty told her Norwegian friend, "we don't blow our own trumpets."

Helena started to laugh. With a smile, Kirsty hugged her tight as she blinked back happy tears.

"Kirsty," Magenta called to her. "Lake's at the door. I think he wants to surrender."

That made the women fan themselves. Kirsty told them off with a look while she went to see what he wanted. But their words make her blush. They had
no
idea how good that man was at the game of surrender.

"Well done," he said when she opened the door. "Great show. Sneaky. But great."

Kirsty jumped from the top step of the caravan to throw her arms around his neck. He kissed her automatically.

"Don't get too smug," he told her when her feet were back on the ground. "I'm still going to win. Better start practising your strip show and don't forget to include those boots of yours."

She licked her bottom lip. His eyes darkened appreciatively.

"Bring it on," Kirsty said at last.

"I intend to."

With a cheeky grin, he headed back to his caravan.

As soon as Betty set foot on the runway, Kirsty knew she'd lost the bet. Lake grinned over at her from his position beside the runway.

"Unlike our competitor," he said into the microphone, "we believe that
every
woman is beautiful and deserves great underwear."

The noise in the tent was ear-splitting as Betty strutted down the catwalk. Behind her photos of Lake's shop, before and after the makeover, appeared on the wall. The sound system blasted out the old Right Said Fred song
I'm Too Sexy
and Betty did her best to appear sexy. She pouted, she posed, she blew kisses to the audience and waggled her backside like a duck. Kirsty laughed in spite of herself. It was a stroke of genius to put her up there. She wore a red silk nightgown and robe set, complete with fluffy pink slippers. And, for once, she had her teeth in.

From Kirsty's position, beside her mother at the entrance to the marquee, she got a great view of the crowd. She had to admit that Lake's choices for his show were smarter than hers. She'd tried to put on a sophisticated runway show, whereas Lake had anticipated his audience. All they wanted was to be entertained, and that's exactly what he was doing.

Before the last model made an appearance, Lake handed the microphone to Dougal and disappeared behind the curtain. Then, as the last model turned to go up the runway and people started to clap, Dougal cleared his throat.

"There's one more model," he said.

There was silence as people leaned forward in their seats to see what would happen next. The photos projected on the wall suddenly changed. Instead of the shop, the screen was full of the pictures Kirsty had encouraged Magenta to spread on Facebook. The doctored photos of Lake with balding hair and a beer belly had the crowd in hysterics. Kirsty hung her head. She knew what was coming next. The man was a born exhibitionist. He had no shame at all.

"Lake Benson would like to remind everyone that his shop—For Your Eyes Only—also sells men's underwear. He would also like to set the record straight about some images that have been circulating. Some false images. Please put your hands together and give Lake a big thank you for tonight's show."

And out he came, dressed only in a pair of red Calvin Klein underpants.

Kirsty's jaw dropped. His eyes sought her out over the crowd and gave her that sexy little half-smile that rocked her world. The women in the marquee went nuts. They were jumping up and down in the aisles. Some of them were throwing things onto the runway. To her disgust, Kirsty saw a pair of knickers. Lake kept smiling confidently. He walked to the end of the runway, folded his arms and grinned at the crowd. Then he looked at Kirsty and raised one eyebrow.
Surrender?
She shook her head.
Never.
He laughed.

As Lake strode back up the runway, someone outside of the tent tugged at Kirsty's arm. With a grin on her face, she turned to see who it was and froze.

"It's good to see you again too, Kirsty," her ex-fiancé said.

For a minute she couldn't speak. The music blared loudly around her. The women were screaming. It'd turned into a raucous night at a male strip club instead of a sophisticated runway show. But Kirsty couldn't think about any of that. The man she'd once trusted, the man she'd once loved, was standing in front of her.

"What are you doing here?" She stumbled over her words.

Her head was reeling. It didn't seem possible. Brandon? In Invertary?

"I came to see you."

He looked down at his shoes—the image of a penitent man. Kirsty didn't buy it for a minute. He peered up at her through those long lashes that she'd once thought were lovely.

"I couldn't get the photos of you out of my mind. I know I screwed up, that I don't deserve a chance to explain, but I had to see you. I had to see if there was some way we could fix things."

Kirsty's mouth hung open.

"You left me unconscious in hospital and never even came to visit," she said. "Not to mention you stole all my money."

He took a step backwards out of the tent door, motioning for her to follow and, like an idiot, she did. The icy wind bit her skin as she left the warmth of the tent. Kirsty folded her arms against the cold, and Brandon.

"I made mistakes," he said. "I owed too much money to guys who wanted to break my legs. I felt cornered. I reacted badly and caused you harm. I'm sorry,"

His eyes were pleading with her, begging her to forgive him. He seemed genuine, but Kirsty also remembered a time when it'd seemed like he'd loved her. She no longer took anything he did, or said, at face value.

He ran a hand over his brown hair and Kirsty noticed that it wasn't as perfectly groomed as it used to be. Now that she thought about it, there were a lot of details about him that were different. He had a kind of panicked look and his clothes weren't as expensive, or polished, as they'd once been.

"Look," he said. "I know it isn't the best time, but why don't we go somewhere and have a coffee? We can talk through things. I owe you that." He sighed heavily. "It's the very least I owe you."

Kirsty hesitated. She had questions. There were answers that she wanted. She bit her lip as she thought about it. For some reason, going anywhere alone with her ex-fiancé did not appeal at all.

"Just one cup of coffee," he said with a self-deprecating smile. "We can talk about old times. We did have fun, didn't we?"

"I don't want to talk about old times," Kirsty told him.

"Give me half an hour," he said, but his tone was a little intense.

The hair on Kirsty's arms stood on end.

"You came all this way to have half an hour with me?" she said as people bustled around them.

"It's more than I deserve after what I did," he said. "I'm a different man now, you have to believe me. All I want is half an hour to explain." He paused. "Let's go to your flat. We can talk there." He looked around and smiled. "We definitely won't get any privacy here."

He turned and motioned for her to walk in front of him. Kirsty took a tiny step. And then she saw it. The look in his eye. The smirk clawing at his lips. Her palms began to tingle and everything within her screamed that she shouldn't go anywhere with this man and definitely not alone.

"How about we meet tomorrow?" she said. In daylight. With a chaperone.

"I don't have that much time. I have to leave in the morning. Now is best for me."

Her eyebrows arched.

"You can't give me tomorrow?"

His eyes hardened briefly. Kirsty flinched slightly.

"I need to talk now," he said tightly. "You can escape for half an hour, can't you?"

Kirsty took a step backwards and shook her head.

"I'm really busy. Tomorrow works better. If you can't make it, that's your problem."

He let out a long sigh and shook his head.

"In all the years I knew you and you weren't suspicious about anything, and now you're suddenly cautious," he said pleasantly.

Kirsty was confused. She wasn't sure what was going on. She took another step back towards the marquee door. She could see her mother standing on the stool beside the entrance. Her focus on the stage.

"I'm going now," she told Brandon. "If you want to talk to me, come back tomorrow."

His smile was cold.

"That isn't going to work for me."

He took two steps towards her and grabbed her arm. The demure Brandon was gone. The guy in his place was a little terrifying.

"I thought we could do this the easy way," he said. "I guess not. We're going to your flat. And we're going now."

Kirsty pulled from his grip, but his fingers dug into her making her yelp.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. And I don't want to talk tomorrow either."

He laughed at her.

"Talk? Yeah, like I'd really want to talk to you. Hash over our past. No," he shook his head. "I really don't give a crap about that. But I do want to go to your flat. I want you to give me the necklace."

"The necklace? That ugly papier-mâché thing? You came here for that?"

Her heart was pounding so fast that she felt light headed. Nothing made sense.

He smirked at her.

"You models, so beautiful and yet so damn thick. Yes. I came all this way for the necklace. You honestly didn't think I'd come back for you? Why the hell would I do that? You're no use to me now. Let's face it, you're not even the woman you once were. You're damaged goods. But the necklace, that I can use. It isn't papier-mâché. It's diamonds. And I need it."

Kirsty felt so nauseous that she bent over. She heard Brandon laugh.

"Let's go. The sooner I get what I want, the sooner I can get out of this hell hole and you can get back to the bargain basement version of your old life."

Kirsty shook her head vehemently.

"No. No, I'm not giving you the necklace," Kirsty told him. "You want it? Hand back my savings."

He tugged her arm and she struggled to get away from him. The noise, and the bustle of people, meant that no one paid any attention to them. Kirsty looked back into the tent. Her mother was laughing as she clapped for whatever was going on. Lake was nowhere in sight.

"Your savings are long gone, darling. And, yes," he said. "you are going to give me what I want. You always gave me exactly what I wanted and that isn't going to stop now."

"No!" Kirsty pulled back from him and felt something sharp at her side.

"That's a knife," Brandon sneered at her. "Want to add to those famous scars of yours? Or maybe you can afford to lose another kidney?"

He pulled her towards the main street.

"Mum!" Kirsty shouted. Her mother's smile disappeared as soon as she turned. The colour leeched from her skin. "Get Lake," Kirsty called.

Kirsty looked desperately towards the spot where she'd seen Lake last. There was a wild group of shrieking women. No Lake.

"Kirsty?" her mother called.

"Stop screwing around," Brandon said. He pressed the sharp tip into her side. "Get going."