ONE
CAROLINA PRESTON’S PENCIL GLIDED OVER THE paper like an Olympic figure skater performing an arabesque. Light, easy strokes, the effort behind the task not showing as she created her art, because it was all in her head. But soon, elegant lines appeared, shapes forming on the blank canvas as what she’d visualized became a flowing, sleeveless silk top, followed by a sequined mini. She added a cropped leather jacket to mix hard with soft, sketched in some killer high heels to complete the look, then paused to peruse the finished product, so out of breath her heart pounded.
Nice. Not perfect yet, but as she took a sip of chai tea, she cocked her head to the side and made a few adjustments to the sketch, exhilarated to create her own line of clothing.
It had taken several years of working for someone else, of feeling like a prisoner, unable to stretch her wings. But finally, this fashion season—she was going to fly.
As she worked on her next design, the figure morphed into a man. Tall, lean, his hands slid into his pockets as he modeled a pair of slacks and a body-hugging shirt. No jacket necessary as the clothes would speak for the body.
She loved menswear, and it would be part of her signature line. She could already picture it on the runway, worn by some chiseled model with raven-dark hair, steely gray eyes and—
No. She wasn’t going to go there. She stood, stretched her back,
and looked out the window of her Manhattan apartment. For November, it was decent, weather-wise. She should take a walk before the weather changed.
Her cell rang and she smiled as her brother’s name came up.
“Hi, Gray.”
“Hey, we’re in town. Are you busy?”
“Extremely. I’m so glad you called. Come on over. I’d love to see you and Evelyn.”
She spent the next hour picking up the disaster in her apartment. She had drawings strewn around her work space, so she picked up as much as she could in there, then closed the door and concentrated on the living area. When the buzzer sounded, she let them in.
She threw her arms around her brother and squeezed him tight.
“You look great,” she said to him, then hugged Gray’s fiancée, Evelyn.
“Have you two been celebrating Gray’s win in the championship?”
Her brother didn’t even try to fight his grin. “Overly celebrating, I think.”
“It was a big turnaround from how he ended up last year,” Evelyn said as they took a seat in Carolina’s living room. “I couldn’t be more proud of him.”
“She’s just happy I didn’t crash into a wall.”
“Or go flying through the air, like last year.”
Carolina nodded. “Yes. I think you took at least five years off my life on that crash last year.”
“No injuries this year. We raced clean and won a lot, including the championship. Even better, bringing Alex on the team this year was the best move I could have made. He and Donny both ended up in the top twelve. I couldn’t ask for more.”
The pride in his voice was evident. Her brother had made a success out of Preston Racing.
“You’re doing so well,” Carolina said. “You must be thrilled.”
“I never thought it would turn out like this. When I started out, I just wanted to race.”
“I don’t know about that. You’ve always had ambition. And now you have Evelyn at your side, and she’s as ambitious as you. Maybe even more.”