Free Prove Me Wrong by Gemma Hart Page B

woman I had dreamed of every night for the last year stand only a few feet from me. Wearing a simple but well fitted outfit of a dusty pink skirt that hugged her curvy hips and a white blouse that made her skin look like ivory, she stood apart from all the more avant garde designers.
                  A shorter, older woman stood next to her in a loose outfit of all black. She adjusted her glasses as she entered the room, clearly judging the level of buyers present.
                  But it didn’t matter. My eyes were only focused on the one woman who made my skin tighten and my chest pound.
                  Clara.
                  She looked clean, simple, and smart.
                  I swallowed tightly. But I already knew that, didn’t I? I knew just how purely sweet and smart that woman was, down to the marrow.
                  I had spent the last year remembering and dissecting every aspect of Clara Daniels. I spent entire nights recreating her in my mind.
                  Looking at her now, she seemed some how fuller and more real than ever. My entire body tightened just looking at her.
                  Her golden honey hair fell loosely down her back in soft waves. I remembered exactly how light and soft her hair had felt against my chest. Her skin caught the dull gleam of the afternoon light and I remembered just how smooth her arms had felt under my hands.
                  I couldn’t take my eyes away from her full, pink lips and I remembered just how sweet they had tasted against my own. And those hazel eyes, large and luminous….I remembered how they had looked at me like I was a man worth more than my money or my whoring. They had looked at me like they could see a man who had a heart worth loving.
                  And I had relished those looks even though I knew they weren’t true. They had been based on a false premise.
                  She didn’t know the real Jonah Lowell. Had she known the truth….Well, I thought with a grimace, she did know the truth. Now. She knew what I was capable of. I had an unnatural knack of leaving a trail of broken hearts as wide as the Mississippi and normally, I had the remorse of a serial killer.
                  But not with her. Not with Clara.
                  I had missed that fucking woman every day for the past year even though I knew deep down that I had done the right thing, the decent thing. It was too much to hold that woman’s fragile and deserving heart in my two dirty hands. I would ruin her. I would break her.
                  It was better she never saw me again.
                  I snorted softly to myself. Who was I fooling?
                  Sure, I had thought that but had I acted like that? Immediately upon returning to New York, I had sought out every major furniture buyer, sending them the photos I had of Clara’s pieces.
                  It was true that talent like Clara’s deserved to be recognized but really, I worked hard for her furniture because I wanted to maintain any connection I had with her for as long as possible. Discussing and dealing with her business made me feel as if I was somehow still with her.
                  But after a few weeks, I realized that without at least some measure of a reputation, she would get nowhere fast. She needed to prove herself in a place bigger than Irvington, Vermont. She needed to show people that she had what it took to distinguish herself amongst the best of the best and remain at the top.
                  So I had managed to send out a copy of Clara’s catalogue to a design agency that I knew would take care of her best. It was a little difficult to keep tabs on the proceedings since I had chosen to do everything anonymously. I had a strong feeling Clara wouldn’t appreciate any gestures from