I’m finally working again! I feel like the move overwhelmed my life and it’s been ages since I’ve written anything. But things have finally calmed down, and I’m getting back into the groove of things. 🙂
I feel like I’ve been writing Matched by Design for ages, but I’m hopeful it’ll be out before the end of the year!
Since you’ve been patiently waiting for so long, I thought I would share the first chapter of Matched by Design early! Jasmine’s story has been a long time coming, and I’m so happy to finally be writing it! I hope you love this sneak peek.
DISCLAIMER: This is an unedited first chapter that is subject to change. Any typos, continuity errors, formatting issues, etc. will not be present in the published manuscript. 🙂 Thanks for understanding!
© 2019 by Lindzee Armstrong. All rights reserved. This cannot be reproduced in any format without written permission.
CHAPTER ONE
Jasmine had often envisioned how she would spend her twenty-first birthday—sipping Mai Tais in Hawaii was always a pleasant fantasy, with a well-muscled man in swim trunks stretched out on the pool lounge beside hers. But the reality was proving far different.
She took a steadying breath, trying to calm her nerves. The workroom at Dallaire Designs was usually her happy place. Sometimes she dreamed about this smell—the earthy scent of dozens of different textiles, everything from wool to organza, mixed with the sharper tang of the mechanical oil used to keep the sewing machines running smoothly. Her ears echoed with the hum of dozens of treadles, the sound punctuated by the whoosh of fabric sheers gliding along cloth. The loud, noisy air conditioner shuddered on, sending a breeze across Jasmine’s bare neck and knocking a strand loose from the pencil she’d used to secure her hair in a twist. The work room was always warm, the friction from so many machines generating an uncomfortable amount of heat.
Jasmine glanced down at her sketch, then back at the two bolts of fabric stacked on her work station. The soft silver chiffon would be perfect for the empire waist bridesmaid dresses. At least, she hoped Skye would think so. Junior designers didn’t usually take the lead on projects for celebrity clients, but when the pop singer had seen Jasmine’s design she’d fallen in love and insisted she take point.
Should she go with the platinum instead of the silver? Jasmine pursed her lips together, glancing between the two fabrics as she tried to envision the dress in each color. Too bad there wasn’t enough time to do a rough construction of each.
She ran her hand over each bolt, the fabric gliding through her fingers like water. Twenty-one years old, and already worried the wrong fabric choice could tank her career. Maybe her brother Mitch was right—she should have stayed in college. If she hadn’t dropped out two years ago for the unpaid internship with Dallaire Designs, she’d be close to graduating by now.
But no, she’d made the right choice. And if she could nail this bridesmaid dress for Skye, she’d be well on her way to becoming a senior designer. To opening her own house and showcasing at New York Fashion Week. This design could cut ten years off her career trajectory.
The rapid clack of heels against the concrete floor interrupted Jasmine’s musings. Amber, Genevieve’s assistant, had the deepest furrow yet between her brow. She was only a few years older than Jasmine, but carried her stress like a weight and it aged her a decade.
Jasmine set down the sketch, stomach knotting. “She showed up early?”
Amber adjusted her glasses, giving a sharp nod. “Yes, and she’s asking for you.”
Jasmine gathered up the bolts of fabric, swallowing back her nerves. She was used to bridezillas, but Skye was in a category all her own. For reasons that only made sense to the pop star, she’d latched onto Jasmine and decided they were best friends. It was both a blessing and a curse.
“I’m on my way,” Jasmine said.
Amber gave a sharp nod and turned, making her way back across the warehouse floor as quickly as she’d come.
Maybe Jasmine would make it to Hawaii for her twenty-second birthday. She could almost smell the hibiscus flowers. Taste the tangy pineapple.
The image of a man stretched out in a lounge chair flashed into her mind again, his dark hair closely shaved and gray-blue eyes glittering in the Hawaiian sun.
She blinked, clutching the fabric bolts closer to her chest. With the wedding a mere two weeks away, there wasn’t time to dwell on Isaac.
He hadn’t sent so much as a happy birthday text today. She’d thought a lifetime of friendship would warrant at least that much.
Jasmine pushed the up button for the elevator, hoping Skye would pick a fabric and stick with it. The pop star changed her mind more often than a two-year-old with a bag of Halloween candy, but they were running out of time. Crazy to think that two months ago Skye and Drew, her famous quarterback fiancé, hadn’t even been engaged. Their sprint to the altar said shotgun more than true love, but Jasmine wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
A lot of things had been different two months ago. Her brother Quincy had been alive. Isaac had still been her friend. Her heart hadn’t felt like it was constantly being squeezed by an industrial-strength juicer.
But opportunity waited for nothing. Not heartbreak. Not a twenty-first birthday. Not white sandy beaches.
Jasmine heard Skye’s shrill voice before the elevator doors were fully opened. She paused, listening for the deeper timbre of a man’s voice—Skye’s quarterback fiancé gave Jasmine the creeps—but heard only Skye. Good.
Back in the fitting area, Skye stood on a pedestal in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the rough skeleton of an empire waist dress held to her body by pins and basting stitches. Luxurious bottle-blonde locks fell around her shoulders, accentuating her pixie features and thin frame. Genevieve stood nearby, looking stunning as always in high-waisted slacks and a sleeveless blouse with a tape measure draped around her neck. Jasmine did a quick check of the room, but there was still no sign of Drew.
“No one will guess you’re pregnant,” Genevieve was saying.
Skye nervously ran a hand over her flat stomach. “Of course they will. This looks like a maternity dress!”
Genevieve’s smile tightened almost imperceptibly. “The jersey knit weave is very forgiving, and the wide sash and detailing on the lace will help conceal any bump without sacrificing style.”
“I look like a cow.” Skye pulled the fabric taut against her nearly invisible bump. “The label will never green light my world tour if they find out about the baby, and heaven knows I can’t trust the wedding guests to keep a secret. This is a total disaster.”
No, the real disaster was the five dresses they’d started only to discard when Skye changed her mind. But they’d officially reached crunch time. If Skye waffled again, she’d be walking down the aisle in sweat pants and an over-sized T-shirt. While perhaps deserved, that wouldn’t do much for Dallaire Designs or Jasmine’s career.
Jasmine leaned the bolts of fabric against the wall and took a deep breath. “Skye,” she said, holding out her arms. “It’s so good to see you again.”
Skye turned around, her shoulders relaxing. “You’re here. It’s about time.” She crushed Jasmine to her in a hug. “What do you think of the dress?”
Genevieve shot Jasmine a fix this glare. Like Jasmine had some secret ability to subdue Skye. If only.
“It’s absolutely perfect,” Jasmine said, making sure to gush. She wasn’t sure why Skye often ignored Genevieve’s opinions while listening to Jasmine’s—she’d only been promoted to junior designer three months ago while Genevieve had been running the label for nearly two decades. But whatever. The point was Skye did listen to Jasmine, and if she could be patient for just a couple more weeks, it would pay off big time.
After accepting the promotion, Jasmine had gone straight to the hospital where Isaac was a resident to tell him in person. He’d only had time for a celebratory latte in the cafeteria before rounds, but she’d cherished every stolen moment together. If she’d known it was the last time things would be normal between them, she would’ve begged him to stay just a little longer.
Skye’s barbed words drew Jasmine back to the crisis at hand. “I’m just not sure lace is the right option.”
Was Skye seriously changing her mind again? She’d paid a fortune for the fabric—more per yard than most brides paid for their entire wedding dress.
“This is the lace you fell in love with,” Genevieve argued, her voice tight. “The lace we had hand-stitched and custom designed just for you.”
“The lace is gorgeous,” Jasmine agreed. The best way to handle Skye was to stroke her ego. “You were so smart to choose it. Nothing says modern southern belle like lace.”
“But the baby bump—”
“That’s what makes lace such a fantastic choice,” Jasmine interrupted while Genevieve nodded encouragingly. “No one expects it on a maternity dress. It’s the perfect fabric precisely because it’s so unconventional.”
And seriously, it was the lace or the sweat pants—Skye’s decision.
Skye took a deep breath, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “Jasmine, tell me it’s going to be okay. My album drops next week and the label execs can’t meet with me until after the honeymoon. No one can know about the baby until the contract is signed and world tour dates are announced. If they find out about the baby, they’ll come up with some excuse to send another artist on tour.”
Over the past two months, Jasmine had pieced together that Skye’s last album hadn’t done great and the label wouldn’t commit to another tour until sales numbers were in for her latest launch. Jasmine wasn’t sure what bearing getting married or being pregnant had on a world tour. But Skye seemed certain that the three were somehow connected, and it had made her the most difficult client Jasmine had ever worked with.
“It’s going to be fine. See right here?” Jasmine motioned to Skye’s torso. “A modified empire waist is very in this season. I saw at least five versions of this silhouette at Paris fashion week. Nothing as beautiful as yours, of course. Genevieve’s designed a one-of-a-kind masterpiece. But I promise that no one will suspect it’s a maternity dress.”
Skye cocked her head to the side, the faintest smile on her lips. “Paris, you said?”
“Absolutely,” Genevieve broke in, giving Jasmine a grateful smile. “You’ll look stunning. And we’ll do one last fitting the night before the wedding, just to make sure it fits perfectly.”
At first, Jasmine had been excited when Skye insisted she and Genevieve travel to Cypress Grove so they’d be on-site for last minute alterations. Now, after getting to know Skye better, she was kind of dreading it.
“Where are we at on the bridesmaid dresses?” Skye asked, peering over her shoulder at Jasmine as Genevieve tucked and pinned the fabric. “That will really determine whether or not this dress works. I want to make sure the bridesmaid dresses complement mine without stealing the spotlight.”
Jasmine swallowed, her hands suddenly unsteady as she grabbed the bolts of fabric from where she’d left them near the wall. “The dresses are going great. In fact, I brought up two fabrics for you to choose between so I can start cutting and sewing. What color speaks to you?”
Genevieve peeked around Skye, nodding approvingly. “Gorgeous. You can’t go wrong with either one, Skye.”
“I’m not so sure. Silver could be a horrible choice. Maybe a soft, blush pink would say southern belle better.” Skye ran a hand over one of the bolts, frowning. “Of course, we’d need to change the vests on the tuxes to match.”
A tension headache gave its first angry pulse right behind Jasmine’s eyes. She would already be working fourteen-hour days for the next two weeks to finish these dresses on time. Was being perpetually dissatisfied a requirement of fame? “The silver will look very elegant. It’s such a unique choice, which makes it perfect for a standout like you.”
“Hmm.” Skye hesitated, then pointed to the silver that Jasmine had been leaning toward. “I think I like that one better.”
Jasmine nodded, but her tension didn’t dissipate. Skye still had ample time to change her mind and demand something different. “I’ll get started right away.”
Skye nodded, stepping carefully off the platform, arms held out to avoid the pins. “Good. Make sure Drew waits for me here, okay? He should be coming any second, and seeing the dress is bad luck.”
Drew was on his way? Jasmine’s anxiety instantly shot up by a factor of ten. She hadn’t interacted with him much—just enough to wonder why America adored him.
Skye and Genevieve disappeared down the hallway leading to the dressing rooms, but Jasmine’s tension didn’t ease. Was Drew five minutes away? Five seconds?
She rested the bolts of fabric against the wall, willing herself to that Hawaiian beach. Seagulls squawked as they dove toward the glittering ocean waves. Isaac smiled at her, his dark hand reaching for her even darker one.
“Hey.”
Jasmine whipped around, the happy fantasy instantly erased. Drew Dempsey leaned one shoulder against the wall, his dishwater blond ponytail hanging halfway down his back and biceps straining the fabric of his T-shirt. A lazy smile turned into a leer as he gave her a slow once-over.
“Hi,” Jasmine said, making her voice cool and detached. She’d watched his season of Eye in the Sky and never liked him then, either. He’d been a snake who cost his closest ally, Tamera, the game.
“Where is everyone?” Drew’s eyes shifted around the empty room as Jasmine’s spine tingled in warning. “This place is dead.”
“Skye is just changing clothes. She’ll be out any moment now.” At least Jasmine hoped she would.
Drew’s gaze shifted to Jasmine, and his mouth turned up in a grin. “I don’t mind waiting.”
Jasmine motioned to the chairs along one wall, inching away. “Feel free to take a seat. I should get to work—”
He rested an arm above her head, leaning in and trapping her against the wall. “You know, I always love visiting California. We’re playing the Coyotes this weekend so the whole team’s in town. Just for a day, though. Wish it was longer.”
Drew’s biceps were massive—nearly as big as her head. She swallowed, heart hammering, as she slid down the wall and away from Drew. “You must have a very understanding coach if he’s letting you take time off to visit a bridal store.”
“My shoulder’s still not healed enough to play, and Skye thought it was a good time for my tuxedo fitting.”
Jasmine had no idea how pro football worked, but she found it hard to believe that the Vigilantes’ coach was that easy going. Didn’t Drew have to be at practices and games, even if he couldn’t play? “What a generous boss.”
Drew shrugged, his bicep brushing against her hair as he leered down at her, eyes bright. “Being the MVP has its benefits.”
“Hmm.”
Screw it. If Skye needed something, Amber could track Jasmine down in the work room. She wasn’t staying with Drew for one more second.
Jasmine ducked under his arm, grabbing for the bolts of fabric. Drew reached for them at the same time, his fingers caressing hers.
She jerked away, anger making her entire body heat. “What are you doing?”
“Just trying to help,” Drew said, not releasing his grip on the fabric.
“Thanks, but I can handle this alone.”
“That doesn’t mean you should have to.” Drew let go of the fabric, reaching for his hair. Soon one hand was tangled in her locks.
Jasmine’s entire body grew still. Paralyzed. Drew’s breath was hot on her cheeks, reeking of garlic and onion, as he brushed a strand behind her ear.
She should knee him in the groin. This had happened once before, back in high school. Isaac had come around the corner as she was struggling against a kiss and laid the guy flat.
But there would be no Isaac to save her now.
“Relax. You’ve got a string in your hair. Hold still.” Drew leaned closer, and Jasmine jerked back. “Man, you’re jumpy. You got a jealous boyfriend or something? Coach doesn’t look kindly on barroom brawls, and you look like the type of girl who attracts possessive guys.”
“You have three seconds before I start screaming,” Jasmine said. Her entire body trembled in fear, but she wouldn’t back down. Not this time. “Three, two, one—”
“Drew!”
He jerked back at the shrill voice and Jasmine scrambled away on shaking legs. Skye stood next to the pedestal, now wearing barely-there shorts and an off-the-shoulder shirt that hung loosely around the waist.
“Hey, babe,” Drew said easily. “Ready to go?”
Skye’s eyes flicked back and forth between Jasmine and Drew, then hardened into slits. “Were you seriously hitting on my dress designer?”
“Just helping her clean up,” Drew said easily. He held up a silver thread from the bolt of fabric. “She had this stuck in her hair.”
Jasmine felt frozen, unable to voice a defense. She’d read the rumors about Drew in the tabloids. He was a womanizer with a healthy lust for fame.
But she hadn’t thought he’d hit on her with his fiancée mere feet away. Had she misinterpreted the whole thing?
No, he’d definitely been flirting. And she’d pretty clearly asked him to stop.
Genevieve rushed into the room, looking around. “What’s wrong?”
From out of nowhere, a shoe flew across the pedestal. Jasmine gasped while Genevieve let out a surprised oh!
Drew ducked. The shoe flew over his shoulder and would’ve been a direct hit if not for his reflexes.
Jasmine really wished he hadn’t ducked.
“Skye!” he exclaimed. “What was that for?”
“You always do this,” Skye yelled, tears making her eyes glisten. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? If it’s got two legs, boobs, and won’t get you kicked off the team, then you’ll start flirting.”
“Babe, chill out.”
Skye pointed a threatening finger at Jasmine. “I don’t want her anywhere near my wedding. In fact, I don’t want any single women coming to South Carolina. Do you hear me, Genevieve?”
Jasmine’s heart stuttered in her chest. Had all of the air been sucked out of the room?
This was her big break—a chance to be mentioned in national magazines and have her designs seen around the world. A stepping stone to owning her own label. And she was about to miss out because she didn’t have a boyfriend?
“I’m sure this is a simple misunderstanding,” Genevieve said, stepping to Jasmine’s side. “Jasmine would never—”
“I’m worried about him!” Skye yanked off her other shoe and hurled it at Drew.
This time he caught it, tossing it to the side. “Stop throwing shoes at me, woman.”
“Stop hitting on every single woman in a hundred mile radius,” Skye shot back. “If I go down, I’m taking you with me.”
What did that mean? Jasmine looked back and forth between Drew and Skye. Was there more to their shotgun wedding than a baby?
Skye waved her hands in the air, glaring at Genevieve. “No single women. Do you hear me? No temptations for him. I only want women there with boyfriends so big and so jealous that Drew will get kicked off the team if he messes with their girl, because they’ll start a fight so huge it’ll be national news. No. Single. Women.”
“I’m not single!” Jasmine blurted out.
Everyone froze, turning to face her. Her cheeks heated. Thank heavens her dark skin wouldn’t show a blush.
“You … you aren’t?” Skye asked.
Genevieve’s amber-colored eyes were wide in surprise. Jasmine avoided her boss’s gaze and plunged on. “No. I’m not.”
Skye folded her arms, looking back and forth between Jasmine and Genevieve. “Is it serious?”
“Very.” Jasmine needed to go to this wedding. Needed to design the bridesmaid dresses. She wouldn’t let slimy Drew with his wandering eyes ruin this for her. “He proposed last weekend, actually. And he’s definitely the jealous type.”
Skye’s shrewd eyes narrowed in on Jasmine’s empty left hand. “I don’t see a ring.”
Jasmine reflexively fisted her hand, inventing wildly. “It’s being resized, but I’ll have it back in a few days.”
Genevieve wrapped an arm around Jasmine’s shoulders in a squeeze, making her flinch. “We are all so excited for Jasmine. They’re the cutest couple.”
Whoa. Had Genevieve seriously just helped her lie to a client?
But Skye’s shoulders were starting to relax. Drew looked less panicked, but maybe a little more pissed.
“Excellent,” Skye said. “I can’t wait to meet him. He’ll have to come to South Carolina with you, of course.”
Jasmine lurched forward, trying not to choke. “You want me to bring him?”
“This is complete crap,” Drew said. “Can’t a guy pull a string from a girl’s hair without his fiancée losing her mind? I’m won’t marry someone who doesn’t trust me. I’ll light the match on this whole thing—”
Skye put a soothing hand on Drew’s cheek. “No one needs to light a match. This is for your own good, baby. You know how the media is. I’m just removing any temptations.”
Drew glared down at Skye, his breaths heavy with anger. But then she pressed her ample bosom tightly against his chest, and his shoulders relaxed. “I swear, Skye—”
“We’re in this together,” she said, her hand wrapping around his ponytail. “Don’t be hasty. We need each other, right?”
Drew rolled his eyes but nodded. “Right.”
“Good.” Skye rose on her tiptoes, and Drew met her lips with his own.
And then they were making out. Gross. Jasmine looked away as slurping sounds filled the silent room. Talk about a one-eighty.
It was several uncomfortable seconds before Skye and Drew surfaced for air.
“Send your fiancé’s information to my assistant so she can get a flight booked,” Skye said, not even bothering to look at Jasmine. Her hand fisted around Drew’s shirt and she yanked him toward the lobby. “See you in two days. Have a bridesmaid dress ready for me by then.”
Once Skye and Drew had disappeared, Jasmine slumped against the wall, feeling as though her legs might collapse at any moment. She took a deep, gulping breath, glad Genevieve was the only one around. “Genevieve, I—”
Genevieve held up a hand. “Don’t you dare apologize. Drew is … well, you read the tabloids. They can’t all be fiction.”
Jasmine leaned her head back, massaging her eyes. At least Genevieve didn’t blame her. “What are we going to do?”
“We are doing nothing. You are going to find a fiancé, though. And you’re going to do it fast.”
Jasmine’s eyes flew up to meet Genevieve’s unflinching gaze. “Are you kidding me?”
“I assure you I’m very serious.” Genevieve folded her arms, eyes turning steely. “Skye likes you. You’re the only one who can keep her calm when she freaks out. And I’m not about to redesign the entire wedding party’s attire five hours before the ceremony because you weren’t there to talk her off a ledge.”
“If finding a fiancé was so easy, I wouldn’t be single,” Jasmine hissed. “It’s not like I can just order one online and click one-day shipping at checkout.”
“So hire an actor. Beg a friend. I don’t really care where you find this imaginary fiancé—just figure it out.” Genevieve waved a hand through the air. “Now get back to work. I want to see a sample of a bridesmaid dress by tomorrow.”