Part 1

Marriage by Design: A Novel
by Lynn Michaels

There's only so much taffeta and toile a girl can take.

Passionate, talented, and noticeably stunning, Mia Savard is the top designer at her father's thriving bridal design company. But her life has hit a bit of a snag. Thirty, recently dumped, and suddenly single, Mia has grown weary of white lace and craves couture. But when Mia's most spectacular creation is leaked to the competition, the silk hits the fan. Someone inside Savard Creations is trading with the enemy. In the world of fashion, that means war.

Enter private investigator Joe Kerr, the exceedingly handsome ex-cop hired to nab the clever mole. Stalking dangerous territory - where jittery brides, hysterical mothers, and deadline-challenged designers clash in clouds of gossamer and gossip - Joe is torn between suspecting Mia and seducing her. Amid the treachery, hijinks, and flirtations galore, it seems that for Mia, romance just might be tailor-made.

Chapter 1

Mia Savard loved fashion. Anyone who looked in her closet could tell you that, once they picked their jaw up from the floor.

In design school Mia excelled at classes in textiles and pattern-making. Blindfolded she could sew a seam straight as a laser. She dreamed designs. Her illustrations won awards that hung on her father Lucien's office wall.

Mia simply hated brides.

It was nothing personal. Some of her best friends were brides, had been brides or were about to become brides. Which had absolutely nothing to do, Mia swore to her father, with her loathing for brides.

"I'm simply up to here with bridal gowns." Mia held her index finger against her eyebrows, in her father's office one snowy Thursday morning in November. "If I have to design another one, I'll scream."

"Pish." Lucien didn't even bother to look up from the stack of sketches on his desk. "You're having a snit because all your friends are getting married and that bum What's-His-Name dumped you."

"The bum's name is Terence and this is not a snit," Mia insisted. She couldn't argue about being dumped; it was true and the hurt still throbbed like a stubbed toe. "I'm bored as stiff as a bolt of tulle with bridal gowns. Move me to the trousseau line."

Lucien plucked a sketch off the stack, crumpled it and threw it over his right shoulder. "No."

"Move me," Mia said. "Or I'll quit."

"Absolutely not," her father replied.

"All right. If that's the way you want it."

Lucien's Paul Newman - blue eyes lifted and narrowed at her over the silver half-lenses perched on his fine patrician nose. Mia had her mother's snipped-off pixie nose. She hated it. These days she hated almost everything. Especially Terence the Bum, the GQ hunk formerly known as Terence the Love of Her Life.

"I battled your brother, Mia, and I battled your sister." While Mia was still in design school, but she'd heard about the Sibling Wars from nonfamily Savard employees. "Do not threaten me. You will not win."

"You're stifling my creativity."

"I'm trying to run a business."

"You're trying to run my life."

"You're a Savard. This business is your life."

"That's what I just said. You're running my life."

"Mi-ah." Lucien threw an "h" on the end of her name to let her know that he was losing patience. "Go find yourself a new boyfriend. You'll start dreaming about weddings again and everything will be fine."

"Not this time," she retorted. "I'm finished with men. I don't want to be a bride-not ever-and I do not want to design brides' dresses anymore. I need a change. I'm bored. Stale-"

"You're depressed," Lucien cut her off. "You're an artist. You're prone to depression. Go shopping. It'll cheer you up."

"Move me," Mia said between her teeth, "to the trousseau line."

"We design one-of-a-kind bridal gowns, Mia. It's what we do, how I built Savard Creations. I'd need my head examined if I moved one of my best designers from our custom line into ready-to-wear."

"Move me or I'll quit."

Lucien bent his head over the sketches. "No."

Mia drew a deep breath. "Then I quit."

Her father crumpled another sketch and tossed it without so much as a glance at her. "Are you coming to dinner tonight?"

"No." Mia wheeled away from his pool table - size desk, thought about slamming the door on her way out of the office but didn't.

She was too old to slam doors. Thirty and unmarried, unattached and unappreciated-Waa-waa, she thought, have a little cheese with your whine, Mia-plus she'd rather stick her right hand, her drawing hand, into a garbage disposal than give her father the satisfaction.

Mia stalked to the elevator, rode the car to the fourth floor and stomped down the hallway-her body so stiff with fury that her knees refused to bend-and turned into her office.

Her cousin Robin leaned his folded elbows against the edge of her drawing table, his Lucille Ball - red hair dull and dark against the gray sky framed by the wall full of windows behind him. His father, Rudy, Lucien's younger brother, was CFO of Savard Creations; Robin, his second in command. He glanced up at Mia from the sketch on her board.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Snooping." Robin cocked an eyebrow at Mia as she yanked the chair away from her desk and sat down. "What are you doing?"

Copyright © 2006 by Lynn Michaels.

About the Author

Lynn Michaels, a three-time nominee for the Romance Writers of America's RITA Award, is the author of more than a dozen novels and one novella. Her books have consistently appeared on the Waldenbooks bestseller list. She lives in Independence, Missouri, with her husband, their two sons, and three cats she calls the Little Queens. One of her most cherished possessions is a misspelled writing award.