A Summer Fling by Milly Johnson Page A

with thick, black lashes that a woman would have killed for. His eyebrows were heavy and black too, arched and masculine, a small space between them above his nose.
    ‘Why? What do you want me for?’ said Anna defensively. ‘Why are you loitering around interchanges?’
    ‘Not loitering, searching,’ he answered. ‘And not just stations, but libraries, supermarkets, shops. I look for a woman.’
    Anna opened her mouth to reply but she hadn’t a clue what to say to that. Apart from ‘ perv ’.
    The man reached into his voluminous coat and pulled out a very stylish business card which he then handed over to her.
    Vladimir Darq.
    That’s all it said, plus a mobile number. How arrogant was that? Or supremely confident anyway. It smacked of someone who should be instantly recognizable. The funny thing was, the name did ring a bell although she couldn’t for the life of her remember where she had heard it before. Crimewatch?
    ‘What do you want with me then, Mr Darq?’ She pronounced it ‘Dark’. He didn’t correct her so she presumed that was right.
    Vladimir Darq slid off his gloves to get a better purchase on his mug. He had large but exquisite hands. The nails were black varnished but strangely that only added to his masculinity. He had an enormous gold ring on the middle left finger bearing the word ‘DARQ.’ It was his only ring, she also noticed.
    ‘You,’ he began, staring at Anna with such pale-eyed intensity that she felt herself blushing, ‘. . . you are the woman for whom I have been searching.’
    Nutter alert.
    ‘OK, that’s me going home now,’ said Anna, attempting to stand but failing.
    ‘Please, hear me out,’ he said, his palms open towards her. ‘Sit, listen. Five minutes. That’s all I ask.’
    Anna sat again because she had no choice. Her legs said no to any supporting requests from her brain and the moment she stood, the blood rushed from her head and she felt ever so woozy again. Not that she wanted him to know that, in case he took advantage.
    ‘My name is Vladimir Darq. I am a designer,’ he began.
    Yes, of course , thought Anna. That rings a big bell now . She’d seen him on fashion shows. Gok Wan had dressed some of his women in Darq gowns. If, of course, he was the real Vladimir Darq and not some saddo imposter. After all, Barnsley train station wasn’t exactly the place to bump into Laura Ashley, Coco Chanel and the like.
    ‘You may know me as a maker of gowns. Only gowns. But no longer!’ He waved away his entire collection of gowns with one sweep of his beautiful hand. ‘I have diversified into a new area – lingerie. I don’t want to design for A-list divas any more. I want to design for women who want to feel as if they are A-list inside here,’ and he thumped his chest where his heart was positioned. ‘I have a question: do you watch Gok Wan on the television?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Anna cautiously. Oh God, he was going to ask her to walk up and down the railway platform naked!
    ‘And do you watch Jane’s Dames ?’
    ‘I love Jane’s Dames,’ gasped Anna. It was a new programme which competed with Gok’s shows, more or less the same formula, and presented by a young, gorgeous, no-nonsense style guru-in-the-making called Jane Cleve-Jones.
    ‘ Jane’s Dames are making a new series. They have approached various designers – I am, of course, one of them – and each of us has a model that we intend to transform. My specialized area will be the lingerie. I need a woman who wants to feel beautiful, earthy – Darq , as I call it. I believe that every woman has a Darq side but alas, most women don’t even suspect it. Then I see you and I know without a doubt that you are the one. I want you to be my model. I want you to inspire other women to wear my clothes. I want to design for women like you.’
    ‘Old, past-it lumps of lard, you mean?’ said Anna, with a mirthless little laugh.
    ‘ Nu , not at all,’ said Vladimir Darq, leaning across the table,