Page 7 of Falling into Place

“One like that, yes.” Other than the slight pink tint to her cheeks, she seemed perfectly professional and matter of fact as she said it. Businesslike.

Wait. “You looked at my ass?”

“Tried to,” she said, unapologetic. “It’s part of my job.”

He was almost flattered, an emotion he hadn’t experienced in years and that wasn’t altogether unpleasant, until she added, “But as I said, I’m still not sure what I’m working with.”

He watched her for a beat, unsure what to make of where this conversation had gone. And who it was with. “You’re ... not what I expected.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you were shy.”

“Quiet,” she corrected. “I used to be quiet, but I’ve never been shy.” She took a sip of her latte. “You’ll see.”

The way she tossed out those final two words felt like a grenade thrown into his lap, and she waved a hand as if ready to move on. “We’ll talk more about pants later. Were you able to finish that questionnaire I sent?”

Still stuck a few seconds back on the quiet, not shy part, because same, he slid a hand across his mouth. “Yeah, I submitted it online, was that okay?”

She nodded and slid an iPad from the leather binder, then tapped the screen a few times. “Found you.”

He nursed his coffee for a few moments while she scrolled through, trying to read her facial expressions. There were many, but he didn’t know her well enough to interpret any of them.

Finally she nodded, which seemed universally a positive thing. “Height, weight, pant, shirt, and shoe sizes. Have you ever had formal measurements done? Like for a suit or a tailored dress shirt?”

“Not since Macy’s wedding, which was almost ten years ago.”

“That’s fine.” She made a note in the notebook to her left. “Color preferences include mostly neutrals, which is great. Classic, really.” Her eyes flicked to his face, studying him. Just when he began to fidget under her perusal, she asked, “How do you feel about green?”

“Fine?”

She nodded and made another note.

“You said here purple, pink, orange, and yellow are nonpreferred colors. With your skin tone I agree with the orange and yellow. Are pink and purple hard no’s, or are you open to trying them if I find something I think could work?”

He shrugged. “I guess I’d give them a try.”

She made another note. “You left this one blank,” she noted, pointing to the tablet and reading out loud, “What’s your favorite part of your body?”

“I didn’t think my answer would be helpful for this.”

Her skin flushed and her mouth dropped open, and he realized how that sounded.

“My brain! Not my ... Fuck. You know.” He wanted to slide under the table. Maybe they should have gone for beers instead. “Sorry that I, um. Said that. Fuck, I mean.”

Hell. He was in hell.

She put her hands to her face, and for a second he worried he’d totally blown this whole thing. He’d offended and embarrassed her, and now he’d have to tell Sasha this wasn’t going to work ... But then he heard a snort from between Carly’s fingers.

When she dropped her hands and he saw her eyes, he couldn’t help but smile back at her. He gripped the back of his neck, sure his face was as red as hers. He cleared his throat. “Anyway.”

She leaned back and took a breath. “Well. You’re right, your brain isn’t what I was going for with this question. Dicks are equally unhelpful, in case you were wondering, though you wouldn’t have been the first to answer with that.”

He choked on his coffee.

She kept talking as if she hadn’t just said “dicks” like it was any other word. As calm and collected as she’d been admitting she’d tried to assess his butt. “We can skip this question if you want, but if there’s a certain area you’d like to bring attention to, this is the time to tell me.”

He struggled to focus. Body parts minus brain and dick . “I honestly don’t know.”

He tried to exercise somewhat regularly at the twenty-four-hour gym near the hospital, but he wasn’t obsessive about it and really only cared enough to ensure he remained fit and healthy.

He was probably on the thinner side compared with other men he saw in the weight area, but he’d never felt self-conscious about it.

His biceps weren’t bulging out of any sleeves, and his pecs weren’t defined enough to notice underneath a fitted shirt.

He clearly didn’t know what kind of ass he was working with, but he wasn’t about to stand up and ask for Carly’s opinion.

“What do other men say to that question?” he asked.

“Forearms are a favorite. Arms, shoulders, butt. I’d say those are the most common.”

“I don’t think any of those are worth writing home about. For me, anyway.”

She opened her mouth with a frown but closed it without saying anything.

“Can I say my eyes?” If not, he’d just say skip it. He was getting kind of desperate to move on.

Her gaze met his. “Why do you think I asked if you liked green?”

Oh.

Huh.

“Next, let’s look at some styles, and you let me know if you’d ever wear something like that, okay?” She replaced the iPad in the leather binder and handed him a thick packet of flat-lay images of various men’s fashion.

He spent the next ten billion years flipping through the stack, occasionally pausing when she had follow-up questions about what in particular he liked or disliked about something.

Relief coursed through him when he reached the final one.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked with a smile.

“Debatable.”

“There’s just one thing left before I start shopping. You can say no if you want to.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not sure how much you’re wanting to buy. I assume Sasha wants me to dress you for the initial photos, any others that are taken for articles, and for your dates. Four months, right? How many do you think you’ll go on?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t done this in a while, and I’ve never been on one of these apps. Maybe a couple?”

Carly made a strange noise. “I’d say you could meet as many women as you want.”

“Is flattery part of the Mode package?” He wasn’t complaining, just wondering.

“I’m just trying to prepare you. You could have several dates a week.”

He shuddered internally. “I just want to help put LiveOKC back on track.”

She tipped her head to the side. “Do you not want to fall in love? You’re not in this for yourself even a little?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

She regarded him for a moment, and boy, did he want to know what she was thinking.

“I only ask because if you don’t want to spring for a completely new wardrobe, I need to know what I’m starting with.

You could send me pictures, or I could stop by sometime to take a look in your closet.

If you’d rather skip that step, I can just work off what we’ve talked about today, but let me know as soon as you can.

Sasha wants the first photo shoot to happen pretty quick. ”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is this a ploy to get in there and throw out everything you don’t like? Because Sasha’s been trying to do that for years, and I’m not giving in now.”

She laughed. “I promise I won’t get rid of anything without your express approval. You’d be surprised how much I can do with the things people already have. Sometimes it just takes a little creativity.”

“I do science, remember? Repetitive, analytical, and concrete are my comfort zone. Pretty much the exact opposite of creative.”

“Lucky for you, I can do both.”

He thought for a few seconds. “Want to do it now?”

“Now?”

He shrugged. “Might as well, if you’re not busy.”

She tapped her phone and glanced at the illuminated screen, presumably to check the time.

A photo appeared, a candid shot of Carly’s face slightly angled away from the camera as she looked at the ocean beyond. A colorful sunset lit up the sky behind her, breathtaking even in the picture, but it was the content, peaceful smile on her face that caught his eye.

When was the last time he’d looked that happy?

Hell, when was the last time he’d been that happy?

“That’s a cool picture.”

“Oh, thanks. My boyfriend took it.” She paused as she regarded the screen, a small frown wrinkling her brow. Shaking her head slightly, her expression cleared. “I don’t know why I just said that. Benjamin’s not my boyfriend anymore—he’s my ex, now. Habit, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and it almost sounded like a question. Was that the appropriate response here? If she was still calling him her boyfriend by default, it must have been recent.

She shrugged. “It’s ... fine. It is what it is. He’s in Seoul for an internship, and we agreed we didn’t want to do the long-distance thing.”

“Ah,” he said, as if he were familiar with the mechanics of a major relationship decision like that.

“Anyway,” she said. “I’m good to do it now if you are.”

“Sure.”

“Great.” She gathered her things and stood. “Let’s get out of here.”