Page 11 of The Fix Up

This is bad.

He hadn’t been wearing a jacket when they’d met earlier, but she could see one hanging on the back of his chair, its corduroy sleeves and beige elbow patches making her cringe at the thought that he’d worn it anytime in the last decade.

Really bad.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I honestly have no idea where to start.” She looked at her watch. “The event is at seven thirty?”

“Yes.”

“You weren’t planning to go there straight from work, were you?”

“Of course. Is there a problem?”

“A problem,” she repeated, too dumbfounded by his appearance to sugarcoat her words the way she normally would with a new client. “You’re planning to show up at your first corporate event wearing holey socks, a cheese-stained shirt, and a jacket that looks like you kidnapped a retired librarian and ripped it off his back?”

“The librarian’s tied up in the coat closet,” Ben deadpanned, and Holly tried not to notice how stupid-sexy it was. “I promise I’ll let him out after the event.”

She shook her head. “Ben, you can’t attend a corporate function like that.”

He cocked an eyebrow and gave her a smile that was half puppy-dog hopeful, half self-satisfied smirk. God, she wished that weren’t so hot.

“Is that why you’re here?” he asked. “You changed your mind about taking me on as a client?”

“Yes,” she said. “If the offer still stands.”

“It stands. It definitely stands. What changed your mind?”

Holly hesitated.I’m desperate for moneywas hardly the right answer. Neither was,I’m pretty sure I can keep myself from groping you.

She cleared her throat. “I don’t like to turn down clients with such an urgent need.”

“I definitely have an urgent need.”

You and me both, buddy.

She folded her arms over her chest and tried to look professional. “First things first,” she said. “Your clothes.”

He looked at her for a few seconds, like he was considering this new option. He seemed to come to a decision, then, because he looked down at his shirt and shrugged. “I think there’s a spare shirt stuffed in my gym bag.”

“You have an iron in there, too?”

He gave her a funny little half smile that made her feel like she’d just swallowed a ball of sunshine.

“I’m getting the sense you have concerns about my wardrobe.”

She sighed. “Ben, it’s important to make a good first impression. What sort of impression do you think you’re going to make if you walk in there looking like a homeless guy?”

“That I care more about the company’s bottom line than what I’m wearing?”

“A nice thought, but no.” She shook her head. “A man walks into a room looking like he dressed himself while blindfolded and people are not going to think, ‘Wow, I bet he’s really good with numbers.’ They’re thinking, ‘Wow, do I trust a guy to put together a million-dollar business deal when he can’t even put together a matching pair of socks?’”

“Ouch.”

He didn’t look terribly pained, but she softened her tone anyway. “Look, you’re not paying me to pat you on the head and give you a lollypop. You’re paying me to fix what’s not working.”

“Is it too late to get the lollypop?”

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