Page 12 of The Fix Up

“Ben—”

“I know, I know.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I get it, I do. I need help. That’s what I’m paying you for.” He nodded at the folder she’d forgotten she was holding. “Is that the contract?”

“Yes.” She held it out to him, and an electric current sizzled up her wrist as his fingers brushed hers. “Speaking of paying me, I took you up on your suggestion to triple the regular fees, due to theunusualnessof the situation.”

She held her breath, waiting for his reaction. He opened the folder and studied the forms, his amber-flecked eyes moving back and forth over the words.

Feeling nervous, Holly swallowed hard. “The retainer is high, but I can assure you it includes a comprehensive action plan beginning with?—”

“It’s fine,” he said, pulling a pen out of a dirty-looking coffee mug and scrawling his signature on the form. Holly stared at his hands, wondering if he’d ever played football or wrestled grizzly bears. He had huge hands. Man hands. Big, beautiful, magical hands designed for gripping and squeezing and stroking and?—

“Shall we get started?”

He looked up at her, and she tried to remember what they were talking about. “Wh—what?”

“With the action plan,” he said, cocking his head to the side and studying her with an expression that made her wonder if he knew she’d been fantasizing about his hands all over her body. “The terms you’ve outlined here are acceptable, and I’ll have a check to you first thing in the morning for the first half. I’m ready to get a jump on this.”

So am I,Holly’s body telegraphed as her gaze fell to his hands again.

Fortunately, her brain had the good sense to override it.

“Yes. Absolutely, of course.” She cleared her throat and met his eyes. “First things first, Ben. Let’s get you out of those clothes.”

CHAPTER4

Holly glanced at her watch as she leaned against the wall outside the dressing room at the trendy men’s clothing boutique. She’d texted Miriam from the elevator at Ben’s office seeking emergency advice on men’s business attire.

Luckily, her business partner was also First Impressions’ resident fashionista. Miriam had come through in spades, texting oodles of shopping tips, the name of her favorite boutique, and a dozen screenshots of men’s clothing.

He’ll look super-hot in this,read the text accompanying one photo.

That’s the understatement of the millennium,Holly thought as Ben stepped out of the dressing room and ambled toward her. He wore a charcoal and turquoise stripe worsted wool Sartorial two-button suit from Armani, something Miriam had expressly told her to look for. The salesman had been happy to comply, and from what Holly had seen of the price tag, she couldn’t blame the guy for getting giddy.

But she couldn’t blame herself, either, for wanting to climb Ben like a cat tree now that she’d seen him in the suit. He looked sexy, refined, and utterly, deliciously handsome.

Keep your eye on the prize.

This was a business relationship. Nothing more. That kiss notwithstanding. Not that she hadn’t replayed it in her mind a dozen times in the last hour, his mouth hot and demanding on hers as his hands moved up her body…

Before she could make a move—thankfully—the sales assistant scurried over and began fussing over Ben.

“Oh, that’s just fabulous,” gushed the dapper young clerk wearing a bright orange tie and an engraved silver tag that indicated his name was Marcus. He adjusted the sleeves of Ben’s jacket, clucking to himself as he stepped around to survey him from the other side. “The shoulders will need to be let out a little bit, but we have an amazing tailor who can have it done in a jiffy. How do you like that tie?”

“It’s, uh—a tie,” Ben said, tugging at his collar. “Is it supposed to feel like I’m being strangled?”

Holly laughed and stepped forward, hesitating a moment before reaching out to adjust the knot at his throat. It clearly didn’t need any adjusting, but she kept doing it anyway just to feel the warmth of his skin through the blue cotton shirt. “Have you never worn a tie before?”

“Only for funerals and weddings. Oh, and for Halloween one year.”

“Halloween? What was your costume?”

“Dirty Harry.” He made a pistol with his thumb and forefinger and pointed it at the mirror. “‘Do you feel lucky, punk?’”

She shivered, flustered by the unexpected show of masculine charm. She compensated by running her fingers down the tie to smooth out imaginary wrinkles. “It looks good on you,” she said, trying not to notice the swell of his chest. “It’s a nice color.”

“The pants are a great fit,” Marcus said, giving Holly an excuse to look down and admire the fit of the inseam. Or admire something, anyway.

Wow, flat-front slacks don’t leave a lot to the imagination…

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