Page 12 of Undercover Star
Lynn barely graced his dark jeans with a look before she threw him a pair of trousers to go with the uncomfortable shirt and murderous jacket. "They're okay."
"That's unkind, Lynn. Have you seen what the denim does to his arse? He deserves to have fangirls. Truly."
"I'm standing right here."
"I know. I'm rather enjoying the view."
Matisse dragged his eyes up and over him at a tortuously slow pace that caused heat to prickle over Josh's skin like live current. If he didn't know better he'd think.... No. That didn't make sense. But then, neither did the heat in Matisse's blue eyes.
"You know what? I like the half-dressed look. Lynn? What do you think?"
He had no idea what half-dressed look Matisse was referring to.
Lynn knew, and she wasn't slow giving her opinion. "Not for Kilbride House. Not for anywhere with photographers present. You might get away with it. Your security staff will not. And don't think I don't know what you're doing. Get dressed so I can see whether your waistband needs taking in. You're forever losing weight."
"I hate wasting this piece of sartorial perfection on the old cow," Matisse grumbled.
"Yes, well. If you'd decided sooner you were going to attend the gala, I would have had a chance to find something equally obnoxious."
"I'd decided not to go at all. And it's not obnoxious."
"I'm afraid all this upheaval is my fault," Josh offered, only to have two pairs of eyes turn on him as if he'd lost his mind.
"We know," Lynn and Matisse chorused, and Lynn burst into giggles. "Get dressed, Mat. And close your eyes while you do it." She shooed Matisse through a doorway and then turned to Josh. "Now, Inspector, would you please get dressed so I can make sure the trousers fit?"
Josh dressed. He let himself be turned this way and that, tied his tie half a dozen times, and finally slipped into the dress shoes Lynn held out to him.
The end result of Lynn's industry startled him. He had suits in his wardrobe. He even wore them at times. But this.... None of his suits made him look like—
A loud wolf whistle interrupted before he'd found words he was happy to use to describe himself. "Crikey. I thought you looked good in jeans. Lynn, you're a miracle worker."
Red flooded Josh's cheeks. The tips of his ears felt as if they were on fire. Why was he even embarrassed? Paul had made far more scathing comments about his clothes and it hadn't ever bothered him. Was it because Matisse was a star? Or was it that Paul was straight, while Josh wasn't sure of Matisse's orientation?Get the fuck real, he admonished himself.He appeals to you. That's why.
From endless legs to ocean-dark eyes to the long blond hair, Josh had taken note and liked what he saw. Which was utterly stupid, of course. He wasn't here to find some kid appealing.
"What do you think?"
Josh turned towards the voice, and stupid gained a few extra points. Thepiece of sartorial perfectionMatisse had bemoaned earlier was a suit. Tailored even closer than the jacket of his tuxedo hugged his own shoulders, it clung to Matisse's form, showing off his long legs and narrow waist.
It was a gorgeous suit.
It was also peacock blue. With gold satin lapels.
Matisse's shirt was as deep a blue as his eyes. His bow tie matched the lapels, and a gold satin stripe ran down the outside of his legs, making them look even longer.
The stern-faced, joyless woman he'd met in Kilbride House would.... He wasn't quite sure what Penelope Levington would say when she saw Matisse in the suit, but he knew it wouldn't be a compliment.
Matisse tugged on his cuffs and—to Josh's surprise—he was still grumbling.
"What?"
"It should be scarlet."
"What should be scarlet?"
Matisse glared. "The suit, of course. Remember what Marissa said? They're having me present the award in the back dining room. That's the one with all the flocked, red wallpaper and carpets. If this suit were scarlet—"
"You'd be invisible. I get it." Josh pictured the blue-suited Matisse in the red dining room and burst out laughing. "Now you'll look like a Crystal Palace advertisement."
