Searching for Perfect (Searching For #2)(36)
Author: Jennifer Probst

“I don’t think so.” A smile touched his lips. “Not yet.”

This was no timid, nerdy rocket scientist. This was all testosterone and hear me roar male ready to claim a woman. Last week, he’d surrendered and walked away, leaving her alone, frustrated, and sad but knowing she made the right decision. They could never be a couple. Yet here he was, confidence restored, giving her that yummy look like she was a lollipop he was dying to get his mouth on. He wasn’t as meek as she originally thought.

She chose to ignore his words and hope things would return to normal. “Be right back.”

She took a few deep breaths at the register and calmed her racing heart. Time to refocus her intentions and think about his future wife. Who was not her. Kennedy returned with a battle plan, in her mind and heart. No more episodes. They couldn’t possibly lead to anything good.

“Let me give you the ground rules. I’ll hand off the clothes, and when we have enough, we’ll go to the dressing room. No questions, whines, or protests. You try everything on, and if you hate it, we’ll discuss.”

“What about—”

“No questions. Let’s begin.”

She dove for the first rack. Her fingers flew over the hangers, pulling, testing, assessing. She talked to herself under her breath, completely in the zone, and shoved items into Nate’s hands in an endless motion.

“That shirt’s expensive!” Nate tried to show her the price tag, but she ignored it, refusing to break rhythm. “I could get this at Target for half the price.”

“Do you make six figures?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can buy this shirt.”

“But—”

“No talking.”

Waves of frustration beat from him and attacked her, which she resolutely ignored. They moved from casual to dressy, until colors and patterns and textures surrounded her in a cushy glow that gave her a high reminiscent of smoking the joint with Kate and Arilyn. Finally, she could barely see his face peeking over the mound of clothes. “Let’s take a break.”

“You’re certifiable. Think of the starving children in Africa. The factory workers in China. The massive layoffs in our own country.”

She quirked a brow. “The economy is in desperate need of Americans spending money on products and services. I’m just trying to fulfill my patriotic duty here. Follow me to the dressing room.” Kennedy set him up in the front corner and took a seat on the bench right out front. “I want to see everything. Go in exact order, since the pants I picked out work with the shirts. I hung them exactly as they should be tried on.”

“These jeans are worth more than my car!”

“Then you need to upgrade your vehicle. You’re being dramatic—the Tesla is much more than those jeans. Close the door, Nate.”

He shot her a look and closed the door. Kennedy stifled a laugh. It took him a while before he finally shuffled out. Pissed off, he stood in front of the mirror with a sulky expression that rivaled her signature pout. Her gaze took in the total transformation she had been waiting for.

He was hot.

The dark denim cupped his ass like an adoring lover. He was slim hipped, and though not overwhelmingly tall, his stance was powerful. He didn’t slouch or duck his head. He stood in front of the mirror like he owned it. That mysterious male sexuality vibe was hard to teach, and the man actually had the quality all along. It was just covered up by bad clothes and glasses.

The black button-down shirt was fitted, with embroidery down the front and large cuffs. His chest and shoulders filled out the lines nicely, begging a woman to flick open a button or two to see what lay beneath.

Oh, yeah.

Nate Ellison Raymond Dunkle had arrived.

“I’ve never worn stuff like this before. Feels a little weird. Do I look like an idiot?”

“No. You look amazing.” He glared at her in the mirror for using Tracey’s word. “Are you comfortable in this type of outfit?”

“I guess.” He pulled at the cuffs and turned to the side. “Aren’t the jeans too tight?”

She grinned. “No.”

He rolled his eyes. “Hmm, Connor said I had a wimpy ass and to hide it in bigger clothes.”

“Connor was wrong.”

He swung around at her softly spoken words. She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Speaking of your brother, I did want to discuss a possibility with you.” Her approach had to be flawless or he’d get defensive. “I know you’ve been living together for a while, and I think it’s great. I always wished I had a sister. But I also know how a roommate can affect a new romantic relationship. You want to find your wife. She wants to know you’re serious about a long-term commitment. If she gets the idea you like to hang in a bachelor pad with your older brother, she may get spooked.”

Nate nodded. “What do you suggest I do?”

“My friend Genevieve has a lovely bungalow in Verily. Rent’s pretty cheap. She just moved in with her fiancé but doesn’t want to sell it at this point. She said she’d be willing to allow Connor to move in.”

Ken held her breath. He kept still, his brain obviously shifting through her scenario. She imagined him probing the weaknesses, the assets and liabilities, and the proper solution. He shook his head. “No, wouldn’t work. Connor would hate Verily. He’s in construction, and the job site is close to our apartment. He goes to the bar down the street every Friday and Saturday night. He’s gotten into a routine, and he’s happy. That’s why I’m having a hard time kicking him out.”

Ah, so he did want Connor to leave. That helped her overall strategy. “Understood. What if you moved to Verily?”

His gaze shot to hers. “Near you?”

She nodded. “Most of the mixers I set up for clients are in the area. It’s not that much further for you to commute. And you’ll have the privacy you need to begin a long-term relationship.”

He studied her face for a while. Kennedy tried not to shift on the bench. Damn, his attention was like a laser pointer, leaving her nowhere to hide. “Okay.”

“Huh?”

He grinned. “I’m in. Thank you for the offer.”

“You’re welcome.” Their connection lit, caught fire, and sizzled. Why was his directness becoming so damn sexy? “Now try on the next outfit.”

They rang up the purchases and hit Brooks Brothers. The stylist measured him and confirmed his sizes, then set him up with a variety of suits. He grumbled nonstop. “I don’t need suits, Ken. I wear a lab coat at the office, and I tend to drop things during meals.”