“I am.”
“All right, then.” Her gaze went back to his closet. “Let’s see if we can wake things up a bit.”
“No.”
“Real men wear pink.”
Matt eyed the dress shirt in Lauren’s hand. “Not flamingo pink.”
This afternoon’s shopping trip hadn’t been going as he’d expected. They’d hit some of Boston’s upscale men’s stores, ending up in Neiman Marcus.
As far as Matt could tell, Lauren was intent on softening his hard edges. Her idea appeared to be to make him seem like less of a hard-driving business executive so, with any luck, he’d become less of one, as well.
Not a chance, he wanted to warn her.
She sighed. “I see I’ll have to introduce you to P. Diddy’s fashion line.”
“Stick to Ralph Lauren Polo. You might have better luck.”
“You know, if I really wanted to recommend something trendy, I’d suggest bespoke clothing.”
“Bespoke?”
“Handmade.”
He made a sound of disbelief. He had his suits custom-made, but hand sewn was a different matter.
“Just for the record, the shade we were talking about is called fiesta berry.”
“They can call it lucky gambler’s red, but I won’t be wearing it.”
A middle-aged salesman approached, wearing a polite smile. “May I offer some assistance?”
“Thanks, but we were just leaving.”
Lauren smiled apologetically at the clerk. “We’re looking for something casual, but we seem to be having a difference of opinion.”
The man nodded. “Wives sometimes have a different opinion from their husbands.”
A look of embarrassment crossed Lauren’s face. “We’re not—”
“What my wife is trying to say,” he cut in, “is that we’re not looking just for casual clothing. She’s trying to soften my image at work, too.”
Lauren opened her mouth, but before she could say anything more, he took her elbow and steered her toward the salesman. “Come along, sweetheart. Let’s see what he can show us.”
To the salesclerk, he said, “Let’s start with some casual pants.”
“Very good,” the salesman said. “If you’ll follow me…?”
As they walked toward another section of the store, Lauren muttered, “What are you doing? If anyone recognizes you and thinks we’re an item, or worse, that you’re secretly married, you’ll undermine everything we’re trying to accomplish.”
“Don’t worry,” he said easily. “I’m the kind of action hero who is invisible to everyone but husband-hunting females.”
She gave him a sidelong look. “Really? And your superhero powers would be—?”
“I’d show you, but they’re best demonstrated privately.”
She compressed her lips. “I don’t know why he assumed we’re married. Neither of us is wearing a wedding band.”
“Not everyone wears a ring. Besides, girlfriends don’t pick out a man’s clothes, wives do.”
She opened her mouth again.
“If he thinks we’re married, he’ll listen to you. Otherwise, he’ll keep addressing me.”
“You put me on the spot.”
“Learn to ask for what you want. That’s the problem with women.”
She pulled her elbow from his grasp. “We’ll have to work on your unfortunate tendency to put the words problem and women in the same sentence.”
“When have I done that?” he said mildly. Ever since she’d arrived at his apartment, he felt as if he’d been taken to task by Ms. Manners. “All I said was I’ve been targeted by social climbers and gold diggers.”
“Same thing,” she responded before giving her attention to the salesman.
Lauren and the clerk got into a conversation about the “it” colors of the season and various private labels.
Matt limited his answers to yes, no and forget it. It was the way he was used to operating in the boardroom, and the approach had served him well.
He could tell it was exasperating Lauren, however.
When the clerk had gone to try to find an appropriate size, she asked, “Could you volunteer more than one-word answers?”
He gave her a slow smile. “Yes.”
She sucked in a breath, causing her chest to rise, and his gaze headed south.
When his eyes met hers again, a momentary but electric pause ensued.
“We may need to work on your conversation skills, too,” she said into the silence.
“They’ve served me well enough in the boardroom. Extraneous words are wasted energy. Why talk when there are more effective ways of communicating?”
He itched with a sudden urge to show her just how effective other modes of communication could be. They were standing in a very public place, with shoppers milling about around them, yet it felt as if they were in their own private world.
The salesman’s return, however, broke the spell, and they were directed toward a changing room. Lauren was shown to a chair outside to wait.
In the private room, he shrugged out of his clothes and into a pair of khakis and a casual shirt. He emerged a few minutes later so Lauren could pass judgment.
“Hmm,” she said.
Sitting with legs crossed, she tilted her head to the side. “Turn around.”
He eyed her, then did as she asked. The clothes weren’t his usual style but he was willing to bend a little.
More important, he couldn’t detect a hint that she was enjoying issuing commands and sitting in judgment. Still, he had his suspicions.
He turned back around.
“Good fit,” she said.
He’d never thought two such innocent words could be so erotic.
In fact, this whole shopping trip was turning into a more intimate experience than he’d ever have guessed. He felt like a Chippendales dancer at the start of a routine.
“Are you comfortable?” she asked.
Comfortable wasn’t the word he’d use. Turned- on was more like it, and if he wasn’t careful, it would soon be evident to everyone else, as well.
Aloud, he said, “They fit fine.” He nodded at the salesman standing nearby. “We’ll take them.”
“Very good,” the salesman said. “There are some belts I can show you.”
When the man had gone, Lauren said, “You’re decisive.”
“Impatient,” he corrected. “Usually I’m in and out of stores like this in less than thirty minutes. Ten to find what I’m looking for, five to try it on for size, and another ten to pay and make it out the door.”