Page 57 of Regards, Mia

Jay is halfway across the room, grabbing his leather jacket and shrugging it on. “Where are you going?”

“The mall,” he says, pulling open the door. “I’ll let you pick out some clothes for me on one condition.”

My blood hums, and I hope his one condition is something that will ease the throbbing ache inside me. “What’s that?”

“I get to pick out an outfit for you, too.”

In the men’s department, a sales person greets us with a warning. “We close in thirty minutes.”

I pull out my credit card. “He needs a weekend vacation wardrobe,” I say. “Including a suit jacket.”

The employee perks up. He sweeps his gaze over Jay, dollar signs lighting up his eyes. “Shoes too?”

“The works,” I say.

The man walks in a circle around Jay. “Forty-two long jacket?”

“That’s right,” Jay says, sounding impressed.

When the man leaves, Jay pulls out his wallet. “You don’t have to pay,” he says. “I can expense it.”

My brows furrow. “I can’t believe the county is paying for this. I’ve seen the budget.”

Jay starts to reply, but doesn’t get a chance before the salesperson is back with an armful of clothes. He leads Jay to the corner of the store where they disappear into the men’s changing area.

While Jay tries on the clothes, a linen shirt with a floral pattern catches my eye. Jay would look so cute in it, I can’t resist.

I peek my head around the corner into the changing area. All the doors are open except the one in the back, and I can see Jay’s bare feet and legs clad in gray slacks poking out from under the partition.

I knock lightly on the door. “How’s it going in there?”

“This is the men’s dressing room,” Jay says.

I lower my voice. “No one else is in here.”

Jay steps out wearing a pair of slim-cut gray slacks and a pale blue button-down shirt. I don’t recognize the man in front of me. Dressed in something other than his typical tough-guy black wardrobe, he still looks every inch the bad boy.

Except somehow even hotter.

“What do you think?”

My tongue feels too thick for my mouth, and I shove the floral shirt at him. “Try this.”

He pulls his hand away as if the shirt burned him. “No way.”

“Just try it,” I say.

He looks down his nose at me. “I don’t think so.”

I step closer, pressing the shirt against his chest. “Take the shirt, Jay. It’s perfect.”

“I draw the line at flowers.” He unbuttons the shirt he’s wearing and tosses it aside.

I can’t tell if he’s trying to distract me from the floral shirt by disrobing, or if he’s just being efficient with time consideringthe mall closes soon. Either way, I can’t think when faced with so much of his exposed flesh.

He turns around and grabs a dress shirt in his preferred color of black, giving me a view of his excellent ass in the fitted pants and the tattoo that completely covers his back.

My breath catches as my gaze travels over the angel, with its wings spread, standing over the form of a slain man. The intricate artwork reminds me of something I’ve seen at museums. My fingers itch to trace the detailed lines of the angel's wings inked across his broad back. I lift my gaze and find him watching me in the mirror, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

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