Page 123 of Fixing to Be Mine

“I agree.” Her lips twitch like she’s trying to hold back laughter. “But I make no promises about tight pants.”

I shoot her a glance as I turn toward the fitting room.

“Would be a whole lot better if you were in here with me,” I mutter as I change into the first outfit.

It’s a crisp white button-up and charcoal slacks. I glance in the mirror, rolling the sleeves to my forearms. I’m not used to clothes that fit like they’re made for me.

I return to the lounge, tugging at the collar a little. “Well?”

Stormy’s sitting on the arm of the leather couch, sipping sparkling water like she belongs in a magazine spread.

Her eyes slide from my mouth, down my body, then back up to my eyes. “Damn. Took my breath away.”

“That good?”

“Wow. So happy you’re mine. You look like a man who closes deals and breaks hearts before lunch,” she tells me.

I shake my head, smiling as I turn back to the mirror. “I feel like I need to call my lawyer.”

She laughs and stands to circle me. Her fingers brush the line of my shoulder as she straightens the collar, and then she smooths a hand down the front of my shirt.

“This is a keeper,” she says.

“You’re a keeper,” I say, touching her elbow.

Her lips slide across mine. “You are too.”

I admire her for a second longer. “All right, what’s next? Do I get a glass of scotch and a lesson in hedge fund lingo?”

“You get to try on the gray suit. And a tie.” She slaps my ass. “Go on, cowboy.”

Back in the fitting room, I swap into the charcoal gray suit, slim fit, just structured enough that I feel important. When I come out, Stormy’s already holding a pair of polished shoes and waiting for me like we’re preparing for a red-carpet moment and she’s my publicist.

“These,” she says, handing them to me.

I sit down to change, glancing up at her from the bench.

She exhales slowly, eyes on me the whole time. “You look so fucking good.”

“So do you, darlin’.”

She waggles her brows at me, and I’m tempted to lay her down on the leather couch.

Dominic enters. “Suggestions?”

“No, we’ll take it all. Add it to my account. Deliver everything to my penthouse at the Park,” Stormy tells him. “He’s wearing this out.”

Dominic doesn’t even blink. He just nods once and grabs the rest of the clothes like it’s routine for Stormy to waltz in, transform a man, and buy out the rack on her way out.

Stormy watches him go, then turns to me. “I love you.”

I brush my thumb against her cheek, stealing a kiss. “I love you, my little storm cloud.”

Her smile stretches wider. “Don’t be surprised if people track you down to put you on the cover of a magazine.”

“Honey, hush.”

“I’m serious,” she tells me. “You have the sex appeal, and because you’re with me, agents will call.”

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