“We haven’t styled his hair yet. Today is all about wardrobe.” He grasped Theodore’s shoulders and kissed Theodore on both cheeks. “I’m so glad I ran into you. We need to touch base more often. Hugs.” He whirled and walked his graceful but mincing gait across the disaster zone they called a living room. Rick Ronconi backed out of the office, still waving his arms as he talked to Fred.
And then the inexplicable happened. Jimothy Castlemane slipped his arm through Rick’s and escorted him through the entry hall of the house toward the front door.
Did I just see what I think I saw?
Rick disengaged Jimothy’s arm when he opened the front door for him, but the damage was done. Fred definitely saw it. His eyes got wide when it happened. Worse, Rick’s arm hadn’t stopped tingling. Jimothy’s arm had felt surprisingly strong. Not big and bulky like Denny or Rick’s own arm, but still really masculine. It was hard to admit how much he liked that and how much he wished Jimothy would take his arm again.
That beautiful silver Lexus stood in the driveway. Without thinking about it, Rick scooted to the driver’s door and held it open for Jimothy. When he realized what he’d done, he stepped back from the car door like it was wired for electricity, but Jimothy smiled and batted those long lashes one too many times.
“Thank you, kind sir.”
Rick stared at his boots. “I better follow you in my truck. As you can see, there’s not a lot of parking here, and I hate to make it worse by leaving my vehicle and making the other guys shuffle around all day.”
Jimothy’s look might have implied, Chicken, but he didn’t say it. “Okay. We’re going near South Coast Plaza.” Just the name of the ritzy shopping mall made Rick frown, and Jimothy held up a hand. “I said near, not to. There’s way too much markup at the Plaza stores. I have a better source for men’s clothes. Follow me.” He closed his door and started the engine.
Rick ran to his truck.
It took twenty-five minutes to negotiate the stupid Laguna traffic and get to Costa Mesa. The fact that the small shopping center Jimothy pulled into was only fifteen minutes from Rick’s apartment served him right since he was the one who insisted he work all morning—in Laguna.
Jimothy was standing outside his car when Rick pulled in. He was dressed in those blue, as opposed to pink, blue jeans that fit well but not skintight. Still, there was a nice suggestion of a package outlined in the denim that made Rick swallow hard. He forced himself to look at the white sweater Jimothy had worn under yet another gorgeous leather jacket. This one was a deep purply color that looked like grape ice cream it was so silky smooth. Around his neck, he’d looped a silk scarf a couple of times, and it managed to seem casual and like a magazine cover at the same time. His hair fell in front of his eyes in a way that made Rick want to brush it away so he could touch it. Bottom line, Jimothy was ridiculously sexy and didn’t even know it. Or maybe he did.
Even though he’d worn a pair of his nonwork jeans, Rick felt scruffy with his T-shirt and out-of-control hair. Still, he smiled at Jimothy and fell into step beside him as he walked toward the shops.
Jimothy clapped his hands. “This store is one of my secret weapons. Benny’s the best tailor in Southern California, and what many people don’t know is he carries a small but elegant line of Italian suits and jackets. They cost a fraction of what you’d pay across the street at the plaza and look twice as classy.”
“That sounds good.”
Jimothy led the way into the small shop where a young dark-haired woman stood behind the cash register. One look at Jimothy and she was all smiles, scooting out to give him a hug. “Jimothy, welcome. He’s in back. I’ll get him.”
She disappeared through a door in the back wall, and Jimothy immediately started perusing the racks of men’s suits that lined the walls. He looked back at Rick and cocked his head. “I’d guess a forty-four long, yes?”
“Yeah, I think that’s what they told me.”
He slid suits down the rack, occasionally pulling one out and hanging it on a rod that stuck out from the wall.
The door the woman had gone through opened and out came a small man with thinning hair and the most gorgeous suit. “Jimothy. Where have you been keeping yourself?” He spoke with a slight accent and extended a hand to Jimothy who shook it heartily.
“Staying busy at the salon.”
The man stood back. “You look great as always. What are you looking for today?”
Jimothy turned to Rick. “Benny, this is my friend Rick Ronconi. We need at least one suit, a sports jacket, and some trousers he can mix and match.”
Benny looked at Rick with an expression that might have been a little skeptical. “Hello, Rick. Looks like you could use Jimothy’s services as much as mine.” He laughed.
For a second, Rick stood there confused about which services of Jimothy’s he most needed, but then ran a hand through his mane. “Yeah, well, that’s how we met. I came in for a haircut. But then I chickened out.” He shrugged. “It’ll be coming off soon.”
Benny didn’t say he sure hoped so, but it was there in his eyes. “So, Jimothy, what do you see that you like?”
Rick glanced to Jimothy, but he was searching the racks again. Jimothy said, “He’s going to need so much tailoring. I mean, look at those shoulders and those hips. Like two different men. And we have less than a week. Can you do it, Benny?”
“For you, of course.”
Rick blinked.
Jimothy dragged several suits off the rack and handed them to Rick. “Here, try these.”
Five minutes later, Rick walked out of the dressing room wearing a blue suit. The jacket bagged on him real nice, but the pants were falling off.
Jimothy was still pawing through clothes. He looked up, shook his head vehemently, and said, “The colors too washed out for you. Next.”
Ten minutes after that, Jimothy, with agreement from Benny, had rejected two more suits, and Rick was already bored with clothes. He walked out of the dressing room in a gray suit. Again, it barely stayed on, and he had to grab the pants to keep them from sliding down.
Jimothy glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes lit up. “Oh yes! Perfect.” He hurried to Rick. “Benny. We’ve found one.”
Benny came out of the back and nodded agreement. What made this suit different than the others that had bagged on his body, Rick couldn’t tell, but if it would get him out of these clothes, he’d agree to anything.
Benny pointed to a box and told him to stand on it, which he did. He looked at Benny. “Is this really going to fit me? I mean—” He released the pants and two-inches of boxer briefs immediately showed.
Benny laughed. “Ah, but that’s the magic.”
The “magic” process started. Tug, pin, adjust, mark with chalk, readjust. Holy crap, who knew tailoring was so complicated?
After about fifteen minutes, at which point the suit looked no better than it had when Rick emerged from the dressing room, Benny said, “You can take it off.” Rick wanted to say, with pleasure, but resisted.
In the dressing room, Rick got the pin-cushion suit jacket off and had one leg out of the pants without taking skin with it when the curtain of the dressing room parted, and Jimothy stood there holding another armload of clothes. Jimothy’s eyes widened, and Rick thrust the end of the empty suit pant leg in front of his junk while balancing on one foot and scraping a pin across his thigh. “Ow!”