Mr. Suit has pale skin and a close-cropped black beard that highlights the fantastic structure of his face. I’m not usually into facial hair, but in his case, I’m making an exception.
Of course, I’d find anyone attractive if they’ll help me capture this damn bird. And it looks like he’s going to nab Elvis. He’s half crouched in a way that stretches his slacks over his perfectly shaped derriere. Not that I’m staring.
“That’s it,” I whisper. Mr. Suit is about to grab Elvis when the bird parrots his favorite line, flaps off his perch, and flies into the man’s face.
Even if you’re a bird lover, an explosion of grey feathers in your face trips the evolutionary ‘Fight or Flight’ switch. Mr. Suit jerks backwards, his arms flying up to shield himself. Halfway into his Flight mode, Mr. Suit’s reflexes switch to Fight. He ducks the attacking bird, regains his balance, and whirls to toss the blanket in the parrot’s direction.
“Elvis!” I cry, rushing forward to keep my bird from getting hurt. I trip on the carpet and pitch forward just as Mr. Suit turns. We crash into each other. He tries to catch me, but my forward motion, combined with his lack of balance, causes us to tip over, me in Mr. Suit’s arms. We land on the ground together, a tangle of limbs.
The heavy sound of fluttering wings tells me Elvis has gotten away safely.
Thank you, St. Francis. I gasp in Mr. Suit’s arms, trying to catch my breath as a lone grey feather floats down on top of us.
I rise up enough to swat Mr. Suit on the shoulder. “What the hell was that? Were you trying to kill him?”
“I beg your pardon?” Mr. Suit says. It sounds very polite in his crisp, upper crust accent, but he’s glaring at me. Well, not directly at me. His face is carefully averted, his gaze fixed across the room. His body is stiff underneath me.
Really, really stiff.
That’s when I remember: I’m naked.
“Oh shit,” I say and start to scramble off him.
“Indeed,” he mutters and tries to rise also. We both overbalance and fall together. This time, he lands half on top of me. I try to move, and my legs tangle with his impossibly long ones. He’s bigger up close. Heavier too. Well equipped to win this impromptu wrestling match, but I’m determined.
“Get off me,” I shout, pushing at him.
“I beg your pardon, madam. I am trying to,” he says in that infuriatingly posh tone. My unbred ears detect a subtle layer of accusation, but he’s too polite to do more than insinuate that I’m the clumsy cause of all this.
“Do you always talk like you have a stick up your ass?”
Mr. Suit’s black brows jerk together. “I beg your pardon?” The look he gives me could scorch off all my hair.
“Yes, exactly, like that,” I grumble.
“I could ask you a similar question,” he says, his voice dripping acid.
“Whatever.” I shove his shoulder, and he rolls to his back. I fight my way up, but I have insufficient leverage, and topple back onto his firm chest just as a second pair of polished shoes crosses the parquet floor.
“Well now, this is unexpected,” says a coolly amused voice.
I rear back but before I can roll away, Mr. Suit says, “Daniel,” and heaves upwards, pulling me with him. I grab his shirt to keep from falling over again.
Daniel is another tall, lean man in a suit, with dark skin and a smoothly shaved bald head. He sets down a slim, black briefcase, and appraises Mr. Suit and me with satisfaction.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Mr. Suit barks, and jerks out of his suit jacket. Only when he pulls it around my shoulders do I realize the situation. I am standing, naked, in another man’s home. In the circle of his arms.
Once the jacket is in place, I release Mr. Suit’s shirt like it burned my palms, and back away.
“Isn’t it, though?” Daniel saunters forward. “It looks like you found her. Well done, Your Grace.”
“Found who?” I clutch the suit jacket around me tighter.
“She’s not—” Mr. Suit begins, and then his dark brows snap together as he fixes me with an intense stare.
“What?” I ask, trying to hide the way my belly flips in his presence. “I’m not what?”
“Unbelievable,” Mr. Suit breathes.
“She’s perfect.” Daniel circles me. “A little heavier than Winnie, but we can work with that.”
“Heavier?” I echo.
“We can work with that,” Daniel assures me, and swivels to Mr. Suit. “Did you ask her?”
“Ask me what?” I look back and forth. Both men are taller than me, so I feel like a child with her parents talking over her head. Talking about me.
“No,” says Mr. Suit, ignoring me. “I need to explain.”
“Explain what?” I snap.
“She might say yes… you never know until you ask.”
I flinch when Daniel reaches out and brushes my hair back from my face. “Hey!” I back away in outrage. Elvis chooses this moment to fly to my shoulder.
“Oh, hello.” Daniel remains unfazed at the appearance of a parrot. “And who is this?”
“Give it to me, big boy,” Elvis chirps. “That’s the spot.”
“Oh my.” Daniel draws back, his elegant hand fluttering to his chest. “Darling, buy me dinner first.” He switches his attention to me. “Is it always so forward?”
“Yes. He’s a parrot.”
“What sort of parrot?”
“An African Grey,” I answer automatically. “They’re big talkers.”
“Yours?” Daniel cocks his head, and Elvis copies the movement.
This is ridiculous. “No. I’m parrot-sitting over there.” I jab a finger in the direction of the house next door, readjusting so I can hold the suit jacket. My jerky movements make Elvis squawk and fluff his wings. “I don’t know how he got out, but I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again—”
“Wait.” Daniel’s shaved head swivels between me and Mr. Suit. “This was all an accident?”
“Yes.” I edge backwards. I don’t entirely know what’s going on with these two exquisitely dressed men, but I am naked and messy and distinctly out of place. “It won’t happen again.”
“I’ve never seen her before she ran inside, chasing the bird,” Mr. Suit adds. I shoot him a glare for throwing me under the bus. He parries with one eloquent, raised eyebrow.
“My goodness,” Daniel says. “Now that’s what I call Fate. You see the resemblance, of course,” he asks Mr. Suit, who dips his chin, never taking his eyes off me.
“What resemblance?” I should go, but my feet are cemented to the floor. Mr. Suit is looking at me like no one ever has. Under his suit jacket, my skin flushes.
“It’s uncanny. If I may, darling.” Daniel puts a finger under my chin and tips my face to the side. I’m so surprised, I let him. “Similar features, slightly different bone structure, but if you’ll notice her profile—”
“Okay.” I step out of reach. “That’s enough of that. And don’t call me ‘darling’.”
Daniel backs away, palms up, but he’s smiling. “What’s your name?”