“I really should go,” I insisted.
“No, really, I want you to stay. Besides, I had brunch prepared just for us.”
He kept walking, I followed like a puppy dog. “I’m not really hungry.”
He looked back and said, “But you will be. I have crepes, fresh fruit, omelets, whatever your heart desires.”
“I desire to get you ready for the Diamond Jubilee.” I caught up with him and walked side by side. I’m not the walk-a-step-behind kind of girl.
“I promise, if you have brunch with me, I’ll be more accommodating. You do need a job, do you not?”
I did, but I didn’t respond. Instead, I walked with him down the stairs to the dining room and saw a buffet set up on the table. Silver chafers evenly spaced, like a buffet at a fancy hotel, covered half of the table, and iced bowls of fruit, yogurt and various toppings and syrups dotted the other half.
“Bobby, this is Maisy Tucker.”
Bobby looked to be in his early forties and wore a white shirt, khaki pants, and brown loafers. I’ve noticed in my years of working with Marla that leather loafers are popular with the millionaire set. Or in this case the billionaire set.
Before I could reach out my hand and shake his, he grabbed a plate and asked, “What suits your fancy?”
Bobby loaded up a plate for me, while Timmy loaded up a plate for Hugo. As we walked into the next room, I saw them heaping their own plates full of meats and gravy.
“This is the breakfast room,” Hugo said. “It’s where I eat most of the time.”
The breakfast room complimented the dining room, almost identical in color and furniture, but smaller. A coffee urn sat in the middle of the table. Around it, five matching bowls, which I realized held sugar and four different flavors of creamer.
“Tell me what your plans are,” Hugo said, then stuffed a sausage in his mouth.
“My plans?” He wanted to know my life plans?
“Yes, your plans for me, for the gala.”
I stuffed a crepe in my mouth, to keep myself from blurting out what I wanted to say, which was, “Make you look fit for civilization.”
He waited, looking at me as I chewed. I’ve never been so self-conscious of my chewing in my life.
Before I could stop myself, I said, “Manscaping.”
Hugo’s eyes went wide. “Manscaping, huh?”
I blushed, and nearly choked. “No! Not that kind of manscaping.” Involuntarily, I looked to his lap.
He put his hand over his crotch and laughed. “Well, then.”
I should’ve shoved another bite of crepe in my mouth.
“I meant cut that hair and shave your face, for starters.”
He stopped laughing or grinning. “What if I refuse?”
“Then I guess I fail my test.” I wanted to grab the linen napkin from my lap, throw it on the table, and leave.
But how would I leave? I had no ride, other than him. I needed to grow up and stop being childish about his behavior. I’d dealt with clients who were more difficult than Hugo.
“You have something,” he reached out and wiped my cheek with his finger. “There, gone.”
And here I’d been worried he’d have food dangling from his beard.
“Again, I should leave. I can see this isn’t going to work. You don’t want to be transformed.”
His brows rose. “Transformed?”
I looked him in the eyes. “Yes, I see there is something sad lurking behind those stunning blue eyes, and I want to make them happy again.”
He flinched. I’d hit a nerve.
“I want to see your fresh face and dress you in clothes to compliment your brown curls.”
“I haven’t seen my face in years. Two to be exact. I guess I thought the hair and beard hid me from the world, but the eyes are the doors to the soul, they say. No amount of facial hair hides that, I guess.”
He looked out over the lake as he spoke, then stuffed half a pancake in his mouth.
“If your soul is ice cold, then your eyes scream it loud and clear.” Did I really just say that? What was I thinking?
“You’re not shy, are you?” He put his fork down.
“Sorry, that was rude.” I put my fork down, too, and my napkin on the table.
“No, it’s the truth. Not many people speak to me like that. Except Timmy. Timmy says whatever he wants.”
I sucked in a breath. “I’m not good at sugar coating things, sorry. I’m sure not going to tell you what I think you want to hear. What good would I be at my job if I did that? People would be walking around looking like fashion don’ts and they’d be saying, ‘Maisy Tucker is my stylist’ and I’d be humiliated. I’d rather tell you the truth, and lose my job, than suck up and tell you something that isn’t true.”
Those white teeth that cracked the ice in his eyes a bit shined at me. Good grief, he had an adorable smile. “I think we’ll get along fine then.”
Whew.
“Timmy, bring my laptop in here, please.” Hugo called into the other room.
Timmy came in the room and stood next to Hugo, opening his laptop and setting it on the table. “Anything else before I go back to finish my breakfast?”
Hugo rolled his eyes. “See what I mean?” he said to me.
I nodded.
“Don’t be talking smack about me when I’m not here to defend myself,” Timmy said, smacking Hugo on the back of the head.
“Go. Be gone with you,” Hugo snapped back at him with a smile on his face.“Never have a best friend work for you, it sucks.” He logged into his computer.
“I’ll keep that in mind. How long has Timothy worked for you?” I dared to ask.
“Timothy?” He looked at me curiously. “Did he tell you to call him Timothy?”
I nodded.
“In my house, it’s Timmy. Outside of this house you can call him whatever you want. Asshole, dickhead, whatever.” I couldn’t see his face to know if he was serious.
Hugo moved his plate and turned his computer toward me. “Look, I’m a gamer, I design computer games and products for a living. It makes me a bit of a recluse, and I like it that way. But I’m doing this for Stella, so I’m going to cooperate, maybe even shave.”
I looked at the computer screen. The images staring back at me showed a younger version of Hugo Popovits. One of the images had been cropped, but I could see a woman’s shoulder in it.
I pointed at the screen. “Was Stella in this photo?”
He stiffened. “No.”
Oh, ouch. I pointed to another photo immediately, to change the tone. “This is a good cut.”
Hugo clicked on the photo and enlarged it. “So you like the short sides with the moppy top?”
I laughed. “I don’t think I’d call it a moppy top, but if that’s what you want, then yes. Clean face, or a five o’clock shadow, with those sideburns and that cut. You look very handsome in this photo.”
“Thanks. My parents took it at my graduation. For my PhD.” He swiped the screen and a new set of photos appeared on the screen. “Is this the style you like?”
I could have smacked him. The entire page contained photos similar to what he already wore. “No.” I shoved his shoulder. “You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?”
He looked at me, a slight twinkle in his eyes. “You have to earn it.”
I pushed my chair back and stood. “I’m up for the challenge. Are you?”
He looked up at me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m not going anywhere yet. I need measurements, so I know what I’m buying is the right size.” I grabbed my handbag from behind my chair and pulled out a measuring tape. I pulled the tape out about eight inches. “This seem about right?”
Before he could answer I pulled the tape out further to lay it across his back.
He jumped up from his chair. “Wait.”
When he made his next move, my heart stopped.
Chapter 10
Hugo Popovits, master of disgu
ise. As he pulled his shirt off, I gasped.
Tanned and fit, his muscles rippled over his rib cage as his arms went up over his head. I could wash clothes on his abs, and when he finally had his shirt off and his arms back down, I gazed at his cut biceps. Before I had a chance to get a grip on myself, he pulled his shorts down and kicked them off with his feet.
Needless to say, my mind hit a speed bump as my gaze traveled down his front. And that speed bump’s package came wrapped in a pair of boxer briefs.
“Do I need to take these off, too? Or can you still get my inseam with them on?” Hugo’s tone showed no hint of the wicked that gleamed in his eyes.
I pulled myself together after getting a quick glimpse at his legs. “Um, uh, no, I’m good. I’ll start at your shoulders and work my way down.”
“Good, just the way I like it.”
If no one could see me, I’d have fanned myself. This fellow knew how to play.
“Me too,” I played along, then readjusted the tape measure.
Balancing my phone and the measuring tape, I input the figures into my phone app, then moved to his biceps.
Hugo reached out. “Here, I’ll take that, and you can tell me the measurements.”
I handed him my phone and worked my way down his torso, around his waist, and down his outer leg. My stomach flopped when I stood directly in front of him and dropped down to a kneeling position.
“Oh, excuse me.” Timmy had entered the room, then quickly backed out.
I thought about what it must look like from behind Hugo. He thought I was going down on his boss. The room got hot, and I felt my face flush, but being the professional I am, I ran my hands the length of the tape and put the top of the tape just inside his leg, below his crotch.
That’s when the twitching began. And I wasn’t the one twitching. Hugo Junior suddenly came to life.
“Oh, goodness,” I jumped back and lost my balance, hitting my head on the table.
The next thing I remember, boxer-brief-clad Hugo sat next to me, holding me in his arms and asking, “Maisy, are you alright?”
“Damn, that hurt.” I hadn’t been knocked out, it’s just that Hugo moved that fast.
I’d barely had time to process what happened, when he cradled me to help me up.
“You okay?”
I rubbed my head. “I’m fine, you just startled me, that’s all.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that, either.” He looked down at his underwear. “We’ve been dormant, so I guess I’m a little sensitive. I should’ve had a tailor take the measurements. Sorry.”
I came clean with him. “Interestingly enough, you’re not my first.”
He helped me to my feet.
“Really?”
“It must be my light touch. I get that reaction more than I care to admit.” I couldn’t look him in the face.
“Do tell. And why wouldn’t you want to admit it? You should be flattered.” He gave me a crooked smile.
“I’d be flattered, except it wouldn’t matter who I was or what I looked like, I’m sure they’d all react the same.”
Hugo tilted his head. “True enough. And again, sorry.”
Little Hugo was in rest mode by now.
“I think I’ve got what I need to get started. That is, unless you want to go shopping with me.” I had a feeling I’d pushed it.
“I don't have time to go shopping. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you a shirt and a pair of shorts, so you know my size, and you can shop to your heart’s content.”
“Please, you think I’m going to rely on the oversized tees and baggy shorts you wear? I’d be buying the wrong sizes. I’ll put your measurements into my handy dandy app, and I’ll know exactly what to purchase. But we will need a tailor, just in case. Do you have one?”
“You’re purchasing a tux, correct? And all that goes with it?” We stood in a face-off type position, his face so close I could lean forward and kiss him on his pouty lips.
I stepped back. Not because he’d invaded my space, but because of the thoughts that had invaded my head. I had no intention of ever kissing Hugo Popovits, ever.
“I’ll buy the pants, a jacket, the shirt, and a tie. Oh, and socks and underwear, along with shoes and whatever other accessories pull the ensemble together.” I wanted to go around him and get out of the small space. “Do you have cufflinks?”
He pulled his T-shirt back on and tugged at the sleeves. “Does it look like I wear cufflinks?”
I laughed. “I’ll plan on purchasing the entire ensemble, or you’ll end up half-naked.” Which wouldn’t be so bad now, would it?
“I’ll give you my American Express card, and you can shop wherever you like. Don’t worry about the cost.” He picked his shorts up and pulled his wallet from the pocket, then pulled his card from the wallet. “And my family has a tailor on call. I’ll have Timmy contact him.”
He handed me the American Express Centurian card, put his wallet back, and stepped into his shorts. We walked from the room as he buttoned up and zipped his fly. The disappointment I felt surprised me.
“Perfect. I’d like his contact information, and I can set an appointment for us to get together. Do you have a favorite color?”
Why did I ask? It had to be grey.
“Navy blue,” he said.
“Alright then, navy blue. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The dining room had been cleared, and no sign of the buffet remained. Bobby and Timmy, gone.
“If you happened to find other pieces you think I might like, by all means purchase them. If I don’t care for them, I’ll have Timmy take care of the returns.” We stopped in the foyer.
“Pieces for the gala?” He’d confused me, since I already told him what I’d be purchasing.
“No, just stuff. I might be willing to change things up a little. Just a little.” He tugged at his shorts and shirt.
“Just a little,” I repeated, thinking about all the fun clothes I’d kill for him to try on. I reached up and pulled his beard gently. “What are we doing about this?”
“We’ll figure that out tomorrow when you bring my suit. If I’m impressed with your style, I’ll let you manscape me.” He swept his hand from his beard to his lap. “All of it.”
After what I’d seen while measuring him, that would be a pleasure. No! No, no, no! He’s my client and way out of my league. I’d never thought like this before, and I’d taken measurements of L.A. Kings, San Diego Chargers, and even the Clippers. Hunks, I’m telling you, hunks, and they never gave me this feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I cleared the thoughts from my head and said, “Is Timmy driving me home?”
“He informed me this morning that he doesn’t have time to traipse all over town shopping. If I decided to let you make me over, he said you’d need a car. I don’t want you depending on that Jetta until it’s fixed.”
He walked me to the door, and there in the front of the house sat a midnight blue Mercedes Benz SUV. I gasped. “What if I get in an accident with that thing?”
Hugo’s face went slack. “You’re not that bad a driver, are you?”
“No, but all the same.”
“We call it auto insurance.” He nudged me toward the car. “It’s a loaner for the week. Until the gala. If you do your job as well as Stella seems to think you can, you’ll be a busy girl and will need a dependable car.”
Then it hit me, “Oh shit, I mean shoot, I still owe you for the tow truck.” I reached in my purse.
“Take it off my bill at the end of this fiasco.” Hugo waved me off.
“I’m not getting paid for this. It’s my job interview. If I do well, Stella is going to mention me when the paparazzi hit her up at the gala.”
Hugo walked me to the car and opened the driver’s door. “Don’t let her bitchiness fool you. She looked you up after you left my parents’ building. You’re hired.” He looked from side to side as if he expected someone to be listening in. “If you tell her I told you, I’ll refuse
to wear anything but an undershirt and boxers to the Diamond Jubilee.”
“And you’ll be the talk of the town. In a good way.” I winked and got in the car.
Did I flirt? Was I flirting? It’d been so long, I didn’t even remember how it felt. I had to stop. I had a new client, not a new boyfriend.
“And I’d be disowned by my sister. I’m not willing to chance it.”
“I need this job, so I won’t say a thing.”
“Okay, send me a text when you’re finished shopping, and I’ll set up a time tomorrow for us to meet.”
“Here?” I asked.
“Yeah. We have a new product launching, so I won’t have time to go anywhere. I barely have time to do this.” He closed the door, and I rolled down the window.
“I’ll be efficient, I promise.” I looked down the driveway to see a line of cars entering the property.
“I’m counting on it.” Hugo looked behind him. “My employees have arrived for our weeklong sleepover. Or as others call it, work. It’s going to be a long week.”
“Is there a call box at the gate?” I asked.
Hugo reached in through the window and pulled the visor down. “Press that. It’ll open the gate for you.”
“Should I announce myself?” I didn’t want to show up unannounced.
“No worries, I’ll know you’re coming.” He stepped away from the window. “Have fun.”
I had one last question, “Hugo, do you dress right or left.”
He looked down and said, “Left?”
Not that it mattered in those baggy shorts, but it would matter in fitted suit pants.
He walked away, and I couldn’t help staring at his ass and legs. I’d get him manscaped alright, and I wouldn’t mind waking up Little Hugo again, either.
Yes, yes, I would mind waking him up. Hugo didn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy, and I definitely wasn’t a relationship girl at the moment. Maybe I just needed some good sex, then I’d stop looking at Hugo like a piece of meat. Or maybe not. Either way, his meat wasn’t available in the buffet line I could afford.
Chapter 11
As soon as I drove out of the gate, I pulled off to the side of the drive and called Gwen.
Hello (Dressing A Billionaire #1) Page 7