She sighed dramatically as she stood in a blue and grey dress that was the personification of drab. “I knew you’d say that so I brought another option too.” She held up a polyester pencil skirt with matching jacket in yet another shade of grey. “These two are what I always wear. No one’s ever complained before. And it’s only a surf event, hardly the red carpet you’re used to.”
Dom had to bite his tongue to stop himself categorizing her wardrobe choices as anything more than hopeless. The two options were worse than what you’d imagine at a funeral directors convention in the Eighties. No wonder she hadn’t managed to get her fool of a surfer to notice her. But her look, more pleading than petulant for a change, flagged that her ego was already fragile enough. He had just convinced her to hack off the hair she hid behind so effectively. “Well if everyone’s seen them, it’s a great reason to change things up a little.” He pulled her gently inside and shut the door.
“But how? I trashed your dress at the beach—by accident of course. And your magical sample supply isn’t going to help me this time. Not at this hour.”
He glanced at his watch. She was right.
“And, no. I’m not going shopping with you either. I’ve seen what women who go out with you wear and there’s no way I’m ever wearing anything that short.”
He couldn’t help the chuckle and was pleasantly surprised by the thought of her checking out who he’d dated. “You’ve been stalking me online?”
She waved him off. “Hardly. Pre-client research when we first met. Anyway. That doesn’t leave me any other options. I’m wearing this one and if you care so much you’ll just have to make sure you don’t get photographed with me in it. I’m sure you’ll cope.”
Thankfully she’d at least chosen a dress with some color. The grey and blue jersey dress was too long, too high and too boring for anything but sliding into a drab office and sitting in a cubicle all day. But at least it meant there was a bit of fabric to play with.
“Okay. The bit that is actually blue instead of grey is a nice shade of blue. Let’s start with that.”
“What do you mean, start with that. This is it. This is the dress. There’s no magical switch that turns it into a gown or anything. Or did you mean accessories? I’ve got a handbag that matches.”
“Stop.” Dom put his hands to his face and rubbed vigorously. “You’re killing me. Honestly. Wait there.”
He stalked back into the kitchen area and rummaged through the drawers. Hmmm, not exactly professional, but they were sharp enough to make do. He grabbed the metal scissors and then propelled her into his bedroom with its full length mirrored wardrobes.
“What? Hang on what the hell do you think you’re—”
“—better already.” Dom stepped back with a large chunk of the dress in his hand.
“Better? You’ve ruined it!”
“No I haven’t.” He spun her so she faced the mirror. With the hem now above the knee instead of mid-calf, the dress was already more flattering and even, he granted himself, a touch more glamorous.
“All you’ve done is made it shorter. And now it’ll fray or whatever and I’ll look like someone dragged me backwards out of a bush.”
Dominic had to bite back the laughter. Her face told him that now was not quite the right time to mock her reaction. But, seriously, drag her backwards out of a bush? She was too perfect. “Jersey doesn’t fray and if you let me tailor the rest of it properly instead of squirming around, it’ll be like it’s supposed to be like that. Haven’t you heard of the deconstructed look?”
“There’s deconstructed, and then there’s butchered.”
“I can’t believe you let my hairdresser go wild with your locks and yet you won’t let me, a professional, tailor your dress a tiny bit.”
“Firstly, you didn’t give me any choice with that hairdresser. He’d hacked off a chunk before I could get a word in.”
“I thought you liked your hair cut.”
She waved him off. “And second, you are hardly a professional seamstress. Owner of a clothing company does not a tailor make.”
He stood with his hands on his hips. “How do you think I know what’s going to work in my clothing lines?”
She shrugged defiantly and opened her mouth a couple of times. “Someone tells you. Or you get one of your model girlfriends to try on a bunch of stuff and just pick the one that makes her boobs look the best.”
The laughter broke through any will power he had to hold it in this time. “You are too perfect. Pick the one that makes her boobs look the best. Give me strength.”
It was her turn to fold her arms across her chest. “I know. I’m grasping at straws.”
He softened instantly.
“I told you I’m crap at this. And maybe you’re right, the clothes are protection. I’m not a blonde surfette so I’m super-professional instead. You try being around so much macho attitude all day every day.”
“Hey. The last thing I was trying to do was bring you down.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her face to the mirror. “We’ve managed to show off your beautiful face with this haircut. I just wanted to show off your beautiful body to go with it. There’s no need for you to hide behind clothes. You need to be comfortable in your own skin, remember. That’s what’s going to help you get Prince Surfalot to notice you.”
“I know.” She bit her lip and the action reflected in the mirror sent a quiver through Dominic that he tried his very best to ignore.
“If you look good, you feel good. Trust me, that premise is at the core of my business.”
Her eyes sought his and even reflected in the mirror he was astonished at the vibrancy of the green in their depths. When she widened them like that, they were pools of emotion. Pools he could damn near drown in.
“You’re really passionate about that aren’t you? About your clothes making people feel better about themselves?”
He narrowed his eyes. “There’s too much emphasis on having the right body shape in our world. It’s not about size, it’s about how you fit together. Fashion should be about providing people with a way of showing off the bits that they like the most. Not asking them to carve chunks off themselves to fit into a pre-made mold.”
She paused and he wondered if he’d made a mistake giving her his righteous speech. But hell, it was how he felt. It was what had driven him to into this business in the beginning. He wasn’t going to tell her the real reason he was so passionate about getting people, including her, to recognize their own beauty. He’d almost told her about his brother taking his own life after being so horrifically bullied when she’d told him about her ex-boyfriends knocking her own self-confidence. But it hadn’t seemed fair. Sharing his burden wasn’t going to help her confidence. Actions spoke louder than words, he truly believed that.
“Okay,” she said finally.
He frowned. “Okay?”
“Okay you can butcher my dress. I trust you. Let’s show Rick Hunter how well I’m put together. I’m going to make damn sure he sees me tonight and then I’m going to get my flirt well and truly on.”
Dominic’s fingers clenched around the scissors at her grin, but he forced himself to push out a wide smile. This is why you’re standing here with a pair of scissors in your hand. Suck it up. He wanted her to be confident sure, but it seemed a shame she was doing it for someone else.
Chapter Six
“Love the hair Maya. Nice dress too.”
Maya nodded and smiled for about the hundredth time as yet another surfer walking into the function commented on her new do and Dominic’s vigorously tailored dress.
Looking down at the blue and grey jersey she could hardly believe it was the same dress she’d worn to surf events just like this one plenty of times before. Apart from being a whole heap shorter, the dress now sported cropped sleeves and a gaping back she would never have thought she could pull off. It draped rather than hung, and after reading those words plenty of times in magazines, she finally realized what the
y were supposed to mean. Held in at the waist by the belt from the silk crepe dress, the whole effect was—dare she say glamorous?
He’d been right about the edges not fraying and with the neck and shoulders all slashed by his scissors, the bottom hem line looked like it was supposed to be stitch free, just like Dominic had promised. The pink belt she would never even have bothered with. Pink, grey and blue, together, seriously? But it worked. The tones or something matched, that’s what Dominic had said and she didn’t know why, or how, but he was right. Probably because this is his business. His life. Yep. And this—she peered into the depths of the packed bar—was hers. Time to make of it what she wanted.
“A penny for them?” Dominic whispered in her ear and Maya realized she’d been so busy contemplating his handiwork she hadn’t said a word to Dominic since they’d stepped up to the bar entrance.
“I was just thinking what a great job you did of Cinderella-ing me.”
“Cinderella-ing? That’s a thing is it?”
She shrugged. “Why not. You managed to convince me to come to the ball in a fancy frock.”
His smile was all the reward she needed. Her pulse fluttered and the elephants she hadn’t thought about for a while started moving in her stomach. “And I promise no pumpkins were killed in the making of this princess. Let’s show your fabulous frock off a little shall we?”
He nodded and put a hand on her bare back. Boom, the thrill of his warm fingers sent sparks ricocheting up her spine and into the base of her skull. Jay-zus! It wasn’t exactly the best time for freakouts. She plastered on a smile and was suddenly standing in front of the bank of media. Maya couldn’t believe that the cameras actually turned in her direction.
“Mr. Wolfe isn’t it? You branching out into surf wear?” One of the reporters called out.
Of course. The cameras weren’t turning in her direction, they were all focused on Dominic. The man who usually had someone much taller, curvier and altogether more desirable on his arm. She tried to step back a little and give him space to be the focus of the cameras but his hand on her back stiffened.
“What are you doing?” he whispered through his teeth.
“Getting out of your way,” she hissed.
He looked down at her, a smile still on his face, but his eyes dancing with something fierce. “You are not in my way, and it’s you they want to take photographs of, not me. Now get your dazzlers out and give them all a proper smile. If you’re not careful I’ll put my hand all the way down the back of this dress. That’ll make you stand to attention.” Slipping his hand further down her back he gave her a little squeeze that made her stand up as damn straight as she could.
“So Mr. Wolfe? Surf wear? And who’s your date tonight?”
Dominic turned to the reporter waving at him and grinned. “Not surf wear no. I’m a fan of the sport for sure and it’s interesting to see what the cool kids are wearing these days, but I’m mostly here for the networking opportunities.”
“And your date? What’s your name love?”
Maya frowned at the reporter and recognized him as a junior at one of the more trashy—boobs and bikinis—surf wear magazines.
“My name?” Maya channeled Dominic’s calm and arched an eyebrow at the reporter. “My name is Maya Taylor and if you still don’t know that you might want to have
wee chat with your editor pretty soon.”
“Maya?” The reporter’s eyes bulged. “Oh man. Shit it is you. You’ve changed your hair.”
“Quite.” Dominic said. “Like she said, I expect your editor will be calling soon wanting to know why you don’t recognize the best PR talent in the surf business when she’s standing right in front of you. Now, if you’ve managed to get enough photos, I think we’ll get a drink.”
“Nice work,” he whispered in her ear as they walked away.
Nice indeed. Nice being taken seriously and looking good. Maya let the warmth of his hand, still on her bare skin, seep into her very core. It was great being on his arm. Even if it was just pretend. Although the way he pushed her in front of all those cameras…it was as if he was perfectly fine being seen with her. “You don’t have to pretend I’m your date to everyone. I appreciate it an all, but you know, it’s okay now, they’re not watching.”
“Pffft. Why wouldn’t I flaunt you around? Especially given that you’re wearing my creation. It’s good for a man to see his work admired and desired by so many.”
“Of course.” Of course. He was checking out the reaction to his handiwork with the scissors. Probably had an idea for a deconstructed women’s line. She was just a warm body filling the fabric.
She pulled her smile back in line. “People seem to really like your dress.”
“Why wouldn’t they? You wear it so well.”
“Thanks,” she managed.
“Spotted him yet?”
See. Maya plastered a professional smile onto her face and scanned the room. Rick. It didn’t matter if Dominic wasn’t interested her as a real date, she wanted Rick Hunter on her arm anyway. Sensible, solid Rick. Her perfect baby daddy. Rick was what she needed in her life. What she was going to get. Being flashed around in front of the media was all well and good, but once she and Rick had settled down, life would be much simpler. Easy. Beautiful.
She scanned the room and spotted Brooke and Summer sitting with a group of surfers including the Hawaiian Dominic had picked out as his favorite so far. Nothing so good as having old friends around to make a girl feel like herself again. Time to get to work for Dominic and then, when she had him settled, she’d look for Rick. “Let me get you sorted first. That’s Holokai over there.” Not waiting for Dominic to respond, she set out over to the group, enjoying the shocked looks on Brooke and Summer’s faces as they took in her new look.
It was one thing saying how much he enjoyed having Maya on his arm. It was quite another realizing the truth of the situation. As he followed her over to the group of surfers, Dom was all too aware of the looks Maya was getting from most of the men in the room. If he could have, he would have growled at each and every one of them. Not your place though buddy. And what did he care anyway? Despite the way she’d responded to his kiss, she’d made it quite clear she only had eyes for this Rick Hunter guy. He tried to ignore the tightness in his chest when he thought about that.
He was here to work. Period. And even if he hadn’t been, Dom didn’t do employee relationships. Not anymore. Dom let the thought of his manufacturing manager seeing him with Maya flash for an instant in his mind’s eye. His ex was gorgeous but colder than a polar bear’s dinner. He flinched at the thought of the damage the woman could do to Maya’s fragile confidence with men. He brushed the thought away. It wasn’t going to be an issue. He was going to get Maya happily ensconced in Rick’s arms, save his business and go back to work.
“Here he is. Everyone, this is Dominic Wolfe.”
Dom turned on his smile. “Nice to meet you. All.” He perked an eyebrow at Maya.
“Brooke and Summer.” She indicated the two women, both of whom checked him out with sisterly concern. The best friends, he decided.
Maya rattled off a list of names ranging from hippy to horrible with a few Brian and Bevan’s thrown in. “And this is Holokai.”
Dom turned his smile up a fraction. The man was as good looking in the flesh as he was in his photographs, not always the case Dom had learned. But he seemed down to earth too. Completely unfazed by the generous helping of good looks his parents had bestowed on him. Good.
“Shuffle over you lot. We’re squeezing in.”
Maya managed to manhandle the group until he was sitting with Holokai on his left and her on his right.
“You responsible for Maya’s new look?” the surfer asked him softly. Dom nodded and Holokai put out a hand. “Good man. She deserved someone shaking her out of her wardrobe.”
“Hey! I heard that,” Maya snarked from his other side.
“You were meant to sweets. Have you seen yourself in the m
irror tonight? Girl, you’ve been hiding way too long.”
Dom sat back against the vinyl booth and took a pull on the beer someone had pushed into his hand when he sat. He liked the way the surfer spoke. He liked his admiration for Maya, could tell that it came from genuine affection rather than anything predatory. This was promising. Good even.
He chatted to Holokai for a while, Maya throwing in comments every now and then which kept the conversation flowing, but mostly, it was easy to like the guy. When Maya said Holokai was picky, he’d half expected some cocky, self-righteous douchebag energy behind the dark brown eyes, but Holokai was about as far from self-righteous as it was possible to be. This was definitely good.
Holokai excused himself to go to the bathroom and they all shuffled around to let him out of the booth. Dom drained his beer and nudged Maya. “Everything’s looking pretty decent so far. Not sure I need to hang around to meet everyone.”
“Oh.” Was that a flash of disappointment? Of course. She hadn’t had her chance to flirt with her idiot Surfalot—oops, flirt with Rick—yet. He’d had her locked up by his side making sure the exchange with Holokai went well.
“We’re not leaving for a good while yet though. You’ve got a job to do.”
“I thought I was doing my job.”
“I meant with Prince Surfalot. And I spy your target. Ten o’clock. Don’t look now,” he pulled her chin towards him and lowered his voice. “We’re going to make sure he notices you so that when you go over to him he’s already salivating.”
Dom watched Maya’s throat gulp down air.
“It’s going to be easy. Remember Waiter-boy?”
“That was pretend flirting. This is real.”
“So? Last time your dress was something I threw at you and your hair was—” he made a face. “—well it wasn’t like this. But now—” he made a subtle hour glass shape with his hands.
“Nice to know my hair was so terrible.”
Making over Maya (Hot Tide Book 2) Page 8