Tailored for Love

by Liliana Rhodes

  "Just who I've been looking for," he said while his eyes never left mine.

  Sara walked away looking briefly defeated and annoyed until another male customer entered the department. She pounced on him like a lion after a gazelle. Happy Sara found someone to busy herself with, I focused my attention on Mr. Sexy.

  "You were looking for me?" I asked.

  "Yes. I need a new suit and after seeing you handle them yesterday, I knew you were the girl for me."

  He winked as he finished speaking and I grinned back, embarrassed that he brought up my dropping the pants. Was he teasing or flirting? I needed to get a grip, he was probably just being nice.

  "Sure, right this way," I finally replied, my voice shaking.

  Leading him to the suits, my legs felt like jelly. I couldn't believe this man made me so nervous. As I took a deep breath, I narrowed my eyes on the racks and convinced myself he was anyone other than Mr. Sexy.

  "Is there anything in particular you're looking for?"

  "How about this one?" he asked as he pulled out my favorite--a two-button navy Tom Ford suit with light blue pin-striping. I admired the tailoring of Tom Ford's suits, he definitely knew how to dress a man to look sexy, strong, and elegant at the same time.

  "I can tell you that you'd look great in it," I said, immediately stunned by the words that flew out of my mouth.

  "I think I'd look better with you beside me."

  My heart did flips in my chest and I paused to catch my breath. I couldn't believe it! He was flirting with me! I carried the suit as we headed towards the fitting area and felt his fingers briefly touch the small of my back, sending a heat throughout my body that I hadn't felt in a long time.

  As I waited for him to change into the suit, I quickly gave myself the once over in the mirror. Pinching my cheeks, I wished I wasn't so pale, but there was nothing I could do about that now. Using a couple of bobby pins, I took the front of my hair and twisted it around into a quick side braid and pinned it away from my face. I needed to get precise measurements for his suit, and I didn't need my hair falling in my face as I did it.

  Stepping out of the dressing room, Mr. Sexy already looked perfect. That suit was made for him. His shoulders filled the jacket, making a perfect line across his back. I could already see I'd have to let out the sleeves a little for his large biceps. As I evaluated the suit from a distance, he spotted me. I quickly bit my lip to stop myself from saying anything stupid, and I motioned for him to join me at the three-way mirror.

  I pulled up a small step stool to check and adjust the shoulders. Smoothing the material over his back, I slowed my hands down, enjoying the feel of his body underneath and imagining what it looked and felt like without his clothing.

  Accidentally letting out a long, lust-filled sigh, I looked up at the mirror and saw Mr. Sexy looking back at me. His eyes looked more green than hazel in this light. As I met his gaze, I suddenly felt insecure, like he was undressing me with his eyes, not the other way around. Heat spread over my face and embarrassed, I looked away and stepped back. Forgetting I was on the stool, I stumbled and reached out to him to keep from falling.

  "Didn't realize tailoring was such a dangerous position," he said.

  "Oh, you wouldn't believe the dangerous positions I can get myself into."

  His laughter was throaty and deep, which made me want him more. My pulse beat loudly in my ears as I marked the sleeves, making my way in front of him. Slipping my hand into the front of the buttoned jacket to make sure the jacket had enough space when buttoned, I felt the heat of his body through the dress shirt.

  I didn't know what was going on with me, but Mr. Sexy made me want to do things that were far from professional. Opening my hand, I slid my palm over his snugly buttoned shirt, hoping he wouldn't notice.

  "Deborah," he said. I jerked my hand away. "It might be easier if you unbuttoned the jacket."

  Nodding, stunned over what was happening, I unbuttoned the single thick plastic button he used to close the jacket. I breathed him in deeply. His scent made me think of an herb garden, fresh and clean but with a hint of spice. Before I could muster my courage again, he took my hand and placed it on his chest.

  Ignoring his intense gaze, my hand traveled up the smooth fabric of his shirt and towards his shoulder. The heat of his skin came through the material and as my hand slid down over the flexed muscle of his pecs, it was even easier to imagine him without the shirt. Moving my hand down further, I explored the hard terrain of his abs until Sara's high-pitched giggle brought me back to reality.

  The last thing I wanted was for someone to catch me feeling up a customer. Even if I was pretty sure no one would blame me once they saw Mr. Sexy.

  "I--I'm sorry about that," I stammered as I looked away and stepped back from him.

  "Don't be, I enjoyed it," he said with that same crooked smile he gave me the day before.

  Out of nervous habit, I reached up to push my hair out of my eyes, but found it still secured in place. It was official, while he was Mr. Sexy, I was Miss Idiot. I really needed to get a hold of myself. Normally I kept my cool around gorgeous men. Was I that out of practice?

  "I'll take care of your inseam now."

  "Deborah..." He breathed my name, and I gulped at the air as my heart beat even faster.

  I looked up into his eyes again, the flecks of green flashing in the store lights. My throat felt dry, like every ounce of fluid now came out of the palms of my hands, which trembled by my sides. I really needed to get a grip of myself and calm down.

  "Yes?" I said, once again using the only word I could say.

  "Why did you change your hair? It was already beautiful before."

  Closing the distance between us, he gently began sliding the bobby pins from my hair, loosening my braid. As my hair fell and brushed my cheek, I breathed in his scent again and enjoyed the heat coming off his body. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his if my life depended on it. Entranced, I didn't even realize his lips drew closer to mine.

  His soft yet firm lips made my head swim. I parted my lips, waiting for more, wanting more, when the gentle ding of the overhead speaker sounded.

  "Oh!" I stepped back from him, suddenly aware of where we were as my legs felt like jelly. Heat creeped across my cheeks again as he gave me that knowing grin. "Your inseam. I have to measure your inseam," I whispered. Shit! What's wrong with me?

  "Say my name," he commanded.

  My brow wrinkled. There was no way I was going to call him Mr. Sexy to his face. He must have meant his real name, and I'd remember if he gave it to me.

  "Mr..." Sexy, I thought. "I don't think you told me what your name is."

  "You really don't recognize me?" he asked with a raised brow.

  "Should I?"

  A hearty laugh escaped his throat and his eyes seemed to soften even more. "No, it's actually a relief. I'm pretty well known in Canyon Cove. Wealthy businessman and all that."

  I shrugged. I really could care less. Mr. Sexy would still be Mr. Sexy even if he didn't have two nickels to rub together. Besides, he was in Hargrove's buying an expensive suit. What else could he be besides a wealthy businessman?

  "I guess I don't keep on top of that kind of stuff. It's never really interested me," I said as I pinned my hair back again and grabbed my measuring tape.

  "It's Will."

  "What will?" I asked as I knelt in front of him, trying to get my mind back on my job.

  "My name," he said then laughed. "It's Will. Call me Will."

  Embarrassed, I only nodded. I couldn't believe how much of an effect this man, Mr. Sexy Will, was having over me. Happy to not be standing on my jelly legs anymore, I slowly brought the tape up his inseam to his crotch.

  The pants had a flat front and were a touch too tight, enough that I could see the outline of his...wait, that's an erection! Doug had been the last man I had been with over two years ago, but I knew a hard-on when I saw it. Was Will teasing me?

  Slowly letting my eyes travel up
his body, they met with his. The playful twinkle in his eye combined with his knowing smile was enough to tell me he meant for me to see it.

  I didn't say anything, just made notes of the length of the pants and marked the cuffs where they needed to be hemmed. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. It was right there! And my eyes kept moving back up to the front of his pants.

  Thinking about how he let me touch his chest and later kissed me, I realized I might never get a second chance at this. My pulse beat loudly, rhythmically. No regrets, no regrets. Pulling the measuring tape out again, I brought it up his inseam, but then slowly moved my hand over the bulge in his pants like it was the most normal thing to do.

  "Does that need to be measured, too?" he asked playfully.

  "Yes, as a matter of fact, it does," I said, glad to finally feel like my old self again. "It's the latest innovation in tailoring. You can read about it in GQ." Or more likely Dear Penthouse, I thought, forcing myself to keep a straight face.

  I looked up at him, my eyes wide and innocent as I tried to act like I believed every word I told him as my hand traveled the length of his manhood, surprised by its size.

  "I believe I read about that." He winked as he grinned at me. "But I think you're doing it wrong, I believe the tailor is supposed to be more hands on. You know, for a proper fit."

  The playfulness from before suddenly became mischievous. Without missing a beat, Will unbuttoned his slacks and unzipped as I sat back on my heels, waiting to see how far this would go and excited to see it through. I couldn't wait to see how daring my Mr. Sexy was.

  I caught a glimpse of light grey cotton boxer briefs. Then his hand reached under the waistband. I held my breath in anticipation.

  "Deborah!" Sara called from the cash register. "Did you take the measuring tape? I always keep one here for emergencies."

  I turned towards her voice, annoyed even more at her presence but hoping she wouldn't come back into the fitting area.

  "Never mind! I found it," she yelled before I could answer her.

  "Now where were we?" I said as I turned back to Will, but he was gone. "Dammit! Where'd he go?"

  I ran into the dressing rooms, but they were empty. Entering the suit department, I looked for his tall figure but saw nothing except Sara.

  "Hey Sara, did you see that customer from earlier? The one who asked for me?"

  "Oh, you mean the one you stole from me? No, not since you whisked him away. Why?"

  "No reason. Just asking."

  I wasn't about to tell her what happened. Quickly making my way through the department, I kept an eye out for his dark hair and muscular body but didn't see anything. I could have called security since he was wearing a very expensive suit, but I didn't want him to come back because he had to. I wanted him to come back because he wanted to, like he did earlier. I'd just have to wait for that to happen again. If it happened again.

  Chapter Six

  Deborah

  A week had passed since Mr. Sexy left me anxious to see his unwrapped package. I'd be lying if I didn't say I fantasized about what might have happened next if there was no one in the store at all except for the two of us. Each day dragged by as I waited for him to return, my measuring tape close at hand.

  "Why so glum?" Dianna asked as I arrived at work that morning.

  "Just missing Mr. Sexy."

  "He's still a no-show?"

  "Yeah, not since he tried on that suit," I said, intentionally leaving out anything else that happened between us. "I doubt he'll be back. It's such a shame too, he was so hot!"

  She giggled, then patted my back as she gave me a mock-sympathetic look. "Well, at least you'll be busy. Today's your interview for the design contest, right?"

  "Yes, at 11. Do I look okay? They'll be judging what I'm wearing as much as my portfolio."

  "Relax, you always look great."

  Knowing it was an important day, I wore one of my favorite designs--a long plum silk jersey halter dress with a keyhole opening to show off my cleavage. I designed the dress so whoever wore it could show as little or as much as they wanted without the keyhole being obvious when closed.

  Below the keyhole, I hand-ruched a thick waistband, which gave me the appearance of an hourglass silhouette. That was one of the nice things about designing my own clothes - nothing ever fit me right in stores. I was always too short, too round, too everything. So making my own designs gave me the ability to custom fit clothes to my body.

  As I waited for my interview time to arrive, I noticed every man who walked past the suit department. Sometimes my breath would catch when I saw a man I thought was Will, but it never was.

  Maybe I took things too far. I began to scold myself for acting so slutty, but I really didn't regret it. Those minutes with my Mr. Sexy was the most exciting thing to happen to me in a long time.

  Riding the elevator to the corporate floor, I resigned myself to giving up. He had no reason to come back to the store, there were plenty of other high end department stores with chubby girls he could flirt with. For all I knew, it was just a game. It meant nothing and he was just pushing to see how far I would take it.

  But he came back for me. That had to mean something. I needed to stop thinking about it. I wasn't doing myself any favors. Men as handsome and sexy as Will didn't want a girl like me. He was probably laughing at me just like Doug did a few weeks ago in his car.

  The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out onto the white marble floor and followed it down the hall to a large archway, under which was a walnut desk with a pretty young African American girl chewing gum.

  She looked up at me and flashed a perfect smile. "Hi, are you Deborah Hanson? They're waiting for you," she said as she motioned to the glass door behind her.

  "Waiting? I was told 11. I'm early."

  She leaned forward and the light hit her hair, revealing it to be a deep purple shade. I got a strong whiff of the pink bubble gum in her mouth as she whispered.

  "Apparently the last girl here was just wasting their time." She used air quotes as she finished her sentence then sat back, satisfied she shared her piece of gossip. "Go ahead through those doors. Good luck!"

  "Thanks," I mumbled as I walked past her desk with my tablet and through the oversized glass doors to a small conference room.

  With my shoulders back and my head held high, I looked at the three people seated at a long table at the end of the room. I recognized the Women's Fashions buyer from her photo in the hall. A woman in her fifties with larger than life bright red hair and small delicate features, Amanda Cunning was known to be very particular about the new designers she introduced to the store.

  I paused in my trek to the blue conference chair set up across the table from them when I recognized the older man seated next to Amanda. It was renowned fashion designer Tim Ross. Tim Ross's designs were classy yet fashion forward at the same time, a feat many designers tried to accomplish but failed. He was one of the main reasons I wanted to become a designer. The highlight of my collection was an evening gown that gave a nod to his influence. I couldn't wait to show him.

  Last was a small, thin woman with her black hair pulled back into such a tight bun. I wondered if her face would collapse if she loosened it. Wearing a very traditional navy business suit, I assumed she was one of Hargrove's higher ups. Maybe even Mrs. Hargrove. I knew nothing of the Hargrove family except that they created the fine department store decades ago.

  Smiling as I approached them, I extended my hand while holding on to my tablet with the other.

  "Hi, I'm Deborah Hansen. Thank you for allowing me into the contest, I know it was last minute."

  "Well, we didn't really have much choice now, did we? I'm Claudine Calvin," said the woman with the tight bun, "Director of Acquisitions. I believe this has been the worse turnout for this contest in years. Kylie at the desk out there likes to talk, I'm sure she told you what happened to the last contestant."

  I smiled, not wanting to answer and get Kylie in trouble.r />
  "Yes, the turnout has been surprising, Claudine," Amanda said. "So when Human Resources called to submit your name and said you were a friend of Joshua Cane's, let's just say I was hopeful."

  "Is that why Hargrove's hasn't had a collection in Fashion Week for the last three years?" Tim asked.

  "Precisely. I wasn't going to have one of my designers create a collection and then dash their hopes of going if we had an amazing winner. And I refuse to show more than one collection at Fashion Week," Amanda said. "I believe you should show one fabulous collection and leave them wanting more. Now Miss Hansen, will your designs interest us or leave us cold?"

  "My collection is perfect for Hargrove's," I said, stepping forward and resting my tablet in front of Tim where they could all see it. "Even though it's a mixture of day and evening looks, the overall cohesiveness works. I chose colors inspired by nature and styles that are flattering to all body types."

  Swiping the screen slowly, I showed them each of the pieces I created and how some of them could mix and match with others. While I assumed Amanda and Claudine would make the decision, my focus was on Tim Ross, who nodded and smiled as he looked at my sketches. At the end, I let the tablet do a slideshow of the images to give the impression of them walking down a runway.

  "Very impressive, Miss Hansen," Tim said, and I fought the urge to jump up and hug him. "I especially enjoyed that show-stopping gown at the end. Did you also design the dress you're wearing?"

  "Oh, you have no idea how much that means to me, Mr. Ross. Your designs have been so inspirational. I did design that gown with you in mind and yes, this dress is mine, too."

  "Beautiful work. I can see you have an eye for detail."

  "Can you get us samples by next month?" Amanda asked.

  "Samples?" My head spun. Samples meant I needed to buy fabric and create each of the pieces. The cutting and sewing wasn't the hard part, I could create samples fairly quick. They didn't need to be fit-on-model perfect, but they did need to be well constructed. The problem was I didn't have money for fabric. I'd have to figure something out. "No problem. I can get you samples by then," I said confidently.