Searching for Perfect (17 page)

“What about—”

“No questions. Let’s begin.”

She dove for the first rack. Her fingers flew over the hangers, pulling, testing, assessing. She talked to herself under her breath, completely in the zone, and shoved items into Nate’s hands in an endless motion.

“That shirt’s expensive!” Nate tried to show her the price tag, but she ignored it, refusing to break rhythm. “I could get this at Target for half the price.”

“Do you make six figures?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can buy this shirt.”

“But—”

“No talking.”

Waves of frustration beat from him and attacked her, which she resolutely ignored. They moved from casual to dressy, until colors and patterns and textures surrounded her in a cushy glow that gave her a high reminiscent of smoking the joint with Kate and Arilyn. Finally, she could
barely see his face peeking over the mound of clothes. “Let’s take a break.”

“You’re certifiable. Think of the starving children in Africa. The factory workers in China. The massive layoffs in our own country.”

She quirked a brow. “The economy is in desperate need of Americans spending money on products and services. I’m just trying to fulfill my patriotic duty here. Follow me to the dressing room.” Kennedy set him up in the front corner and took a seat on the bench right out front. “I want to see everything. Go in exact order, since the pants I picked out work with the shirts. I hung them exactly as they should be tried on.”

“These jeans are worth more than my car!”

“Then you need to upgrade your vehicle. You’re being dramatic—the Tesla is much more than those jeans. Close the door, Nate.”

He shot her a look and closed the door. Kennedy stifled a laugh. It took him a while before he finally shuffled out. Pissed off, he stood in front of the mirror with a sulky expression that rivaled her signature pout. Her gaze took in the total transformation she had been waiting for.

He was hot.

The dark denim cupped his ass like an adoring lover. He was slim hipped, and though not overwhelmingly tall, his stance was powerful. He didn’t slouch or duck his head. He stood in front of the mirror like he owned it. That mysterious male sexuality vibe was hard to teach, and the man actually had the quality all along. It was just covered up by bad clothes and glasses.

The black button-down shirt was fitted, with embroidery down the front and large cuffs. His chest and shoulders filled out the lines nicely, begging a woman to flick open a button or two to see what lay beneath.

Oh, yeah.

Nate Ellison Raymond Dunkle had arrived.

“I’ve never worn stuff like this before. Feels a little weird. Do I look like an idiot?”

“No. You look amazing.” He glared at her in the mirror for using Tracey’s word. “Are you comfortable in this type of outfit?”

“I guess.” He pulled at the cuffs and turned to the side. “Aren’t the jeans too tight?”

She grinned. “No.”

He rolled his eyes. “Hmm, Connor said I had a wimpy ass and to hide it in bigger clothes.”

“Connor was wrong.”

He swung around at her softly spoken words. She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Speaking of your brother, I did want to discuss a possibility with you.” Her approach had to be flawless or he’d get defensive. “I know you’ve been living together for a while, and I think it’s great. I always wished I had a sister. But I also know how a roommate can affect a new romantic relationship. You want to find your wife. She wants to know you’re serious about a long-term commitment. If she gets the idea you like to hang in a bachelor pad with your older brother, she may get spooked.”

Nate nodded. “What do you suggest I do?”

“My friend Genevieve has a lovely bungalow in Verily.
Rent’s pretty cheap. She just moved in with her fiancé but doesn’t want to sell it at this point. She said she’d be willing to allow Connor to move in.”

Ken held her breath. He kept still, his brain obviously shifting through her scenario. She imagined him probing the weaknesses, the assets and liabilities, and the proper solution. He shook his head. “No, wouldn’t work. Connor would hate Verily. He’s in construction, and the job site is close to our apartment. He goes to the bar down the street every Friday and Saturday night. He’s gotten into a routine, and he’s happy. That’s why I’m having a hard time kicking him out.”

Ah, so he did want Connor to leave. That helped her overall strategy. “Understood. What if you moved to Verily?”

His gaze shot to hers. “Near you?”

She nodded. “Most of the mixers I set up for clients are in the area. It’s not that much further for you to commute. And you’ll have the privacy you need to begin a long-term relationship.”

He studied her face for a while. Kennedy tried not to shift on the bench. Damn, his attention was like a laser pointer, leaving her nowhere to hide. “Okay.”

“Huh?”

He grinned. “I’m in. Thank you for the offer.”

“You’re welcome.” Their connection lit, caught fire, and sizzled. Why was his directness becoming so damn sexy? “Now try on the next outfit.”

They rang up the purchases and hit Brooks Brothers. The stylist measured him and confirmed his sizes, then set
him up with a variety of suits. He grumbled nonstop. “I don’t need suits, Ken. I wear a lab coat at the office, and I tend to drop things during meals.”

“Every man needs two designer suits in his closet.”

“I’m not touching pink. Connor will never let me hear the end of it.”

“I can live with that.” She nodded at the salesman, who looked disappointed but picked out a bright red tie to match the charcoal classic three-button.

“I like the double-breasted. They wear those in the mob movies.”

She rolled her eyes and waved it away. The salesman loudly agreed and put it back on the rack. “No double-breasted. It will swallow you up. You’ll do better with the European cut.”

“Is this my body or not?”

“I know how to dress it better.”

The salesman laughed. “How long have you guys been married?”

She froze. Looked up. His gaze took, held, and silenced her. “Not long enough,” he answered.

The salesman smiled. “That’s nice. Trust your wife. Let’s try the navy blue.”

Speech still eluded her as Nate ducked into the dressing room. A few moments later, he exited and stood on the pedestal in front of the three full-length mirrors. “What do you think?”

Her girly parts flamed to life and begged for relief.

Nate Dunkle was gorgeous.

The dark blue pinstripe was a lean cut and accented
the strength and grace of his body. The bright red tie gave him a flash of style, and the crisp white shirt was unmarred and showed off the toastiness to his now normal skin tone. He was pure deliciousness wrapped up for one lucky woman she was about to introduce him to.

“Perfect. You look . . . perfect.”

The salesman fussed with the fabric and beamed in the mirror. Nate stared at his reflection and caught her gaze in the mirror.

“We’ll take it,” he said.

He stepped off and walked back to the dressing room, closing the door behind him. She let out a shaky breath and clenched her hands into tight fists. The transformation was complete. He was ready to meet the woman of his dreams.

She ignored the strange bolt of pain that pierced her heart and chalked it up to indigestion. Nate was right. Too many salads.

She forced him into the shoe store, where she bought three pairs for him, and one for her. He lifted the bags and groaned. “I’m starving. And exhausted. My arms hurt from all the packages. Can we eat now?”

Kennedy let out a laugh. “You have no stamina, golf boy. Women do this for hours without a break or a sip of water.”

“I surrender. How about pizza?”

“How about the deli? I can get something healthy.”

“Done.” They ordered, found a table in the food court, and began to eat. Nate spread out a bunch of napkins first and lined the white Formica tabletop before resting his elbows
on the edge. A group of teens lingered in the corner, tattoos, heavy makeup, and various piercings pegging them as the rebels. Or maybe that was the cool group now. Thank God, she was out of school. “Did you live at the mall when you were in high school?” Nate asked, taking a bite of his roast beef sandwich.

She shrugged and picked at her perfectly rolled oven-roasted turkey breast. She was so sick of lean meat. She eyed Nate’s club roll with longing. Maybe a pickle would help liven up her taste buds. “Didn’t most kids?”

“Nah. I went once on a Friday night and tried to fit in. Got beat up in the parking lot. Then they swiped my video game I’d saved months for.”

Kennedy looked up. He told the tale with no emotion, as if reciting a narrative from a book, but something deep inside her lunged up from the darkness and clawed for the light. “Were you bullied in school?”

“Yep.” He bit into a potato chip. “Can’t blame them. I’d skipped a grade, so I was younger and much smaller than the majority. The teachers loved me and always set me up as an example to the class. And I was a walking social disaster. If it hadn’t been for Connor’s protection, something bad could have happened. Kids are vicious.”

Hey, fat girl. You be nice to us, and we’ll be nice to you. Got it?

The pickle fell from her fingers. She wiped her clammy hands on her designer jeans. “Yeah.”

He pointed to her half-eaten turkey. “How can you enjoy that without a roll? Here, take the rest of mine. And some chips.” He pushed them over to her. They sat in her
line of sight, taunting, reminding her again and again if she didn’t stay skinny, people wouldn’t love her. Reminding her of all the times she looked in the mirror and hated who stared back at her. Trapped in a body she despised and a mind that screamed for help.

The anger flooded past the dam and snapped her chin up. “Stop pushing your crappy food on me,” she hissed. “Just because you can eat anything doesn’t mean the rest of us can.”

His brows lowered in a frown. “I don’t understand. You looked like you wanted them. It won’t hurt you to have a few bad things, Ken. Your body is perfect.”

“I’m not perfect!” she ripped out. “You want to know what I was doing while kids hung out at the mall? I stayed home with a bunch of pizzas, soda, chips, and anything else I could fit in my mouth. A drive-through to me meant two Big Macs, super-size fries, and a shake. And I still wanted more. I couldn’t shop at the mall because I needed a special fat person’s store since regular sizes never fit. I was tripped, tortured, abused, and reminded every fucking day that I was ugly. That I was fat.” Her hands shook with rage, but the words spewed out of her mouth like vomit, dark and ugly. “I conquered that problem pretty fast. Decided to stop eating. I starved off forty pounds and then I had lots of friends. Boys wanted me. Everything was great. Until I realized I had dropped so much weight my ribs showed, and my period stopped, and I was disappearing just like I always wished.” Completely spent from her emotional tirade, she blinked furiously to keep her eyes dry. “It took me a long time to climb out of the pit. I went to therapy,
learned how to eat and work out, for balance. Now, I can look in a mirror again. Remind myself I’m a successful, healthy woman. But I haven’t forgotten. Sometimes food drags me back into hell. And I sure as hell am not perfect.”

The full realization of what she had just done hit her like a karate kick to the head. My God, what had she told him? She had just spilled the venom in her soul to her client in the fast-food court. How could he continue working with her? How could he ever respect her for such an admission? Now he knew she was a complete fake—a mirage in the world of the flawless and fabulous. Humiliation choked her, but she raised her head and looked him dead in the eye.

Pride.

Those deep moss green eyes were filled with a fierceness that froze her in place. He reached across the table and snagged her hand. Warm, strong fingers interlaced with hers in a sign of friendship. Support. And something else. Something deep and beautiful and so very fragile that she sucked in her breath, afraid it would disappear like a curl of smoke.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I see you light up when you let yourself go a bit and think you deserve to be happy. But I get it.” He leaned in. “I
know
because I’ve been there. You fought, survived, and flourished. You gave the world a big fuck-you and didn’t let them break who you were. That’s perfection, Kennedy. Sheer perfection.”

She blinked, unable to pull her gaze from his. The touch of his skin on hers made her crave more. His thumb rubbed the sensitive pulse point on her wrist, massaging, pressing.
Her nails dug gently into his palm, and a low sound came from her throat, a slight whimper of need and want she’d never experienced before. It took all her willpower not to get up, cross over to him, and slide into his lap. Drag his mouth to hers and finally take what she wanted, his taste and essence on her tongue. Filling her body.

A loud clatter of a tray dropping to the floor broke the spell.

She jerked back and pulled her fingers from his. Kennedy spent the next few minutes organizing her trash and recapping her water bottle. She dumped the garbage. He never moved, just sat and stared at her, as if not knowing what to say. An awkward silence dropped between them.

“I think we can call this a successful trip,” she said lightly. “Ready to go?”

“Not yet.” His eyes gleamed with purpose. “Let’s dump the bags in the car first.”

“Then what?”

He smiled slowly. “Then it’s my turn to collect on my favor.”

NATE GUIDED HER INTO
the computer simulator and prayed for focus. As much as he hated malls, this one boasted a huge indoor playground that included a roller coaster, video games, bowling alley, and an updated golf simulator. He rarely used them anymore, but he didn’t want to drag Kennedy onto a course without teaching her the basics first and getting an idea of her swing.

Usually golf calmed his mind when he was feeling
overstimulated, and he desperately needed a distraction. So did Kennedy. The humiliation on her face after her confession shredded his control, until he ached to hold her in his arms and make her feel safe. Her strength and sheer force of will took his breath away, but her truth and vulnerability destroyed him.