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“Water is fine.”
“Still, sparkling or seltzer?”
“Just water.”
“Okay.” She smiles brightly, opening a door and motioning me inside. “This is your dressing room for the duration of your experience.” I look inside to find what appears to be an entire living room set up. The only thing missing is a television. “Get comfy and I’ll be back with your water in a moment.”
Bridget comes back a minute later with a bottle of water and a short Hispanic man follows behind her.
“Ernesto, this is Griffin, Emma’s husband.”
“Ahh. We’ve been expecting you. Emma is the best, is she not?”
My mouth opens to respond, but he waves off my reply.
“I don’t need to tell you that, you’re her husband. Okay, let’s have a look at you.” He motions for me to follow him out to the three-way mirror.
An hour later, after a multitude of measurements and alterations, Ernesto holds the suit jacket up for me to try on.
I push my arms through the jacket and adjust it over my shoulders then turn toward the mirror to check out his work. Ernesto is a magician; the suit fits me perfectly.
“Looks good.” I nod at Ernesto. “Nice work.”
“Let’s see what the lady thinks,” he says, turning toward the fitting room’s seating area where Emma is seated.
CHAPTER15
Emma
Gulp. My throat works to swallow but all the usual lubrication there has abandoned its post and gathered between my legs.
The sight of Griffin in a suit is lethal.
I want to grab Ernesto by the lapels and curse him for doing his job too well. Beg him to make it ill-fitting, a little looser around his ass, sloppy in the shoulders, saggy in the crotch. Something that will reset the balance of the universe.
He’s a lawyer, I remind myself.
Ugh, that should do it.
“Emma?” Griffin interrupts my thoughts.
“Hmm?”
“What do you think?” He spreads his arms out to the sides.
“Oh. It’s nice.”
“Nice.” He lifts his brows. “So, you approve?”
I take him in again, allowing myself one last perusal in the name of discernment. Noticing how every inch of fabric hugs his body to perfection. Not to mention how incredibly sexy the flash of his gold wedding band is when he buttons his jacket. That’s not Ernesto’s fault. That one is on me.
I nod. “Yes, it’ll do.” It’ll more than do. It’ll make menopausal women start ovulating again.
“Do you have a preference for the tie?” Ernesto asks, a collection of fabric swatches in his hands.
Maybe an ugly tie will tone down his devastatingly handsome appearance. But when I hold up the fabric swatch with avocado halves on it, it only brings out the green in his eyes. And makes me hungry. For avocados…and other things.
“We’ll stick with black,” I tell Ernesto. He looks to Griffin for confirmation.
