Keep Coming Back To Love. Christa Maurice
time had come. A cotton button-down shirt would look striking. Something to show off what body he did have instead of drowning it in flannel. Nice vertical stripes with the narrow-legged jeans would make him look taller, too. Kind of early David Bowie. “You need something a little more impressive on top, too. This flannel thing is so yuck.”
“Really? All the big bands dress like this.” He plucked at his shirt.
“It doesn’t do you any favors. Let’s try you in this.” She shook the wrinkles from a dark blue shirt with mint green pinstripes. A little odd or distinctive? If his hair was colored to a decent blond, it would be perfect. Jody was working at the store’s salon tonight. “How long do you have before the audition?”
“I have to be there at seven.”
Candy made a show of checking her watch. “How much of a makeover do you want to do today?”
His eyes narrowed on her. “Whatever it’s gonna take to get into this band.”
“Do you trust me?”
“I just met you.”
Candy shrugged. “Do you trust me?”
For a long time, he stared at her. She could see the calculations running through his head. How much he needed to win this audition. How little he knew about dressing himself to look good enough to front a hot band. How cute she was. If he had any chance of getting in her pants. That was always a factor. “I trust you. If you get me into this band, I’ll take you out.”
Yep, how cute she was. That little glimmer of swagger could be nursed to a full-blown inferno if she played him right. “It’s a date. You go try that stuff on and I’ll call my friend at the salon.”
“This isn’t gonna cost a lot, is it? My mom will shit if I run up her bill.”
So much for improving her sales. “Don’t worry. Jody will give you the friend-of-a-friend discount.”
“Super.” The guy bounded off toward the dressing rooms. Lots of potential.
Once he’d turned through the door, she went to the cash desk and called Jody. “Hey, what are you doing this afternoon?”
“Fuck all. Literally, right now there’s a blue-haired old lady getting a perm and three empty chairs. As soon as I’m done with cosmetology school, I am outta here. What about you?”
Candy stared in the direction of the dressing rooms. “I have a challenge for you.”
“Really?”
“This guy walked into my section. He’s auditioning for Touchstone tonight.”
“No way! I love them. He trying out for Max Terry’s spot?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s this guy look like?”
Candy frowned. “That’s kinda the problem. The potential is there, but he’s screwed up his hair and he looks like he buys his clothes from the Salvation Army while wearing a blindfold.”
“He’s auditioning tonight?”
“Seven o’clock.”
“Plenty of time. You get him dressed and I’ll sort out the hair. Can he sing?”
“I have no idea.”
“Send him over anyway. I’m bored.”
The guy stepped out of the dressing room. Her breath caught. Day for night difference. Tall, lean. Suddenly he had enough presence to walk in front of an audience armed with nothing but a microphone and attitude. Talk about hiding a light under a bushel. He scanned the section. When he saw her, his face brightened and he headed toward her. “You’ll need to do something about his face, too. His skin’s screwed up way beyond what a little foundation will fix.”
“That’s not going to happen by seven o’clock.”
“I know, but you can start him in the right direction. We want him to look good when he hits the stage with the band.”
“Gina’s good at that.”
“Great. I told him you’d cut him a break on the price.”
“He gets in this band, I’ll cut his fucking hair for free.”
“I’ll send him along when I’m done. See ya.” Candy hung up the phone. “That looks great.”
“Really? I thought it looked fruity.” He tugged at the sleeves.
“First of all, you don’t tuck it in.” She pulled the tails of the shirt out of his pants, letting her fingers brush against his skin. Nice. “These colors are dramatic and bring out your eyes. If you’re going to be the lead singer, you have to command people’s attention so you have to look good.”
He smoothed his hands over the shirt. “It fits.”
Candy led him to a mirror and stood behind him. “It would be better if it were taken in a little on the sides.” She gathered the material between her fingers. Gawd, he was hot. “You probably don’t have time to get to a tailor.”
“A tailor?” His eyes went wide.
“Clothes always look better when they’re fitted to you.”
He turned around and slid his hands down her arms, studying her face. “Is that why yours look so great?”
“Yeah. I tailor all my own clothes.”
“And I thought it was the amazing body in them.”
Candy curled one side of her mouth into a smile. “That helps, but the clothes accent it.”
He pulled her closer. “How do you know all this stuff?”
“I’m going to study fashion merchandising in college.” Not only was he hot, he was warm. Lean and firm. Might be the clothes, might be the boy in them, but he had charisma.
“You’re in college?”
“No, but after I graduate.” She licked her lips. Once Jody took care of his hair and Gina got his skin straightened out, he’d be way beyond cute. “So I called my friend and she’s calling out the cavalry to get you set up. We’ve got the visual end covered, but can you sing?”
He smiled slowly and then sang Foo Fighters’ “My Hero” with a surprisingly deep voice that caressed her skin like high-quality suede. As he trailed off, he leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. It should have been suave, but he flinched when he touched her and his hands were shaking, which made it adorable instead. “What do you think?”
“Wow.” Candy swallowed so her voice would quit squeaking. “Jody works in the salon upstairs. Why don’t you go take that stuff off and I’ll see what I can do as far as tailoring your shirt and drop it off on my break.” Which meant the last twenty minutes until her break were going to be spent pulling the thread out of the seams without breaking it so she could use it to stitch this shirt by hand and hoping no other customers showed up. This burnout had a lot more to him than miles of flannel and half destroyed oversized jeans. His little hesitation when he touched her sold it. He had some confidence, but not too much. How could a girl not go for that?
He tightened his grip on her arms. His hands were sweaty, but hers were too at this point. “You’d do that for me?”
“You’re taking me out to dinner when you get into this band. Don’t forget.”
He leaned in again. “You gonna dress me all the time?”
“You bet.” She rose up on her toes to close the distance he was hesitating over. “Go on. The sooner I get my hands on this shirt, the sooner I’ll be done.” Measurement. Damn, if she didn’t know how much to take it in he was either going to be swimming or cased like a sausage. She measured the extra fabric with her fingers. Oh gawd, his name. She didn’t even know