The Tie's The Limit Read online

  Gia stood up. “Then I’ll go ask her what she wants, yes? You really want the two of us deciding what you will be wearing?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  The suggestion had been a bluff but she looked around his barren office one more time, wondering if he really had no opinion. Wondering if she could really dress him any way she wanted.

  A living, breathing blank slate.

  That could be fun.

  She smiled at him, handing him the folded paper she’d been fanning herself with.

  “Challenge accepted. I need your budget and clothing sizes.”

  Megan BryceThe Tie’s The Limit

  Six

  Mac got up to close the door New York had left open.

  Obviously, this had been a mistake.

  He would call her and tell her that he wouldn’t be needing her services.

  Except, then what? He’d have to go shopping himself?

  He still needed a new wardrobe.

  He could find someone else. Some other personal…shopper…consultant.

  And supposing he could find one, they would most likely ask him what he liked and didn’t like.

  What he wore to bed.

  He looked at people working industriously in their little cubicles, looked at what they were wearing for the first time ever.

  Watched as Cara walked through, her bag on her arm and looking sleek and put-together. Watched as people jumped when they saw her—sometimes it was out of her way, sometimes it was to hand her something.

  The boss.

  Did her clothing make her more of the boss?

  He couldn’t believe that it did.

  She would still be the boss even if she wasn’t wearing that green knee-length dress. Even if her cool blond hair wasn’t in a short bob.

  It probably didn’t hurt.

  And she was his boss and she wanted him to look more…more.

  And he didn’t want to think about it more or at all.

  He looked down at his black suit and tie.

  He really couldn’t see what the problem was.

  And he guessed that answered that about Ms. Abelli.

  She would have to do.

  Megan BryceThe Tie’s The Limit

  Seven

  A few days later, Ms. Abelli paraded into Mac’s office with a handful of garment bags.

  And then left.

  And then traipsed back in a few minutes later carrying a tall mirror she could hardly see around.

  She stood the mirror up, then unzipped each bag, offering them to him like a waiter presenting a bottle of wine.

  “These go together,” she said with a happy grin. “Call me back in when you’re ready!”

  And then she left.

  Mac let out a long put-upon sigh, then figured it would be over quicker if he just tried on the clothes.

  He locked the door since Ms. Abelli had yet to knock, then quickly stripped off his shirt and tie.

  And knew before he’d finished buttoning that this was a good, strong no.

  He opened the door a crack.

  “You didn’t get the right size.”

  She tried pushing the door open but Mac held firm. She squeezed her face inside as far as she could.

  “It’s supposed to be a tight fit. Let me see.”

  He came into view, a hand still keeping the door mostly shut.

  She said, “Can you button it?

  “Yes. But it’s tight.”

  “That’s how it’s supposed to fit.” She pushed her face in a little further. “Seriously, can I come in?”

  He let go of the door, mainly because her skin was getting pulled back grotesquely and morphing her face into something he was sure would be in his nightmares tonight.

  She came right in, right up to him, buttoning the last button and smoothing her hands across his chest. She helped him into the jacket, then took a step back, her hand under her chin.

  “It’s not tight. There’s no gaping between the buttons.”

  “It feels constricted.”

  “It’s the style. Hipster, with a side of boss.”

  He pulled back his lips in a grimace and said, “I don’t like it.”

  “What? You have an opinion? No!”

  He refused to rise to her bait, just simply took off the offending jacket and handed it to her.

  “Are they all like this?”

  “No. I got a couple different styles.” She chose one of the other garment bags and handed it to him. “Try this one. But are you sure you don’t want to wear it for a little while? Try on the pants? They might just make you feel like a Mac Daddy.”

  He saw her biting her cheek to keep from smiling at the play on his name but he simply said, “No.”

  She stopped at the door.

  “What about the color?”

  He looked down, realizing the shirt was a light peach. “It’s fine.”

  “And the suit color?”

  “I like gray.”

  “More opinion? Be still, my heart.”

  She closed the door after herself and he peeled the shirt off.

  He had more opinions about the next outfit he tried on, and none of it was good.

  He opened the door, standing behind it until she walked through.

  And then he shut it forcefully.

  She whirled around in surprise and he said, “I look like I should be sitting in a wing-back chair and smoking a pipe.”

  She started chewing on her thumbnail, looking him over.

  “It’s classic.”

  “It’s stodgy.”

  She met his eyes. “I thought you would like it.”

  He eyed her and she looked back innocently, saying, “What about the color?”

  He shrugged at the dark chocolate and she nodded.

  “It’s a little too dark for your coloring. But a light caramel or a cafe au lait might work.”

  He yanked off the tie, not caring. He held the shiny material with matte palm trees pressed into it out to her.

  “How is this tie better than mine?”

  She took it, wrapping the tie loosely around her hand.

  “It’s stylish. It’s got some interesting depth. But mainly it’s better because this tie would only be worn once a month.”

  “Once a month? That’s a lot of ties.”

  “It’s an accent piece, something to have fun with. And you can wear the same suit, different shirt, different tie and ta-da! Different look.”

  Mac found his chair and sat down heavily. “I’m tired. I don’t want to think about fashion anymore. Just find me something normal. Not trendy, not whatever the hell this is.”

  She said, “I call it English Lord but okay, you don’t like it.”

  He waved toward the other garment bags. “Do you have anything in there that’s…”

  “Invisible?”

  “Yes.”

  “Generic?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You want me to make you generic and invisible?”

  “Please.”

  Gia turned away from him to study the bags and he said, “I will try on one more outfit today so pick wisely.”

  She started zipping them up and said over her shoulder, “I don’t have anything here that meets your requirements. I’ll try a different store.” And she muttered to herself, “Pick anything, he said. I won’t care. Easy peasy, I said. Ha!”

  “I can hear you.”

  “Good! You obviously have an opinion about what you want to wear, you just would rather waste everybody’s time and not tell me.”

  “It’s easier to know what I don’t want. And these? I don’t want.”

  “Then at least admit that you care! I can’t just go grab anything!”

  He rolled his neck. “Okay. This is what I don’t want. I don’t want to feel uncomfortable. I don’t want to feel stuffy or ten years too young.”

  Gia sat and folded her arms, not wanting to admit that his request was not ridiculous.

  “And how w
as I supposed to know that would make you feel stuffy? You won’t tell me anything about yourself.”

  “You don’t need to know everything about me to be able to dress me.”

  She waved at the bags. “Obviously not. Give me something, anything. You like watching sports? Football?”

  He shrugged and she said, “Chess?”

  He sighed. “Can’t you just get me a suit, a normal suit?”

  “There is no such thing as a normal suit. These suits right here are normal to some people.”

  “I just want to dress like…”

  Since he didn’t know how to finish that sentence, she finished it for him.

  “You just want to dress like people can’t see you. Don’t you want them to know who you are?”

  “No.”

  They stared at each other for a long minute and then Gia said, “Why not?”

  “Why would I?”

  She blew out a breath.

  “You know, you’re saying something by the way you dress even if you don’t want to. And this,” she said, waving her hand at him, “says you don’t care.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “You don’t care about your job, you don’t care about this company. That’s right?”

  He sniffed.

  Gia waited.

  He fidgeted with some papers.

  She crossed one leg over the other.

  Mac picked up a pen and made a note.

  She checked her nails.

  He let out a long breath and finally said, “Of course I care about my job.”

  Gia met his eyes and he continued, “Of course I care about the company.”

  She nodded her head at him approvingly and he asked, “Can you find me something I don’t feel uncomfortable in?”

  She smiled at him.

  “Of course I can.”

  It was Gia’s night to make dinner and she stopped at the grocery store on the way home.

  Leaving Mac and that mess behind her.

  She’d go shopping for him again tomorrow and find something normal.

  Whatever that meant.

  When she walked in the front door, Nonnie was showing off new clothes to Gia’s wide-eyed mother.

  “Look at me!” Nonnie turned in a slow circle, her face glowing with pleasure.

  Gia nodded approvingly at the white capris and hot pink top. “Teresa take you shopping? You look hot.”

  “It’s the bra. I’m strapped in here like you wouldn’t believe.”

  Loretta closed her eyes and Nonnie held her hands up, wiggling the red fingertips.

  “I was afraid the shirt would clash with my new nails but Teresa said it was okay.”

  Gia was going to have a word with Teresa about acceptable nail color but she only nodded her head.

  “You look very fun. New Florida clothes to go with your new Florida nails.”

  Her mother’s eyes opened and she said, “Don’t forget the new Florida hair.”

  Nonnie patted her brassy blond bouffant happily and said, “I’m a GILF.”

  Gia choked, thumping her chest with gusto, and her mother shouted, “What?”

  “A Grandma I’d Like To—”

  “I know what it means!”

  Nonnie raised her eyebrows at her daughter-in-law’s tone and said, “Teresa said she knew a few good men who would like to take me to dinner.”

  Loretta sucked in a breath. “Dinner isn’t what that means. You said yes?”

  Gia asked, “What about all those retirees thinking you were fresh meat?”

  Nonnie nodded. “I haven’t forgotten. But Teresa assured me that these men know how to be a gentleman, and wouldn’t it be fun to have someone woo me? It’s been a while since I’ve been wooed.”

  Loretta looked horrified but Gia couldn’t fault the logic.

  “When in Florida, I guess.”

  “I will be speaking with my daughter-in-law,” Loretta said, standing up and looking ready to track Teresa down right then.

  Gia showed them her grocery bags. “But I’m making dinner.”

  This stopped her mother and her grandmother, and they both eyed her.

  Gia shook the bags. “It’s my specialty…”

  Loretta and Nonnie exchanged a look and then turned as one towards the kitchen.

  They sat at the counter, scooting onto barstools to watch as Gia pulled out eggs, cheese, square packets of ramen noodles, cans of green beans, ranch dressing, and hot sauce.

  Loretta said, “Well.”

  Gia cracked the lid of two cans, pouring out the liquid and then dumping stumps of green vegetable into three bowls. She drizzled them with ranch dressing and said, “Ta-da. Antipasto.”

  Gia passed them their bowls, sprinkling her own liberally with hot sauce.

  Nonnie looked down. “They’re cold.”

  “They’re supposed to be. Like a salad.”

  Her mother took a cautious bite, then shrugged. “Simple, but not bad.”

  “It needs some color,” Nonnie said, and Gia scooted the hot sauce towards her.

  “Mia creatura! Are you trying to kill your grandmother?”

  Gia laughed.

  “Of course not, Nonnie. I just thought with the hair and nails maybe you were ready for a little spice in your life.”

  Loretta glared at her daughter. “Don’t encourage her.”

  Nonnie hmphed at her daughter-in-law, then dripped one tiny drop of hot sauce onto her beans and stirred.

  Loretta said, “I’m happy there’s a vegetable, Gia.”

  “Yes, Ma. I knew you would be. There’s courses, too.”

  Gia grinned as she started cracking pale, wavy noodles into fresh bowls. She poured the flavoring packets in to wide-eyed disbelief from the other two women, then filled the bowls with water.

  She popped one bowl into the microwave and apparently that was too much because her mother said, “You don’t even cook them on the stove?”

  “That would just mean I’d have to clean a pot.”

  After four minutes, Gia cracked an egg in and stirred vigorously. She chopped the cheese into little chunks, sprinkling them on with a flourish, and placed it in front of her grandmother.

  “It needs some color.”

  Nonnie lifted the hot sauce bottle and dropped a teeny drip onto the noodles.

  Gia made two more bowls—conceding it might be quicker to cook on the stove when there was more than one person eating—while they finished their green beans, and she watched as Nonnie took a cautious bite of the noodles.

  “Hey, this isn’t bad.”

  Gia slurped up a too-hot strand, nodding and sucking in air.

  Her mother said slowly, “And this is your specialty?”

  Gia swallowed.

  “I also know how to order in French, what soupçon means, and how to eat escargot.”

  Loretta took a small bite. “Very important skills, I’m sure.”

  “I lived in an apartment that was as big as my bedroom here and still managed to feed myself with only a microwave. I’m looking forward to seeing what I can do with an actual kitchen.”

  Loretta looked up from her bowl. “You could have lived with us. You know that.”

  She did know that. Had known it.

  “Ma… How was I supposed to figure out how to adult with you taking care of me?”

  Her mother nodded at their bowls. “We seem to be doing okay now.”

  “Yeah, well, you weren’t retired then. And every time I came home, you waited on me like I was a guest.”

  Loretta took a bigger bite. “I waited on you like you were my bambina.”

  “I know, Ma. And I know Italian mothers aren’t big on kicking their chicks out of the nest, but that was what I needed.”

  “You were always too independent. Always wanted to do it yourself. Even if that meant a tiny apartment and a microwave.”

  “That was what I wanted. But I’m here now. We’re doing okay now, aren’t we?”

  Her mother nodd
ed slowly and Nonnie slurped up another noodle.

  “I like it,” she said approvingly. “It’s not spaghetti but I like it.”

  Loretta frowned at the bowl, then smiled at her daughter. “I like it too.”

  Gia grinned and slurped up another gooey strand.

  “Good! You’re really going to love what I can do with mac n’ cheese.”

  And then her eyes widened and her mouth started laughing, and she said, “I am so calling him that.”

  Megan BryceThe Tie’s The Limit

  Eight

  “Mac n’ cheese! Have I found a suit for you.”

  Mac rolled his neck, and then looked up through his eyelashes.

  It wasn’t a nice look and Gia grinned at him.

  “Who knew your name was going to be so much fun.”

  “Indeed.”

  “But, I’ve found you a perfectly normal suit. You’re welcome.”

  “Wonderful. So we’re done here?”

  She laughed. “You’ve got to try it on. And it’s only one. You need more than that.”

  He made a face, then waved her out to try it on.

  Gia went to the ladies’ room to check her hair and makeup while she waited—the makeup looked gorgeous but the hair…sigh—and when she came back his door was already open.

  She stepped in to find him behind his desk working and she said, “That was quick. How do you like it?”

  He didn’t look up.

  “It’s fine. Get me a few more of these.”

  She laughed. “That’s not how this works. And fine? Them’s fightin’ words.”

  He looked at her briefly. “Fine is good.”

  “Fine is not good. Fine is…fine. I want emotion. I want love.” She eyed him. “Can you love?”

  “Not clothes, no.”

  “Anything?”

  He didn’t answer, just went back to his screen, but she was pretty sure she knew the answer anyway.

  “Can I see it out from behind the desk?”

  “It looks like a normal suit.”

  Gia tamped down her temper and said like she was explaining physics to a puppy, “I would like to see if it fits correctly. If we need to hem the pants, take in the shirt. Pretend that I am a professional and know what I’m doing, m’kay?”

  Mac muttered under his breath and stood. He walked around the desk to stand next to her in front of the mirror.