Love Handles (Oakland Hills #1)(48)

“Yet another miscalculation. Not that extra width would do anything for me. They seem to have put all the fabric for the waist down at my ankles.” Her feet were buried under the flared legs. “Am I supposed to wear heels with them while I’m doing my marathons? They seem a bit long.”

“And you’re hardly petite.”

“Indeed.”

Engrossed in the clothing on her body, he didn’t lift his eyes to her face once as he continued his perusal. “And the top is a bit short on you too, isn’t it?”

“Maybe it’s a hat.”

Again ignoring her personal space, he stuck his fingers under the bottom hem of the shirt and pulled. The rough tips of his fingertips brushed her ribcage and she shivered—not that he noticed. He stuck his hands up higher, to the bottom band of the compression bra underneath, and wiggled his finger under that elastic. “This bra is a best-seller. If we change it, even a little, we get complaints,” he said, then abruptly pulled his fingers out and stepped back. “Jump.”

Unnerved by the shock of his hands on her body, she blinked. “What?”

“Jump. Something high-impact. Don’t worry, there’s a hospital just down the street if you pass out or break something.”

“I am not going to jump.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Jump, or I tell the design team you’ve got the muscle tone of a Cabbage Patch Doll.”

“I’d fire you.”

“It would be worth it,” he said. “Jump.”

To hell with him. Just because she hated exercise didn’t mean she was incapable. She bent her knees and sprung upwards, did it again just to show him she could, then stood with her hands on her surprised hips, glaring at him.

But he was smiling. And from the way he was pinching his lips, she saw he was on the verge of laughing. “Thank you. That was great.”

She jabbed him in the shoulder. Hard as a rock, of course. “Now get out of here.”

“Could you do it again? You moved so quickly—really, quite a blur—I didn’t get to see if the bra worked on you.”

“Out.”

Shaking his head, he leaned over and took another pair of pants off the hook. “Now try these on.”

“Face it, Liam, the company just doesn’t make clothes for average women. They’re not even close.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Though, let’s be honest, Bev—you’re hardly average.” He thrust the pants into her arms. “We’ve been getting returns on these for being too big. Act like the businesswoman you’re pretending to be and try them on please.” Then he turned around and faced the door, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You aren’t staying in here—”

He unhooked a hand and looked at his wrist. “I’ve only got another ten minutes.”

She stared at his back. He thought he could intimidate her. Never dropping her gaze, she bent over and wriggled out of the pants.

No problem. They’d been trying to slide down by themselves since she put them on.

Stripped down to the cropped top and her thong panties, she waited for him to bolt, or make a joke, or apologize, or laugh—anything but stand there silently just over a foot away.

She thought of the cold breakfast in bed, of him stretching out on her couch, the way he’d scaled her house the night before to help her get in. “Liam,” she said.

Her voice made his shoulders twitch. After a long second, he said, “Ready?”

She wanted to say yes. Turn around and see me. You want to. His sister had said she wasn’t his type, but type or no, Bev was doing something to him. “Just a minute.” She fumbled with the clips on the hanger, her hands starting to tremble. She held the pants up to her body and saw what the customers had complained about—the waistband was cut as wide as the hips.

“Now?” Liam asked.

“Cool it.” Good advice for herself, too. Her face felt hot. She hesitated, looking at his broad shoulders, the clipped hair along the back his neck, and slipped her feet through the leg holes and pulled the stretchy knit over her hips.

And let the air she’d been holding out of her lungs. “All right, I’m decent.”

He turned around. Neither one of them looked at the pants. “I didn’t expect you to do it with me in the room.”

She raised her chin. “I decided a long time ago not to be ashamed of my body.”

As if she’d given him permission to judge the merits of her self-confidence, his gaze flickered downward, slowly and deliberately taking in each limb and curve. He looked back up into her eyes and took a step towards her.

Her heart began to pound high in her chest as though it were trying to climb out for air. She turned her back to him and tugged at the pants, pretending to study herself in the mirror. “What do you think?”

He was right behind her, warm and massive and now looking at her body reflected before them. With a shock of heat, she felt his hands come up around her waist and envelop bare, tender flesh. His lids fell, hiding the expression in his eyes while she held herself still, desperately afraid of what she wanted.

Still he didn’t meet her eyes, but he edged closer, so close she could feel the rough denim of his jeans brush against her bottom. “They’re falling off of you.” His fingers tightened around her waist and slid down over her hips, taking the oversized fabric with them. The tiny black nylon triangle of her panties appeared between the span of his hands in the mirror.