First Impressions: The Fix Up Part 1

First Impressions.

The Fix Up.

Tawna Fenske.

Uncovering this s.e.xy geek's charm is easy. Keeping her hands off of him is impossible.

While he may look like the love child of a movie starlet and an NFL linebacker, Ben Langley has the people skills of a half-drowned porcupine. Why socialize when there are chemistry labs and bad sci-fi flicks? If he has any hope of taking the helm as CEO of the family business, Ben needs an image makeover. p.r.o.nto.

Enter Holly Colvin, owner of First Impressions public relations and branding firm, and the woman who just saved Ben from the clutches of an over-attentive sales clerk. Holly's rebranded hundreds of companies in her career, but she's never rebranded a person. The guy clearly needs help, though, and she's just the woman for the job.

With the clock ticking for them both, Holly and Ben face off over wardrobe malfunctions and business jargon that sounds a lot s.e.xier than it should. But can Holly make Ben into the man he thinks he should be without losing the man she's starting to love?.

To the talented and dedicated marketing and PR crew I work with at my day job (you know who you are!) Thanks for making this crazy dual-career life possible for me. You guys are the best!.

Chapter One.

"As you can see, this is impressively st.u.r.dy."

The saleswoman smiled at Ben, then turned and presented her backside. Or the hand-carved headboard. Really, it was tough to tell what she was presenting as she leaned across the mattress in a short gray skirt.

Ben wasn't sure where to direct his gaze, so he settled for looking around the furniture warehouse at endless rows of tables and armoires and bookshelves. This whole shopping trip was baffling. He was exhausted and jet-lagged and not entirely sure what was going on. He'd been in this store less than ten minutes, and already the saleswoman had touched his arm a dozen times.

Normally, a woman being so aggressive might be a welcome surprise for Ben, but this one just didn't do it for him. Not that she seemed to notice. She subtly raised her backside a little higher for his viewing pleasure.

"You see that?" she said. "That's quality craftsmans.h.i.+p."

"Er, yes. Indeed."

She gripped the slats of the headboard with both hands and gave it a firm shake.

"Notice the st.u.r.diness?" she asked, turning to peer at him over her shoulder. "No jiggling at all. That's solid wood."

"Er, yes." Ben took a step back and folded his hands behind his back. "No jiggling. Oak, is it?"

He swallowed and glanced around, trying to look anywhere but at the pert posterior wiggling in the air. Now wasn't the time to get distracted. He had a lot of work to do, and none of it involved staring at a sales clerk's rear end. It was his first week on the job as CEO of Langley Enterprises, and his father had handed him a corporate credit card and instructions to purchase new furniture for Ben's new "primo office" and "primo penthouse." His dad's words, not his. His father's only requirement for what furniture to buy was "none of that bachelor pad s.h.i.+t you usually get."

So here he was, doing his best to look like a refined CEO, instead of like a geeky engineer trying not to notice the saleswoman's a.s.s waving like a flag in front of him. She turned and slithered off the bed, reaching out to touch his arm again.

"You see anything you like so far?"

"Uh, yes," Ben said, nodding. "That credenza over there is very nice."

She frowned, then followed the direction he pointed. "Of course. That's one of our newest models. Would you like to take a closer look?"

"Sure," Ben said.

She turned with a dramatic pivot and began to strut in that direction. He followed, stooping down a little as he ducked past a froofy canopy covering a king-sized bed. At six-foot-three, he was accustomed to slouching to avoid hitting his head or intimidating people who expected a guy with a PhD in engineering to be a scrawny pencil pusher with gla.s.ses.

You've got the gla.s.ses, he told himself, shoving them up his nose as he followed the saleswoman across the floor. He stepped past a slender brunette standing on the other side of the bed studying the tags on a pillow.

"Pardon me," he said.

The woman glanced up as he pa.s.sed and reached up to tuck a strand of sleek, espresso-colored hair behind one ear. Her eyes were a remarkable shade of violet-gray, and she flashed him a smile he could have sworn seemed sympathetic.

He gave a small shrug in return-if only you could help me-but then the moment was over as the saleswoman grabbed his arm and towed him to the front of the credenza.

"As you can see, this piece is manufactured to the highest quality standards with French dovetailing, adjustable gla.s.s shelves, and a one-of-a-kind, patented touch-lighting system that's unique to this design."

"I know," Ben said, stroking a hand over the surface. "I hold the patent."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I developed that lighting system. I engineered specialized thermoplastics using phenolic resins crosslinked with fibergla.s.s aramids to produce a unique design that-"

He stopped talking, realizing the saleswoman's eyes had gone surprisingly wide. He felt a faint swell of pride at the thought she might be admiring his workmans.h.i.+p, then realized she was staring at his left hand.

What the h.e.l.l? He didn't have any sc.r.a.pes or bruises or rings or tattoos or anything besides five fingers and a palm.

"That's incredibly interesting," she cooed. "Maybe we could get together later and you could tell me all about-"

"There you are!"

He turned to see the woman with the sleek black hair striding toward him. She wore a broad smile and a sparkly ring on the hand that reached out to slide around his waist. Before he could say a word, she snuggled up close to him and extended a handshake to the saleswoman.

"Thank you so much for taking care of my husband while I was busy over there," she said, giving the saleswoman's hand a hearty shake. "He's a little clueless when it comes to furniture, I'm afraid."

Ben blinked down at her. Husband?

"Er, your husband?" The saleswoman took a step back, casting a nervous look at the woman with the strangely beautiful eyes.

"Yep! We've been married for-gosh, almost five years now, honey?"

The saleswoman glanced at Ben's hand again, and he understood what she'd been looking for. A ring. Which he didn't have.

Fortunately, his patron saint was well ahead of the saleswoman.

"His ring's at the jeweler having a little repair work done, but the bonds of matrimony are stronger than gold. Isn't that right, baby?" The brunette cuddled tighter against him, and Ben found himself instinctively putting an arm around her. She felt nice there. Warm and soft and- "Of course," Ben agreed. "Uh, sweetie-weren't you saying you wanted to check out some of the items from the new catalog?"

"Absolutely! Their fall line is always so spectacular." She smiled up at him like he'd offered her diamond earrings wrapped in bacon, and he wondered what she was wearing under that silky black top.

"I'm sorry, will you excuse me a moment?" the saleswoman said, taking another step back as she folded her hands together. "I need to-uh-check something."

"No problem," Ben's fake wife said, beaming up at him. "We'll be right here talking about where this will fit in our living room."

"Er, right."

The saleswoman turned and scurried away, leaving Ben to stare down at the wife now affixed to his arm. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and glanced in the direction the saleswoman had retreated.

"I hope I read that right." The brunette scooted out from under his arm, and he instantly missed her softness. She looked up at him with those odd violet-gray eyes and smiled. "You looked like you were being eaten alive there, but too polite to tell her to back off."

"Eaten alive," he repeated, a little mesmerized by the woman's eyes. "I'm not entirely sure."

"Seemed like that's what was going on. Salesgirl sees a big guy with a big budget and big-" She paused, then gave a small shrug. "Well, sometimes it brings out the worst in women."

"Thank you," he said, meaning it. "I've been flying back and forth between cities all week, so I'm a little jet-lagged and distracted. I guess I wasn't even a hundred percent sure I was being-uh-"

"Hit on? Ogled? Mentally undressed?"

"Right." He cleared his throat. "Not until you pointed it out. Thanks for the rescue."

"No problem. Pay it forward sometime."

"Is that real? It's huge."

She blinked, then glanced down at the paperweight-sized rock adorning her ring finger. "Nah, I keep it in my purse for when I want to avoid getting hit on at ladies' night."

"Does it work?"

"Not with the real jacka.s.ses, which probably defeats the purpose, huh?"

He nodded, not sure what to say to that. "I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

"Holly. Holly Colvin. I'm the owner of First Impressions."

"First Impressions?"

"We're a public relations and branding firm that specializes in creating and remaking corporate ident.i.ties." She fished into her purse to pull out a business card. She held it out to him and Ben started to reach for it, but Holly withdrew her hand.

"s.h.i.+t. Vampira the Sales Queen is headed back here."

Before he could say anything, Holly was sliding her hand around to cup his a.s.s. For a few beats, he thought she was copping a feel, and he hoped like h.e.l.l she kept doing it. Then he realized she was tucking her card into his back pocket. She grinned and tilted her head back to look up at him.

"Gotta commit to the role, right?"

"Right," he murmured, staring down into those slate-speckled eyes. "We certainly do."

"I suppose we could throw in a little something extra if you really want her to buy it."

"Like what?"

Her lips parted slightly, almost like she was braced for a kiss. Or was that his imagination? It seemed hot in here, and he was getting dizzy, and now all he could think about was claiming those perfect lips.

"I'm sure you'll come up with something," she murmured.

Her mouth looked so soft, so inviting, and he could have sworn her lashes fluttered low the way they might if she were waiting for him to make a move. A big move.

He knew what he needed to do. What he wanted to do.

And with that, he bent and kissed her.

Holy mother of hard-ons.

Okay, Holly couldn't actually detect a hard-on, but she was feeling every other inch of this luscious man with the enormous hands and the s.e.xy-geek vibe and the magical mouth that was kissing her silly in the middle of the d.a.m.n furniture store.

Had she started it, or had he? Did it matter?

"Ahem."

She pulled back, dizzy and breathless. She turned to see the saleswoman standing a few feet away with her arms crossed and an expression that suggested Holly was close to getting kicked out of the store. Fine by her. This place gave her the creeps. Everything was ridiculously expensive and high-polished. Furniture aside, what kind of store let its employees blatantly hit on customers who were either too polite or too clueless to beat them away with a stick?

Can't say I blame her, Holly mused, looking up at the towering figure beside her, whose tortoisesh.e.l.l gla.s.ses brought out the amber flecks in his brown eyes. His shoulders were broad and muscular beneath a dress s.h.i.+rt that looked expensive, outdated, and in need of some serious ironing.

Who the h.e.l.l is this guy?

Holly tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled at the saleswoman. "Sorry about that. Credenzas get me hot."

Her fake husband nodded. "I think I'll take one for my office. Well, one for my office at the Langley headquarters, and one for my home office. So that would be two." He cleared his throat and glanced at Holly. "Two credenzas."

"You said you own Langley Enterprises?" the saleswoman asked, and Holly blinked in surprise. Magic Hands here owned the largest manufacturing firm in the country?

"No, not the owner," he said. "I'm the new CEO. I've been on the engineering side of things for the last decade, but my father's looking to step away from domestic management and into international relations, and anyway-" He shrugged. "Here I am."

"Here you are," the saleswoman agreed, looking decidedly less pleased about that than she had before Holly stepped in. "With orders to fill up a whole penthouse and an office. Here, I brought you a few catalogs with some of the newest items that aren't on our sales floor yet."

She thrust the glossy pages at them, and the guy reached out to take them with a nod. "Thanks. I'll take a look."

"Wonderful," the saleswoman said. "I'll leave you two alone to browse. If you need anything, I'll be right over there."

"Thank you," Holly said. "It's been a pleasure."

"Likewise."

The saleswoman turned and flounced away, leaving Holly alone with the guy whose handprints were probably still on her b.u.t.t. She turned to look at him and saw his warm brown eyes were studying her with an odd mix of curiosity and intrigue.

"Thanks again," he said, holding up the catalogs. "This is how I'd prefer to shop anyway. This, or online."

"Not one for the in-person contact?"