Maddie Fortune's Perfect Man

by Nancy Robards Thompson

  “Of course it is,” she snapped a little too fast. “I mean, but not anymore. I appreciate you seeing my point of view. So, we’re good.”

  She waved him away and turned her body squarely toward her computer and started typing. She was focusing a little too hard on the screen. She seemed to be taking great pains not to look at him.

  “Are we okay, Maddie?”

  “Sure. Your client will probably be here any minute now, and I have to get my work done. I’m meeting Schuyler and Val for brunch. We need to salvage what’s left of her bachelorette weekend.”

  He leaned his hip on her desk, intending to show her he wasn’t in a hurry to leave her. “You do realize Val called me and invited me over last night, right? I didn’t just show up.”

  She frowned at him. “Of course.”

  “Then, if my lunch with Dave Madison and my crashing your party last night aren’t the problems, I can think of only one other thing that could be bothering you.”

  She pushed her chair away from her desk with a swift shove and leaned toward him. “Why would you think something is bothering me, Zach?”

  “First of all, your tone.”

  She crossed her arms. “Sorry. My mom used to say, ‘You don’t hear you the way others hear you.’” Something in her demeanor softened. “I don’t mean to sound bitchy. I’m really not a bitch, Zach.”

  “I know you’re not.”

  She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Wouldn’t qualities that come across as bitchy be applauded if I were a man? Or maybe not applauded. They wouldn’t even be noticed.”

  Their gazes fused for a combustible instant.

  He noticed her. He wanted to tell her he noticed her, that he couldn’t take his eyes off her, but the faint sound of someone knocking on the front door broke the spell and pulled him back into the here and now.

  “That’s my clients,” he said. “They’re early.”

  “You better not keep them waiting, then.”

  Maddie scooted her chair back to her desk and glanced at her computer monitor again, the color still high on her pretty cheeks.

  What almost happened there? If Joanna and Gary Everly hadn’t arrived early he would’ve leaned in and kissed her. He’d wanted to kiss her. But he hadn’t been as fearless as she’d been that night at the Thirsty Ox. Now they were out of time.

  “For the record, I don’t think you’re bitchy,” he said. “I think you’re passionate. Don’t ever apologize for, or feel bad about, being passionate.”

  * * *

  He thought she was passionate.

  Passionate.

  It might’ve been the nicest compliment anyone had ever paid her.

  “Earth to Maddie?” Schuyler said. “Armand wants to know if you’d like another bloody Mary?”

  Maddie realized her sisters and the very handsome waiter, who had been flirting with them since the moment he’d introduced himself, were staring at her.

  Maddie glanced down, unsure whether her glass was full or empty or somewhere in between, saw that there was only a splash at the bottom.

  “Yes, please. That would be lovely.”

  “You’re in a good mood today,” Val said. “A little dreamy, but I don’t know when I’ve seen you so relaxed.”

  Maddie smiled and shrugged. “Really? Why wouldn’t I be happy when I get the chance to hang out with my sisters?”

  Schuyler and Val exchanged dubious looks.

  “Since you went home last night,” Schuyler said, “I was afraid you were mad at me for asking Zach to come over last night.”

  Maddie feigned confusion. “Why would I be mad?” She hadn’t been happy about it. But if her sisters hadn’t meddled and she and Zach hadn’t argued, they wouldn’t have made up this morning. If not for them, she might never have known that he thought she was passionate.

  “Even if I was upset—which I’m not, I promise—I wouldn’t spoil the last day of our girls’ weekend by pouting. And speaking of, after we try on our bridesmaid dresses, what would you like to do this afternoon, Sky? We could go wander around the Japanese Gardens, or I hear that they just opened a brand-new exhibit of the French Impressionist painters at the Museum of Fine Arts. Or there’s that new movie with Zoe Kazan that looks great.”

  “All of those options sound great.” Schuyler sipped the fresh bloody Mary the waiter had stealthily set in front of her. “I think we'd just better stick with shopping today. I wish we had more time, but I still have some things to pull together for the wedding. Can you believe Carlo and I will be married in less than a week?” Schuyler wrung her hands.

  “Are you nervous?” Val asked.

  A wistful smile overtook Schuyler’s face. “Not really nervous as much as I’m excited. I just want everything to be perfect. I keep thinking of little things I’ve forgotten.”

  “You know nothing is perfect,” said Maddie. “But the imperfections will give you fabulous stories to tell later. You’ve hired the best wedding planner in Texas. She’ll handle those little things and she’ll have your back. So, you should use this last week of singlehood to relax.”

  “She’s not going to make sure I have the perfect thing to wear on my wedding night,” Schuyler said. “I need to find something. I can’t believe I almost forgot.”

  “But what about all the gorgeous things you got at your lingerie shower?” Val asked.

  “I know,” Schuyler said. “Every single thing was gorgeous, but I have something specific in mind. Do you all mind if we go to the Galleria after the dress fittings so I can look?”

  “The bride’s wish is our command,” said Maddie.

  * * *

  “You are sneaky.” Maddie slanted a glance at Schuyler, who smiled a victorious smile.

  Schuyler hadn’t wanted to come to the Galleria to find a perfect piece of lingerie to wear on her wedding night. It had been an ambush to get Maddie into the cosmetics department and into the chair she now sat in for a professional makeover.

  If she’d poked herself in the eye three times last night applying a simple coat of mascara, how on earth was she going to replicate the fine line that Cheryl, the makeup artist, had just drawn on her right eyelid? And Maddie had to attempt it with one eye closed? It made her hands shake contemplating the idea. If she created a distraction, could she make a getaway?

  “Here,” Cheryl said, handing Maddie the slim brush. “You do the other eye. You’ll see how easily it glides on.”

  Maddie waved her off. “You’ve done such a nice job with my makeup, I don’t want to ruin it.”

  “But you see, that’s just it,” Cheryl said. “Try it, you’ll see that it’s virtually foolproof.”

  Foolproof? Hahaha!

  Maddie was tempted to counter with her scary clown tale from the night before, but suddenly, arguing her point felt more exhausting than just trying. She accepted the brush, leaned in to the mirror and followed Cheryl’s instructions.

  To Maddie’s amazement and utter delight, the liner went on as magically as Cheryl had promised. And then, so did the mascara and lipstick.

  As Cheryl stepped back and surveyed the results, Schuyler and Val voiced their approval.

  The woman handed Maddie a hand mirror. “Simple, fresh and natural. Best of all, this look is fast and easy to do.”

  If Schuyler’s impromptu makeover had been good, this one was nothing short of astounding.

  “She’ll take everything,” Schuyler said with a sweep of her hand as if reading her mind.

  Cheryl smiled at Maddie. “I promise this look will take you less than seven minutes in the morning. Just think, a whole new gorgeous you in less time than it takes to brew a cup of coffee.”

  A whole new me. That's something.

  What was important was how much Schuyler seemed to be reveling in the idea that Maddie was amenable to not only wearing makeup at her wedding, but learning how to make it a part of her daily routine. She got the distinct feeling that even though her sister was too kind to come right out and say it, Maddie�
�s professional makeover may have been one of the missing parts that Schuyler had been fretting over during brunch.

  Maddie felt a little selfish pretending she was doing this all for Schuyler. Sure, she was a big part of the reason, but an anxious giddiness was forming in the pit of her stomach as she contemplated seeing Zach tomorrow morning.

  What would Zach think of a more polished, passionate Maddie?

  “While we’re at it,” Schuyler said when Cheryl went to package her purchases, “let’s talk about your wardrobe.”

  “My wardrobe is just fine,” Maddie said. “It’s all from Brooks Brothers. I love that brand. It’s one-stop shopping. Quick and efficient. Angie has been my specialist since I got back to Houston after college. She calls me once a year and reminds me it’s time to come in. She lays out an assortment of classic pieces I can mix and match and has them ready for me to try on. She shows me how I can get two weeks’ worth of outfits out of five or so pieces.”

  Schuyler and Val looked amused, but not at all impressed.

  “Yes, we’re familiar with your style, Mads,” said Val.

  Her sisters exchanged a look.

  “Boring,” Schuyler sang under her breath.

  “You really should think about working some color and pattern into your neutrals,” Val said.

  “Or scrapping the neutrals altogether and getting a new wardrobe with some pizzazz,” Schuyler said.

  Uh-oh. Had she created a monster by letting Schuyler herd her into the makeover chair?

  “Hey, my neutrals are fine,” Maddie said. “And I do pair them with colorful blouses every once in a while. And what about my teal dress? That’s colorful. My wardrobe is easy. One less thing to worry about in the morning, especially now that I’ll have to dedicate time to makeup.”

  “Seven minutes, Mads,” Schuyler said. “Seven minutes will hardly derail your schedule.” She waved her hand, as if shooing away Maddie’s argument. “I know of a shop that helps disadvantaged women get back into the workplace that would love to have your neutrals. You’ll be getting new clothes to go with your new look. Believe me, after I get through with you, you’re going to thank me when you see yourself. But first, after we finish here, we’re going to get your hair cut—”

  “No!” Maddie insisted, as she paid for her cosmetics. “That’s where I draw the line. You are not touching my hair.”

  It turned out that Schuyler didn’t lay a hand on Maddie’s hair, but Jade, the stylist Sky still traveled from Austin to Houston to see every six weeks, ended up having her way with Maddie’s locks.

  It was a mystery how Jade managed to be available at the exact moment that the Fortunado sisters arrived, since Sky often bemoaned how she had to book her appointments months out.

  Maddie was beginning to sense a conspiracy, but she had to admit it was fun seeing herself transform right before her own eyes. It was a learning experience and a reminder that sometimes the old way of doing things needed a little sprucing up.

  Jade listened to Maddie’s concern for needing low-maintenance hair.

  “I don’t play well with round brushes and blow-dryers,” Maddie told her. “If I tried to use one of those brushes, I’d probably get it stuck in my hair and have to cut it out. I don’t have the time or the inclination to learn. So, let’s not do anything that requires styling.”

  Jade assured her she would give her a style even better and more low maintenance than her current do.

  First, she gave Maddie some strategically placed highlights to frame her face and give her hair some dimension. After Jade washed out the bleach, she trimmed off about three inches and cut in long layers, which Jade promised would give Maddie’s thick hair more bounce. And, yes, she would still be able to pull it back into her signature ponytail.

  “Just look at you,” Jade exclaimed, after all was said and done. “You’re stunning. I mean, you are knockdown, drop-dead gorgeous, girl. Why on earth would you want to hide these tresses in a pony? That’s a sin.”

  For the first time ever, Maddie wondered the same thing. Her hair felt lighter and bouncier. When she ran her fingers through it, it was silky to the touch and fell neatly back into place. Suddenly, it seemed a heck of a lot more professional than a ponytail.

  Val stayed behind to have Jade work her magic on her hair, while Schuyler dragged Maddie to Hattie’s Boutique for a look at her spring collection.

  Even though Schuyler had been living in Austin for the past several months, she still knew all the best places to shop in Houston. Schuyler seemed to be having so much fun with their shopping adventure that Maddie embraced the possibility that they would be visiting each and every one of her sister's favorite shops. For the first time in her life, she was enjoying shopping.

  The funky, fashion-forward boutiques were a far cry from Brooks Brothers’ professional offerings.

  It was like taking a trip to a foreign country. It wasn’t necessarily her lifestyle, but she could embrace it for an afternoon. When in Rome...or when in boho boutiques...do as your sisters do. She’d never minded investing in classic pieces that would outlast trends and time, but some of the trendiest pieces Schuyler and the shopgirls picked out for her cost three times her normal purchases.

  These clothes were expensive and attention-grabbing.

  Unlike her glamorous, sassy sister, who had been more like their late grandmother—whom they’d all called Glammy after a childhood speech impediment caused Schuyler to mispronounce Grammy—Maddie wanted to wear the clothes. She didn’t want loud colors and screaming patterns to wear her.

  Such as the red, orange and yellow Emilio Pucci shift dress Schuyler was handing Maddie over the louvered dressing room door.

  “Oh, no,” Maddie said. “Not this one.” She opened the door a crack and peeked out. Schuyler was wearing a black-and-florescent-pink maxi dress that played tricks on Maddie’s vision. The dress suited her sister. But this Pucci number... “It’s too bright. If I wore this, someone would mistake me for a stolen Picasso painting.”

  “That’s right,” Schuyler said. “With your body and legs, you’ll look definitely like a work of art in this dress. Put it on and come out so I can see you in it.”

  Schuyler let go of the clothes hanger. Rather than letting the crazy dress fall to the floor, Maddie caught it and closed the fitting room door. She eyed the getup. It wasn’t her at all. She held the dress up to her body and looked in the mirror to prove that point—that it was exactly the opposite of everything she stood for. It was loud and obnoxiously bright. It was attention-seeking and...fun.

  With her new makeup and freer, lighter, looser hair, it looked fun.

  She couldn’t help but try to imagine Zach’s face if she showed up to their meeting tomorrow morning wearing a dress like this.

  No. I couldn’t. I’d feel too conspicuous. It’s so not me.

  That’s when a little voice in her head said, If you keep doing what you’re doing, you’ll keep getting what you’re getting. Like not having her body of work be good enough to win a promotion on its own. Or like having to kiss a guy first and have him seem like he was interested, but hang back enough to make her wonder if he was interested or if it was just flirty business as usual.

  Or even worse, if he’d upped the flirting ante simply to throw her off her game.

  But he’d called her passionate. She was passionate about her job. About Zach. He’d recognized the fire in her, even when she hadn’t seen it herself—or at least known what to call it.

  She’d called it bitchy. He’d called it passionate.

  A passionate woman shouldn’t be afraid to take a risk. At least not with something as low-risk as clothes.

  She slipped the dress over her head, loving the expensive feel of the silky fabric as it glided down her body. She fluffed her hair, which fell back into place perfectly, and adjusted the dress so that it sat right on her.

  Oh, no.

  It was too short and so bright it bordered on vulgar. Sort of. It did call attention to itself.
To her.

  “Do you have it on?” Schuyler called.

  But it also skimmed her curves as if Pucci had made it just for her. It hit her about three inches above the knees, which automatically made it inappropriate for the office, but... If she looked at it through another lens, a different lens, it was a playful romp of a dress that might be fun to wear after hours.

  As if she ever went out. Other than Fridays at the Thirsty Ox, her after hours were spent at home with Ramona. Her little dog loved her just the way she was. In fact, the garish pattern might scare her.

  And that was one of the dumbest lies she’d ever told herself.

  A knock sounded on the dressing room door. “Open up, Mads. I want to see the dress on you.”

  Feeling overwhelmingly shy and completely out of her element, Maddie opened the dressing room door a crack. Schuyler took it from there and yanked it the rest of the way open.

  “Oh, my gosh, look at you!” Schuyler squeed. Maddie had heard the word squee used before—usually in a text from one of her sisters, but until that moment, she’d never actually heard the sound. The noise Schuyler was making was most definitely a squee.

  “You look absolutely gorge.” Schuyler clapped her hands and bounced a little in her enthusiasm. “Turn around.”

  Schuyler made a circular motion with her index finger and Maddie complied, feeling strangely giddy at her sister’s reaction.

  “You have to get this dress, Mads. We are not leaving here without it.”

  “I don’t know, Sky.”

  Schuyler grabbed Maddie’s hand and pulled her over to a set of three-way mirrors at the end of the rectangular dressing room.

  “Look at you. Just look at you.”

  Schuyler clasped her hands together and held them under her chin in a way that reminded Maddie so much of Glammy it almost took her breath away. Glammy, who’d been their father’s mother, hadn’t even been gone a year, but of all the siblings, Schuyler had inherited her tendency toward the overly dramatic, just like Glammy.