"Are you rehearsing this speech for someone?" I ask.
"Some members of my family are into matchmaking. I'm next on their list, and I need some solid reasons for them to back off."
"Is your family as hilarious as you are? Pippa and Alice seemed fun but not quite on your level."
"I like to think I take the cake, but they're all a hilarious bunch, especially my younger brothers, Blake and Daniel."
I barely repress my laughter and the urge to ask more questions. His family sounds like my kind of people.
"So where does that leave us?"
He tilts his head to one side, scrutinizing me. "I can't give you my word I'll behave, but I'll try to."
"So we're good?" I ask suspiciously.
"One hundred percent." He purses his lips, clearly wanting to add something more, then just extends his hand, as if saying “After you.” Relieved, I take the lead, showing him the way to the bedroom area.
"This is what you chose." I point to a king-sized bed with a lighted headboard. "Don't bother sitting or lying on it though. It has the wrong mattress. For someone of your height and build, you need a firmer one." I walk over to the nearest bed, checking the tag on the mattress. "You can try this one."
After inspecting it for himself, he gives me his stamp of approval.
"I'm making an inhumane effort not to say anything inappropriate. I hope you appreciate it."
"What were you going to say?" I challenge.
"I was going to invite you to try the mattress with me. Or the shower. That's next on the list, isn't it?"
"Yeah," I acknowledge.
"I have simple criteria: two people must fit inside it comfortably."
In the second it takes me to register his words, my cheeks heat up, and I'm sure they’re the same intensity of red as my boots.
"That’s why it'd be perfectly appropriate to ask you to test it with me."
"Christopher!"
"I know, I know!" He holds up his hands in mock defense. "I promised that I’d try. But it’s a work in progress. Let's check out the showers."
Astonishingly, he does keep his promise, and we check off the shower in a matter of minutes.
"We're done," I inform him afterward. "You can go. I'll just check with the manager on the delivery dates on some of these items. We're not going to order anything yet, in case you change your mind, but we need the information. I'll e-mail you everything as soon as I'm out of here."
"I'll wait for you."
"Okay."
I return with all the information ten minutes later, only to find Donna chatting up Christopher. She twirls a strand of hair between her fingers, smiling constantly at him. Christopher nods and seems to give one-word answers. When she sees me approaching, Donna becomes flustered and gives Christopher her card.
"Call me if you need anything," she tells him with emphasis on the last word before taking off. I often come here with clients, but it's the first time Donna's hit on one. Not that I can blame her; Christopher is too sexy for his own good. Or mine.
Clearing my throat, I say, "Here's the list of the dates."
"Thanks."
"I leave you alone for two minutes, and you already collect a number?" I try to make it sound like a joke, but my voice is a tad too strained to pass off as casual. It bothers me, and it really shouldn't. Christopher shrugs, his expression unreadable.
"She's a nice person," I say as we walk out of the store side by side. "Recently divorced, likes Tiramisu."