Big Man's Heat (Big Men Big Hearts 3)

“Oh God. Trust me, you don't want to be on the sharp end of my mother's personality. She'll spear you, put your head on a stick, and set you out to ward off anyone else who thinks about coming close to her daughter. And this art idea will absolutely do that.”

“That could be a problem.” Mark spins me around so I'm facing him, gathering me up in his arms.

Leaning my cheek against his chest, I let him hold me. I love the way this feels. I know I shouldn't, but I do. Squeezing me snugly, he rests his chin on the top of my head.

And then it hits me. Maybe he's right. Not about being the distraction, but about making an impression.

“Hey, you want to come with me tomorrow morning to the charity breakfast my mother put together?”

“Charity breakfast. . .” Pausing, he quirks a brow. “Your mother doesn't strike me as the charity type. I see her more like Scrooge McDuck, diving into a vault of money.”

“Charity looks good, and it goes with the territory.”

“I'd go, but I don't have a suit. I actually don't even own a suit, the one I had for the wedding was a rental.”

“No suit,” I repeat, pushing my chest away from his. “If you had one, would you say yes and go with me?”

“Sure, you're the only reason I'm here. I don't really care to wander around by myself.”

“Then I know just where to take you to fix this suit problem.”

9

Mark

“I don't know about this,” I say, gripping the open edges of the jacket and looking myself over in the mirror.

“It looks good, it looks really good,” Sia comes up behind me, folds the collar down, and runs her hand down the outside of my right arm. Taking my wrist in her hand, she buttons the cuff as she looks at me. “It's like this suit was made for you.”

“She's right, Sir,” the salesman says, pulling the measuring tape off his neck and laying it against my arm. “It's exactly your size.”

“See, I told you. Made for you,” Sia encourages as she takes a step back and smiles. “We'll take it.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say swiftly, holding up a hand to slow her down. “How much is this suit?” I ask the salesman.

“That one is two thousand.”

Balking, I literally gasp out loud. “Are you serious? You can't be serious.”

He nods and points a finger at a rack in the center of the room. “We have some clearance suits that range as low as six hundred.”

Stepping away from the mirror, I thin my lips. “Yeah, there's no way I can spend that kind of money on a suit. I'm sorry, Sia, but it's just too much.”

“Mark, I'm not asking you to buy it. I would never ask you to spend that much on a suit. But you're not paying for it. . .” Pausing, she pulls a credit card from her pocket and grins. “Consider it a welcome to the city gift.”

“No, I can't let you do that. It's too much. I'll probably only wear it this one time. There's no point.” Going back into the changing room, I close the door as I keep talking. “I appreciate the offer, but I just can't accept it.” Hanging the suit back on the hangers, I put my clothes back on and open the door.

Sia is standing with her arms crossed and a little smirk on her face. “Too late, it's already done. The suit is yours.”

“Siobhan,” I say, dropping my eyes to the ground and running a hand through my hair. “I just can't.”

“You don't have a choice, it's a gift. You can't say no to a gift. Besides, it fits you beautifully, that never happens with a suit. My father always has to have his tailored. Every single one has to be cut and sewn to get the type of fit you have with that one. To see you put that on and not need any adjustments means it was meant to be.”

The salesman sweeps between us, taking the suit from my hands and bagging it behind the desk. “You want to know what I think?” he asks me as he zips the cloth bag. “I think you'll learn to never argue with a woman whose made up her mind.” His brows bow high as he brings the suit back to me.

Walking out the door, I shake my head. “I can't believe you paid two grand for this suit.”

“I didn't.”

“What do you mean you didn't?”

“The owner is a friend of my father's, one call and the suit was yours.”

“Are you kidding me? He just gave it to you? Just like that?”

She gives me a flirty smile and bats her long dark lashes. “When your father is a top doctor, his biggest client, and he learns you'll be wearing the suit to a five hundred dollar a plate charity breakfast, he basically forced it on me.”