Dear Cupid by Julie Ortolon Page A

really irritates me when men spout nonsense like you did earlier, about working hard being a man’s way of showing his family he loves them.”
    He cocked his head to the side. “Let me ask you something. If you dislike workaholics so much, why are you trying to dress me up like a corporate monkey?”
    “Because we’re not talking about my likes and dislikes. We’re talking about women in general. And—Where are you going?” She scowled as he turned and walked away from her.
    When he refused to answer, she hurried after him through the mahogany tables stacked with sale items, down the polished marble aisle of the department store, and into the sportswear department.
    “What are you doing?” she asked as he began riffling through a circular rack of brightly colored, long-sleeve shirts.
    “Shopping.” He pulled first one shirt then another off the rack until he held a fistful of hangers. “Isn’t that what we came here to do?”
    “Yes, but—” She broke off as a salesman rushed over.
    “May I help you, sir?” the clerk asked a bit frantically as he watched Mike all but strip the rack of size-large shirts.
    “Yeah.” Mike dumped the whole load into the man’s arms. “I’ll take these.”
    “I— I’ll put them in the dressing room.”  The salesman staggered slightly under the weight.
    “No, that’s okay, just ring them up.” Mike moved to the shelves of casual slacks.
    “Yes, sir!”  The clerk beamed in the face of such a straightforward, take-no-prisoners approach to shopping.
    Kate ground her teeth as the salesman trotted off. “I thought you agreed to let me pick out your new look.”
    “I said you could help me pick out some new clothes,” Mike answered. “Not turn me into something I’m not.”
    “I’m not trying to turn you into anything,” she insisted. Personally, she thought he looked darn near perfect the way he was, but she wasn’t the potential wife they were trying to please. “I’m just sprucing up the package.”
    “Kate.” He turned to face her, his eyes so direct, she squirmed. “I can think of only two times in my life when I’ve worn a white dress shirt. Both times were for weddings, and, quite frankly, if they hadn’t been my sisters’ weddings, I doubt I’d have worn them then.”
    “Well, dressing for a wife hunt is sort of like dressing for a wedding,” she offered. Except she had to admit, bright colors brought out the richness of his tan and the blond streaks in his hair.
    “It’s still false advertising,” Mike said, pulling two pairs of slacks off the shelf. “I have no intention of lying to my wife, before or after the wedding. Now which of these pants do you like?”
    Even at a glance, she could tell he’d picked one size too big. She turned to the shelves. “Try these.”
    “You sure?” He took the pants from her. “They look a bit small.”
    “Trust me, Mike. On this one thing, just trust me.” Putting the others back, he unfolded the pair she’d selected and held them to his waist. A mouth-watering image sprang to her mind of exactly how delicious he’d look wearing clothes that fit. She quickly turned away. “Okay. I don’t suppose you’d consider a few ties to dress up those loud shirts you just bought?”
    “Actually, I like ties. But I get to pick them out.” He motioned to the salesman to come get the five pairs of pants he’d chosen, all of them in the size Kate had suggested.
    “You know,” she said, “I never would have pegged you as a clotheshorse.”
    “I’m not.” He grabbed three more pairs of pants and handed them to the clerk. “I just don’t see any reason to waste a lot of time on something that is basically cut-and-dried. I mean, who in their right mind wants to spend a whole day at the mall combing through every shop when you can walk into one good department store, get what you came for, and be done for the next five years?”
    Kate rolled her eyes at such sacrilege. “Come on, we’ll pick the ties