Teddy Spenser Isn't Looking for Love - Kim Fielding Page 0,23

office. Only...it turned out he wasn’t as irritating as Teddy had thought.

Teddy slid out of bed and padded over to the drawer containing his clothing, groped in the dim light for his exercise outfit, then slipped into the bathroom to change. Romeo was still sleeping when Teddy crept out of the room in search of the fitness center.

When he returned nearly an hour later, sweaty and famished, he intended to head directly to the shower. But he stopped in his tracks when he entered the room and discovered Romeo standing by the armoire wearing nothing but a pair of green-plaid boxer shorts. His hair was damp, and he threw a quick smile in Teddy’s direction. “Wondered where you’d disappeared to.”

“Exercise,” Teddy managed to say. What he was thinking, however, was Lord give me strength. He generally wasn’t a huge fan of boxers; few men could rock the look. Romeo, however, was the exception. Long, strong legs, full ass, flat belly—his choice of undergarments showcased them all. Even the colors were fine complements to his skin tone.

Apparently oblivious to Teddy’s condition, Romeo nodded. “I should have known you worked out pretty religiously.” Then his eyes widened and he clamped his mouth shut.

Not wanting to dive any deeper into that weirdness, Teddy scurried into the bathroom. It was only after showering, shaving, and brushing that he recognized a problem with getting dressed. He considered and rejected the idea of putting his grungy exercise wear back on and finally sighed and wrapped a towel around his waist. Creeping into the main room, he had a distressing flashback to the junior high locker room, where he’d lived in terror of being judged by his peers—he’d been a late bloomer—or even worse, popping a woody. Back then, he’d found creative ways to change without exposing too much skin and often hid strategically behind locker doors and pillars. Now here he was, a grown man, clutching a length of white terry cloth for all he was worth.

Romeo had put on slim-fitting black trousers and a crisp white shirt; an unknotted navy tie hung loosely around his neck. He’d been gazing out the window, but after he turned to look at Teddy, his eyebrows rose. “Is that what you’re supposed to wear when meeting a famous fashion designer?” His expression was deadpan, and he’d never joked in Teddy’s presence, so it took Teddy a moment to realize that Romeo was kidding.

“Yeah,” Teddy replied with a grin. “It’s the latest thing. Didn’t you know?”

“So I’m overdressed.”

“Afraid so. But it’s okay because you look so damned good in everything.”

Damn. Teddy had intended that last bit to be a continuation of their banter, but even as the words escaped his mouth, he knew how awkwardly they would land. Instead of frowning or looking annoyed, however, Romeo widened his eyes and then quickly looked away. Teddy tried to steer them back to safe ground. “I think I’ll buck fashion and put on clothes too. It’s a little chilly for towels.”

“I’m sure you have an amazing outfit all ready to go.” Romeo still wasn’t meeting Teddy’s gaze, and now he sounded...wistful?

“Um, yeah.”

Feeling ridiculous, Teddy gathered his clothing and took it into the bathroom. Once dressed, he fussed with his thick hair for an unusually long time. It was an uninteresting light brown, and the strands twisted into weird curls unless he attacked them with a lot of product. He also hadn’t had time for a haircut before the trip, so the tapered fade on the sides was longer than ideal. Eventually, however, he and his pomade managed to tame the top into reasonable spikes. He just had to hope the mist wouldn’t melt them.

Romeo was sitting on the bed with phone in hand when Teddy emerged. “Oh,” said Romeo, looking pained.

“What?” Teddy looked down at himself, searching for a fashion faux pas.

“How do you—? Never mind.”

“What?”

“How do you find such interesting stuff to wear? You always look so...interesting.” Romeo winced, apparently at the awkward wording.

“Thrift stores, mostly.”

“Seriously? You mean you walk into Goodwill and come out looking like you should be strolling down a runway?”

This wasn’t a conversation Teddy had expected. Not even close. He took a moment to assess his current attire. Before packing, he’d spent a lot of time trying to decide what to wear when he met Joyce Alexander. He’d eventually settled on a fairly dressy vintage look: black trousers, white shirt, gray tie, black sweater-vest, close-fitting herringbone jacket. His bloodred boots with the pointed toes added a pop