need a 360-degree view of her form as I’m making notes.” He pointed. “Please stand over there, facing the mirror.”
Gabi hopped up on the platform.
Q walked around her. “Pants size?”
“Eight. But they’re usually too big in the waist so I have to belt them.”
“Blouse size?”
“Solid medium for T-shirts. Button-down shirts . . . it depends. I’ve got wide shoulders. Anything with tight arms and chest, I tend to Hulk out and seams get ripped.”
I snickered at the image of Gabi in a Hulk-like rage.
“Bra size?” Q asked.
Perfect, my mind supplied.
Then I gave myself a mental slap.
“Thirty-six C right now.”
Surprised, Q said, “It changes?”
“Yes. I drop to a 34B if I’m in competition shape.”
“Fascinating. I can’t imagine my male clients telling me that their dicks get smaller when they’re in competition shape.”
Gabi flashed him a quick grin. “I promise you their dicks are smaller if they’re doing ’roids. Their balls too.”
“This conversation has deteriorated,” I said. “To get back on topic . . . do you have any issues wearing heels?”
“That’s on topic?” she demanded.
“Yes. I’ve never seen you in a pair of heels. If you have a sports injury that prevents you from wearing them, that’s one thing. If it’s a personal ‘I hate heels’ thing, we need to know that too.”
“You usually see me in skates, Nolan. Off the ice? I rarely wear heels since it’s not necessary. But I can wear them and walk in them just fine.”
“Shoe size?” Jacques asked.
“Eight.”
“All right, we’re done with that. Now onto the fun part.”
“Yay,” she said without enthusiasm.
“You’re not excited about this at all?”
“I am. Yet . . . I’m unsure if I should even go through with the interview if I’m having this much anxiety about what to wear. Say all the stars align and I get the job. I will have to wardrobe plan. And probably keep track of which day I wore what, so I don’t wear the same outfit too often.”
I set my hands on her shoulders and peered into her face, which had become flushed. Her eyes didn’t want to meet mine. “Hey. Look at me.”
She did.
“Listen.” This close to her, I caught that warm-cookies scent and it totally derailed my thought process. That, along with the fact I hadn’t noticed her eyes were silvery-blue.
Eyes that held absolute trust and that threw my thoughts into further chaos.
“Nolan?” she prompted softly. “You were saying?”
“Don’t borrow trouble. One step at a time.”
“Okay.”
“That said . . .” I cleared my throat and looked at Q. “Let’s assume this won’t be Gabriella’s last interview.”
“So we’re looking for a singular outfit with wow factor and multiple pieces.”
“Yes. However, this doesn’t need to be a mix-and-match situation. The interview clothing is the priority. After that we should focus on an outfit that plays up camera readiness, as well as rinkside commentary and studio interviews, and a cocktail dress.”
Q tapped his chin as he studied her. “Gut instinct is to put her in the cranberry color palette. Mulberry is too muddy for her complexion, yet, I’m not ruling out the right hue of plum.”
Circling Gabi, I felt her eyes watching me in the mirror as I contemplated the shape of her body. “Nothing boxy on the top. I’d suggest skipping the traditional suit jacket and skirt set.”
“Agreed.” Q held a piece of white cashmere next to her face. “White isn’t flattering to her coloring.”
“Is that bad?” she asked.
“No, sweetheart, it just means we’ll have to substitute warmer tones. And thankfully, this time of year there’s an excess of color.” Q looked to me. “Ready?”
“Let’s do it.” I smiled at Gabi. “Time to be a walking clothes rack.”
“You’re making me come with you?”
We both gave her a stern look.
“Fine. But are you letting me choose any items? Or am I not allowed to pick anything?”
“Fair question. Unless a piece we choose has some kind of violent trigger reaction for you, you don’t get to nix anything before you try it on,” Q said.
“Understood.”
Q looped his arm through hers. “Don’t look like we’re dragging you to the gallows, darling.”
“I’ll try. But no promises.”
* * *
* * *
Two hours and five stops later we were back in the design showroom.
Q shooed us away as he grouped the items together to create his magic.
Gabi paced the perimeter of the room. Finally she said, “How often do you do things like this?”
“You’re the first woman I’ve ever brought to my stylist,” I replied.
Her eyes met mine. “Really?”
“Really.”
“That is flattering. But I guess my question wasn’t clear. I meant