Read Yours for the Taking for Free Online Page A
Authors: Robin Kaye
back on the stack of fanned magazines correctly. She was tempted to just mess them all up. “What are you? OCD?”
Gina looked up and blinked, repeatedly. Mr. Hugo Boss was now looking more like the bad boy she’d always wished would move next door. He wore well-worn Levi’s, a rugged wool sweater that looked as if it had been around the block a few times, and scuffed hiking boots. She wondered if he bought distressed boots the way a person buys distressed jeans.
“I’m not OCD. I just like the place to look neat.”
“Uh huh, like I said, OCD. Nice getup. Is that your straight look?”
Ben looked down at his clothes. “You said I should change, I changed.”
“I didn’t mean you had to dress to hide your sexual orientation. Though, I gotta say, you do it well.”
Ben ran his hands through his hair. “These are my casual clothes. I don’t wake up in the morning and throw on a suit or dress clothes just for kicks. It’s one thing if I have a meeting, but if not or if I’m just hanging, this is pretty much how I dress.”
Gina didn’t look as if she believed him. Maybe she didn’t understand. “You see, from the time I was a little kid, I had to dress for business. My grandfather does business all over the world. I met Queen Elizabeth for the first time when I was eight and even a kid from Idaho isn’t going to wear jeans and a T-shirt to a royal’s garden party.”
“Sure, right.”
“When I went to college, I started going to art shows and openings. I couldn’t very well wear a Brooks Brothers suit there and fit in. Could I?”
Gina tilted her head and eyed him. “I guess you could have tried, but it would have killed your love life.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Do you have only one style?” He looked Gina up and down. “I doubt you’d wear that dress to the office.”
“No.”
“So why do I get the feeling you think I should dress the same everywhere?”
Gina stood and looked around. “Because you live here. Look at this place, you’re practically the OCD poster child, and because you’re richer than The Donald—you never see him out of a suit and tie.”
“Just because Gramps has money doesn’t mean we go around wearing three-piece suits all day, or even dress for dinner. Most of the time Gramps is in a pair of baggy Dockers and a sweatshirt. He buys a new Cadillac every five years whether he needs it or not, and he wouldn’t be caught dead living in a place like the Trump Towers. He’s a billionaire, but when it comes down to it, he’s a simple man who never saw the value of flaunting anything, not his wealth, or his knowledge. Every Saturday morning, he goes to a greasy spoon to meet up with his buddies for flapjacks, coffee, and to bore each other with stories they’ve all heard a thousand times. He looks like every other sixty-year-old man in the place.”
Gina crossed her arms. “I thought you said he was eighty.”
Ben smiled. “He is. He just doesn’t look it.” He picked up his keys and tossed them in the air before catching them. “You know, Gina. This is real life. It’s not like what you see on soaps.”
She didn’t say anything; she just stared at him like he’d grown another head.
“When I’m not working, I’m usually hiking, skiing, biking, camping, or helping my wife move. I’m not going to ruin designer clothes. Heck,” he pulled on his worn sweater, “I wouldn’t have dressed this nicely if I didn’t think we’d probably stop for lunch somewhere.”
She still looked skeptical. What did it matter what she thought? After he bought her dream home, they’d part company and only see each other whenever absolutely necessary. “Are you ready to go?”
Gina grabbed her coat and hightailed it out of his place. Just as well, he wasn’t interested in her getting comfortable in his apartment, or even with him.
When they arrived at Gina’s, Ben followed her into the tiny apartment. “How long have you lived here?”
“A couple of years. My
Gina looked up and blinked, repeatedly. Mr. Hugo Boss was now looking more like the bad boy she’d always wished would move next door. He wore well-worn Levi’s, a rugged wool sweater that looked as if it had been around the block a few times, and scuffed hiking boots. She wondered if he bought distressed boots the way a person buys distressed jeans.
“I’m not OCD. I just like the place to look neat.”
“Uh huh, like I said, OCD. Nice getup. Is that your straight look?”
Ben looked down at his clothes. “You said I should change, I changed.”
“I didn’t mean you had to dress to hide your sexual orientation. Though, I gotta say, you do it well.”
Ben ran his hands through his hair. “These are my casual clothes. I don’t wake up in the morning and throw on a suit or dress clothes just for kicks. It’s one thing if I have a meeting, but if not or if I’m just hanging, this is pretty much how I dress.”
Gina didn’t look as if she believed him. Maybe she didn’t understand. “You see, from the time I was a little kid, I had to dress for business. My grandfather does business all over the world. I met Queen Elizabeth for the first time when I was eight and even a kid from Idaho isn’t going to wear jeans and a T-shirt to a royal’s garden party.”
“Sure, right.”
“When I went to college, I started going to art shows and openings. I couldn’t very well wear a Brooks Brothers suit there and fit in. Could I?”
Gina tilted her head and eyed him. “I guess you could have tried, but it would have killed your love life.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Do you have only one style?” He looked Gina up and down. “I doubt you’d wear that dress to the office.”
“No.”
“So why do I get the feeling you think I should dress the same everywhere?”
Gina stood and looked around. “Because you live here. Look at this place, you’re practically the OCD poster child, and because you’re richer than The Donald—you never see him out of a suit and tie.”
“Just because Gramps has money doesn’t mean we go around wearing three-piece suits all day, or even dress for dinner. Most of the time Gramps is in a pair of baggy Dockers and a sweatshirt. He buys a new Cadillac every five years whether he needs it or not, and he wouldn’t be caught dead living in a place like the Trump Towers. He’s a billionaire, but when it comes down to it, he’s a simple man who never saw the value of flaunting anything, not his wealth, or his knowledge. Every Saturday morning, he goes to a greasy spoon to meet up with his buddies for flapjacks, coffee, and to bore each other with stories they’ve all heard a thousand times. He looks like every other sixty-year-old man in the place.”
Gina crossed her arms. “I thought you said he was eighty.”
Ben smiled. “He is. He just doesn’t look it.” He picked up his keys and tossed them in the air before catching them. “You know, Gina. This is real life. It’s not like what you see on soaps.”
She didn’t say anything; she just stared at him like he’d grown another head.
“When I’m not working, I’m usually hiking, skiing, biking, camping, or helping my wife move. I’m not going to ruin designer clothes. Heck,” he pulled on his worn sweater, “I wouldn’t have dressed this nicely if I didn’t think we’d probably stop for lunch somewhere.”
She still looked skeptical. What did it matter what she thought? After he bought her dream home, they’d part company and only see each other whenever absolutely necessary. “Are you ready to go?”
Gina grabbed her coat and hightailed it out of his place. Just as well, he wasn’t interested in her getting comfortable in his apartment, or even with him.
When they arrived at Gina’s, Ben followed her into the tiny apartment. “How long have you lived here?”
“A couple of years. My