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I cross my arms over my chest. “What exactly do you think I should be wearing?”
“Something that’s not an erection killer. When was the last time you went out with your friends?”
I shrug. “A few months ago, I guess.”
“Did you pay attention to what other women were wearing?”
“I could never dress like that.” I shake my head. “It’s not my style.”
He sighs. “Can I come in?”
So he can disparage my dress some more? “Why?”
“I need to see your closet. You must have something less appropriate to wear.”
“But this is cute.”
“Cute is for little kids and kittens. It doesn’t incite lust, and no one wants to fuck it.”
I gesture him in, frowning as I close the door behind him. “That’s your opinion. And it’s rude.”
“I’m a single guy—your target audience—and I’m being honest. Where’s your room?”
With a roll of my eyes, I point. “Down the hall, last door on your right.”
He darts past me. I follow, trying my best to keep up with his long strides.
When he enters my room, he yanks open my closet doors and scans my clothes. I watch from the foot of my bed. It’s not every day your boss rifles through your closet to dress you for a night out.
“Seriously, I thought cute was good.”
“Sweetheart, you want to attract a guy, not encourage him to pat you on the head before he finds someone who makes his dick stand up and salute her.”
I gape at him. “Pat me on the head…like I’m a child?”
“In case it’s escaped your notice, men are very visual beings. If you want to attract one, you have to dress with cleavage and sex appeal in mind. Your goal is to walk into a room and have all eyes on you.”
“I don’t need to dress like a stripper to get male attention.”
“I never said you should look like a stripper, but if you show some skin, you’re way more likely to get laid.”
He continues going through my closet until he groans in exasperation. “Don’t you have anything more revealing than jeans, yoga pants, T-shirts, or work-appropriate attire?”
“No. Like I said, low-cut shirts and clingy dresses are not—”
“Your style. But it needs to be tonight.” Suddenly, he snaps his fingers. “You said Kami Hernandez is your roommate, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Would she have anything in her closet you could borrow?”
I laugh. “Away from the office, super-short skirts and backless dresses are her wardrobe.”
“Because she understands men. That’s why, according to you, she’s happy. Would she be okay with us raiding her closet?”
“Are you kidding? She’s been begging me to do that since we moved in together.”
“Thank God.” He grabs my hand, pulling me into Kami’s room across the hall. He opens her closet, skims the contents, then smirks. “Now we’re talking.”
