Read an Excerpt
Making Over Mr. Right
Chapter One
New York City
"Anybody who looks at these so-called publicity photos is going to have nightmares. The least you could have done was trimmed your beard and had your hair styled." Chad Thomas slapped the pile of proofs on top of the two-drawer filing cabinet next to a work station. "The pictures have to be retaken, and you still need to do something about this barn you call a home."
Distracted by the outburst, Theodore Maragos combed his fingers through the facial fuzz in question. Sure, it was a little on the bushy side, but it saved him time getting ready in the morning, and what was wrong with shoulder length hair? He had no reason to waste precious minutes shaving or making trips to the barber while he had a company to lead.
Scowling, he glanced up at his partner, the Chief of Operations at Marasoft Enterprises. "I'll be out from under in a couple of weeks. Can't it wait until then?"
Chad stopped pacing and stuffed a hand in the pocket of his charcoal gray Armani suit. Thanks to his pale pink shirt and striped silk tie, he resembled a model straight out of a men's fashion magazine. Combine his fashion style with his knowledge of art, gadgetry, and restaurants, and he was the poster boy for the original metrosexual.
"Three weeks is the extension I was able to coerce New York Entrepreneur into giving us for these disasters you call photographs. You wore that suit for our college graduation, ten years ago, for shit's sake, and it was out of style then. What were you thinking?"
"I guess I wasn't," Theo said, refocusing on the monitor. "What's the big deal?"
"The big deal? Let's see . . ." Chad began ticking off fingers. "One, if the pictures don't meet NYE's standards, they'll replace you on their list of the ten most promising young businessmen in Manhattan. Two, if you're not on the list, we lose a ton of free publicity. Three, there goes our best chance at opening high and going higher the day the company hits the NASDAQ, which means that, four, Marasoft could bomb its first week as an IPO." His sigh echoed his impatience. "Come on, Theo. We've worked eighty-hour weeks, practically sweat blood for the company. We owe it to our investors—hell, we owe it to ourselves—to do everything in our power to get Marasoft recognized as a competitive power in the IT market."
Frustrated, Theo pushed away from his desk. His best friend was right. They'd spent years building his baby into a real player in the world of computer technology, not only to thank his father for taking him on, but to show a certain old goat, whom he despised, that he wasn't a useless idiot. If getting prettied up for a stint as one of New York's up-and-coming entrepreneurs would add to his prestige and put the cherry on top of his professional sundae, he'd be a fool not to take advantage of the opportunity.
Even if he hated every minute of it.
"Okay," he said, giving Chad a smile. "What do I have to do?"
"We've been over this about a hundred times—"
"I know. And I've ignored you just as many. Now I'm ready to listen."
"You'd better, because it's my last try at getting you to pay attention. My stylist can see to your grooming problem. In the meantime, I'll take you to my personal shopper at Barney's for a couple of suits—"
"A couple? Won't that be expensive?"
"You need at least two, and you can afford it. It's this . . . this shell of an apartment I'm worried about. You vetoed my pal Andre's decorating firm, so we'll just have to pick a designer from the Internet, maybe someone on Craig's List, and pray they can work us in."
"I'll see a stylist, I'll even go so far as to work with a personal shopper, but I draw the line at letting a complete stranger turn my home into something they think it should look like. Isn't there anything else I can do?"
"This isn't a home, it's a barn with packing cartons for seating, a mattress and box spring for a bedroom, and a computer station for a conversation center. Maybe we could use my apartment, or borrow a fully furnished one—"
"No."
"No?"
"You heard me. This is where I live. If the magazine doesn't like it—tough. Whatever happened to judging a man on his work ethic and his morals? Since when do appearances count more than character?"
Chad rolled his eyes. "You above all people should know the answer to that one. Or have you forgotten the lousy time you had in college? If not for the fact that impressing your father was so important, you probably would have dropped out before graduation, even though he went to bat for you with the admissions board."
Theo twisted the gold ring he wore on the fourth finger of his right hand, a constant reminder of his place of birth. He'd been a geek, the nerdiest of nerds, and he still was, only now he sometimes wore a T-shirt that read, I'm a geek and proud of it. His college experience would have been non-existent if not for Chad, his party boy roommate. Together, they'd muddled through, with Theo tutoring Chad in the math courses he needed to get his degree, and Chad dragging him to parties and sporting events so he could have some semblance of a social life.
His dad had put great stock in a college education. So much stock that he'd pulled strings at his alma mater and gotten his son admitted on a scholarship, even though Theo only had a GED. When he'd graduated with perfect grades, he and Chad made a pact to earn their fortune together. After ten years they were very close to meeting their goal, but close wasn't good enough.
Making Over Mr. Right. Copyright © by Judi McCoy. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
