Freya's POV
My hands trembled slightly as I approached Mack with my measuring tape. This was just business, I reminded myself. I'd measured dozens of clients before.
But none of them had been him.
"I'll need you to remove your jacket," I said, keeping my voice professionally steady.
Mack shrugged out of his suit jacket with fluid grace, revealing a crisp white dress shirt that did nothing to hide his impressive physique. The fabric stretched across broad shoulders and a trim waist, and I found myself staring longer than appropriate.
Belinda positioned herself nearby with her notebook, ready to record measurements. Old Madam Ben and the other women had tactfully moved to another seating area, continuing their conversation in lowered voices.
"Arms out, please," I instructed.
