smile at the dark-haired woman with the hard eyes. âI donât need you to stay, either.â
âCute,â she said, but her tone told him she didnât mean it. âIâll be right outside if you need me,â she told the redhead. Then she was gone, into the hideously pink and strictly female lair of the beauty parlor.
Seemed as though heâd caught them all flat-footed. Which was, he admitted silently, just what heâd been aiming for. He could have called first, he supposed. Mimi Castle was in the phone book. Heâd checked. But if heâd called, the redhead would have just told him to stay away. And if she was going to do that anyway, heâd just as soon make her say it in person.
Hell, just looking at her had been worth the trip. Her T-shirt defined curves that were incredibly generous considering how tiny she was everywhere else. And her worn, faded jeans clung to her short but shapely legs like a second skin. She wore sandals on her feet and a silver ankle bracelet that matched the toe rings peeped at him from beneath the hem of her jeans.
After indulging in a good long look, he lifted his gaze to the slogan on her shirt, then up to her eyes. His lips quirked. âNice to see you again.â
âWhat do you want?â she demanded.
âNow what kind of hello is that?â
âThe kind you get when you walk into my house without an invitation.â
Nick stepped into the tiny office and watched her back up. He frowned to himself. He wasnât trying to scare her, for Godâs sake. Hell, he
liked
women. And they generally liked him back. Until her.
And heâd never frightened a woman in his life.
âWasnât exactly uninvited.â He jerked his head in the direction of the shop. âYour friendâ¦â
âMolly.â
He nodded and gave her his most charming smile. âMolly. Well, she told me to wait andââ
She backed up another step until sheâd placed the small, incredibly organized desk in between them. ââand you took that to mean âCome on in, stranger.â Sure. I could see how that would happen.â
âOkay, look.â Nick gave up on the charming smile and tried for harmless. âI can see we got off on the wrong foot, but thereâs no reason why we canât behave like adults.â
âDoes that usually work?â she asked, throwing him off-balance a little.
âHuh? Does what work?â
âThat little smile,â she snapped. Narrowing her eyes on him, she continued, âFlash a dimple and Iâm supposed to curl up and whimper?â
He blinked at her.
âBecause Iâm just too busy to do any adoring today.â Deliberately she picked up a sheaf of papers fromthe center of the desk, effectively dismissing him. âSo if youâll excuse meâ¦â
Nick closed the door of the office and leaned one shoulder against it. She wasnât making this easy and damned if he didnât resent it a little. This was his life here, hanging by a thread over a media chasm filled with popping camera flashes and frenzied reporters. And to do a damn thing about saving his own ass, he was forced to deal with a tiny tyrant who, he thought, watching her, wasnât nearly as calm and cool as she was trying to appear.
Her hands shook as she straightened an already perfectly neat desk. She aligned papers and envelopes into tidy rows and flipped the pens and pencils around until they were arranged on the spotless blotter according to length.
And through it all, she studiously, determinedly, avoided noticing he was in the room.
Nick really didnât have a clue how to handle this. Heâd never had to work so hard to get a woman to simply
talk
to him. Hell, heâd never even
had
to do the talking himself.
A twinge of shame had him admitting that sheâd been right. All heâd ever had to do was flash a smile and suddenly doors were opened and women
âCute,â she said, but her tone told him she didnât mean it. âIâll be right outside if you need me,â she told the redhead. Then she was gone, into the hideously pink and strictly female lair of the beauty parlor.
Seemed as though heâd caught them all flat-footed. Which was, he admitted silently, just what heâd been aiming for. He could have called first, he supposed. Mimi Castle was in the phone book. Heâd checked. But if heâd called, the redhead would have just told him to stay away. And if she was going to do that anyway, heâd just as soon make her say it in person.
Hell, just looking at her had been worth the trip. Her T-shirt defined curves that were incredibly generous considering how tiny she was everywhere else. And her worn, faded jeans clung to her short but shapely legs like a second skin. She wore sandals on her feet and a silver ankle bracelet that matched the toe rings peeped at him from beneath the hem of her jeans.
After indulging in a good long look, he lifted his gaze to the slogan on her shirt, then up to her eyes. His lips quirked. âNice to see you again.â
âWhat do you want?â she demanded.
âNow what kind of hello is that?â
âThe kind you get when you walk into my house without an invitation.â
Nick stepped into the tiny office and watched her back up. He frowned to himself. He wasnât trying to scare her, for Godâs sake. Hell, he
liked
women. And they generally liked him back. Until her.
And heâd never frightened a woman in his life.
âWasnât exactly uninvited.â He jerked his head in the direction of the shop. âYour friendâ¦â
âMolly.â
He nodded and gave her his most charming smile. âMolly. Well, she told me to wait andââ
She backed up another step until sheâd placed the small, incredibly organized desk in between them. ââand you took that to mean âCome on in, stranger.â Sure. I could see how that would happen.â
âOkay, look.â Nick gave up on the charming smile and tried for harmless. âI can see we got off on the wrong foot, but thereâs no reason why we canât behave like adults.â
âDoes that usually work?â she asked, throwing him off-balance a little.
âHuh? Does what work?â
âThat little smile,â she snapped. Narrowing her eyes on him, she continued, âFlash a dimple and Iâm supposed to curl up and whimper?â
He blinked at her.
âBecause Iâm just too busy to do any adoring today.â Deliberately she picked up a sheaf of papers fromthe center of the desk, effectively dismissing him. âSo if youâll excuse meâ¦â
Nick closed the door of the office and leaned one shoulder against it. She wasnât making this easy and damned if he didnât resent it a little. This was his life here, hanging by a thread over a media chasm filled with popping camera flashes and frenzied reporters. And to do a damn thing about saving his own ass, he was forced to deal with a tiny tyrant who, he thought, watching her, wasnât nearly as calm and cool as she was trying to appear.
Her hands shook as she straightened an already perfectly neat desk. She aligned papers and envelopes into tidy rows and flipped the pens and pencils around until they were arranged on the spotless blotter according to length.
And through it all, she studiously, determinedly, avoided noticing he was in the room.
Nick really didnât have a clue how to handle this. Heâd never had to work so hard to get a woman to simply
talk
to him. Hell, heâd never even
had
to do the talking himself.
A twinge of shame had him admitting that sheâd been right. All heâd ever had to do was flash a smile and suddenly doors were opened and women