Lilliana dropped a pair of flip-flops at Jessica’s feet. They were too small, but shock had turned Jessica compliant. Lilliana looked at her and chewed her bottom lip before grabbing a Falcon ball cap and dropping it on Jessica’s head.
“It’s that bad?” Tears burned behind Jessica’s eyes.
Lilliana ushered Jessica into her ten-year-old SUV and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m not going to lie. It’s not good. But Marlene works miracles every day. I’ve seen it. She’ll get you all fixed up.”
On the short trip to town, Jessica forced her hands to stay clamped on her thighs instead of probing the hair-wound on the back of her head. They parked and entered through the back of the salon. The smell of hair color and chemicals undercut the sweet aroma of shampoo and mousse. A cloud of hairspray hung in the room. Half a dozen conversations buzzed. An occasional comment sling-shot across the aisle, inciting group laughter.
She had expected an old-fashioned beauty parlor complete with a bee-hived, gum-smacking owner, but the woman who glided over to greet them was the antithesis. A classic, willowy beauty with tastefully highlighted blonde hair swept into a neat chignon. Marlene was what Jessica’s mother called well-preserved.
Marlene tutted. “You poor dear. Let’s get you in a chair.”
With Lilliana holding one elbow and the woman holding the other, Jessica was guided into a chair as if she was physically injured. Lilliana commenced a short pace next to the chair and chewed on a nail. Marlene stood behind Jessica with both hands on her shoulders. Their eyes met in the mirror.
“Do you mind if I remove the hat to see what I have to work with?” A calm confidence emanated from the woman and wreathed Jessica. Her hands uncurled and her back rounded into the padded chair.
She nodded. Marlene lifted the hat slowly, as if Jessica might balk. Marlene’s eyes flared, but otherwise her expression never changed, the small smile never failing. Gentle fingers moved over her scalp.
“Yes, yes. Still plenty of work with. You’re lucky it was only the bottom few inches. I’d like to play up the red in your hair, if I may.”
Jessica fingered the intact hair curling below her jaw. The reflection of her hand trembled. “You can make me look decent?”
Marlene leaned forward, her smile growing and emphasizing the fine wrinkles at her eyes and mouth. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll make you look even more beautiful than you already are.”
The scent of magnolias enveloped Jessica, and she closed her eyes for a moment, wondering if it was her imagination playing tricks. She met Marlene’s eyes in the mirror once again and nodded.
Lilliana heaved a sigh and gave her a thumb’s up.
Marlene angled Jessica’s a chair toward the center of the shop and away from the mirrors. Several women sent discreet looks her way, but no one was impolite enough to stare as if she were a freak show. A black polyester cape fluttered around her shoulders and snapped at her nape.
Marlene spoke over her head. “Lilliana, get your hiney in a chair and Annie will trim that mop on your head. I’ve missed that sassy mouth of yours. What’s going on with your family?”
Conversations ebbed around her, a jumble of gossip and recipes and stories about children and grandchildren and uncles and cousins. No one prodded Jessica join in. Marlene led her like a blinkered horse from station to station.
Strands of hair fell into the cape and skittered to the floor. Marlene ruffled Jessica’s hair. She could look up and probably catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror across the room, but instead she watched her hair being shuffled across the floor under Marlene’s kitten-heels and concentrated on the country song softly permeating the chatter.
Something cool and thick was applied to her hair. After winding plastic wrap around her head, Marlene slapped a couple of gossip magazines in her lap. “Sit tight, young lady. Color has to set.”
Jessica stared at the cover of the top magazine until Marlene led her to a different chair, where her hair was washed with an expensive-smelling shampoo. Jessica closed her eyes. It was just hair. It would grow back. Taking deep breaths, she told herself she was calm and in-control until she almost believed it.
While Marlene tousled her hair and whisked a blow dryer around, Jessica reverted to making a list of pros and cons in her head. She would save time not having to flatiron her hair every morning. No more aching arms was a bonus. Cons included being unable to leave the house until it grew back. And, the complete turnoff of the male species, including Logan Wilde. Actually, she should move that to the pro column. The sexual tension between them was dangerous.
Lilliana stood in front of her, wide-eyed and smiling, but Jessica couldn’t tell if it was a “you look amazing I don’t have the words” smile or a “what craziness have I unleashed” smile.
“All done. What do you think, young lady?” Marlene whipped the cape off, fluffed Jessica’s hair one more time, and turned her to face the mirror.
A stranger sat in the chair. Except Jessica could feel the warm, leather seat under her legs, recognized what the woman wore, and could see the shaking hand that rose was hers.
Her freckles stood in stark relief against her pale cheeks. The sides and back were cut shorter than the top, which waved in artful chaos. Her bangs were gone, leaving her delicately arched eyebrows to frame eyes that glowed against the deep, complex auburn of her hair.
She wanted to smile politely like she’d been taught and say she loved it. She couldn’t. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with her hair. It was actually amazing. But the changes had come too fast and furious for her to process, and her hair was the final block that tumbled her already rickety tower of control. A tear slipped out.
Marlene covered her mouth, her words muffled against her perfectly manicured fingers. “I did my very best.”
Liliana slipped an arm around her shoulder and met her eyes in the mirror. “You look incredible. Truly. Don’t be upset. Please.”
“I . . . I . . .” The sprays and dyes turned noxious. She pushed to her feet, bolted out the front door, and ran-walked down the sidewalk in the direction of Lilliana’s house. Later, she would go back to pay and apologize. Later, when she had come to terms with the drastic downturn her life had made.
More tears welled out. Enough to make her nose run. She tilted her head to the sky and sniffed, the sun hot and blinding. Her flip-flop caught on a crack in the cement, and she stumbled into another pedestrian. She grabbed an arm, hairy and sinewy. The man steadied her with two hands, one on each of her arms.
“You all right, ma’am?” The deep, smooth voice sugared her limbs. Of all the men in Falcon . . . His hands circled all the way around her forearms. Why did she have to notice how attractive his hands were at the most inconvenient time?
“I’m fine.” She tried to pull away.
The man’s hands flexed, not immediately releasing her. “Jessie?”
Her breathing grew shallow. She clenched her teeth, a dam against her tears, and raised her face to his.
His gaze darted over her hair and face, flitting like a hummingbird, never landing on any one feature for long. “I didn’t recognize you. You look . . . different.”
“Different.” She repeated the word people used when they didn’t want to lie with a compliment.
Her chin wobbled. No way was she going to stand here and weep in front of him. She jerked out of his grasp and took off in a full run. The sidewalk petered into gravel. Lilliana’s house was somewhere beyond the bank of trees to her right if she wasn’t completely turned around. A path opened between the pines, and she veered toward it, scratching her calf on a thorny bush.
Footsteps sounded behind her. “Jessie, wait. Please.”
It was the “please” that stopped her. He had imbued it with a sweetness she couldn’t deny. She ducked into the shadows of the trees and waited. The sun filtered through the rustling needles and leaves. Her breathing slowed along with her heartbeat. A healthy dose of embarrassment replaced her pathetic tears.
She drove her fingernails into the soft bark of the tree. He approached as if she were a skittish dog. Birds chirped and two squirrels chased each other around and up a tree.
“I got my hair cut,” she said inanely.
“I noticed. Colored too.”
For the first time, she ran her fingers over the crown and down to her nape. Her hair was soft and springy. “There was an accident.”
“Car?” His brow crinkled.
“Flatiron.”
His lips twitched.
“Don’t you dare laugh.” She pushed off the tree and poked him in the chest. “The outlet in my bathroom at Lilliana’s started smoking. A chunk of my hair got incinerated.”
“Damn.” He looked out into the trees, away from town. “I didn’t realize the wiring was so bad in that old place.”
“Now I look different.” She didn’t mean to sound so hostile, but men would never understand the power a woman’s hair held over the health of their psyche.
Logan took a step closer. “You caught me off guard back there. You do look different. Don’t misunderstand, you were attractive before, but in an intimidating Russian-spy kind of way.”
She huffed and rolled her eyes.
“Now you’re beautiful.”
Was he merely being polite or did he actually mean it? A fallen tree was rotting at her feet, and she concentrated on flicking the decaying fragments with the end of her flip-flop. “You don’t have to be nice. It’s just hair, right? It’ll grow back.”
His voice fell into a sultry drawl. “I’m not being nice. In fact, that red hair makes me want to be a little naughty.” He slid his hands around her nape, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. “Look at me.”
Although given softly, the command in his voice was absolute, and she lifted her gaze to his without an urge to rebel. This close, the golden flecks in his eyes heated her like the embers of a fire. She gripped his wrists but didn’t try to pry his hands away. His fingers worked her neck in an erotic massage, loosening her muscles and curling her toes.
“Jessie, you’re fucking gorgeous and sexy as hell.”
No man had ever talked to her like that, much less looked at her like that. Like he wanted to strip her naked right there, right then.
His tongue dabbed his lower lip. It was full, but not in a feminine way. Everything about him, from the stubble on his cheeks to the calluses on his hands to the way he filled out the khakis he wore, screamed, I am man. Instead of raising her hackles and filling her with the need to assert herself, a feminine power surged through her, and in the power was the freedom to let him take charge.
The mouth she stared at moved closer, until it was a blur and sensation replaced sight. Instead of dominating her, he brushed his lips over hers, gently, sweetly. Jessica swayed closer, letting go of his wrists to grab fistfuls of his cotton T-shirt. Yet he didn’t move to take her in his arms.
He drew her bottom lip between his teeth, the suction turning her bones to taffy. He toyed with her lips, nipping and licking, but never claiming her with his tongue. His mouth left hers.
An embarrassing whimper escaped her throat. His cheek skimmed up to her temple, the rasp sending tremors to rock her body. The hard planes of his chest made her breasts ache for his attention. He nosed into her hair as her body strained closer. Her knee bumped his, but the rest of her was denied. She wanted him to push her against the nearest tree and hike her leg up.
“I’ve always been partial to redheads.”
His words registered like a dunk in cold water. Jessica pushed back from him, slapping his hands away. “Hold up, Mountain Man. Am I one in a long line of redheads that you’ve put the moves on?”
He hooked his thumbs in his pockets, the corner of his mouth titling in a near smirk. “Darlin’, you think this is my move? If—when—I put the moves on you, you’ll be begging for more.”
Even as the promise in his voice sent a hum of desire through her body, she cooled her voice and tipped up on her toes to bring them closer in height. “You think I’m that easy? I’d love to get you on your knees, crying uncle.”
“On my knees in front of you? Baby, that’s one of my best moves.” His whisper skated down her spine to feed the pulse between her legs.
His lips were inches away from hers. She swayed on the balls of her feet. Screw feminine outrage, she was seconds away from begging him to back up his boasts with tangible action. Challenge sparked in his eyes. She knew in that instant if she pushed him to his knees, he would put his face between her legs.
“Jessica!” Lilliana’s voice echoed through the woods.
Neither of them moved. They both shuddered out a breath, their bodies in tune.
“Jessica!” The worried call contained more than a hint of desperation.
“Here.” Jessica’s weak voice cracked. She cleared her throat and took two steps back, a tree trunk supporting her. Leaves crunched and twigs snapped. Lilliana arrived, breathing hard and gnawing her bottom lip into mincemeat.
“Are you all right? This is my fault, and you have every right to hate me. But, you look fabulous. I swear.” She transferred her gaze to Logan. “Hey, doofus.”
“Hey, yourself, twerp.” His voice was still husky with desire, but the teasing humor in the sentiment loosened the invisible cords of lust still binding Jessica.
“Tell Jessica how good she looks, Logan.”
His gaze slid down her body, and her nipples tightened. What would happen if he actually touched her? She might spontaneously combust.
“Are you clear on how attractive I think you are, Jessie?”
A hit of adrenaline shot into her heart. She ran her hand up the back of her hair and into the top to keep from fanning her cheeks like an old-timey Southern belle.
“Crystal.” She broke eye contact with Logan. “Sorry, Lilliana, I overreacted. Seeing my hair was a shock.”
Logan’s voice turned brotherlike. “You’re going to have to pony up the money to get the electrical redone, Lilliana. No way will Alec Grayson sign off on your permits once he hears about this.”
“I know, I know. I can’t deal right now. I’ve ordered a pizza with absolutely everything on it. It should be at the house any minute.” Lilliana gestured behind her. White clapboard peeked through the trees. “You want to come eat, Logan?”
Jessica barely kept herself from seconding the invitation. Her desire to stay in Logan’s company, anyway she could, worried her.
“Thanks for the offer, but I have to get to Adaline’s. You girls have fun, and stay six feet away from all small appliances.” He wagged his finger.
A girlish giggle slipped out of Jessica. It was official: she was pathetic. She followed Lilliana, looking over her shoulder every few steps. Logan stood in the middle of the path, watching her right back, until the trees blocked their view.
She felt . . . different.
The ambiguity of the hated word seemed to fit her mood. She ruffled a hand through her hair, then ran her fingertips over her lips. Up until now, her life had been a carefully charted journey. In a matter of two days, she’d quit her job, got a drastic (though unintended) makeover, and received hands-down the hottest kiss of her life from a completely unsuitable man. The old Jessica would be on the verge of panic, yet all she did was smile.
Different wasn’t all that bad.
9
Everything in this town revolves around football.” Lilliana, in her uniform of shorts and a baggy shirt, led them out the back door and to the path through the woods the following afternoon.
Jessica stripped pine needles off a hanging branch and rubbed them between her fingers. The sweet tang reminded her of Logan.
Blue sky and the sound of passing cars cut to them as they stepped from the shady woods into the warm sun and high grass on the side of the road. The towered lights of the stadium rose to the right, bu
t Jessica led them across the street in the opposite direction.
Around a sharp curve in the road a practice field lined by aluminum bleachers abutted a domed pavilion. People milled, holding bottles of water or red plastic cups. The gathering had a partylike energy.
A group of older men huddled close to the fence, but most of the audience were women. Some were probably mothers, but more than a handful were too young to have a kid in high school. Hair was tossed, skirts adjusted, and legs crossed and recrossed. The mating call of the Southern female.
“I didn’t realize football was so popular.” Jessica kept her voice low.
“It’s not so much football, but the coaches who are popular. At least with the ladies present. And here they come. We’d best get seats.” Lilliana gestured her to a free space on the bottom row in front of an older black lady in a denim skirt.
Players came out first, pumped up and yelling. Then Robbie Dalton’s three-legged dog led out five men. Jessica only had eyes for Logan in his worn-out ball cap, athletic shorts, and sleeveless T-shirt. Whether the blue cotton shirt had started sleeveless or ended up that way because of his ridiculous biceps, she couldn’t guess. Brown hair curled around the edge of his cap. The shadows the brim cast only highlighted the strong line of his stubbled jaw.
Logan warmed the boys up with a series of stretches before signaling with his whistle and lining the squad up in the near end zone. After joining them, he blew the whistle once again. Feet pounded to the fifty-yard line before running back to the goal line, repeating the circuit over and over. The boys spread out as the run went on, and Logan urged the slower boys on. Eventually, his whistle cut through the noise. Some boys dropped to their back, while others grabbed their knees, heavy breathing replacing the thud of feet.
Logan walked around and talked to a few of the boys, heaving up a thickly muscled boy to a sitting position. Another blow of the whistle had them on their hands and toes for pushups. After the first set, Logan joined them, finishing the last few on one arm to the cheers and laughter of the boys.
Caught Up in the Touch: Sweet Home Alabama Page 10