by Lori Wilde
Wow-ee. He could be a real charmer when he tried. Cocking her head, July studied him in the lamplight.
How did such a fascinating man find himself homeless and out of work? What forces had shaped his personality? What crisis had thrown him into his current situation?
One way or the other, she’d wheedle answers from him. Once she learned what motivated him, helping him fight his personal demons would be easier.
“Perhaps we should do this in the kitchen. The light’s better in there, and the floor is tile,” she said.
“Okay.”
Again, he was agreeable. July worked the scissors in her hand, made snipping noises.
“You sure you know how to use those things?” Tucker’s eyes widened.
“Chicken?” she taunted.
“Well...”
“C’mon.”
She led the way to the kitchen, his footsteps echoing behind her. Placing a kitchen chair directly under the overhead light, she patted the seat.
Tucker sat.
July wrapped the towel around his neck and clipped it into place with a clothespin. “Ready?”
“Not too short,” he cautioned.
“Leave everything to me.”
“That’s a scary thought.”
“Tucker.” She emphasized his name and swatted lightly at his shoulder. She loved this playful side of him and wondered how she could coax it out of him more.
“I kind of like my hair.” He sounded nervous.
“It is something to be proud of.” Her fingertips tingled as she ran her hand through the silky fineness. “Many guys would kill for a head of hair this lush. Girls too.”
“So do right by me, okay?”
“Trust is a beautiful thing, my friend.”
He hitched in a breath. “Trust is not my strong suit.”
“You’ll be happy with the results, I promise.” She got down to work, misting his hair with a squirt bottle she filled with water from the kitchen sink and combing it through.
“How come you quit barbering?” he asked.
“Actually, I never really became a hair stylist.”
“Why not?”
“Promise you won’t get alarmed?”
“No.” Tucker turned to stare at her. “Don’t tell me you scalped someone.”
“Not that.” July giggled.
“Do I dare ask?”
“I dyed a lady’s hair green.”
“And…?”
“She wanted platinum blond.”
“That is a problem.” Tucker chuckled.
July realized it was the first time she’d heard him laugh. She liked the sound. A lot. “Yeah, but don’t worry, coloring wasn’t my thing, but I’m pretty good at haircuts.”
“Well, the price is right anyway. I’ll be brave. Go ahead and cut.”
Her heart pounded, and anxiety swelled in the pit of her stomach. Swallowing back her nervousness, July snipped off a section of Tucker’s hair and watched the dark-brown curls float to the floor.
The silence was unnerving. The only sounds were the snipping of scissors. She could feel his body, smell his scent. An incredibly sensual sensation wafted over her. She’d never thought of cutting hair as sexy, but tonight, she changed her mind.
“Do you have a family, Tucker?” she asked after a long moment.
Tucker grunted.
“No wife or kids?” The idea of him having a wife waiting in the wings plucked at her. If he was married, she needed to quell her red-hot reaction to him now.
“Never been married. No kids that I’m aware of.”
Relief washed over her. No wife or kids. Yay. “What about your parents? Are they still living?”
“I haven’t seen my father in years. We’re estranged.”
“He doesn’t agree with your lifestyle?” she guessed.
“You might say that.” His response was dry, humorless.
Her curiosity grew. Dang, how had a man like Tucker ended up on the street? She wanted desperately to ask that question, but something about the way his shoulders stiffened warned her off.
Did he have a problem with substance abuse? He didn’t look like an addict, but in the early stages, no one had suspected her mother of being hooked on opioids either. Her heart ached at the thought of Tucker going through addiction hell.
July nibbled her lip. Maybe, if she asked the right questions, she could unearth the truth. “What about your mother? Do you get along with her?”
“I never knew her. She left when I was two.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Still, something like that has a strong effect on a child.” July knew firsthand what it was like to lose one’s mother at a young age. While her own mother had been there in body, mentally, spiritually, and emotionally, she’d been absent for many years of July’s life.
“You’re not trying to psychoanalyze me, are you?”
“Well...” Did she dare? July hazarded the question. “I was wondering how a handsome, intelligent man like yourself ends up living on the streets. I mean, you have so much going for you.”
“What if I told you I had been a naughty boy?” His voice lowered darkly.
July caught her breath, and a thrill raced through her. Why did she find the prospect enticing? She should be frightened, not turned on.
“Have you done something illegal?” she whispered.
“Do you really want to know the answer to that?”
July’s heart stammered against her rib cage. Her knees felt weak, and for the first time since meeting Tucker, she worried for her safety. What had she done, inviting a complete stranger into her home?
Fresh silence descended, long and scary.
A strange combination of fear and desire mingled in her stomach. She cut along his neckline. Soft hair tumbled down his shoulder. July spied something on Tucker’s neck.
She angled her head for a better look.
A tattoo.
Surprised, she stared at the black scorpion inked high into his nape.
“You have a tattoo,” she squeaked.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s...er...interesting…”
“My brother did it.”
“Oh.”
Unveiling the tattoo put a different spin on things. Standing so close to Tucker, her fingers roving across his skin, July couldn’t have been more turned on if she’d been giving him a full body massage.
Her breasts rose and fell beneath her sweatshirt. Her lower abdomen panged with a sultry heaviness. Oh, this was crazy.
If she had a switch to turn off her attraction, she’d flip it in a nanosecond. But alas, no such switch existed.
“Something the matter?”
“Uh, no.”
“You stopped cutting.”
“Oh, sorry.” Forcing her attention back on his haircut, July did her best to concentrate.
She should have been scared of him. Most rational women would have been in these circumstances. But although there was a dangerous air about him,
July sensed something more. Tucker was afraid to trust people, so he wore a tough persona as a defense against his own pain.
In her line of work, July often met people who were afraid to trust, who’d been hurt so badly, they built a wall around themselves, isolating their feelings.
Tucker possessed all the symptoms. A loner, hesitant to accept help. A man down on his luck, who preferred to suffer by himself rather than risk rejection. A solitary man, shuffling through life without close companionship.
The fact she’d managed to make a chink in his armor and get him talking about himself was a minor miracle.
It was enough for one day, and honestly, more than she could handle.
Tucker shifted in the chair.
If someone had told him getting an ordinary haircut could be erotic, he would have laughed, but July was quickly altering his perception of ordinary.
Her breasts swayed against his shoulders
as she moved. Her scent, fresh and wholesome, filled his nostrils. Her fingers, kneading his scalp, left his entire body pulsating.
He shouldn’t have teased her with the notion he might be a criminal. He didn’t know why he’d hinted at it. Perhaps he’d been trying to warn her.
To his way of thinking, July was far too trusting, and sooner or later she was bound to meet up with an unsavory character. How was she to know that he was the white sheep in his blackguard family?
Yet, he had to admit he found her breezy innocence refreshing. She seemed to be protected by her assumptions that everyone in the world wished her well. How did she do it? How did she maintain her naive belief in mankind?
July hummed tunelessly.
He found the sound adorable and sexy as hell too. A shudder passed through him, and he almost groaned. What was it about her that appealed to him on so many levels? Her guilelessness? Her zest for life? Her optimism?
Tucker had no doubt that making love to her would be unbelievably hot. But he would never have the opportunity to find out. He felt bad, using her to his advantage. He would not stoop to seducing her, no matter how much he might want to feel their bodies joined. Tucker sucked in his breath.
“Oh my gosh, did I nick your ear?” July sounded horrified.
“No.”
“Are you sure?” She peeked around at him, her face anxious.
“I’m fine.”
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
“Hey, you can’t quit now. You’ve started something, July.”
“Started something?” Her voice quaked.
“The haircut.”
“Oh, yeah.” She laughed nervously.
“What did you think I meant?”
“Is it warm in here,” she asked, “or is it just me?”
“I’m hot.” For the love of Pete, why did every word that came out of his mouth sound like a sexual innuendo?
“I’ll turn down the thermostat.”
Tucker suspected the volcanic heat generating sweat on his brow and the tightness in his jeans had nothing to do with the temperature in the room and everything to do with July.
What had he been thinking when he’d decided to come to her apartment? True enough, his main concern was apprehending the Stravanos brothers. But the attraction he felt for her that morning should have been a warning of things to come. Never ever mix business with pleasure.
So how did he get out of this fix?
Tucker didn’t have the answer. He only knew one thing. He had to leave. Fast. Before he lost all self-control.
6
“All done.” July unclipped the towel from around his neck and admired her handiwork. Not bad, if she did say so herself.
In twenty minutes, Tucker Haynes had been converted from a scruffy ne’er-do-well into a well-groomed man. She could easily see him in a tuxedo, waltzing at a society dance.
Her heart swooned. Wait a minute, July. Slow down. Don’t forget what happened with Dexter. She didn’t need any repeats of that heartache.
Tucker reached a hand to his neck. “Feels airy.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“Thank you,” he said. His brown eyes crinkled at the corners, sending July’s pulse skittering like a stone skipped across a pond. Rising to his feet, he turned to look at her.
He cut an imposing figure—tall, broad shoulders, aloof. The dark and brooding type. The type whose body language cried out for mothering, while at the same time kept people at bay.
If she was smart, she would not get involved with this man on any level. As far as she knew, he could have served time in prison. Yet in her heart, she did not believe that. Something told her she could trust him.
It was in the way he looked at her, the way his fingers had gently massaged her shoulders, how he’d brought her Chinese food to repay a kindness.
Yes, Tucker had honed a tough persona, but she’d stake her reputation as a social worker that it was nothing but a defense. Below the scowl, the contrary attitude, the naughty innuendo, lurked a good man.
“There,” she said brightly. “We’ve made the first step.”
“What’s next?” Tucker asked.
July stroked her chin. “Hmm, you need new clothes. We could hit up Goodwill tomorrow.”
“Listen,” he replied, “I don’t want you to feel like you’ve taken me to raise. I appreciate the haircut and everything, but I can handle it from here on out.”
“Oh.” Disappointment sent her stomach to her feet. He didn’t want her help after all. Hmm, well, okay.
“I better get going.” He made a move for the door.
July frowned. “Do you have somewhere to sleep tonight?”
“Uh...yeah.” He wouldn’t look at her.
“I mean somewhere indoors.”
He shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”
Did she dare invite him to spend the night in her apartment? Common sense told her to see him to the door and wish him goodnight, but the thought of Tucker sleeping outside on the hard ground in this cold weather…well, she just couldn’t do that, could she?
She stood hesitant, her heart warring with her head. Tucker was silhouetted in the lamplight, his face cloaked in shadows. His tall body seemed to fill the entire room.
“I better be going,” he said.
“Wait,” she whispered and took a step forward. She was scared but excited. Her mind battled against her feelings. If they stayed here alone together, constantly within arm’s reach, would she be tempted to satisfy her curiosity about the taste of his lips?
“Yes?” His hand rested on the doorknob.
“Would you like to spend the night? On the couch,” she amended quickly, her stomach doing a backward somersault at the sexy look in his dark-brown eyes.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” Tucker briefly touched his tongue to his upper lip then wrenched open her front door. “It’s best if I leave.”
July crossed her arms over her chest and hunched her shoulders against the blast of cold air. They both stared outside at the fine glaze of ice falling onto the sidewalk. At the same time, the electricity went off, bathing the room in darkness.
“Oh, wow,” she murmured. “There goes the lights.”
“Do you have a flashlight?”
“No, but I have candles. They’re in the bottom drawers of the end tables along with a lighter.”
In the dark, she slowly made her way to the end table beside the sofa. Tucker went to the second end table. They took out candles, settled them on the coffee table, and lit them with the cigarette lighters she kept with the candles.
Soon, two dozen candles were flickering merrily on the coffee table.
July noticed Tucker slid the lighter into his back pocket and a worm of worry wriggled through her. Did he have a habit of taking things that didn’t belong to him?
She didn’t say anything. Maybe he needed a fire to huddle around and since she had two lighters, why not take one? Maybe he didn’t even see copping such a cheap item as stealing. Maybe he was distracted by the power failure and didn’t even realize what he’d done. Either way, if he needed the lighter, she’d let him have it.
Tucker met her gaze over the candles, snaring her as neatly as a rabbit in a trap. “What now?”
“The storm settles it,” July said. “You’re staying here for the night, and I simply won’t take no for an answer.”
Tucker lay on July’s couch, staring at the ceiling, the smell of recently snuffed candle wax in the air. Underneath his head, he folded the memory foam pillow she’d tossed his way before disappearing into the bedroom and clicking the door locked behind her.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the notion that he was the world’s biggest scoundrel—deceiving a naive, trusting woman. Tricking her into letting him stay the night, allowing her to believe she was orchestrating his transformation.
His plan had worked.
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She’d been so easy to manipulate. He should be thrilled. Instead, he wanted to hang his head in shame.
“It’s nothing personal,” he muttered to the ceiling. “Just part of the job.” Still, he couldn’t help thinking about how she’d feel if she ever learned the truth about him. That made him wince. He’d do his best to ensure she never discovered he was an undercover detective who’d used her to catch criminals.
He turned over. The pillow smelled of her. Like freshly sliced lemons on a warm summer’s evening. Her afghan was spread across his legs. The soft yarn tickled his bare skin and sent sizzling sensations rocketing through his brain every time he moved.
This unexpected desire unnerved Tucker far more than he cared to admit. He couldn’t seem to shake the mental image of her wearing those tiny black lace panties and a matching bra. He visualized her smooth, soft skin, her flat little tummy, those creamy thighs.
For the love of Pete, he had to stop thinking like this!
Tucker ran a hand through his freshly shorn hair, but unfortunately, that only served to conjure more memories—the feel of July’s perky little breasts as they’d pressed against his shoulders while she cut his hair, the scent of sesame and soy sauce on her skin, the flicker of surprise in those big green eyes when he’d turned around to look at her after she’d unearthed his tattoo.
Outside, the wind howled, splattering more sleet against the windowpanes. A pink seashell night-light glowed from the hallway. Tucker shifted on the narrow couch and wondered what it would feel like to kiss July.
Lustful thoughts ripped through him. He caught his breath and tried to force the picture of July’s sweet pink mouth from his mind.
Tucker got to his feet. The afghan slid slowly to the floor. He’d draped his blue jeans across July’s rocking chair and was dressed only in his boxer shorts and T-shirt.
The floorboards creaked under his weight as he edged toward the window. A flashlight shone in the ground floor apartment across the courtyard.
Angry with himself, Tucker glanced at his watch. It was after midnight. He and July had gone to bed a little before eleven.
Sometime in the last hour, the Stravanos brothers had returned home. If he hadn’t been so wrapped up in sensuous visions of Miss July Johnson, he would have noticed.