At first, the same old fears threatened to sabotage Mel’s newfound courage, but she forced herself to stay strong. A few people caught her eye as she and Lilly made their way across the crowded, dimly lit room. Two guys in suits and loosened ties gave her lopsided smiles, looking her up and down. That was a good sign, right? Frankly, it was more interest than Mel had ever gotten from one of her dates. Heck, the second guy even winked at her.
Feeling a confidence boost, Mel grinned back. That earned her a leering catcall.
She frowned. Okay, maybe not so good after all. She wanted to be the life of the party as much as the next gal, but those two guys didn’t even know her. How dare they treat her like a side of choice beef? She did a quick check of her tiny dress to make sure everything was still covered just in case.
At last, they reached the far corner of the place and the rowdy table, which turned out to be Dom and the guys from Victory Vets.
“Hey, baby.” Lilly bent to drop a quick kiss on Dom’s cheek. “You all know Mel, yes?”
Mel found herself tugged forward. Adam sat on the far side of the table, along with other mechanics from his garage. Lordy, the guy could fill out a black T-shirt like nobody’s business, all lean sinew and hard muscle. His raven-dark hair was tamed tonight, combed back to reveal his gorgeous blue eyes. There was a hint of dark stubble on his jaw again, and Mel felt the insane urge to run her tongue over it to see if he tasted as good as he looked.
“Hey, Mel.” Dom got up to grab a couple of spare chairs for them. “Have a seat, ladies.”
“Thanks.” Mel squeezed in between Adam and Jag.
“You, uh, look different tonight,” Adam said, watching her.
Okay, not exactly the compliment she’d been hoping for, but having his undivided attention made her insides quiver. Still, she wanted to show him she wasn’t as desperate as she’d come across before, so she turned to Jag instead. Except Jag was focused solely on the game on TV, which was going into its ninth inning, from what the announcer said.
“How are things at the garage, Jag?” Mel asked loudly, hoping to gain the guy’s attention. Not exactly world-class small talk, but it would have to do on such short notice.
Jag grunted in answer, fumbling for his beer on the table without looking.
Meanwhile, Mel could still hear those two guys in suits at the bar shouting lewd remarks in her direction. Her stomach clenched. She gave a nervous glance in Adam’s direction and saw his frown had now darkened into a scowl as he glared at the men.
“Can I speak to you for a minute, Mel?” Adam stood and took her arm, leading her to a secluded hallway near the restrooms. He stuck close by her side, near the wall, blocking her from any prying views. “What the hell are you doing?”
Hurt and anger welled up inside her at his icy tone. He’d had his chance the other night, and he’d turned her down. Adam had no right to an opinion anymore. She could wear what she liked, do what she liked, with anyone she liked. “Lilly came over and asked me to go out. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“It is my business when you come in here wearing a dress so short it leaves nothing to the imagination. I promised James I’d look out for you.” His voice, deep and hard, sent a chill down her spine. Adam turned to shoot a scathing look at the two snickering guys at the bar over his shoulder. They shut up immediately. He turned back to Mel and took her chin between his fingers. “Did Lilly do this?”
“Yes.” She shook off his touch, ignoring the thrum of her pulse and sizzle of nerve endings across her skin from his closeness. Adam Foster as a brooding bad boy was dangerous enough to her heart. Adam when he got all alpha-protective? Well, that was downright lethal. She battled the tingle in her traitorous knees and raised her head in defiance. “Why? Are you jealous?”
“No.” He rested his palm on the wall beside her head, his heat surrounding her as his expression softened into something far worse than anger. Pity. “I’m not jealous.”
Her eyes stung, and she bit her lip hard to keep from crying. She would not cry. She wouldn’t. That would only make this night even worse. Despite her efforts, Adam’s gorgeous face blurred. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks. She really was as pathetic as she’d led him to believe. Strike two. One more fail with Adam and she’d be out of chances with him completely.
…
Damn. Adam swore softly and lowered his head. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. He’d only wanted to protect her from those jackal playboys who frequented this place. He should know. Hell, he’d been one of them on occasion. Not that he was proud of it.
Adam did his best to shield her from the rest of the patrons and grabbed a napkin off the nearby service cart to hand to her. He’d also not been completely honest. He wouldn’t exactly call what he felt jealousy, but he also wasn’t okay with other men ogling Mel’s assets, either, no matter how adorably they might be displayed in that red scrap of fabric she seemed to think passed for a dress. It was a free country. She had the right to wear what she wanted without being harassed for it. He longed to slam a fist into the faces of those two bastards at the bar to prove his point.
Still, if Mel had been going for a change, she couldn’t have gone more drastic than this.
Adam’s pulse thundered loudly in his ears. Every time he’d glimpsed Mel over the past eight months he’d been back in town, she’d always looked so professional, so prim and proper. Tonight, she looked vibrant and free and more than a little scorching hot. Which made it all the harder to keep her where she needed to be in his mind.
Securing Mel in a tidy friend-zone box, with a side of best friend’s little sis, helped Adam stay on the straight and narrow where she was concerned. But seeing her now, with legs up to there and a dress cut low enough to offer a tantalizing hint of the soft curves beneath, sent a shot of adrenaline straight southward for Adam. And that was unacceptable.
In front of him, Mel sniffled, drawing him back to the present. Empathy flooded his system, dampening his arousal, and Adam sighed. “It’s not that bad. Please don’t cry.”
“Perfect. Just the look I was going for this evening. ‘Not that bad.’” She added air quotes for emphasis. Her hands brushed his chest, sending shocks of awareness through his torso.
He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m doing the best I can here.”
“Really? You’re doing the best you can, huh? Because it sure doesn’t seem like it. I can’t believe you won’t help me. After I sat there and laid out all my dating horrors in excruciating detail the other night in my kitchen.” More tears welled, and Mel sagged against his chest.
Adam stiffened at first, then relaxed into her, because really, what could he do?
Her sweet scent surrounded him once more—cherry blossoms and vanilla, mixed tonight with a hint of roses from whatever stuff she’d used in her hair—chasing away the harsh scents of the pub. He forced himself to focus on the graffiti-carved wooden wall behind her head and not how she felt pressed to his front, all soft and warm and welcoming. Nope. Not thinking about that at all. Because if he thought about that, Adam wasn’t sure he could stop himself from gathering her closer, from resting his cheek atop her silky hair. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying because I’m upset. I’m crying because I’m mad. I hate crying. I’m not a baby.” Her words were muffled by the front of his T-shirt, and he had to strain to hear them over the din in the bar and the race of blood in his head.
Adam did his best to distract himself. “I remember when you were a kid and you and James would fight. Your face would get all red and scrunched up and you’d be screaming at him and sobbing all at the same time. Quite a sight to behold. Like that dude in that animated emotions movie, with the flames shooting out the top of his head.”
She smacked him on the arm, but soon her shoulders were shaking from laughter, a good sign in Adam’s book. He pulled back, and Mel dabbed her face with the napkin. “Can you grab my purse from the table? I want to check my face.”
“Sure
thing.” He slipped over and got it, then was back by her side in seconds. The last thing he wanted was for one of those idiot players to come over and try to pick her up when she was vulnerable. Mel needed someone to look out for her.
She offered you that job.
His gut knotted. Yeah, she had. And he’d turned it down.
“Oh, God.” Mel tried to wipe away the smudges of mascara staining the skin beneath her eyes with one hand while holding a tiny mirror with the other, but all it did was make her look like a raccoon. “Remember when we went to the state fair and James talked me into getting my face painted like the Joker? This is way worse.”
They stared at each other across a few inches before cracking up completely again. The unbearable tension between them that had started the minute she’d walked up to the table tonight finally lifted, and Adam could breathe again.
Mel’s laughter drifted over him like the wind chimes his mom used to hang from the front of their old house when he’d been a toddler. They’d fascinated him then, with their lilting, soothing quality. He felt the same way now—enchanted, mesmerized.
Whoa there, cowboy.
He couldn’t fall down that slippery slope again, because each time it was getting more difficult to bring himself back to reality. And reality was that helping Mel with her “special project” would be nothing short of stupid. He was already having fantasies about her and that crooked little grin of hers, wishing he could make her smile like that forever. He’d never survive if they spent 24-7 working together to get her a decent date.
“Oh well.” Mel straightened her tiny dress, then pushed away from the wall and him. “Back to the trenches.”
“Wait.” Adam placed his other hand on the wall beside her, caging her in before he realized what he was doing. All he knew was he didn’t want her to go. Not yet. “You don’t have to do this, Mel. The whole makeover thing.”
“Yeah, I do.” She blinked up at him with those pretty brown eyes, so bright and innocent and determined. “I realize you don’t get it, but I need to do this. For me.”
His protective instincts intensified. He’d known her for years. He’d seen her strength, her resilience. He knew she wouldn’t give up until she achieved her goal, one way or the other.
Which meant Adam could watch her from the sidelines, or he could actively participate, where at least he could work to keep her safe and protected. When he thought of it that way, helping her made sense.
In the end, there was no choice at all.
“What other plans does Lilly have for you?” he asked.
Mel shrugged. “She got me an appointment with the salon she goes to in Indy this Friday. Then we were going to have lunch and shop afterward for a new wardrobe.”
“I’ll take you,” Adam said before he thought better of it. “I’ve got the day off from the garage. If you still want me to help you, that is.”
She blinked at him wide-eyed, looking about as shocked as he felt. “You will?”
“Yes, but with ground rules.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll help with the makeover and pointers about men and dating, but that’s it. No practice runs. And you’re on your own with the love part. I don’t do love.”
That should cover the bases. Neat, safe, secure.
Then Mel licked her lips, and he tracked the small movement, unable to look away.
“Okay,” she said. “Deal.”
Adam wanted to run, wanted to hide, wanted to kiss her so badly it nearly drove him batty. But this was Mel. James’s kid sister. Practically family. Besides, he’d kissed so many women over the years he’d lost count a long time ago. Beautiful women, confident women. But no other woman had ever affected him like Mel. In fact, she kind of intimidated him, to be honest. She was way too good for him. Way out of his league.
The knowing didn’t stop the wanting.
When he stood motionless, Mel glanced up at him, confused. “Adam?”
Time slowed as his fingers clasped hers and his universe tilted on its axis. “Deal.”
Chapter Six
Friday afternoon, Mel sat in stunned silence inside the luxurious spa atmosphere of Belle Journèe salon as Lilly’s stylist, Marguerite, snipped and measured what seemed like each strand of hair on Mel’s head. Snipped and measured again, over and over with precise little moves. They’d walked in an hour prior, and the slender stylist had pulled Mel into the back immediately to start her transformation.
Prior to cutting, Marguerite had painted tiny strips of color onto the front and sides of Mel’s brown hair, then carefully wrapped each strip in foil, leaving shiny multicolored tabs sticking up all over her head. Highlights, she’d been informed.
Now she moved back and forth, from one side of Mel’s chair to the other, expression brimming with concentration. She wore all black—leggings, turtleneck, and smock—hair in a bright-turquoise-and-pink fauxhawk and full makeup to match. Lilly had mentioned Marguerite was transitioning gender and for Mel to please be respectful of that. Mel was more than respectful; she was in awe. Marguerite was quite possibly one of the most beautiful people she’d ever seen. Plus, with all those well-placed piercings, Marguerite made Mel seriously consider getting a few new ones herself. She’d only ever had her ears pierced, once in each lobe. But now, as she admired the tiny diamond stud glinting from Marguerite’s right nostril and another through her left eyebrow, she wondered if she should shake things up in her makeover to more than just her hair and makeup. Mel giggled as images of her elderly volunteers at the library reacting with horror if she came home with a nose ring filled her mind.
“If you keep moving, honey, I can’t be responsible for the accuracy of your cut,” Marguerite said, giving Mel a stern stare and a smile edged with annoyance. “I pride myself on accuracy, among other things.”
Mel stilled, staring across the salon and out into the waiting room where Adam sat alone, looking as out of place as a priest in purgatory. Lilly had cancelled at the last minute, leaving the two of them on their own. Still, he’d promised to stay by her side until her birthday. That was their deadline. She just hoped whatever magic had made him agree to help continued, at least a little longer.
“Almost done.” Marguerite swiveled the chair slightly, so Mel faced away from Adam, leaving her with only a bare white wall to stare at.
Right. Okay. “How long have you been interested in beauty?”
“From the womb, honey.” Marguerite gave an aggrieved sigh. “No more talking. It messes with my mojo. Sit back, relax, and we’ll discuss more after your big reveal.”
Another swivel of her chair, and Mel got another peek at Adam. This time he was looking at her and gave a quick lift of his chin for encouragement. Her stomach knotted. The anticipation was killing her. She turned slightly, thinking she might catch a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, but nope. All she got for her effort was a temperamental grunt from Marguerite and a firm hand on either side of her head, forcing it front again.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Marguerite stopped working and hauled Mel over to the shampoo area. Her hair was washed and rinsed to within an inch of its life, and all those tiny foils were removed. Then a towel was draped over her head, again preventing her from seeing anything as she was led back to the stylist’s station, where Marguerite blow-dried and fluffed her new do.
At last, the stylist stepped back and gave Mel a beaming smile. “I have outdone myself this time, honey. You are magnificent.”
Mel turned slowly to face the mirror and… Wow!
What a difference a cut and color made. Where her hair had been flat brown before, now there were shimmering highlights of caramel and auburn and even blond running through it. There were layers, too, around her face and through the crown, adding much-needed volume. She wasn’t club-ready yet, given her lack of makeup, but she was closer than when she’d walked in.
As Marguerite went to fetch the tools for the next part of the makeover, Mel glanced up to find Adam approaching from the lobby, the loo
k on his face an odd mix of wariness and wonder. Her heart tripped. Not exactly overwhelming enthusiasm, but not outright dislike, either. He seemed a bit stunned by her new haircut, actually, as he stopped beside her chair, staring.
“I like it,” she said. It was true, even though his silence was making Mel feel awkward. “A lot.”
Adam found his voice at last, his words emerging low and rough and filled with surprise. “It’s…wow. It’s good, Mel. Brings out the gold in your eyes.”
The tightness inside her melted into warm fuzziness.
Marguerite returned with a plastic caddy filled with brushes and tubes and pots of color, similar to what Lilly had had the other night. The stylist turned to Adam and gave him a once-over before hiking a thumb at the empty chair at the next station. “Have a seat.”
Soon, the stylist buzzed around Mel again, this time patting her face with powders and gels and concealers, after tweezing her brows. “Honey, you have beautiful skin. Not a lot of foundation or touch-up needed. We want to enhance, not cover you up. A little goes a long way.”
Mel noted the colors Marguerite used—sparkly peach blush, coppery eye shadow, black eyeliner and mascara, a pinkish nude lip stain. Adam sat at the station across from her, staring at the toes of his boots. Or maybe he’d fallen asleep. Mel couldn’t be sure. Time had a way of going off-kilter in this place.
“Done!” Marguerite stepped back, and Mel locked eyes with her new reflection for the second time, not quite believing what she saw. She touched her cheek, then the soft wisps of hair around her face. Adam had been right. The new hair color did bring out the gold in her eyes. The makeup was just right, too, this time. No garish red lips in sight today, only Mel. Improved. Looking professional, confident, and more than a tad bit sexy.
Okay. A whole lot sexy.
“Is it really me?” she whispered.
“It is.” Adam stepped in beside her chair again, sliding a finger inside the crew neck of his black T-shirt, his blue eyes darkening.
How to Seduce a Bad Boy Page 5