All of Me: A Confessions of the Heart Stand-Alone Novel

by Jackson, A. L.

  “I’d call it stalking.” I didn’t know whether I was flirting, falling into that trap, or if the tumble in my belly was a true-sort of terror.

  Intuition.

  A warning glowing from deep within that warned me to step away.

  He laughed a low sound. As if I were completely ridiculous. The gorgeous stranger set an elbow on the arm of the chair, resting one side of his strong jaw in the crook between his thumb and forefinger, smiling at me through his reflection.

  “Do I look like the kind of guy who needs to stalk a woman to get her into his bed?”

  Not even close.

  Hell, they probably fought to get their chance at claiming that spot.

  “No, you don’t. But you don’t really strike me as the type of man who likes being told no, either.”

  “I have to admit, I was . . . disappointed,” he seemed to settle on with a twitch of his lips.

  “Is that why you’re here? To convince me to fall into your bed?” The question was a tangle I could barely force off my tongue.

  “Won’t deny that I wanted you the second I saw you.”

  His voice dropped, low enough that no one else in the salon could hear. “Won’t deny that I’m looking at you right now and imagining all the things I want to do to you, and no, I won’t deny that I’m usually a man who gets what he wants. But sadly, that’s not why I’m here.”

  God. Even his voice had my insides doing stupid things. His tone both seduction and a threat.

  “I told you . . . you don’t know me or what I’m going through. Believe me, it was better we left it as we did.”

  Okay, so maybe my mind was still tripped up on exactly what he might be imagining. Insides shaking with what that might be like. Somehow feeling like I needed to throw out a defense considering the man was sitting right there, in my chair.

  Looking way too pretty. Far too sexy.

  Edible.

  But that was the kind of craving I couldn’t give in to.

  “Or maybe we should pick up where we left off,” he countered.

  He arched a brow, voice so rough and low. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel this. That you don’t want to explore it.”

  “Just because I might want something, it doesn’t mean it’s good for me.”

  “Oh, I can promise you it will be good.”

  Shivers streaked across my skin, and I tried to ignore the way he had me in knots. I huffed out in disbelief, as feigned as it was, trying to steel myself against the all-out assault that was this man.

  “So that’s just it? You found me because I turned you down on Saturday night?”

  In some kind of discomfort, he fiddled with the expensive watch he wore. Instantly, my eyes went back to the swirls of mystery on his arms. The only thing I could distinctly make out was a demon on the top part of his left forearm.

  Screaming.

  Screaming as if it were in pain.

  “Didn’t I already say that’s not why I came here?” He was doing that arrogant thing. You know, just breathing. As if he held the power to command all the air.

  Flustered, I scowled at him, not sure if I wanted to shake him or climb onto his damned lap. He was making me crazy.

  “Then you’d better start talking, or you can stand up and walk right out of here because I don’t have the time to play games.”

  “You want the truth?”

  “Yes.”

  He fumbled out a sigh, like actually being truthful might cause him discomfort. “The main reason is I needed to make sure that you were okay. You took off before I could find out if you were really injured or not.”

  He lifted his chin in some kind of challenge. One I got the distinct feeling he was directing at himself.

  As if he couldn’t actually believe he was admitting it. “I was worried about you, and that’s not okay with me. You didn’t give me the chance to ensure you were safe.”

  So, he needed to wipe me off his conscience?

  I narrowed my gaze at him. “Men like you don’t deserve that chance.”

  He scrubbed his palm on his pants. In all his over-the-top arrogance, he somehow looked nervous. Agitated. All of it was underlined with the type of overbearing confidence that made it come off as if it made him mad. “I deserve that,” he said with a tight nod.

  “And . . . what else? You said mostly.”

  The man situated himself in the chair so he could pull something out of his front pocket.

  My wallet.

  My eyes went wide. “Oh, thank goodness, you found my wallet. I went back there yesterday to see if I’d dropped it on the ground. I thought I was going to have to spend my day down at the DMV trying to get things sorted.”

  Then he dug a little deeper . . . and . . .

  My hands flew to my mouth when I saw what he was holding. “My bracelet. Oh my God, you found my bracelet. I thought . . . I thought I’d lost it forever.”

  My favorite bracelet.

  By no stretch of the imagination was it valuable, but to me, it was a priceless heirloom.

  Three dangling gemstone charms, as fake as could be.

  A ruby, a sapphire, a diamond.

  My babies I kept so close to me.

  “I found them by the curb after you drove away.”

  He waved the tiny, slim card-sleeve in the air as if it were the prize. As if it would mean more to me than anything else. Which under normal circumstances, I could totally understand, but it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

  The only thing that mattered was that bracelet.

  That was when I noticed he had one of the salon’s business cards resting on his knee. I’d stuffed a small stack of them into that sleeve, trying to shove one at Kenneth Millstrom.

  Praying he’d take it.

  That he’d call me.

  Turned out, it’d been one of the smartest things I’d ever done. That was how he’d found me. Why he’d found me.

  Maybe it was fate, after all.

  A genuine smile pulled to my face, gratefulness swelling wide. For a fleeting moment, warmth filled the expansive, empty gulf throbbing at the center of me.

  “I can’t believe you took the time to return my things. I . . . I thought I’d never see it again.”

  I slowly reached out for the bracelet that he was rolling between his fingers, and he seemed to catch on to the fact I cared more about the bracelet than anything else. I met his curious gaze through the mirror as he held it up for me to take.

  That energy shifted.

  Doing something wild.

  A thrash of attraction.

  A lash of need.

  Gulping around it, I took the small bangle and slipped it onto my wrist, emotion growing thick as I traced it with the fingers of my other hand. If I listened closely enough, I could almost hear their little voices shouting in my ear as they jumped around.

  “Happy birthday! Do you like it? We saved all our money!”

  Moisture gathering fast, I looked back at him, meeting those strange-colored eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they glowed red. Like they matched that demon on his arm.

  This unsettled feeling came over me, as if I were being sucked into the aura that radiated from his skin.

  Cruel and evil and kind.

  All of it swirled around him like a whirlwind. As if he were made of them all.

  A toxic, mind-altering cocktail. A sip of bliss. A drop of wickedness.

  “Thank you, so much, for taking the time to find me. To bring this back. I only took it off because it didn’t match that stupid dress,” I admitted.

  Discomfort rolled from him, so different from the dominating stance of a few seconds ago. “It was nothing.”

  “Well, it means something to me. Most people wouldn’t make the effort of hunting someone down like this.”

  “Apparently, I’m good at hunting.” He said it as if he were saying it at his own expense, edged in more of that seduction and a measure of amusement.

  I angled my head, trying to ge
t a read on this man who I just couldn’t put my finger on.

  He shook his head. “Never mind. Honestly, I couldn’t not return them to you. I didn’t know if it was something you’d miss or not.”

  I could see what he was thinking. That it was cheap. Worthless. And still, he’d brought it back as if he’d somehow known it mattered.

  I wrapped my free hand around it and hugged it against my chest. I gave him the most honest answer I could find. “It broke my heart that I might have lost it.”

  It was like a palpable, living piece of me.

  Something I never should have risked taking off in the first place.

  “I’m glad, then.” For the first time, there was something gentle in his eyes.

  “I don’t know how to repay you.”

  Then that gaze flashed, that cocky, confident arrogance surging to the surface. I was all of a sudden realizing what I’d said, what it almost sounded like I’d implied. I started to stammer, “I-I . . .”

  He laughed, letting me off the hook. “That haircut would be nice.”

  “Wow, you really can be a jerk, can’t you?” Somehow a tease managed to weave its way into my tone.

  My guard wavering.

  Not sure if it should stand.

  He cocked a brow. “You have no idea.”

  “I bet you’re not so bad.” Softness lined the words.

  “I’m not a good guy. Don’t make the mistake of believing that.”

  There he went again.

  Attracting and repelling.

  Pushing and pulling.

  Warning me at the same second as he was reeling me in.

  Hooking me. No hope of release.

  I shook it off and gestured toward the sinks on the other side of the pony wall. “Come on over, we’ll get your hair washed.”

  He pushed from the chair, so damned tall, so imposing as he followed.

  My breaths came shorter and shorter with each step that we took.

  The man all around me.

  He sat down and leaned his head back against the headrest on the basin.

  His striking face too close.

  So close.

  Carved, chiseled stone.

  Jaw sharp.

  Eyes deep.

  I turned on the faucet and ran my wrist under the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot. I took the nozzle and wet his hair, words leaving me on a whisper, “Is the temperature okay?”

  “Yes,” he murmured back, watching me. My movements were somehow prolonged as I pumped shampoo onto my hand and began to lather it into his hair.

  As if time had been set to slow. As if the world raced around us, whirs and streaks of color and light, while we were there.

  Stilled.

  My fingers weaving into his soft locks of light-brown hair as if I’d gladly do it all day.

  He moaned this low, sexy sound.

  While my heart sped and awareness spun.

  His nearness overpowering.

  A vibration in the air.

  A low hum running a circuit through my body.

  He watched me with that fierce, unrelenting gaze.

  His lips full.

  So full.

  I gulped and tried to look away, but I felt trapped. Completely consumed by a man whose name I didn’t even know.

  I gently rinsed his hair, lathered in conditioner.

  His chest rose and fell in measured heaves as he sat completely still and let me touch him.

  I’d never, ever had this reaction to a client before.

  Never had my job felt erotic.

  Never had my mind raced with the idea of letting my hands wander. What it might feel like. Wanting to experience it.

  Experience him.

  Oh boy, was I letting my thoughts run out ahead of me.

  I needed to rein them in. Get it together.

  Anything I was feeling was just plain reckless.

  I rinsed out the conditioner and wrapped a towel around his head. Trying to get some space between us, I led him back to my station and watched him fold that big body into the chair.

  I rubbed the towel against his head, watching him over his shoulder. Those eyes were on me. Tracking every movement.

  God, what was happening to me?

  But I couldn’t help it, the way my hands shook as I took the scissors and began to snip away at his hair, as my fingers danced through the locks, as I breathed in his breaths as I leaned in close and used the razor to trim around his ears and neck, then used the dryer to blow out his hair.

  “There, how’s that?” I asked quietly. They were the first words I’d spoken in all that time.

  He ran a big hand over the top of his head, fluffing the pieces and then fingering them back into place. “It’s perfect.”

  Redness threatened to bloom. I didn’t know why. I wasn’t exactly shy. But there was something about him that made me feel both timid and bold.

  Modest and sexy.

  Different.

  I dusted off the fine pieces of hair that I’d cut and removed the robe. “There we go. All done.”

  He didn’t get up. Instead he was still watching me through that mirror. “I have one more favor to ask.”

  I felt the weight of the bracelet on my wrist. “What’s that?”

  “Have a drink with me.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think you already know the answer to that.”

  And he could barely see what was visible on the surface.

  Unaware of the iceberg hidden in the depths of the murky waters. Lying in wait to drag everything I loved into the deepest abyss, forever lost in the cold, cold vacancy.

  His jaw hardened. “Actually, I don’t. Maybe you could let me in on a little of that.”

  I huffed out a soft sound. “I promise you, you don’t want to go there.”

  “What could one drink hurt?”

  There he went again.

  A soft puff of laughter rippled out, and I forced myself to straighten. To put an inch between us. “Oh, I’m sure it could hurt plenty.”

  “What fun is life if it doesn’t hurt a little?”

  “I’ve had enough hurt to last me a long, long time.”

  “Maybe it’s the fun part you’re in need of.”

  I gave him a soft shake of my head. “It’s a bad idea.”

  “I’d make a really good memory.”

  Honesty came bleeding free. “Or a really bad one.”

  And I didn’t have the time or space for that.

  And the last thing I needed was another reason for Reed to go ballistic.

  Then another gush of air was being tugged from my lungs when he pushed to standing.

  He swiveled around and leaned over me. He fluttered his fingertips down my cheek, the man nothing but fire. “Oh, it’d be a good one. Trust me.”

  Cocky, cocky boy.

  Why’d I like that about him?

  But that didn’t change anything.

  “Maybe in another lifetime.”

  He blinked a few times as if he were catching up to another rejection, something I was pretty sure the man had probably never experienced before, and then he moved back to my station. He grabbed the same business card he’d returned to me and a pen from the container.

  He scribbled something on the back of it, glancing at me as he did. “That’s too bad, considering we only have one life to live.”

  He dug into his wallet and pulled out a stack of money.

  Frowning, I rushed, “Oh, no, the cut is on me. I’m just grateful you brought my things back.”

  His head shook, and he set the stack on top of the card. “I think it’s me who owes all the thanks. I mean, look at me.”

  He was all easy smiles when he pointed to his hair that was framing his striking, defined face.

  Right.

  As if I were even a little bit responsible for all that perfection.

  Some things you just had to be born with.


  He started to walk away before he paused, cocking a grin at me from over his shoulder that somehow looked like a grimace. As if he’d managed to read something inside me when I’d never wanted him to have the power to peel back the cover. “Watch out for yourself, Grace. If you need to use that number? Use it.”

  Then he strode off, disappearing out the arch, taking that energy with him.

  I slumped over from the loss of it, hanging onto the back of my chair like I’d forgotten to breathe the entire time he’d been sitting there.

  Or maybe the real problem was that I’d been breathing him in the entire time. The man overwhelming. Filling me too full. Full of foolish feelings and foolish ideas.

  Because I’d wanted to say yes. I’d wanted to spend a few moments prisoner to those strange eyes, lost to that sensation that swept through me every time he was near.

  But it’d be a mistake. I knew it.

  It wasn’t as if I were still married. By the grace of God, I’d been granted that small gift. Cutting my legal tie to Reed. For the time being, I was keeping my last name until I was in the position to change the kids’ last name as well because I didn’t want them to feel separated from me.

  Once I’d been granted the divorce, things had only escalated with Reed, and I couldn’t risk my judgment being called into question. It wasn’t fair, but that was just the way things were.

  With the way he was watching me, I was pretty sure that he knew it, too.

  I moved for the stack of money he’d left. I fluttered my thumb through the bills, scowling when I realized he’d left a pile of five twenties.

  What on earth was he thinking, leaving me a hundred-dollar tip?

  I really hoped he didn’t think I was that kind of easy. Then I picked up the card.

  He’d written his name and number on it.

  Ian Jacobs.

  Ian Jacobs.

  I let his name roll around on the tip of my tongue, fidgeting with the card, trying to convince myself to toss it into the trash.

  Somehow doing it felt like blasphemy.

  I whirled around when the voice hit me from behind. “Um, hello, care to fill me in on whatever was just going down on this side of the salon?”

  Quick to toss the card back onto my station, I lifted a careless brow at Melissa and began to sweep up the little waves of brown hair littered around my chair, fighting the urge to pick a lock up and tuck it into my pocket like some kind of weirdo.