After Rachel left, Kyle stared at the empty doorway for several seconds. Something in the woman’s parting remark left him with a vague, unsettling feeling that trouble was brewing.
Shaking his head, he murmured, “Don’t be an idiot, Prentice. All Rachel did was promise to have Cindy back in time for the meeting.”
He focused his attention once again on his presentation notes. But the odd anxiety continued to hover over him, stirring up an edginess in him that he hadn’t felt for a long while....
Cindy parked her car in the lot, picked up her leather satchel and started across the asphalt lot toward the double glass doors of Barrington’s front entrance. Her steps slowed when she spied Rachel, Olivia and Molly pushing out the doors and coming toward her.
“Hey, guys,” she said, chuckling, “it’s awfully early to be leaving the building, don’t you think?”
Cheerful greetings were exchanged, and then Cindy’s gaze narrowed on Olivia’s face. “Are you feeling okay?” Cindy asked. “You look a little pale.”
“I do believe I’m coming down with something,” Olivia complained softly.
“Are you up to going with us?” Concern wrinkled Molly’s brow.
“Absolutely,” Olivia said, her voice sounding stronger. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world!”
“Miss what?” Sudden interest pumped through Cindy’s body like a quick shot of caffeine. “Where’re you guys going?”
“Not ‘you guys,”’ Rachel said.
“Us guys,” Molly added. “You’re going, too.”
“B-but,” Cindy stammered. However, before she could get out a complete thought, Molly had taken her satchel from her and Rachel had spun her around until she was facing away from the building.
“I can’t go anywhere,” Cindy protested, allowing herself to be propelled a few steps. “I have too much to do. The presentation is today. I’ve got to check to make sure the arrangements I made for the conference room are going smoothly. I have copies to make. I have to touch base with Catering about the coffee and Danishes.”
“Everything will be taken care of,” Rachel assured her. “Patricia’s going to handle everything.”
“But Kyle’s waiting for me,” Cindy said, trying without success to turn her head to look at Barrington Corp. “We planned to go over our notes together.”
Molly laughed. “If I know you and Kyle, you’ve both been over that presentation three times already.”
“Well, yes,” Cindy reluctantly admitted, “we have. But he’s expecting me.”
“No, he isn’t,” Olivia told her. “Rachel got Kyle’s permission.”
“Permission for what?” Cindy turned her gaze on Rachel.
The woman grinned. “He told me I could borrow you this morning.”
“Borrow me?” Cindy grumbled. “Isn’t this more like kidnapping?”
“Exactly.” Molly’s eyes glittered merrily with laughter. “Come along quietly, sweetheart—” her voice dipped low in a humorous gangster imitation “—and nobody will get hurt.”
“But where are we going?”
By then they had reached Molly’s sleek, white Lexus. As Cindy found herself ushered into the back seat by Rachel, she couldn’t help but wonder for the umpteenth time how Molly managed to afford such a car. However, the thought flitted away as she said, “Guys, today really isn’t a good day for...for whatever it is you have planned. I have work to do.”
“We’ll have you back in plenty of time.”
Rachel’s pat on the hand was meant as some sort of reassurance, Cindy was sure. But Cindy wasn’t reassured.
“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” she asked.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Olivia said, getting into the front with Molly. The sly smile she tossed over her shoulder hinted at something very exciting.
With a frustrated sigh, Cindy latched her seat belt, sat back against the smooth leather seat and awaited her fate.
They traveled toward the very center of Phoenix. Molly expertly maneuvered through the morning traffic, and before Cindy was put through too much miserable waiting and wondering, the car was parked, the engine cut off.
“Okay,” Molly sang, “everybody out.”
The three of them hustled Cindy along one block and then approached what looked like a newly renovated building.
When she saw the sign in the window, Cindy dug in her heels. “Wait just a minute,” she said.
“Oh, now,” Rachel said. “Be a sport, Cindy.”
“We all chipped in,” Molly said. “This is a belated birthday present.”
Olivia nudged Cindy forward. “Let us do something nice for you. Please.”
“We’ve set you up for the works,” Rachel said. “Massage, facial, makeup, hairstyling, manicure. Heck, the shop threw in a pedicure for free.”
Cindy’s gaze left the Body Beauty Spa window and then briefly lighted on each of her friends’ faces. They looked so excited, so pleased with themselves for offering her this gift. How could she refuse? To turn them down would surely hurt their feelings.
With her shoulders rounding in surrender, Cindy allowed them to lead her inside.
“Chris is fabulous,” Molly told her. “In my opinion, he’s the best stylist in the city. And the masseuse here has hands of gold. She’s just the best. She’ll have you feeling so relaxed, you’ll feel you’ve melted right into the massage table.”
“You come here?” Cindy asked, surprised that Molly could pay for such luxury on her salary.
Molly gave a little shrug. “I wouldn’t call myself a regular customer,” she said, “but I have been here a few times.”
Cindy was left thinking, yet again, that there was more to Molly than she was willing to reveal.
Even though it was a weekday, and in Cindy’s mind a workday morning, the spa was bustling with activity. The hair salon, located just behind the half wall at the rear of the waiting area, had several customers in various stages of the styling process. A young woman carried a neatly folded pile of fluffy white towels down the hall toward the back of the building. The salon/spa phone was ringing, so the receptionist, looking quite chic in her maternity business suit, smiled a quick greeting and told Cindy and her small entourage to have a seat. She then answered the incoming call.
The four women settled themselves, and Rachel commented, “This place is really busy this morning.”
Suddenly all eyes were on Olivia as she picked up a magazine from the end table and began fanning herself with it. “Whew,” she said. “I don’t know if it’s all the excitement, or what, but I’m not feeling so well.”
Cindy did think Olivia’s face was too pale. She started to say just that, but Olivia’s eyes widened, her hand pressing to her stomach.
“I need to find the rest room.” Olivia bolted from her chair and then dashed out of the lounge in the direction the receptionist pointed.
“That flu is really getting to her,” Molly said.
Rachel watched the empty doorway. “It’s funny, though, that she hasn’t suffered any other flu symptoms. A cough, or the sniffles.”
A few minutes later, Olivia returned looking paler than ever.
“I lost my breakfast,” she told them miserably. She sat down, swiping her fingers across her damp forehead.
“Here, try one of these.” The receptionist approached them, a small bag of saltine crackers in her hand. “I keep them in my desk drawer. The bland taste helps settle my stomach.” Her mouth cocked in an ironic grin. “They call it morning sickness, but I can get nauseated any time of the day.”
Cindy remembered that the night of her birthday dinner, Olivia had tinged green at the sight of the guacamole dip. And she hadn’t had anything to drink except water. Now here it was, two days later, and Olivia was still feeling sick. Molly was right, that stomach flu really did have a tight hold on Olivia.
Unwittingly, Cindy’s gaze fell on the pregnant receptionist, one hand holding the package of crackers, the other mate
rnally settled on her slightly rounded tummy. She smiled at the sight. Then Cindy looked at Olivia. Her friend nibbled the cracker she held in one hand—her other nestled snugly on her lower abdomen.
Blinking twice, Cindy felt her jaw go slack with the shocking thought. Could Olivia be...pregnant? Could her nausea be caused because she’s expecting a baby, rather than because she’s contracted the flu?
Before she could give the idea another thought, a stylishly dressed woman came into the waiting area to collect her for her appointment.
“We’re ready for you, Cindy,” the woman said.
How on earth this woman knew exactly which one of them to address was a mystery to Cindy.
“B-but,” Cindy said, feeling suddenly panicked for some reason, “what about Olivia? Maybe we should take her home. Maybe we should come back some other—”
“Oh, no,” Olivia said. “I’ll be fine. You go. Go right now. You’re not missing this opportunity because of me.”
“But,” Cindy repeated.
“No buts.” Rachel’s tone was firm.
“We’ll take care of Olivia,” Molly told her. “In fact, we’ll drive her home. It’ll be hours before you’re finished here.”
“Hours?” Cindy’s gaze was glued to Molly’s face, but she felt the stylish woman take her by the arm and gently guide her away from her friends. “How many hours?”
“Just a few.” A merry light danced in Molly’s eyes.
Cindy allowed herself to be steered farther into the building. With her head pounding, her blood whooshing through her ears, she valiantly fought the enormous sensation that she was being led straight to the gallows.
“I’ve died and gone straight to heaven,” Cindy had murmured softly twenty minutes into her massage. Molly had been right; the masseuse had hands that were worth their weight in pure gold.
Cindy had been rubbed and steamed in the sauna and scrubbed with a fragrant almond facial mask. Her entire body had been wrapped with seaweed—“To draw out the toxins” she’d been told. And Cindy hadn’t even known she had any toxins. Then she’d soaked in a warm tub of mineral water. She’d been whisked from one phase of her total body makeover to the next, a fresh, fluffy towel waiting for her at the end of each.
Her nails—fingers and toes—had been trimmed and filed, buffed and polished. She’d murmured a protest when the manicurist had reached for a small bottle of ruby red gloss. Cindy had never painted her nails and wasn’t sure she’d be comfortable with it, but she had been quickly informed that Molly and the others had requested the daring hue. In the end, she’d given a reluctant nod.
Soon she’d found herself in the styling salon. Her hair had been washed and cut, and then a lightening rinse had been applied.
“To bring out your beautiful golden highlights,” Chris, the stylist, had told her in a reassuring voice.
With her damp hair wrapped in a towel, Cindy had a session with a cosmetologist. Cindy’s eyebrows had been shaped, her skin moisturized, its tone evened out with foundation. Eyeliner had been applied, along with shadow, mascara and blush. The crowning touch had been the application of lipstick. However, before Cindy was allowed to view herself in a mirror, she’d been hustled back to Chris who had dried and styled her new haircut.
Just a little over three hours after having entered the spa, Cindy was handed her glasses, which she slid onto her face, and then she was spun around to face the looking glass.
She gasped, stunned utterly speechless.
Her hair tumbled in soft curls to her jawline, tiny wisps framing her face. And the makeup. She’d been scared witless that the woman who had applied the color would go overboard, but Cindy was pleasantly surprised by how natural she looked. The eye makeup and blush simply enhanced her features rather than made them into some sort of bold statement.
Finally she let out her breath. That gorgeous woman staring back at her couldn’t be Cindy Cooper, could it?
Suddenly she realized that a group of people had gathered behind her. She saw their reflections in the mirror. All the staff who had worked on her that morning were there: the masseuse, the seaweed-wrapping aesthetician, the manicurist and cosmetologist, and of course Chris, the hair stylist. They looked at her expectantly, each one gauging her reaction to their work.
Finally Chris tentatively asked, “You do like it?”
Cindy’s gaze leveled once more on her reflection. I don’t really know, she wanted to tell him. I have no clue who that woman is staring back at me.
You can’t say that, a firm, silent voice chastised her. These people have put a great deal of effort into this makeover. Your friends have paid good money for your time here. Cindy knew what she had to do.
She smiled broadly. “I look great,” she told them. “And I feel wonderful. All of you did a marvelous job.”
The Body Beauty Spa staff clapped and smiled, a couple of them voicing their approval of the changes that had been made. They obviously thought they had done a marvelous job, as well.
Cindy was hurried off to the changing room to slip back into her clothes. She kept glancing into the mirror every other second. She just couldn’t help it. That woman looked so...different.
What would her friends say when they saw her? she wondered. What would they think? Would their treatment of her change?
Of course not! Molly and Olivia, Rachel, Sophia and Patricia had all pitched in for this makeover. They expected this metamorphosis.
But Kyle didn’t. As Cindy smoothed her hand over the soft pleats of her long skirt, she couldn’t help but wonder how he would react.
“Oh, my,” Molly whispered.
“You’re stunning,” Rachel added.
Cindy felt herself blush as she stood in the lounge area of the spa, her friends giving her a thorough examination. They looked her over, head to foot, requesting a slow turn so they could get a complete view.
“Oh, my,” Molly repeated.
“Stop,” Cindy said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “You’d think I was a toad turned into a princess, or something. It’s still me.”
I think. The words echoed through her head. She felt as though she were floating several inches above the floor. She felt...pretty. She knew she looked chic, fashionable, for the first time in her life.
A part of her wanted to feel disgusted with the happiness bubbling inside her. But she shoved the bad emotions away. She was determined to enjoy this gift, at least for a little while, before she let her dark feelings ruin it.
“The great part is,” Cindy told them, “it’s barely noon. I still have time to get back to Barrington and go over—”
“But we’re not finished,” Rachel said.
Molly chuckled. “That’s right. We’re not finished.”
Cindy frowned. “What do you mean? What more can be done? I’ve been buffed and spiffed up—” she looked down the length of her and then grinned at her friends “—pretty much to perfection.”
Rachel and Molly looked relieved and happy that Cindy was pleased with her visit to the spa. She was more than pleased, actually. Even though she knew she shouldn’t be.
“Come on,” Molly said. “We have another appointment.”
“With my optometrist,” Rachel revealed.
Cindy frowned. “B-but...”
Her friends hadn’t listened to a word she’d said. Her arguments that she had her own eye doctor, that she’d just had her exam a few weeks ago and wouldn’t need another for over ten whole months, had fallen on deaf ears.
“Dr. Henry is my eye guy,” Rachel said. “He’s agreed to fit you with a free pair of sample contact lenses. You’ll love them.”
“B-but...” Cindy had discovered that was her catch phrase of the day.
Forty minutes later, she was blinking her eyes, getting used to the contacts. Dr. Henry had expertly placed them in her eyes, and as she looked at herself in yet another mirror, she saw that his ministrations hadn’t smudged her mascara or smeared her eyeliner.
“Lord,” Rac
hel exclaimed, “look at the size of those green eyes you’ve been hiding.”
“Oh, my,” was all Molly was able to say.
Rachel smiled warmly at Dr. Henry, giving him her thanks, and then she and Molly hurried Cindy out the door and off they went. This time to the nearest department store.
Cindy found herself thrust into a fitting room and her friends brought her outfits to try on. Like a good little girl, Cindy donned each one, although these clothes were not to her usual taste. The colors were too bold, the styles too...tight. Too confining. Well, neither of these words was exactly right. The business suits Rachel and Molly chose were simply too revealing for Cindy’s taste. The skirts were cut well above the knee. The jackets and tops had plunging necklines. Yes, they fit, and the clothes were comfortable enough. It was just that Cindy—
“I vote for this one,” Molly said of the suit Cindy now had on. “Red just shouts ‘Notice me!’”
“I liked the lime green one,” Rachel said. “The color brings out your eyes.”
Cindy perused her reflection in the three-paneled mirror. She felt an overwhelming urge to tug at the hem of the red skirt.
“I can’t do this,” she said. “I can’t go to work dressed like a...like a floozy.”
Rachel actually laughed. “A what?”
“This skirt is too short,” Cindy complained. “And...” She paused, fanning her fingers at her chest. “And my boobs are hanging out.”
She stood staring at herself. Suddenly she noticed that both of her friends had grown quiet. She slowly turned to face them.
Cindy was immediately aware of their hurt expressions.
“What?” she asked. “What did I say?”
“So you think we’re floozies,” Molly said quietly.
“We never knew you felt that way.” Rachel crossed her arms over her chest.
Looking over the women, Cindy realized that the suits they had chosen for her resembled the ones they were wearing at the moment. But for some reason, their clothing didn’t look quite as risqué as the suit she had on.
“I didn’t mean that!” she cried. “I didn’t mean that at all!”
The Boss and the Beauty Page 3