The Makeover Prescription

by Christy Jeffries

  “So, why neurology?” he asked, his eyes squeezed tightly shut behind his sunglasses. Not that he was one for idle chitchat—or any kind of chitchat, really—but if they were going to be stuck in this car that he couldn’t drive with a radio she couldn’t operate, he might as well get the woman talking about herself before she decided to ask him any personal questions.

  “Because it’s the hardest,” Julia said.

  “You mean, it’s hard working with patients who have so much to lose?”

  “Well, that, too, I guess. But I meant it was one of the more intellectually challenging medical specialties. The central nervous system is the control pad that makes all the other body parts function.”

  He didn’t want to point out that in the few times he’d been around her, she hadn’t exactly been all that great with any other types of control pads. Instead he asked, “You chose your specialty because you wanted to be at the top of the field, not because you have a special affinity for the brain?”

  “Well, of course I’m fascinated by the brain. And the cerebrovascular system. I mean, who wouldn’t be?”

  Kane wanted to raise his hand and claim, Me! I wouldn’t be fascinated by any of that.

  “Kind of sounds like you’re a bit of an overachiever,” Kane suggested and saw her fingers tense up on the wheel. Whoops. “Uh, did I say something wrong?”

  “No,” she answered. “I guess I’m just a little sensitive to that word.”

  “To what word? Overachiever?”

  “Yes. I know that being a child genius may sound all unique and fun, but it also has its drawbacks.”

  Actually, it didn’t sound fun at all. It sounded like a lot of weight to carry in the expectations department. “What kind of drawbacks?” Kane asked.

  “Being teased by older kids who are embarrassed that you scored higher than them on the AP Calculus exam or that you got into a better college. I know it’s just jealousy on their part, but it can wear on a person after a while.”

  A warm dart of sympathy shot through Kane’s rib cage. “I wasn’t making fun of you. I meant overachiever as a compliment. You’re talking to someone who took typing as an elective, even though I can’t spell worth a damn, because the wood shop teacher made students write essays on the different species of wood.”

  “But if you enjoy being a contractor, why wouldn’t you want to excel at it? It would be such a waste not to try, at least.”

  Kane rolled his shoulder against the tight restraint of the seat belt and thought about his own waste of talent now that his athletic career was over. Her words were hitting home better than any coach’s ever could. In baseball, he was notorious for going against the best and beating the odds. He used to revel in the challenge, in the competition. So why did he always take a backseat to real life when it became too difficult?

  “Speaking of careers,” he said, hoping she would be too polite to say anything about his cop out of a response. “Why did you join the Navy?” he asked.

  “My parents were in a train crash when I was twenty-one. My mom died at the scene, but my father was in the ICU for several days before he passed. I was sitting in the waiting room, and a documentary came on about the WAVES, the naval reserve for women during World War II. I was completely fascinated. Really, I was fascinated by all the shows I saw in there because I’d never been allowed to watch much television growing up, but the series on the WAVES really made me think that I could dedicate my brain and my knowledge to something besides science. Here were all these women who’d volunteered to go into the military for the good of the country rather than for personal gain, and I wanted to be like them. I wanted to help others.”

  She was not only a genius but also a damn do-gooder. How could he compete with someone like that? Not that they were in competition, but if they were, he wouldn’t even be in the same league.

  “I’m sorry about your parents,” Kane offered, not knowing what else to say without pointing out more of his own inadequacies.

  “Thank you.” She’d reverted to that formal, stiff tone that made him want to tell her to stop being so damn proper. At least not for his benefit. “Aunt Freckles suggested I not make any big decisions while I was still grieving, but I was so used to the schedule my parents had set for me that I thought the order and discipline and routine of the Navy would actually be a comfort.”

  Hmm. Those were the same reasons Kane hadn’t joined the military. He’d had a hard enough time following orders in high school. In fact, baseball was the only team sport he could manage because, as a pitcher, he was able to be somewhat on his own. Kane scratched at his chin, mentally calculating how much longer he would be stuck in this seat.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very fidgety?” she asked when she finally hit the off-ramp.

  “Only when I don’t like sitting still.”

  “Hmm. Interesting,” she said, reminding him of a therapist making notes in a patient’s file. Kane should’ve known nothing good would come of them going into town together, but last night he’d let his mouth engage before his brain. He was still pretty sensitive about his childhood diagnosis and would’ve asked if she was trying to assess him. But he preferred that she focus all of her concentration on her third attempt to reenter their destination address after she’d accidentally switched off the navigation system when she’d picked up her bottle of soda.

  He could offer to show her how to do it again, but he had the feeling Dr. Smarty-Pants wouldn’t like the implication that she couldn’t accomplish something herself after the first try. It was going to be a long day.

  * * *

  As the automatic glass doors swished open, Julia watched Kane pull his green ball cap lower until the brim nearly touched his sunglasses, which he didn’t seem inclined to put away once they entered the store. She’d worked alongside plenty of men in the Navy, but that didn’t mean she understood when one was being so frustratingly moody. Or secretive. What was up with his whole stealth disguise? He was one video camera still away from looking like a convenience store robber at large.

  “Hello, and welcome to Land O’Appliances.” A large voice boomed out from an even larger man dressed in a trendy pastel button-up shirt. The name tag pinned crookedly over the man’s orange paisley tie read Paulie. Julia immediately took a step back, bumping into Kane’s injured shoulder. The only things louder than Paulie’s greeting and his taste in neckwear were the painful-looking injection sites from what her medical training told her was a recently botched Botox treatment.

  “Is there anything in particular I can help you two find?” the salesman asked.

  She looked at Kane, waiting for him to tell Paulie what they’d come to buy. But her quiet contractor said nothing, one hand gripping a half-used notepad and the other shoved deep inside the front pocket of his jeans. While Julia was accustomed to taking charge in classrooms or in surgery, she wasn’t as experienced as she would have liked when it came to negotiating.

  “I need a new refrigerator,” Julia finally said to the eager salesman with his bleached white smile, before shooting Kane an imploring look to chime in. She couldn’t very well be rude and just stand there saying nothing.

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Paulie said. She tried not to flinch at his volume, which hadn’t lowered when he came closer. “All our fridges are back against this wall. Do you have a price in mind?”

  “Oh, I suppose we’re more concerned with the style than the pri—”

  “We want inexpensive,” Kane interrupted. So now he decided to grace them with his input. Then he raised his rudeness another level when he told Paulie, “We’ll take a look around and let you know if we have any questions.”

  Kane lightly gripped her elbow and steered her toward the refrigerator department. She caught the scent of spicy shower gel and coffee when he leaned in close to her and whispered
, “When you’re negotiating, never tell the opposing side that you’re not concerned with the price.”

  Manners had been instilled in Julia since before she could speak, which was why she cast a nervous look over her shoulder to the abandoned salesman before directing her quiet reply toward the plaid-patterned flannel covering Kane’s shoulder. “But we weren’t at the negotiating part yet.”

  “We were at the negotiating part the second we walked in the door and Paulie Loudmouth over there was calculating how many extra tanning bed sessions he could buy with our commission.”

  “I didn’t realize you knew the employees here already.”

  “I don’t,” Kane said. “But all these salespeople are the same.”

  “Then why didn’t you take the lead when he approached us?”

  “I did.”

  “How? By being rude and not saying a word?”

  “I wasn’t being rude. I was being hard to read. If I came in looking like an eager beaver, Paulie would’ve had us right where he wanted us.”

  “I see,” she said, not seeing at all but willing to go along with his reverse psychology strategy. For now.

  He didn’t release her arm as he successfully maneuvered her in front of a nondescript white unit that didn’t even have an ice maker. While she wasn’t used to being touched—or, some might argue, manhandled—so intimately, she didn’t attempt to pull away. But only because she didn’t want to thwart what might be part of his negotiation tactic. It certainly wasn’t because she liked the feel of his strong fingers through the thin cotton of her white blouse.

  “But Kane, I don’t want to look at these plain refrigerators. I thought we agreed that the stainless steel ones over there would look better with the granite countertops.”

  “Don’t point,” he said as he dropped her elbow, causing her tummy to sink in disappointment. He reached across to pull her pointing hand back, and his bare forearm brushed across her chest. Julia’s cheeks flooded with heat as her nipples tightened in response. Logically, she knew the movement was inadvertent on his part, but that didn’t stop her from feeling as though an electric current had been shot through her body.

  Thankfully, Kane must not have noticed her reaction to his touch because Mr. Controlling Contractor leaned in and gave her another order under his breath. “Make them think we’re interested only in the cheaper models. He’ll still try to upsell us, but his expectations won’t be as high.”

  Oh, for the love of all things good. She’d asked for Kane’s support and experience. Not for his high-handedness or a lesson in power-play maneuvers. And she especially hadn’t asked for his full lips to practically caress her temple as he whispered in her ear.

  She’d never been so aware of a man’s nearness and tried to chalk this overpowering sensation up to her inexperience in being in this type of situation.

  But just because she’d never been shopping for appliances before didn’t mean she couldn’t figure out how it was done.

  “Kane, this is a store. Not a fine art auction house. There are huge price tags on everything. Clearly there’s a set price. So let’s just pick the one we want and pay for it.”

  “Come on, Dr. Smarty-Pants. This isn’t how businesses like these operate.”

  “What did you just call me?” She turned toward him and crossed her arms, not sure if she was more offended by the nickname or by the implication that she wasn’t capable of doing something so simple as buying a refrigerator.

  “Sorry. I meant it as a compliment.” He did that little smirk thing again, not even having the decency to look sheepish or remorseful.

  “Smarty-pants? Overachiever?” She put her hands on her hips, trying to figure out if he was patronizing her or if this was how friends teased each other. “You sure have a funny way of delivering a compliment.”

  “Can we shelve the arguments right now? Paulie is walking this way to check on us, and we need to appear to be on the same team.”

  Julia thought they were on the same team. Until he’d started “complimenting” her. Something about his teasing tone triggered that underlying desire in her to prove that she wasn’t completely in the dark. Perhaps it might benefit him to realize a little something about his so-called teammate. “I’ll have you know that I took a global business concepts course my sophomore year in college.”

  One side of his mouth quirked up, making her brain go all fuzzy and forget why she’d been so annoyed with him a second ago. “I’m guessing that, based on your recent history with the furnace, you aced that class.”

  Oh yeah. His sarcasm was why.

  “It was more theory than practical approach, but I still passed,” she whispered out the side of her mouth right as the salesman arrived, glad she didn’t have to admit that her passing score was the lowest one on her undergrad transcripts.

  “I saw the missus pointing to one of our most popular models,” Paulie said as he walked up. He attempted a wink, but the Botox in his forehead made the gesture seem more like a mild focal seizure. “Everyone is buying stainless steel these days.”

  “Oh no, I’m not the... I mean not his...” Julia broke off when she saw Kane pull his sunglasses off—finally—and pinch the bridge of his nose. Maybe she should’ve stuck with being on Kane’s team, but she didn’t want to give anyone the impression that they were a couple. Or together...in that way. It would’ve been misleading. Mostly to her. And she’d learned long ago not to be misled by a man who wasn’t actually interested in a serious relationship.

  “Here’s the thing, Paulie.” Kane shoved the sunglasses in his shirt pocket, and Julia tried not to stare at the slight rise of his pectoral muscle underneath. Was it getting warmer in here? “We’re remodeling a house and are actually in the market for several kitchen appliances, as well as a washer and dryer. Now, I have a pretty good idea of what models and styles are going to work best, so we don’t really need your assistance in that regard. However, my missus and I will require your help in making sure we get the best deal. Think you can do anything to help us out?”

  Julia would’ve pointed out how ridiculous Kane’s lie was if his words hadn’t made Paulie’s collagen-plumped lips smile in anticipation.

  Or if his reference to her being his “missus” hadn’t made her legs buckle and her heart beat so hard, she could feel it pulsing behind her unblinking eyes.

  Chapter Six

  Julia walked out of Land O’Appliances with the promise of a Monday delivery and the loss of her car keys. She wasn’t quite sure how her moody contractor had been smooth or charming enough to manage either. She blamed her easy acquiescence and light-headedness on the fact that she’d skipped breakfast.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked Kane as they walked toward her car.

  “I’m always hungry.” He pulled that gold watch out his pocket and flipped it open. His use of the antique timepiece struck her as such a stunning contrast to his rugged construction worker look. “Besides, it’s almost eleven, so we have time to grab something before we hit Bed Bath & Beyond.”

  “Great. You brought the shopping list, I hope? We can go over it while we eat.”

  “Don’t need a list,” he said, pointing to the side of his head. “I’ve got it all up here.”

  Julia would have rolled her eyes at his confident bragging, but she was too busy trying to pull up the restaurant locator app Chief Wilcox had downloaded to her phone last week.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to find a place to eat.” She showed him the screen. “See, it recommends the Aztec Taqueria, which is only a few hundred yards from here on Callejon Road.”

  “Julia, I’m pretty sure there isn’t a Callejon Road around this part of Boise.”

  “Yes, there is.” She pointed to the small map. “We’re the blue dot right here next to it.”

  The sound
of Kane’s deep, rumbling laughter shocked her, then sent an unexpected vibration through her bloodstream. “What’s so funny?”

  “You have the current location set for Taos, New Mexico.”

  She was relieved that the man actually had a sense of humor buried somewhere deep inside his aloof shell, but that didn’t stop the back of her neck from bristling with embarrassment that he was actually laughing at her. Or was it tingling at the sight of his straight, white teeth flashing with actual mirth?

  “Whatever,” she said, slipping the dumb phone back into her purse. “That restaurant across the parking lot looks like a good place to eat. And it’s close enough to walk.”

  “The Bacon Palace?” He raised one of his auburn eyebrows at her, and Julia decided she liked quiet, brooding Kane much better than smug, teasing Kane. “I thought you were a vegetarian.”

  Gulp. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll have something there that will suit me just fine.”

  Of course, judging by the sizzling aroma wafting across the asphalt as Julia walked beside him, she had a feeling the words hold the bacon would be an addendum to her order.

  Kane held open the pink door painted to look like a pig’s snout and Julia kept her opinions about the swine-themed decor and the misleading signage to herself. The proprietors got half of the restaurant’s name correct, but this place was definitely no palace.

  After making a pretense of intently studying the trough-shaped wooden menu above the cash register—she’d had no idea that a breakfast meat could flavor everything from pasta sauces to milkshakes—Julia ordered a basket of plain french fries and a garden salad, minus the bacon ranch dressing. She pulled out her wallet before Kane finished ordering his triple-stacked BLT and handed her American Express card to the cashier.

  “No,” Kane said. “You’re not paying for my lunch.”