She ran to the reception desk and grabbed the book from Shirlie, scanning furiously for any open time.
She said, “Come at four tomorrow. I think I can reschedule someone. Okay?”
“I don’t suppose you can squeeze in dinner afterward?”
“No. I’m sorry. Give me a little more notice next time.”
“All right. Your schedule’s as packed as mine.” Jack paused. “Hey…about our last date. I’m sorry if I was a little blunt.”
Two apologies. She was impressed. “It’s okay. I deserved it. I’d been making snarky comments about the Dark Side all night.”
She heard choked laughter on his end of the line. “Excuse me? Did you just say the Dark Side?”
“Yes. But I can’t get into an argument with you right now, no matter how tempting it is, because I have to go before my client’s hair turns purple. See you tomorrow, Jack.” And she pressed the off button.
Wow. I just hung up on the governor. Does that make me bad-ass or what? Marly walked calmly back to her client.
“Thank you for your patience,” she said.
“Ohmigod!” the woman squealed. “So are you cutting Jack Hammersmith’s hair?”
Marly nodded.
“I can’t wait to tell my friends that I share the governor’s hairdresser! I am so excited!”
Marly smiled.
“So is he a good tipper?”
She nodded. “He left me a tip the size of Alaska the first time I cut his hair.”
“Well, sorry, hon.” The woman winked at her. “I can only afford Rhode Island.”
THE APPEARANCE of Jack Hammersmith at After Hours the next day caused quite a stir, not least because the Fabulous Four was there and already on their third glass of wine—which the salon had not offered them. Denise, the only brunette of the bunch, had a habit of getting up and fetching the bottle “because I don’t want to bother you gals.”
Marly, Nicky and the shampoo girls knew very well that this was a transparent ploy to help themselves to more free wine, but they didn’t say anything as long as the designated driver for the day didn’t look too plowed.
After Hours was a fun, preparty hot spot, but it wouldn’t be for long if they got sued for causing someone’s drunk driving accident. So far they’d only had to steal the Fab Four’s keys once. Pretending total ignorance of where they could be, Alejandro had called the ladies a cab and avoided both an ugly scene and responsibility for turning them loose on Miami’s freeways.
Today, three of the Fab Four were lined up at the manicure stations while one of them was having her eyebrows and lip waxed.
It was Rebecca who screeched as she saw the governor. “Ohmigod! It’s Jack Hammersmith!”
“Ohmigod! Ohmigod!” the others chorused.
Denise, behind the curtain that separated the waxing area, screamed, “Where?” She popped her head around the drape.
“There—ooooh, honey. Not a good look for you,” Rebecca whispered, shaking her head.
“What? Oh.” Denise had a large waxing strip on the right side of her upper lip. She looked a bit bizarre, but she checked out Jack thoroughly before disappearing again.
Rebecca was even bolder. She snatched up her manicurist’s ticket pad and had taken three steps toward Jack when Jimmy and Rocket cut her off and blocked her. “Step away from the governor, ma’am.”
“But I only wanted—I was just trying to get his autograph.”
“Easy there, Rebecca,” Marly said. “Frick and Frack tend to get antsy when people rush the governor. Especially when they’re armed with a ticket pad and a pen. Didn’t you ever see Grosse Point Blank? You can kill someone with a pen.”
Jack snorted with laughter as Jimmy and Rocket gave her a death stare. He cruised right over, dipped her as if he were Fred Astaire, and kissed her senseless in front of God and everyone. “I’ve missed you,” he said into her ear.
“You can’t do that!” said Marly, struggling upright and pushing him away.
“What? This?” And Jack planted another one on her. “Why not?”
The entire salon was staring at them, and by now Frick and Frack were probably running remote ballistics tests on the tube of lipstick in her pocket. “Jack!”
“I can’t help it,” he told her. “You’re just so beautiful.”
It was such an easy line for him to deliver, and maybe she was getting sappy over him, but her heart turned over. Still, it was embarrassing to be kissed in front of all her clients and coworkers, and the gossip was going to spread within hours, if not minutes.
“You know,” she told him, “it’s probably not going to do your reelection campaign any good if you’re seen kissing random hairstylists all over Miami.”
Jack stared down at her, his eyes very blue. “I’m not kissing random hairstylists. I’m kissing you. And I’m not that worried about it. There are no reporters here that I can see.”
“Go sit in the chair in the back room, or you’re going to get swarmed for your autograph. I can see that I’m already going to have to get it for Rebecca, which means at least three others.”
Jack shrugged good-naturedly and walked over to Rebecca. “Hi, I’m Jack Hammersmith.”
“I know!” she breathed, half swooning. Her tongue was falling out of her bright red mouth and her hair was falling into it. “Can I—? Would you?” She handed him the tablet and pen. “For Rebecca.”
He scrawled his name for her, and predictably, the rest of the Fab Four waited in line, too, along with Nicky and the shampoo girls.
Marly pinched Nicky’s arm as she walked by him. “Behave!” she snapped.
Moi? he mouthed. Of course!
Today he wore ironed blue jeans with purple lips embroidered on the left rear pocket and a T-shirt that said Tender across the chest.
After Denise, Rebecca and the rest of the Fab Four had finished telling Jack about how much they admired him, Nicky cut to the chase. “God, what a shame that you’re straight.”
Jack blinked and produced a smile. He shook Nicky’s hand and scrawled his signature.
The stylist opened his mouth to say something else, but Marly grabbed his arm and dragged him away. “You said you were going to behave!”
“I am. I didn’t ask him out, did I?” Nicky put his hand on his hip. “I’m on my very best behavior, doll.”
“Oy.” She got her equipment and followed Jack into the back.
He said in plaintive tones, “I’d much rather get naked with you than get a haircut.”
“Forget it,” she told him. “After your little performance out there, everybody in this whole place is going to notice if I have a single makeup smudge when I come out of here. And they’ll be checking your collar for lipstick, too.”
She took a critical look at his hair. “What exactly do you want me to do?”
“Oh, well, you know. It’s just a little long.” He smiled at her with too much innocence.
“You know, if you weren’t a man of many responsibilities, like, oh, say, the governance of this state, I might suspect that you made up this hair emergency as an excuse to see me.”
He cocked his head. “Noooooo. Surely you don’t think that.”
She folded her arms across her chest and nodded. “I do.”
“Well, I did try to get you to come to me. But you’ve got that workaholic thing going. It’s so annoying.”
She was tempted to smack him, but he was just too good-looking. He had a young Mel Gibson’s power over women.
“So you see, if the affairs of the state grind to a screeching halt today, it’s all your fault.”
“I don’t think so!”
“Well, here’s the hair emergency. I think my dark roots are showing under the gray.”
“No, they’re not.”
“If you come closer and check, you’ll see what I mean.”
Marly walked over to him, leaned forward and inspected his head—while he took advantage of the situation by sliding his hands up under her skirt.
“Jack!”
“Yes?” His big warm hands were cupping her cheeks now, feeling amazing and turning her on—even though she was borderline angry with him.
“You had me reschedule a client for this?”
“Yeah,” he said, sliding his fingers under the elastic of her panties and inward, taunting her and teasing with feather-like touches.
She wanted, again, to smack him—but couldn’t. Because her breath was coming too fast and too shallow to gather the necessary oxygen.
Jack used the unfair advantage to tug her onto his lap, spread her knees and get more detailed about his exploration.
“Jack, you cannot just show up here and—and—” Her head fell back.
“And?” he prompted, shoving her shirt up and getting personal on other levels, too.
“—doooo this!” She managed to get the words out, her eyes now closed.
“Would you like me to stop?”
She shook her head. Sensations streaked through her and she pushed against his fingers, his palm, his wicked heat.
“Because I will if you want me to. We Republicans are gentlemen, you know, in spite of all our other failings—like being level-headed and fiscally responsible and against the growth of monolithic government bureaucracy, bound in miles of red tape…”
“Jack?”
“Hmm?”
“Shut up and unzip your pants!”
“I thought you’d never ask.” And the governor proceeded to show her what a perfect gentleman he really was, condom and all. He picked her up and set her on the white marble sink, which felt deliciously cold against her bare bottom. Then he rolled on a condom and slid inside her, kissing her lips at the same time.
“I couldn’t stay away, Marly. You do something to me. Even when you’re rude. You looked so hot stomping away from the car…so mad at the fact that you had to admit I was right.”
“You’re the only person I’m rude to,” she said, gasping for air. She angled her hips and pushed against him. “It’s not really something I’m proud of.”
“You got a little disrespect-for-authority thing going there, sweetheart?” He cupped her breasts and played havoc with her nipples.
“Ahhhhh.” She let her head fall back again and arched her back. “I guess so.”
He slid his hands under her backside and drove into her hard, making her squeak. When she could breathe again, she said, “You got a thing going for bohemian, braless girls in gypsy skirts?”
“Absolutely.”
“But I’m so not your type.”
“How do you know what my type is?”
“Come on—I read the papers and the occasional gossip rag.”
“Don’t—” Jack drove in “—believe—” he pulled out “—everything—” he slid in again “—you read—” and came out “—in the papers.” He impaled her on the last words, staring her down with those blue eyes.
Marly felt the faucet digging into her back as the first eddies of her orgasm started deep within her pelvis. Jack maneuvered out again, managing to stroke her with his cock in erotic places she didn’t know she had.
The tremor inside her seemed to follow his action, streaked after him and then got shoved back up against her inner walls when he drove in again. He moved his hips in a circle, and spread her thighs even wider. She was coming, ready or not.
As he repeated the circular motion, she disintegrated completely, mind and body swept away by a rainbow of color and bliss. He sealed her cries with his lips and knocked the faucet out of the way, protecting her spine. Then he, too, pumped into her wildly and lost control. His stiffening, the stilling of his hips and a long, quiet groan in her ear told Marly that he’d made it.
They remained that way for a few moments, unable to move. Marly raised her head and noticed that he still wore his shirt and tie, dress slacks, socks, shoes—everything. She’d just had sex with a Suit. He looked immaculate, except for the unzipped pants and the condom, still buried inside her along with his cock.
Marly began to laugh. “Is this how Republicans have sex? In pin-striped suits?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah.” He twitched inside her, and she used her internal muscles to squeeze him.
“Hey! Give it back,” he ordered.
“Nope. It’s trespassing in Democratic territory now. I’ve arrested it and it’s in jail.”
Jack’s hands tightened on her ass. “Cushiest jail I’ve ever been in, honey. Mmm. Tell me what laws to break so you’ll arrest me again, okay?” He pulled out and lifted her off the sink, setting her on her feet.
She wobbled on rubbery legs for a moment, pulling her skirt down and staring at his tie. “Next time, you ditch the suit and tie before we, um—”
“Before we make love?”
“—have sex.”
He nodded and grinned. “Okay, done. I’m fine with that—because you just agreed that there’s gonna be a next time, without me even asking.” And Jack Hammersmith, playboy governor, gave her a sexy-as-hell wink as he zipped up his pants.
11
MARLY HOPED THAT Frick and Frack were deaf as posts, but she had a bad feeling that their hearing was just fine. How she had managed to forget their existence and boink the governor while they stood just outside the treatment room, she didn’t know.
They wore little ear thingies that undoubtedly connected them to some kind of radio, and she just prayed that they were listening to loud, obnoxious Security Detail Rap or something.
She’d forced Jack to sit in the chair and she’d wet his hair, then made some minor snips and shaved his neck. After all, they had to at least make it look as though she’d done his hair and not him.
Then she’d walked him to the front door of the salon after carefully checking to see that her skirt wasn’t caught in her panties or anything. She even shook his hand and asked him if he’d like to make another appointment while his eyes danced privately for her.
“Well, I’d love to, Marly. You do such a good job.”
“Thank you, Governor. We do try to make our clientele happy.” She felt her color rising as his mouth twitched.
“Keeps us coming back for more.”
She cleared her throat and avoided his gaze.
“So,” he said, “why don’t I call you—with my schedule, it can be hard to keep a regular time. Er—is there another number where I can reach you?”
He was asking for her home number again. Ridiculous, maybe, but she just didn’t want to give it to him. She told herself that it was because she didn’t feel like having Jimmy and Rocket listening in on her private line. But it probably had more to do with not wanting to stare at her home phone, waiting for the man to call. After all, he was Florida’s number-one ladies’ man. He’d probably be up for one more bout of sex and then he’d be off, sniffing after another skirt.
She needed to look at this situation in perspective; view it as exactly what it was, no more, no less. The governor was scratching his bohemian itch, no matter what he said about his great-great-grandfather and her being The One.
It’s better to be an itch than a bitch, right?
Marly said, “Oh, you can just call me here at the salon. I’m always around.” She handed him a business card, ignoring Shirlie’s pointed stare and slap to her forehead.
The corners of Jack’s mouth turned down for a moment, before he righted them for the public’s benefit. Because the public, in the form of every single person in After Hours, was eating this up.
God, at least they don’t know what we just did back there. Marly thanked the stars. She wore no makeup that he could have smudged, and she had done the skirt check and her top wasn’t on inside out.
“Right,” Jack said. “So I’ll have my people get in touch and we’ll arrange to fly you to Tallahassee next time. Say, in about a week?”
Behind her, Shirlie gave an excited squeak.
“Great. That—that will be just fine. Thank you, Governor.”
“Call me Jack,” he said, and flashed h
er one of those irresistible, panty-melting grins. But behind it his eyes were serious, and they reflected something she couldn’t quite read…was it hurt?
“Thank you, Jack.” She raised her hand and waggled her fingers at him.
“Thank you, darlin’.” Jimmy opened the door for him, and Jack stepped through, followed by Rocket, who ripped his eyes with difficulty from Shirlie’s twin attractions.
“Frick, Frack, it was sheer pleasure to see you again.”
Curiously, they ignored her. Go figure. Marly turned, only to find that the eyes of everyone in the salon slid away from hers. What was up with that?
Nicky swooped down on her and dragged her into the back. “Cutie pie, come with Uncle Nicky.”
“What? Why?”
He poked his tongue into his cheek and failed miserably at not grinning. “Because you need some emergency repairs, doll.”
“I do?”
He winced and nodded. “I don’t know what you and the Jackrabbit were doing back there, but the back of your head looks like someone scrubbed it with a Brillo pad.”
Horrified, she put a hand to her braid, only to find that her hair wasn’t so braided. It was pure, crazy fuzz starting about three inches above her nape.
“And I don’t even want to ask what that red mark on your back is, but if I had to make a guess…”
If she’d ripped off her face and thrown it into a pan of sizzling oil, it couldn’t be hotter. “Don’t guess. Okay? Just don’t.” She moaned. “Everyone out there saw my hair, didn’t they?”
Nicky glanced up at the ceiling. Then he glanced at the painted floor. Finally he slid his eyes toward hers. “Um, yeah.”
“Don’t you dare say a word. Just please, please, fix it.”
“The Fab Four are schnockered. They probably won’t remember,” he offered. “And my client didn’t have her glasses on, so she may not have noticed. But Shirlie definitely wants to know all about the gubernatorial goods, so to speak.”
“Just shoot me, Nicky. Just put me out of my misery, okay?”
JACK KISSED HIS MOTHER on the cheek and admired her new sapphire earrings, an anniversary gift from his father the senator. “Mom, you look gorgeous. Where’s Senior?”
After Hours Bundle Page 28