by Fiona Lowe
“And the grooms?” he teased. “Do they all look happy?”
A collage of grooms flitted across her mind. “Some have looked a little shell-shocked, but that’s part of my job too.”
“Making people shell-shocked?” His rich, bass laugh floated around her like the smooth, velvet tones of a mellow red wine. “I can see that. The cows and I were certainly surprised the day you arrived.”
She gave a wry smile. “And no doubt you think you’re hilarious.”
His face creased in a smile. “The cows laugh at my jokes. So back to your job and shell-shocked grooms?”
Again, his genuine interest surprised her but she loved talking about her work to anyone who would listen and right now, Luke was a captive audience. “Relaxing people is part of my job. When you take the time to put people at ease, you’re gifted with moments of such honest emotion that it can hurt.
“Hurt?”
“Yeah.” She nodded her affirmation. “But in a good way. You know that clutch you get in your chest and you don’t know if you’re going to laugh or cry? Like that, only it gives me such a rush when I know I’ve taken a picture that immortalizes that.”
“It’s obvious you love your job.”
He sounded almost wistful, which was unexpected. “I do love it. It’s the sort of job you have to love to do it well.” She thought about the Memmy and crossed her fingers. “And you know, I dare anyone to argue with me that a bride photographed in a sea of sunflowers isn’t artistic.”
He pushed off the tractor, his face animated. “So that’s the deal with the sunflowers. You’re after professional recognition.”
How could she have ever thought this man was a yokel? His brain whirred so fast she could almost hear it. “More like client recognition. Photos like that attract more customers.”
He nodded slowly. “Still, they have to see your photos to know about them.”
She loved that he understood and unlike two days ago, she now felt safe telling him about the Memmy. “True. It’s why I have a website and a blog to complement word of mouth, but I’m going to enter the best of Connie’s photos into a competition. If it’s judged one of the finalists, it will give me national exposure.”
His eyes twinkled in the moonlight. “So you do want that photo as much as that crazy bride?”
She gave him a mock punch in the arm. “She’s not crazy.”
“So you keep telling me.” Laughter played on his lips but his eyes remained unconvinced as he captured her hand.
It seemed the most natural thing in the world to move in against him and she let her forehead rest on his chest. Breathing in deeply, she filled her nostrils with the scent of hard, physical work, freshly cut grass and vibrant, pulsating life. All of it was Luke and he made every guy she’d ever been with seem frail and anemic.
She could have stayed there forever but with her face pressing into his chest he couldn’t kiss her. Well, sure, he could press kisses into her hair, but she didn’t want that. She wanted his lips on hers and more. Very slowly, she tilted her head back.
He stared down at her, meeting her gaze with a quiet, oh yeah smile. It was the start of the moment that dictated they both move inexorably toward each other, but the only movement she could perceive from him was the rise and fall of his chest under hers. She paused and waited for him to catch up. Waited for one hand to slide around the back of her neck, for his other to angle her chin while his head inclined closer to hers, and then for his lips to part.
Her blood pounded so hard and fast with eager anticipation that her vision swam. Every part of her screamed kiss me.
His hand, which held hers, opened and he slowly laced his fingers between hers.
What? Kiss me. Now!
Frustration poured oil on need. What was he doing? More to the point, what was he not doing? Building anticipation was one thing but her body now teetered on the brink of pain-induced withholding and she needed action. With a puff of dissatisfaction that he was so slow to respond, she pulled her hand from his, rose on her toes, slid both her hands against his cheeks, angled his mouth and kissed him.
Her lips pressed against his and the slight scratch of his top lip grazed hers as she coaxed him to open his mouth to her. Chocolate, coffee and heat flowed through her, spinning currents of delight eddying through her, feeding her need for this man like oxygen fuels fire.
His fingers delved into her hair.
Yes. Finally. Now he was part of the kiss and her mind spun off on a promised bliss ride.
His fingers tugged slightly on her head as he pulled back and a shot of evening air zipped between them. Her eyes flew open. What? His lips, which a moment ago had been doing wondrous things to her, were now forming words. Words she was having trouble decoding.
“Erin, you’re confusing me.”
She blinked. Twice. The auto response was all she could manage because her brain was still off partying elsewhere. She’d kissed him. How could that be confusing? Oh, God, was it a bad kiss? Had she done it wrong?
Shut up. “How...why am I confusing you?”
He gave an exaggerated shrug. “You’re contradicting yourself.”
“I am?” She tried to muster enough functioning synapses to recall what she’d said during their conversation that may have contradicted what she’d just done. She got nothing. “I don’t understand.”
He sighed as if she was a slow learner and he had to be the one to patiently explain everything. “I didn’t think you wanted us to do this.”
“This?”
“Yes, this.” One of his hands clamped on to her behind and pulled her hard against him—legs lining legs, hips matching and her breasts flattened against his chest. Then his tongue lazily roamed her mouth as if he had all the time in the world.
Her entire body melted into a puddle of need and she sagged against him, knowing that if he stepped away now, she’d fall.
He raised his head and gave her a soulful look as if he was the injured party. “Now I’m sure you can see my confusion about kissing.”
No, sorry, seems perfect to me. “It’s not totally clear to me but perhaps another kiss will make it clearer.” Her fingers slid between the snaps on his shirt. “I’m fine with that.”
“That’s very generous of you.” His breath brushed her face. “The thing is, what’s puzzling me is that last night you told me you only wanted to talk.”
Chagrin blew through her like a Minnesota blizzard. “You weren’t exactly sober.”
He had the temerity to grin. “I wasn’t exactly drunk either.”
She narrowed her gaze, searching his face. “There was more than just Jack and sex on your mind. You objected to my cow pajamas saying they reminded you of the farm.”
A muscle twitched near his eye but he held her gaze. “If they’d had cats on them I would have objected, saying they needed to come off before they upset the dogs. I just wanted you out of them.”
She shivered as a tingle of such overwhelming longing rolled through her. He wound a strand of her hair around his finger very, very slowly, and all the while the pad of his finger caressed her cheek. Her mind, halfway to returning to cognizant thought, did a sharp U-turn back to bliss.
He kept talking. “The thing is, I knew exactly what I wanted. Something I’d made clear to you in the sunflower field. You however, seem to be going back and forth, being undecided and reading stuff into off-the-cuff comments. I don’t want to add to your uncertainty.” His hands dropped to her upper arms and he gently pushed him away from her.
Deep down inside her something sobbed. “I—”
“Shh.” He raised his forefinger to his lips.
“Yes, but—”
“It’s okay.” He tilted his head. “I understand. When you know what you want, come find me.”
He whistled for
Mac and swung up into the tractor. Maggie-May barked.
Erin stood stunned, her mind scrabbling to play catch-up and then, courtesy of the cabin light, she caught Luke’s expression—pure, unadulterated mischief.
He winked at her and then the slow chug of the diesel engine filled the air as the tractor drove off.
Maggie-May whined.
With a clunking thud everything fell into place and she buzzed with fury and embarrassment. Luke had wound her up until she was prepared to do just about anything with him and then he’d deliberately walked away.
“Come on, Maggie-May. No man or dog is worth it.” She slung her camera bag over her shoulder with so much force it hit her on the ass. Yes, last night, she’d said no but he’d been the one who’d sought her out and she hadn’t deliberately enticed him and aroused him to the point of insanity.
Um, you sought him out tonight.
Yes, I did it so I could talk to him!
And oh how he’d let her talk. He’d asked questions, taken an active interest in her job—Oh, God. Her hand flew to her mouth in horror. By making the conversation all about her, he’d basically given her mind an orgasm. How had she been so blind not to recognize such seriously skilled seduction? He’d aligned her brain with her body, had both of them panting in unison for him, and she’d walked straight into his arms, demanding him.
Just like he’d demanded her last night.
And then he’d said a calculated no. Worse than that was he knew she wanted him and this gave him all the power.
Come find me.
Payback was a bastard.
Clutching her gear she stomped back across the field immune to the moon and its glory. She didn’t know what she was most aggrieved about—the fact he’d gotten away without apologizing for coming to the cottage buzzed last night, or the fact he’d said no to her, leaving her with a body humming for him along with an accompaniment of agonizing emptiness.
A searing thought pinged into her mind and she stopped walking. Neither one of those things was making her most angry. What galled more than anything was the fact he’d left knowing a hell of a lot more about her than she knew about him. She’d blurted out stuff that gave him a picture of who she was, while he remained the enigma he’d always been. A sexy, gorgeous enigma who’d lead her a merry dance.
She rolled back her shoulders and recommenced walking. She knew this was the second time she’d let him make a fool of her but damn it, it was never happening again. If Luke Anderson thought she was going to come calling in the future and just walk into his arms like she did tonight, he could think again.
On the other hand, the idea of making him beg for her and having him come to her held a lot of appeal.
Chapter Nine
Nicole stretched her back, feeling the strain that came with a full day on her feet and back-to-back hair clients. During the busy summer wedding months she sublet her salon chairs to Donna, who did the bulk of the work at Affairs with Hair. Although Nicole still did some summer cutting, she worked a lot less hours and her back got used to an easier life.
She loved that the town understood how important the wedding business was to everyone and how most people happily swapped between the two hairdressers from June to September. On wedding days the salon was closed, which rarely mattered to their customers because so many of the townsfolk were working in some capacity for the wedding. The flip side to this was it made for busier days on non-wedding days.
Today Nicole was working in the salon alone, filling in for Donna who’d taken her teenage daughter to a concert in Minneapolis. The latest teen idol was on a national tour and the Twin Cities was as close to Whitetail as he got. Donna had said, “Believe me, the rest of my summer won’t be worth living if Becky misses this concert.”
Nicole didn’t mind being busy. Between mothering Max, managing weddings and her hair clients, she didn’t have time to think, and that had been her aim ever since she’d opened her front door to find a soldier in dress uniform, respectfully holding his hat in front of him and wearing an expression of regret. Actually, the need to blot out everything had started a week prior to that fateful visit.
As the clock ticked past four-thirty and she’d said goodbye to her last client, she was now filling in the product order form before closing up. The unexpected tinkle of the bell above the salon door made her automatically glance up. The pen she was holding slipped out of her grip, rolling across the counter before falling with a clatter onto the floor.
Tony Lascio, all stocky, five foot eleven of him, stepped into her salon with a look of surprise crossing his face. It instantly morphed into a warm smile.
A smile that did ridiculously odd things to her. She was glad she was sitting on a stool otherwise her legs might have folded underneath her and she’d have been joining the pen on the floor.
“Hi, Nicole.”
“Hello, Tony.”
Chief, you’re supposed to call him chief. She pushed her glasses up her nose, giving herself a few precious seconds to pull herself together. “May I help you?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t need a wedding planner, but I do need a haircut.”
He smiled at her again and she realized it was slightly crooked, which made it even more endearing.
“Lucky for you, I’m both.”
You’re flirting again. Be businesslike.
Clicking the mouse on the computer, she looked up Donna’s appointment list. “Donna has an opening tomorrow at noon.”
He shook his head. “That won’t work. I’m doing fire extinguisher tagging all day tomorrow. Actually, I was hoping I could get it cut now.”
Now? A rush of sensation had her suddenly feeling uncharacteristically hot and her hand fiddled with the top of her blouse as if to fan herself. “I’m not sure that’s going to be possible.”
He glanced around the empty salon and then back to her with a hopeful look in his inky eyes. “Are you expecting another client?”
Say yes. But honesty had been pummeled into her from the cradle and she couldn’t do it. “No, but I have to pick up Max from camp at five and—”
“No problem...”
Thank you. “So I’ll just make—”
“Half an hour is plenty of time. My barber in Jersey always cut my hair in fifteen minutes flat. So, which chair?” He gave her an expectant grin.
“I...ah...” Her voice sounded faint and she gave herself a shake. This was ridiculous. She was a hairstylist and he was a client. Cutting his hair would be no different from cutting anybody else’s hair. She walked quickly to a chair and rested her hands on the back of it. “This one.”
As he sat down, she flicked a black-and-white cape over him and snapped it closed around his wide neck. “What style do you prefer?”
“Short?” He stared at her through the mirror with a perplexed expression. “My barber just cuts it.”
She laughed. “Yes, I understand that, but do you have it thinned out here and here or do you wear it longer on top and short on the sides?” Her fingers rifled his thick hair and tight curls sprang around them, capturing them as if they didn’t want to let her go. “You have very strong hair.”
He grinned. “My nonna says my curls are like tentacles and they grip on to anything.”
She quickly pulled her fingers out of his hair, horrified that she might have let them remain there too long. She linked her fingers in front of her to keep them under control. “I’ll thin out the top, make the rest short and tidy up around your ears and your nape. How does that sound?”
“Perfect.”
She pulled her gaze away from his reflected one and said briskly, “If you make your way over to the basin, I’ll wash your hair.”
“Okay. My barber never did that either.” With a bemused smile, he followed her. “I guess this is a perfect example of n
ever being too old for a new experience.”
“I take it you’ve never been to a unisex salon before?”
“Nope.” He settled back into the chair, his neck fitting against the curve of the basin. “Giuseppe’s been cutting my hair since I was twelve. From eighteen the hair cut came with a shave along with unsolicited opinions on politics, stock advice, religion and sex.” His eyes dilated, staring up at her like polished ebony. “Relationships,” he said emphatically as if correcting himself. “He gave advice on relationships.”
He looked so aghast that he may have offended her that Nicole found herself grinning down at him. “My cut doesn’t come with a shave, I’m afraid, but I can try my best to trash talk politics, although I might steer clear of relationship advice if you don’t mind.”
He closed his eyes as she positioned the nozzle of warm water against the back of his head. “That sounds fine. I’m in a good place right now and I don’t need any relationship advice so you’re off the hook.”
“I’m glad.” Why? Are you in a happy one? Out of one? Looking for one? Her fingers vigorously scrubbed shampoo into his hair as if the action would empty her brain of unwanted thoughts and questions, which was very hard given the way his heat radiated into her.
With his eyes closed, she took the chance to study his face—the way his hair receded slightly at his temples, the small white scar above his thick jet-black eyebrows, the sexy, dark shadow of afternoon stubble that circled his lips, and the corded muscles in his neck that disappeared under the drape while hinting that there was a lot more of the same below.
A zip of longing seared her, settling in where it didn’t belong and making her panties feel wet. Stop it.
“Is the water temperature okay?” Her voice strained over the words and she desperately hoped he’d say, add more cold. She needed a jolt of icy sanity from all this heat.
“Hmm, perfect.”
I guess that’s a yes. Pumping the large container of conditioner, she filled her palm with the peppermint-scented lotion and rubbed it into his hair. The mundane task felt anything but. Instead it was filled with an arousing intimacy that spun through her. Her fingers stalled as her lips started to form the standard question she always asked at this point.