“I still can’t believe you cut off all your hair,” Tina said as she sectioned Patrice’s freshly washed hair into sections.
“That was five years ago. My hair’s grown a lot since then.”
“What made you do it?” Tina pulled out her blow dryer.
Patrice’s palms became slick. “I just wanted something different.” She eyed the blow dryer. “I haven’t straightened my hair in years.”
Tina gently squeezed Patrice’s shoulder. “Then this will be fun!”
Tina turned on the blow dryer. Seconds later the pull of her brush followed by the heat of the dryer tugged at the back of Patrice’s head. Patrice’s fingers gripped and loosened on the chair’s leather armrests. Cutting off her hair had been part of the process to “find” herself when she’d left, stripping away everything that defined the old Patrice. Including the long, straight hair everyone complimented her on.
Her mother sat in the salon chair next to Patrice getting highlights from Tina’s assistant. Beth sat beneath the overhead dryer but looked back and forth at them as if she could hear every word in the noisy salon.
“You can do something different without cutting off all of your hair,” Tina said over the roar of the dryer. “No one can see how beautiful your hair is if you keep it tied up in those scarves or twisted against your head.”
Heat not related to the blast of hot air forcing out every kink in her hair shot up her spine. “I’ve gotten a lot of compliments about my natural hair. There are a lot of women who are clients of Fresh Cutz because they saw me cutting hair and wanted their hair to look like mine.”
The dryer turned off and Tina spun Patrice’s chair around. She placed a hand on her slender hip and raised a perfectly arched brow. Even in a black t-shirt, dark jeans, and wearing an apron, Tina managed to look sophisticated and beautiful the way any stylist who charged over $100 for a wash and set could.
“Wait a second, you cut hair?”
“I do.”
“Why?” Tina asked.
“Because I like it. Cosmetology and barbering were my interests before I left.”
“There are other ways to get involved in the beauty industry without working in some corner barber shop,” Janice said in a perfectly smooth voice.
“I’m sure there are, Mother,” Patrice said.
Janice held up a hand, and the assistant stopped slathering color. Janice leaned toward Patrice. “In fact, I met Lorelei Meadows at a ladies luncheon the other day. She’s opening an office for her modeling agency in Charlotte and mentioned hiring in-house beauticians. I know how much you used to devour her beauty tips.”
Devour wasn’t a strong enough word. Lorelei was one of the biggest names in modeling, fashion, and beauty, and was one of the first agency owners who advocated and promoted plus size models back when a size negative zero was the only thing considered beautiful. Patrice had loved, and still followed, her advice on ways to work all assets to their best.
“You met Lorelei?” Patrice couldn’t keep the awe out of her voice.
A satisfied gleam came to Janice’s eyes, and she leaned back and signaled for the woman to start on her hair again. “I did, and invited her to the anniversary party tonight. She RSVP’d, so I’ll be sure to introduce you to her. Maybe you can work at her agency and be around the beauty industry you love.”
In a more fitting atmosphere. Janice didn’t say that, but Patrice heard the implication. “I can’t turn my back on Kareem. We’re here to start our own venture.”
“Oh do tell,” Tina said, going back to blow drying Patrice’s hair. If she hadn’t gone to Tina for years, she’d assume her beautician’s tendency to turn on the blow dryer after asking a question meant she never wanted to hear the answer. But Tina’s ears could pick up conversations from across the room when every blow dryer in the building was going.
“My f … fiancé.” She nearly tripped over calling him that. “He’s a master barber. He wants to open up a high-end salon for men.”
“I thought it was your goal as well.” Janice was quick to catch that. Add supersonic dryer blasting hearing to her mother’s ears as well.
“It is, but the idea originated with Kareem.” Patrice made eye contact with Tina in the mirror. “We’re looking at possible locations to open our salon here in Charlotte.”
Tina grinned and nodded while her hands efficiently straightened Patrice’s hair. “Good for you. You’d be surprised how many guys ask me to cut their hair but hate the thought of coming into my spa. I think it’ll be a niche that needs an outlet.”
Janice’s lip pressed together and her freshly manicured nails dug into her arms. Patrice appreciated Tina’s support, even if her mother didn’t.
“How’s your son, Tina?” Patrice asked to get the topic off of her.
“He’s a big brother now.” Tina’s face lit up, and she went into several stories about her seven-year-old son and five-year-old daughter.
Two hours later, Patrice stood in front of the mirror and stared at the woman she hadn’t seen in nearly five years. Her flat ironed hair hung to her shoulders, not as long as before she left, but long enough to satisfy both her mother and Tina that cutting her hair wasn’t an apocalyptic event. Makeup, something else she’d only worn sparingly since leaving, enhanced her skin, eyes, and lips. Her face couldn’t breathe. The makeup sealed her now invisible pores like a clear plastic film.
Beth came over and gave her a hug from behind. “You look fantastic. You can’t tell me you didn’t miss this?”
“There are some perks I can’t deny.” Patrice rubbed the arm Beth had draped around her neck.
Beth raised her eyebrows. “Is it enough to make you stay?”
“I have a life back in Columbia, Beth. Even when Kareem opens his place here, it doesn’t mean I’ll be in Charlotte full time. We’ll have the other shop to run as well.” And when this farce ended, she could return to Columbia and try to forget the imprint Kareem was sure to leave on her heart.
Beth let her go and moved to block Patrice’s view of the mirror. “Why not? Your family is here, your fiancé will be here. There’s no reason to leave.”
“This is different.”
“How?”
“Kareem never said he wanted to live here. I couldn’t leave him.”
“You left Roland,” Beth countered.
Patrice sighed. “Roland isn’t Kareem.”
“I believe I heard that last night,” Beth said with a sly grin.
A shocked laugh burst from Patrice’s lips. “Excuse me?”
“I came by your room last night to talk and heard some of your, shall I say interaction, with Kareem.” Beth fanned herself. “I guess I can understand why you’re hesitant to leave him behind.”
Heat crept up Patrice’s face, and she playfully pinched Beth’s arm. “Can we talk about this somewhere else?”
Beth cocked her head to the side. “Remember when we watched Dirty Dancing as kids? Then later agreed Johnny was good for a summer affair but he’d make a terrible husband?”
“Yes, but …”
“Kareem is your Johnny. He’s the summer fling, the bad boy who’s a good lay after you went away and got your head together.”
Patrice shifted her stance and propped a hand on her hip. “What happened to wanting to help us start the business? I thought you were on my side.”
“I am. Believe me, I am. And I’m not changing my promise to ask Lad to put in a good word to help Kareem start his business. He obviously means a lot to you, and you mean something to him.”
Patrice had to fight not to lower her gaze. She wasn’t sure what she meant to Kareem. He’d given her an orgasm then walked away as if he’d just passed the salt at dinner.
“Helping him doesn’t mean I won’t try and convince you that staying home and being with your family is what you need to do. We miss you, and it just makes more sense for you to be here with us.”
“More sense for whom? I was happy away.”
“You
can be happy here.” Beth grasped Patrice’s hands. “Work on his place, but talk to Lorelei tonight at the party. Tell her about what you’d like to do, I’m sure she’d be thrilled to have you work for her. You’d be able to work in beauty and fashion, be close to us, and figure out your next moves.” Beth gave her another hug, when she leaned back, she wore their mother’s perfect smile. “Think about it.”
Beth let Patrice go and glided away. Patrice gazed back at the familiar stranger in the mirror. One who would look perfect working at a Lorelei Meadows modeling agency.
CHAPTER 12
When Patrice returned to her parents’ house with her mother and sister after leaving the spa, the first thing she noticed was Kareem walking toward the rose garden.
“Your fiancé really likes that side of the house,” Janice said after she pulled her Mercedes into one of the slots of the garage.
“He likes being outside.” Patrice had no clue if that were true or not, but her excuse sounded better than a vague I noticed the same thing.
She jumped out of the back of the car. “I’ll see you in the house,” she called over her shoulder, and she made her way to the garden.
She rounded the corner to the rose garden. Kareem sat in one of the wrought iron chairs with his back to her, his black leather jacket blocking the cool breeze of the afternoon. His head was bent over, and his shoulders moved as if he were either writing or drawing. The grass, still green in the middle of fall thanks to fertilizer and irrigation, cushioned her steps. Tip-toeing toward him, she held her breath, hoping to get a peek at what he was doing.
She bit her lower lip and stretched her neck to see when he snapped the notebook shut.
“What’s up, Neecie?”
Her breath came out in a huff and she fell back on her heels. “How did you know it was me?”
“I smelled you.”
The smile that was starting froze, and she lifted her sweater to her nose and sniffed. “Smelled me?”
“Yes, you smell like hair products and fruit. You always smell like fruit.” He lifted a leg onto the chair and turned to face her.
For a split second his dark stare struck her speechless. Kareem had a way of looking through her. His sharp gaze penetrated the layers to see the yearning she didn’t want anyone to know about.
“I smell like fruit?” she finally asked after snapping herself out of the Kareem trance.
“Yeah,” he said, but his voice sounded like he’d already moved on. He stood and faced her with a scowl. “What happened to your hair?”
She ran her hand through the silky straight strands. “They straightened it.”
“They who?”
“Okay, she straightened it. My mom’s stylist. You don’t like it?”
“No.”
For a split second she felt like she should have asked his permission—not surprising with the censure practically oozing from his voice, which in turn sent anger surging through her system.
“Good thing it’s my hair,” she snapped.
“It’s not your hair; it’s your mother’s hair.”
“What it that supposed to mean?”
“It means exactly what you implied. They straightened your hair. Your mother and her stylist. Now you look like them.”
“I’m her daughter; of course I’m going to look like them.”
The glower on his face grew darker. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. What did you expect to happen when I left for the spa this morning?”
“I like it better curly.”
That robbed her breath. First she smelled like fruit and now he liked her hair curly. Kareem gave a pretty good impression of a guy who paid a lot of attention to her.
The anger drained from her body. “I didn’t know you had a preference,” she said, crossing her arms and twisting her foot on the ground. “Or that you cared.”
His frown relaxed then tightened again. “The curly hair, the scarves. It suits you.”
“Do I look terrible with straight hair?”
He studied her, his gaze tracing over her face and followed the fall of her hair to her shoulders. “Not terrible. Just not like Neecie.”
She smiled at the compliment. He crossed his arms, and his features froze. “Did you straighten it for him? Your ex-fiancé?”
She clenched her teeth to keep from swearing. She didn’t want to get into a discussion with Kareem about Roland.
“No, I wasn’t thinking about him when I did it. Why would you think that anyway?”
“According to your father, this guy was perfect for you. Why did you break up with him?” Kareem completely ignored her question, a habit of his that annoyed Patrice.
“That’s none of your business.”
“It is my business.” He took a step forward, crowding her space and filling her senses with his inviting cologne. “I can’t walk around making the same mistakes this perfect guy made. Your family will wonder why you’re with someone so imperfect if that happens.”
“Believe me, you wouldn’t make the same mistakes he did.”
“What was his mistake, Neecie?” he demanded.
She couldn’t tell him about her bulimia, wouldn’t let him know about how truly screwed up she used to be and refused to let him see her as weak.
“We just didn’t work out, okay? I needed space, so I broke things off and left. We parted as friends.” She met his stare, knowing he searched for any indication of a lie.
“Anything else I should know about?”
She shook her head. Now was the time to mention Roland possibly helping them. “What did you do today?”
He watched her for what seemed like an eternity. Her heart’s tempo increased with every passing second.
“Went into town, came back, and played tennis with your father.” Kareem shrugged.
Patrice held up a hand. “Hold up, hold up, hold up. Tennis?”
“Yeah, tennis,” he said, way too no nonsense for Patrice’s understanding. “I used to play in high school. Before not playing and pissing off my dad became more interesting. I surprised your father and your brother.”
“Chad played?”
Kareem’s lip lifted. “And we didn’t kill each other. Surprisingly.” His start of a smile melted away. “They think I’ll hurt you.”
“Will you hurt me?” she blurted out. She already knew the answer. Yes, he’d hurt her—if she didn’t keep her mind right and realize they were only pretending.
“Are we really together?” he asked with a half shrug.
The anger revved back up. Pain joined in. “No, we aren’t.”
She spun on her heels to stomp toward the house. The sound of his determined footsteps registered a second before his hand grasped her elbow and spun her around to face him. The notebook she was dying to look at a few minutes earlier hit the ground, and he pressed her body against his.
“Wrong answer, Neecie.” He didn’t raise his voice, but the power behind his words hit her with the force of a punch to the gut. Instead of frightening her, her body heated as desire crept across her skin. “After last night you are mine. No exes, no new guys, no one else, understand.”
His sudden bout of possessiveness combined with his hard muscled body made her angry and aroused. But his demand was no different than hers.
“I understand,” she said. “But answer my question. Will you hurt me?”
The angry scowl on his face flickered to something else. She’d call the look insecurity, but couldn’t fathom Kareem insecure about anything. The tension in his body seeped away, and longing filled his dark eyes. Kareem lowered his eyes and pulled back. After several breaths, his gaze returned to hers. The emotion gone.
“Only if you ask me to.”
“That makes no sense.” She opened her mouth to argue, and he placed a finger over her lips, robbing her ability to speak.
A deep line formed between his brows, and he slowly traced his finger around the edges of her mouth. Patrice tried to breathe as the pa
ds of his finger gently caressed the fullness of her lips. Gradually his hand slid across her chin and neck. The light, tickling touch sent sparks of excitement through her chest.
His nostrils flared, yet she didn’t think he breathed. She lifted her chin and slightly opened her mouth, hoping he’d eradicate the inches between them and kiss her. Taking a step forward, the sensitive tips of her breasts brushed his chest. The touch resonated deep in her midsection and lower. Kareem sucked in a breath. His hand stretched to cover her neck then slowly lowered to settle over the irregular pounding of her heart.
Patrice gripped his upper arm, fingers flexing across the rock hard bicep. She tugged forward, and though he outweighed and could easily overpower her, his body shifted forward until they pressed together. His hand eased up to the back of her head, long fingers slipped through the straight strands of her hair. Her pulse fluttered, and time seemed to stop as Kareem ever so slowly lowered his head. Patrice’s lids fluttered closed. She rose onto her toes, and she lifted her chin.
Kareem’s soft lips brushed her cheek then lightly pulled her ear. “Tonight, Neecie.” His desire thickened voice sent trembles through her body that gathered at the pulse point between her legs. “I’ll give you everything you want, tonight.”
Her eyes popped open. Disappointment that he hadn’t kissed her warred with her excitement in his sensual promise.
“We’ll make love tonight,” she said.
Kareem ran thick fingers across her lower lip. “No, we’ll have sex tonight. I need you to understand the difference. I like it hard, and fast, and more than once. I want you chanting my name. I want you to sweat so hard your curls come back while I drive so deep you come hard and fall asleep afterwards. I’m going to leave no doubt in your mind that in the bedroom, we’re together. Do you understand?”
Patrice didn’t know if she should be excited or put off. The hard tips of her breasts and slippery wetness between her thighs craved what he offered. Her brain registered the truth. He wanted to have sex with her, but that was all.
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