“Are you sad because your mom and dad left? That’s impossible. I’d be beyond glad if my parents, especially my mom, would leave me the hell alone. Today she told me . . .”
I spaced out. Ashley’s stories could last a while. I found a Free People slip dress with the tags still on. It was a bright blue and reminded me of Adam’s eyes. I removed the tags and slid the dress over my head. I had the perfect shoes to go with it, my Sam Edelman sandals. They went all the way up to my knees, zipped in the back and were black.
“ . . . I mean isn’t that the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard?”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I can’t believe it.”
“I know. I mean if she’s going to go to Lake Powell with some random dude the least she can do is find out if his parents are rich.”
“Your mom?” I asked, confused.
“No. Cassidy. Have you heard a word I’ve said?”
I opened my accessories drawer and slid a set of Natasha Couture bangles on my wrist.
“Yes, of course.”
She sighed. “When are you taking me for a drive in your Ferrari?”
I shrugged, sitting in my makeup chair and flipping the mirror up so I wouldn’t catch my reflection. “Soon. I’ll call you.”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
There was a knock at my door.
“Adam.” His name left my lips before I could stop myself.
“Who’s Adam?” Ashley asked.
“I’ll tell you later. Gotta go. Bye.” I hung up and ran over to my window seat, grabbed a magazine and pretended to be reading. “You may enter.” I internally snorted at my words. I sounded like an idiot.
Isaac walked in. Adam trailed behind him. I noticed he was slightly taller than Isaac and broader. Today he wore a pair of tan chinos and a crisp white shirt. His hair curled at the ends, touching his collar. The sunlight struck his hair and it shone, golden. And his eyes? They were the brightest blue, like the sky on a clear winter’s day.
Not for long, I thought, irritated.
“Adam Haddox is here, miss.” Isaac carried papers in one hand.
“Is that the contract?” I asked, closing the magazine and setting it on the seat.
“Yes, miss. Would you like me to place them on your desk?”
I could have said yes. Let Adam sign them right away. But that would be too nice, too easy. He needed to suffer. The buzzing came back at those thoughts. I growled within, forcing it to stop.
“Take the contract to the office. Adam must first prove to me that he can do my hair and makeup. If he can’t, it won’t do to have him as my personal servant, now would it?” I allowed the sneer to show on my face.
“Very well, miss Beatrice.”
I could tell Isaac was unhappy with the decision. That hadn’t been part of the deal. But I was a Cavanaugh. I would do whatever the hell I wanted.
Isaac closed the door, leaving Adam and me alone.
He faced me. I couldn’t read his expression. My stomach was letting off fireworks again. In the bright sunlight his blond hair, blue eyes, and completely drool-worthy body seemed more perfect than yesterday.
“Come on.” I walked into my closet and sat at my makeup desk. He followed. The mirror was still flipped up so it was horizontal. I didn’t move it. “Use this to brush my hair out and be careful.”
“Yes, Miss Cavanaugh.” He took the brush from my outstretched hand. One of his fingers touched mine. A tingle shot up my arm. I ignored it. I did not tingle.
“Do you mind if I remove the towel from your head?” Adam’s voice seemed to flash through my body like lightning.
I crossed my legs and cleared my throat. “No. Go ahead.”
He carefully unwound the towel, letting my hair fall down my back.
“Just put the towel in the hamper over there.”
“Yes, Miss Cavanaugh.” He tossed it from where he stood behind me. The towel landed in the hamper. If they had been a basketball and a hoop, there would’ve been a swoosh.
I didn’t have time to be impressed because he took some of my wet hair in one hand and began brushing. He was tender, even more tender than his mother had been.
Once he’d finished with the ends he worked his way up. We didn’t speak. I had nothing to say and Adam seemed too intent on his work. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to enjoy the sensation. When my hair was completely tangle free I heard him set down the brush. I opened my eyes, preparing to say something, but Adam began running his fingers over my scalp, massaging it.
My body responded immediately to his touch. Every nerve ending from the top of my head to the tips of my toes came alive. My skin prickled and I shivered.
“Are you cold?” Adam asked.
“A little.”
He reached behind him and pulled a shawl from one of my shelves, then wrapped it around my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the edges and pulling them close.
“You’re welcome, Miss Cavanaugh.” He began massaging my head again.
“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to shake off the feelings.
“I’m sorry, Miss Cavanaugh. I learned that a scalp massage stimulates the hair follicles.”
“Fine.” I pulled the shawl more tightly around my body.
After several minutes, he ran his fingers through my hair. “Now what?” I asked, irritated that my body had never been so relaxed.
“I’m going to braid your hair. The video I watched instructed I separate your hair into three pieces.”
“Oh. Well hurry up. I haven’t got all day,” I barked.
“Right away.”
I didn’t respond. Instead I closed my eyes again, unable to stop myself from reveling in the wonderful sensations. If braiding was all he knew, I wouldn’t mind. He could do this every day for the rest of my life. I sighed contentedly. He must’ve taken the sound to be impatience. I felt his fingers move more quickly.
“There. I’m finished. Would you like to see it?”
“No.” I kept the bite in my voice. “Get started on my makeup.”
He turned me in my chair. I realized I was very low and he was tall. My chair could raise and lower with the press of a lever, but I didn’t say anything. I wanted to see what he would do.
“Hang on.” He went over to my makeup and began going through my things. For such a large man he was very agile. He didn’t bump the bottles into each other. It was almost sensual watching him touch my perfumes, handle my eye shadow, pick up my liner pencils. His eyes caught hold of my lip balm and he smiled. That snapped me out of my daydream. Adam was supposed to be suffering.
“Get your grubby hands off my things!”
“Sorry, Miss Cavanaugh.”
“And stop smiling for goodness sake. This is serious business.” He stood straight, putting his hands to his sides, making his face stoic.
I huffed. “Better.” I pulled my makeup bag over and opened it. “What do you need?”
He didn’t meet my eyes when he spoke. “I need a light foundation with SPF in it, if you have it. Your skin is already flawless without it but a little would be nice.”
I felt my cheeks warm at his compliment.
“Some powder. Your makeup brushes. A pink shade of blush. Some brown eyeliner and some eye shadow in shades of brown and pink. Mascara in brown, if you have it. And then, if you don’t mind, I’ll apply lip balm to your lips.”
So that’s why he smiled. The lip balm was something he recognized.
I took out the things he’d asked for and set them on the desk. “There. Anything else?”
“No, Miss Cavanaugh, that should do it.”
“Great.” I closed my eyes. “You may begin.”
My chair began to rise and I was glad my eyes were closed. I felt his body come close to me. His breath caressed my cheek. It was warm and smelled like mouthwash. The effect was disconcerting.