Behind her, Kent choked on his coffee.
In her ear, Summer laughed. “You mean when we were young and stupid?”
Had it been that long since she’d dreamed? Carefully she avoided Kent’s curious gaze and said, “Let’s do it now.”
“Oh Becca, you’re so funny. As if either of us could just take off now that we’re so busy. And speaking of that, let me get to it. I just wanted to congratulate you.”
Becca sighed. “For what?”
“You won our first monthly salon makeover. Here at the salon. Isn’t that cool?”
“But I didn’t enter any-”
“Now I know you won’t take this the wrong way,” Summer interrupted smoothly. “But no one is more deserving of Summer’s Place First Giveaway Makeover than you.”
“Gee, thanks. I think. And when did you decide to run a contest for a makeover?”
“I’ve been dying to get my hands on you for years now, you know that.”
A makeover. Good Lord. “Look, I’m going to be really busy having an adventure-”
“No one’s ever too busy for salon treatment.”
“I will be,” she promised, but then she glanced down at her plain white tennis shoes, then turned her head and looked at Kent, who’d again immersed himself in work. He had files open, slides prepared and his light on. Even his face was tight with concentration as he scrupulously studied…a lingerie catalogue?
He caught her watching him and sent her a lazy smile that illuminated his face and made her catch her breath. His eyes were heavy-lidded, sensual, and for a moment, Becca allowed the fantasy to root. To put that look in his eyes, to be responsible for all that maleness…
But a makeover?
The whole thing was vain, narcissistic…and embarrassingly appealing.
“Think of all the publicity it will generate for my shop,” Summer coaxed.
“Yes, but…”
“I’ll need before and after pics because no one is going to believe the change in you, going from…well, absolutely no style, to-”
“Hey!”
“-to the height of fashion! I know you’ve never let me help before-”
“Because I do fine by myself.” Right. Uh-huh. Which was exactly why she’d just turned thirty and hadn’t had a date in so long her date-only lipstick had dried out. Again she looked at Kent, who’d gone back to studying his magazine, and her tummy tingled.
“Oh, Becca.” Summer’s voice lowered to plea level. “You are going to do it, aren’t you?”
Becca didn’t have a lot of family, Summer was basically it. For as long as she could remember, her sister had been after her to do something with herself. For herself. “I just don’t think-”
“That’s perfect,” Summer said quickly. “Don’t think.”
“A new hairdo is hardly going to change my life.”
“No, but it’s a start. It’s the works, Bec. Hair, makeup, clothes, everything.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re making this up as you go along?”
Her sister laughed lightly. Quickly. “Don’t be silly.”
But it was silly. And yet… “I don’t wear makeup.”
“I’ll teach you.”
“My clothes are fine.”
“Yeah, if you’re into Blue Light Specials.”
“Well at least my hair is…”
“Mousy. Baby, I’m sorry, you need a change. I can do it for you, let me.”
She sounded so sure, so excited. But then again, Summer-as her name implied-was everything Becca was not. Tall, thin, beautiful.
Pride was an ugly thing. “Let me think about it.” Setting the receiver back in place, Becca stood there for a long moment. She hated to disappoint Summer, it was like kicking a puppy. Her sister was just so happy and excited and bubbling and…perfect. All the time.
It wasn’t as if she was jealous, she loved Summer with all her heart. They were all each other had, but sometimes being with her was strangely deflating.
Kent tossed his catalog aside. “A strip joint?”
“Is that the only part of the conversation you heard?”
“It’s the part that grabbed me,” he admitted. “Are you going to do it?”
Truthfully, the idea of a makeover actually scared her. Gave her a weightless feeling deep in her stomach. Made her wonder, just for a weak little second, how things could be if…
Kent’s gaze filled with shock. “You’re thinking about it.”
Was it so unreasonable? So ridiculous? “So?”
“Well…I guess I can’t believe you’d go to a strip club.”
She gaped at him. “I’m talking about the makeover.”
“Oh.” The bad-boy grin he shot her had probably melted hundreds of hearts. Thousands. “And here I thought you were all work and no play,” he said softly, challengingly.
Okay, that did it. Sealed the deal.
Yanking up the phone, she pounded out the number to Summer’s Place and waited impatiently, foot tapping. “I wanted adventure,” she muttered. “I wanted a change. And darn it, that’s exactly what I’m going to get, if it kills me. This makeover is just the beginning. When I’m done there, watch out.”
“Watch out what?” Kent wanted to know, sounding unsure.
Good. “I just might go find a strip club for real!”
The look on his face might have been priceless if she wasn’t so worked up. “To watch or participate?” he asked carefully.
“Both.”
All amusement had drained from his face. “Okay, wait a minute.”
“I’m tired of being good. Why isn’t Summer answering?”
“Hold on a sec,” Kent said. “Back the train up.”
“No more boring and predictable.”
He watched her pace as far as the phone cord would allow. “What did you put in your Wheaties this morning?”
“I need action.” She whirled and paced some more, waiting impatiently for Summer to pick up. “I need red lace panties.”
“What?”
“Never mind,” she whirled away, but Kent turned her back to face him. “Becca-”
Shrugging him off, she clutched the phone tighter to her ear, relieved when Summer finally answered.
“I’ll do it. All of it,” Becca snapped, then before Summer could gloat, she hung up. “There. That should get the ball rolling.”
2
HOURS LATER, Kent watched Becca fidget on her stool as she bent over her microscope.
She wasn’t a fidgeter.
Her wriggling was what had originally gotten his attention, but what held it was how she wriggled.
His gaze fixed on her hips as she scooted herself first one way then another.
It was difficult to tell her exact shape beneath all those layers she wore, just as he had no idea what she looked like without glasses on her face. He’d never seen her with her hair down, either, and because of the way she twisted it up out of her way, he had no idea how long it was.
Which was fine. He liked her-everyone liked Becca-she was generous, open, warm. And because he liked her, he was careful not to be attracted to her. It was a law with him, written in stone. Don’t ever like the women you date. Lust after them, yes. Sleep with them, whenever safe and possible. But absolutely do not like them. It was a well-known fact that friends and sex should never mix because then there were expectations.
He hated expectations.
So when his mouth opened and said, “I think we should talk about this adventure thing,” he both surprised himself and broke his personal law number two, which was don’t pry, because once you do, you’re involved.
Becca ignored him.
Good. He should let it go. That was the smart thing to do, and he was nothing if not smart. But Becca seemed to be itching for trouble, and while he understood the need for trouble all too well, the thought of her going after it, and maybe even finding it, disturbed him more than he cared to admit.