It wasn’t that he didn’t think she could take care of herself. He actually didn’t know her well enough to make that decision. But she seemed sweet and kind and yes, dammit, naive. “Becca.”
She shot him a smile filled with nerves, and it was such a dazzling one his heart actually skipped.
Not a good thing.
Not when, earlier, he’d touched her in concern and felt that heady shock of awareness. And now a mere smile tipped his inner organs out of whack.
Food, he decided. He must be hungry.
“I need to run,” Becca said suddenly. “I don’t want to be late.”
Everyone else had quickly scattered at exactly five o’clock. Normally Kent would have scattered with the best of them, but something had held him back tonight. “Late?”
Her pencil broke. “Darn it.” Her lips tightened as she patted herself down, searching for another one.
Pointedly, he looked at the one she had behind her ear, but she was grumbling, not paying any attention. “I can never find-”
Reaching close enough to see the few freckles scattered on her nose, he slid it out and held it up. “This what you’re looking for?”
“Thanks,” she muttered, making a grab for it, but he held firm.
“Late for what, Becca?”
“I’d rather not discuss it.” She gave up on the tug-of-war and pushed at her glasses. Then once again glanced at the clock.
“It’s still six o’clock.”
“Yeah. I’d better go.”
She didn’t seem too eager, which upped his worry factor. “What’s with you today?”
“Nothing. Look, don’t you have something to do? Like maybe, oh I don’t know, read your catalog?”
He let out a grin. “You know very well it’s not my lingerie catalog. It came for you, but you tossed it. I couldn’t just stand by and let you waste paper that way.”
Her gaze shot heavenward. Then at the clock yet again. “I’ve got to go.”
“So you’ve said.”
Her voice held a bit of something he couldn’t put his finger on. Panic? He really hated this. She was going off to find some sort of excitement.
Who would look after her?
He knew the answer to that, but he didn’t have to like it. “Okay, dammit, I’ll come with you.”
She looked confused. “What?”
“To keep you out of trouble. Nothing more.”
She cocked her head. “To keep me out of trouble?”
“That’s what I said, didn’t I?”
“You know, if this were anyone else in the lab, say Sherry-” She dragged out the name of his secretary. “If she were going out, you’d want details. Lurid details.”
“Hey, I’ve caught you listening to the stories, too.”
“My point is, I find it interesting that you never worry about anyone else in the lab.”
She had him there. “Sherry can take care of herself,” he said finally, knowing by her instant flash of temper he’d said the wrong thing.
“I’m eight years older than she is!”
How could he explain that she seemed like an innocent? He decided not to explain at all, not to do anything to drag himself in any further.
“I think I’ll just head out,” she said stiffly, sliding off her stool. She walked to the door, lifted her purse and coat off the wooden hanger there. Then she hesitated, her back to him. “I’m wondering why you treat me as if I were your baby sister. Is it because we work together? Or because I look…the way I do?”
Uh-oh. He sensed this was one of those girl traps. “This has nothing to do with your looks.”
She crossed her arms, cocked her head and gave him one of those long-suffering, mock-patient expressions every woman has perfected. “What does it have to do with?”
“Well…” With longing, he glanced at his own coat, and the door.
“Oh, never mind,” she said, disgusted. “Men.”
The door shut not so quietly behind her.
BECCA DROVE ALONG the narrow, curvy, two-lane highway of Incline Village, thinking things were going to change from this day on.
The sun disappeared behind the horizon, and in its wake a glorious array of colors bounced off Lake Tahoe where it glimmered on her right. Its waters were a shimmering, brilliant blue that spoke of its amazing depth. The Sierra mountains towered on her left, magnificent and still peaked with snow, though it was already May. And as she drove through Incline, a place she spent both her days and nights, she thought it sad it was a place she’d never played.
Never really lived.
Well that was going to change too.
She turned into the parking lot and looked at the old wooden building that served as the lake’s equivalent of a mini-mall. The structure was two stories tall and built to resemble a cabin. It dated from the early part of the twentieth century, when Lake Tahoe had been an exclusive resort for the rich and famous from the San Francisco Bay area. Nearly a hundred years later, little had changed. Not the look of the place, or the wealthy tourists.
The area, especially this building, exuded charm and nostalgia, just as the various entrepreneurs inside the building wanted.
Summer’s Place was at the end of the mall, newly converted from a small but exclusive dress shop. The rent in this district was unspeakably high, as it was throughout Incline Village.
Income Village the locals had dubbed it.
And though Summer was wonderful, resourceful and very talented, even she couldn’t have possibly afforded the rent by herself. The story in town was that her sweet, kind, rich ex-boyfriend had given her a rent-free ten-year lease.
That was true, but only half of the real story.
She’d actually won it from him in a game of poker. Strip poker. Becca had expected Summer to hide that little tidbit, but she was actually proud of it.
And Becca was proud of her. But a makeover?
Faltering on the steps, she looked out to the lake. A small company that took tourists parasailing was set up on shore, bringing in the latest paying customer, who was hooting and hollering with delight.
Becca turned and stared up at the bright, cheerful sign that read: Summer’s Place, Full Service Salon.
Her stomach tap danced. Her nerves skittered.
She wanted this, she reminded herself. It was just step number one to a more exciting, satisfying life.
When she almost believed it, she went inside.
TWO HOURS LATER she sat beneath a hair dryer, a cup of steaming tea on her right, a glamour magazine-which might as well have been printed in Latin-on her lap. She wore nothing but a robe and some scented lotion that smelled heavenly.
There was something decadent about being so completely naked beneath the robe in a room filled with people. Summer sat at her right, happily chatting away to two other customers as she held Becca’s hand.
Becca assumed it was to hold her still, to keep her from running screaming out of the salon. But she no longer felt like screaming at all.
The salon was incredibly homey and relaxing, not at all intimidating, as some salons could be. The colors were bright and cheerful, much like Summer herself. There were all sorts of snacks available-nothing made clients happy faster than something yummy to munch on. Soft rock blared discreetly from hidden speakers overhead. The reception area had been designed to look like an expensive but approachable clothing boutique, and since one of Summer’s closest friends, Monique, designed and sold clothes right here, it actually was.
An entire wardrobe had been picked out for Becca, and it hadn’t been simple. She’d wanted easy-to-wear clothes that she could both work and play in.
Summer had insisted on two different looks, one for Becca’s work and one for the nightlife she was hoping Becca would have.