Jake’s eyes widened and they both heard Nina this time. “Rachel! My timer went off!”
“I’ll call you.” Jake grabbed Emma’s hand and he practically dragged her out the door. She protested but they were gone before Nina made it to the front of the store, looking very put-out.
“My time’s up!” Nina announced.
Mine too, Rachel thought, watching Jake’s retreating back. He was still holding Emma’s hand but they were walking at a more normal pace through the mall, heading home. Rapunzel’s was located on the lower level of a high-rise apartment complex in downtown Chicago, just one shop in the midst of many. The residents didn’t have to go anywhere if they didn’t want to. They had all the amenities located on the bottom floor.
“Okay, let’s get you rinsed.” Rachel touched Nina’s shoulder and turned her away from the store front, nudging her down the aisle. “Sorry I missed the timer, I had to ring up a customer.”
“Do you do everything around here?” Nina inquired as she settled herself into a chair at a sink.
“Pretty much.” Rachel turned the water on and began to rinse Nina’s hair. The woman started talking and Rachel just listened-this time it was Hollywood gossip, something about Charlie Sheen and a meltdown. That was easy to say “uh-huh” and
“oh really” to without too much effort, and that was a good thing, because it took Rachel an hour to finish Nina’s hair to the woman’s satisfaction and the entire time, she was thinking about Jake.
That, and wondering what was going to happen when Nina found out her daughter’s hair had been cut off-and that Rachel had been the one to do it. While Nina herself had been sitting at the back of the salon drinking cappuccino and reading Cosmo. Of course, that was probably nothing compared to what the dragon-lady would do or say if Nina had known her hairdresser was going to go on a date with her ex-husband.
It would be the most sensible thing, and probably best for business, Rachel decided, if she just politely told Jake when he called that she’d changed her mind. She was going to be in enough trouble already for the hair incident.
Which is why, when the phone rang that night in her apartment at the top of the high rise, with Rapunzel’s lights dark far below her, she closed her eyes and said, “Six?
That sounds great, see you then.”
So much for being sensible.
She knew she was in trouble when Jake pulled up in a limo. At least he didn’t bring a dozen roses, she thought, blushing as a driver opened the door for her and she stepped in. Jake was drinking something amber colored from a fat glass.
“Hey there, Rapunzel.” He smiled when she got in and slid into the seat across from him. “Ready for game two?”
“Let’s hope it’s better than game one.” Rachel made a face. The Red Wings had lost game one in overtime three-to-two.
“I’ll drink to that.” Jake lifted his glass. “Do you want anything? Wine?
Champagne?” He nodded toward the bar and she glanced over to see it was fully stocked. He’d really gone all out.
“Is that brandy?” she asked, looked at his glass. He nodded. “Got any scotch?” He raised an eyebrow but reached over to the bar without comment. The car began to move as he poured her a shot and handed it over. Rachel took it with trembling hands. She’d spent an hour and a half getting ready for this non-date. That’s what she kept calling it in her head-a non-date. How a woman could spend so much time on beauty when she didn’t even have any hair was a paradox, she was sure, but that’s how long it had taken her. She didn’t even want to know how long she might have spent if she’d considered it a real date.
But this was a non-date, just a ride and a ticket to the playoffs. She reminded herself of that fact when she chose to wear her Red Wings jersey, but then forgot it when the short white mini-skirt made it into the mix. She reminded herself that it was a non-date when she decided not to put her hair up, but then forget it again when she found four-inch black strappy heels on her feet. And she tried to remind herself of their non-date status as she sat across from Jake in the limo, but totally forgot it when his hand brushed hers as he handed over her glass and little tingles went up her arm like electrical current.
“Nice limo.” She looked around the car. It wasn’t a stretch, but it was still a limo with a bar and a little flat screen and leather seats. Big time luxury, at least to her.
“I just thought it would be easier.” Jake shrugged. “Parking sucks at the arena.” He sat forward to take her glass and she relinquished it, ignoring that damned buzzy feeling in her limbs whenever he got close. She shook her head when he asked if she wanted another drink or anything to eat. There was also a little fridge. They’d already agreed on the phone not to do dinner. She’d been in a non-date mood at the time she insisted upon that. They’d also talked about Emma’s hair and Nina’s reaction-which hadn’t been good. Not good at all.
“Well, I haven’t heard from your ex-wife.” Rachel glanced out at the city flying by.
They really didn’t have far to go, just a few miles. “I guess that means she’s not going to sue me?”
“If she was going to sue you, you wouldn’t hear from her at all.” Jake finished his brandy and set the glass on the bar. “You’d just hear from her lawyer.”
“Eek.” The thought of being slapped with a lawsuit wasn’t a happy one. She needed less stress in her life, not more. “Well I haven’t heard from her lawyer either.”
“Actually you have.” He grinned, sitting back against the seat, his arm stretched casually over the back. He was dressed for the game, jeans and his own Wings jersey-white on red instead of red on white like her own. Another guy might have looked sloppy or casual but Jake looked…well, good. There was no other word for it.
“I have?”
“I’m her lawyer.” He looked out the tinted window as the car began to slow. They were in traffic now. “At least, I was.”
“Didn’t that present a conflict of interest?”
He snorted. “Justice lets you represent yourself, remember?”
“So you’re a lawyer.”
He nodded. “And you’re a hair stylist. I guess we’ve got the basics out of the way.”
“Yes, the important things,” she agreed with a smile. “Career, marital status, children or lack thereof, and favorite sports team. What else is there?”
“Um…” He seemed to consider this. “Dog person or cat person?” She laughed. “Dog.”
“Me too. Chinese or Sushi?”
“Sushi, definitely.”
“You obviously prefer scotch to brandy. Pepsi or Coke?”
“Coke Zero. With lemon.”
“Ugh, how can you drink that stuff?” He made a face. “Okay let’s see… modern or classical?”
“Both. Although I have a soft spot for the classics.”
He nodded. “Jazz or blues?”
“Definitely blues. It makes me want to take my clothes off.” The confession just slipped out.
“Good to know.” The look he gave her made her blush all the way to her toes. “I’ll have to beef up my collection of B.B. King. Rock or country?” Now it was Rachel’s turn to make a face. “Rock. But I like some Garth Brooks on occasion.”
“So you could tolerate a little Johnny Cash?”
She smiled. “Tolerate being the optimum word there.”
“Here’s a tough one. Love or money?”
“Love of course.”
“Do you think rich people and poor people answer that question differently?” he asked.
“You’re rich, you tell me.”
He laughed. “I’m not rich.”
“Compared to me you are.”
“I’ll give you that,” he conceded. “Okay, how about freedom or security?”