She shared a look with her friends. “No. But we’ll fix it.”
Kate kept a smile pasted on her face and whispered under her breath. “The hair should be first.”
Arilyn leaned into the tight circle. “Are you kidding me? He’s completely orange. You have to take him to Ming.”
Kate shuddered. “God, are you sure? Is he that far gone? He may never come back if we sic Ming on him.”
Kennedy sighed. “We have no choice, the pigment is completely discolored.”
Arilyn took a sniff. “What’s that smell? I feel like I stepped into an ocean and drowned.”
Kennedy lowered her voice. “Last time it was the woodsy pine. He has no idea how much cologne to use.”
“Hello? I’m standing right here. I can hear everything you’re saying, even if you think you’re whispering,” Ned said, sounding a little peeved.
Arilyn clucked her tongue. “We apologize, Ned. We have your best interests at heart.”
Kate nodded. “Kennedy will take great care of you, and we’ll be here if you need anything.”
“Let’s go into the consulting room,” she said. “See you later, guys.”
They said an enthusiastic good-bye, and she led Ned into the purple room. Her files, contract, and notes were already on the small table clad in a neat leather binder. The purple, soft-cushioned chairs set off a thick carpet, deep wood accents, and watercolors on the cream walls. A unique rock garden trickled out a stream of water and gently bubbled, a soothing background for sharing dreams and desires. The room was designed to inspire openness and trust, a complete feng shui heaven created by Arilyn, whose love for yoga, meditation, and all mystical universe stuff helped balance out Kate’s hard-core workaholic ways and Kennedy’s own drive to command a room socially and increase their clientele.
She motioned for him to sit. “Why don’t you get comfortable? I went over your initial questionnaire, but my first step is to have a confidential chat so I can get an idea of the ideal women to match you with. Then we’ll decide what works best.”
“No more speed dating.”
She grinned. “I agree. But we have tons of options.” He settled against the purple cushions. “I got you a bottle of water. Would you like coffee or tea instead?”
“No, water’s fine, thanks.”
She crossed her legs and glanced at his papers. “Why don’t we start with your job? You have an impressive résumé. NASA?”
“Worked there for a number of years. Then transferred into the private sector. Sector Space X is a new company targeting the niche market of spacecraft for the civilian. I’m currently studying advanced propulsion.”
“What makes the rocket go off, right?”
“Correct. Of course, the new Vortex engine uses gel-propellant, which is quite fascinating, but I’m currently analyzing a more efficient yet controversial method.”
Kennedy wanted to ask more details about his work, but that wasn’t the focus of the meeting. She’d always been interested by mechanics, though she had no talent for it herself. The moment she looked at how something worked, it broke. Still, there was something kind of sexy about a man who figured stuff out, and she needed to reveal more of that up front to keep a woman hooked. She made another note.
“You have a perfect body. Do you work out often?”
Her pen stilled. “Did you just comment on my body?”
Ned frowned. “No offense. I just wanted to give you a compliment.”
The flattering aspect of the remark was lost amid its complete rudeness. She leaned forward and shot him a warning look. “Rule number one: there will be no questions, statements, or verbal thoughts expressed about any part of a woman’s body. Understood?”
“Why?”
“Women are extremely conscious of being objectified. Most of us have self-esteem issues and don’t need to be reminded of our weaknesses.”
He shoved his fingers in his hair, but they got caught in the gel from hell. “Dammit, that’s what Cosmopolitan said! I followed it to the letter, and a woman at the speed-dating event said women love getting remarks about their bodies. Said she didn’t work out at the gym just so I could comment on her smile.”
She smothered a sigh. Poor thing. Mixed social signals could blast a man to pieces, especially someone like this guy. “Cosmopolitan is correct. That woman is a rarity.”
“I don’t know. My brother says women love when men focus on their bodies. Says if you compliment their breasts, ass, or mouth, it’s a sure sign of scoring.”
Kennedy stiffened as the memories poured in. Huddling by the lockers, afraid to go into the hallway where he was waiting for her. The laughs and shoves and insults of “fat girl” that echoed in her ears long into the night. Her breasts had been larger than most because of her weight, and those dirty stares and grabby hands still held the power to nauseate her. She sternly reminded herself that that was all in the past, breathed in, and refocused. This man genuinely had no clue about how to talk to women, and this was where the real work started. She bet no one had ever bothered to take the time to try to educate him.
“Your brother is wrong, Ned. Very wrong. The best way to make a woman happy is to compliment her intelligence. Her sense of humor. The sparkle in her eyes or the sweetness of her smile. The kindness of a gesture. We want to be valued beyond the physical, and then we feel safe enough to open up.”
He seemed to watch her with a burning focus that radiated through the thick lenses of his glasses and pierced her soul. An image of Clark Kent skittered in her vision. Geeky, clumsy, socially awkward, but underneath, hotness galore. And she could do it; she sensed a wealth of appeal behind his veneer that she ached to unearth. But none of it would occur if he were stuck on how women needed to be treated and didn’t want to change. She waited for his answer and sensed it was a turning point.
“I understand. That makes sense. That’s what the consensus of magazines stated.”
“Magazines?”
“Yes. When I decided it was time to get serious about a relationship, I studied every cultural aspect to get an idea of what women wanted and expected from a man.”
Her eyes widened. “So, you read Cosmopolitan. What else?”
He ticked them off on his fingers. “Marie Claire, Self, Glamour, Oprah, and Men’s Health. I read all the articles and took the surveys. That’s why I’m so frustrated. I keep getting different reactions that just don’t follow the format.”
Damn, had she ever met a man who tried so hard in his hunt for a wife? Her heart softened. She had to give him credit. He may be a hot mess, but he had the right intentions. “That’s what I’m here for. I’ll help you figure it out. Let’s talk about your family. Is your brother married?”
“Oh, no, he’s not interested in settling down. Says there are too many women out there to restrict himself.”
Uh-oh. An older brother giving bad advice was a nightmare. “I see. Are you two close?”
“Yes, we live together now. He raised me when our mother took off. Dad was too overwrought to deal with us, so my brother took over.” She noticed he told the facts calmly, as if giving a PowerPoint presentation. A twinge tightened her chest. She bet his brilliance had always set him apart from the crowd, and a supportive, loving mother could have helped.
“I’m sorry.”
His shoulders lifted. “No need. We turned out fine. Could’ve been a lot worse.”
He meant it. Many men either buried the past or used it as a crutch to explain away bad behavior. Ned accepted his circumstances and moved on. Admiration cut through her. Yes, he possessed character. She could work with that.