Chapter 4

“I thought you were coming right back,” he said, making me jump. I spun around, towel clutched to my chest.

“I thought you left!” I said, surprised as all hell that he was still here. “Sorry, I had to get out of that wet shirt…” I trailed off as I realized he was just staring. At me. With unmistakable heat in his eyes. He took a step into the room, and I instinctively tried to take one back, only to find the damned dryer at my back. I was unable to do anything other than watch as he advanced. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the muscles that rippled and clenched as he got closer. How did I not notice before that shirt that was painted onto his body? Oh yeah, I was distracted by his hair. No such distraction now.

He stopped right in front of me. Close enough to smell. Yikes! I had to tilt my head back to look him in the eyes. His hands came to either side of my head, and his fingers pushed into the knot of curls, finding the clips and dropping them to the floor. His eyes darkened even more when my hair cascaded down (God, I am SO glad I kept my hair long) and covered me more completely than that little towel I was holding. At his surprised expression, I said, “Looks like I have a few surprises of my own.”

“You sure do, baby,” he said, as he drove his hands into my hair and all rational thoughts from my brain. I groaned when his fingers started massaging my scalp and my eyes closed at that exquisite sensation. I could feel him leaning in to kiss me, but the touch of his lips on mine still took me by surprise. They were full and soft and strong and – oh! – wonderful. Mine parted on a sigh and he took advantage, thrusting his tongue into my mouth.

This new assault on my senses, God, the taste of him, nearly killed me. He tasted faintly of mint, like he’d brushed his teeth before coming to the salon. The salon. We’re in the salon. Oh boy. I broke the kiss reluctantly, and looked into his eyes. “Jon,” I said, “I don’t usually, I mean, this isn’t what – ”

He laughed softly at my discomfort. “Diana, I know none of this was calculated.” His hands were still playing with my hair, sifting it between his fingers, measuring its length, and generally driving me to distraction. “You have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen,” he said, combing his fingers through it. “It’s so soft, so thick. And the color. Is it your own? It’s gorgeous.”

What? Is he asking me something? I have no clue what’s going on other than this God of a man is bracing me against a clothes dryer, and playing with my hair. That’s all I need to know. Yep. I’m just concentrating on the hypnotic cadence of his voice. God, I’m so glad he came into my salon. Salon. Jesus. “Uh, Jon, we are in my salon. We’re not closed yet. Anyone could – ” he stopped me with a kiss.

“I locked the door and flipped the sign before I came back here,” he said.

“Pretty sure of yourself, are you?” I teased. I was thinking I should feel indignant, but somehow couldn’t muster it up. Nope. Not an iota of indignation.

“Not sure, just hopeful.” He searched my eyes, showing vulnerability in his. “I’m not reading you wrong, am I? Let me know if I am – no harm, no foul.”

I looked straight into his eyes. This was no arrogant rock star looking at me – this was a man who’d been badly hurt, who was taking some comfort from me. A man who was unsure of his potency; unsure if his advances were wanted. A man basically unsure of himself. Damn his ex-wife for putting those doubts into his head.

I dropped the towel I was still holding, and tunneled my fingers into the hair on either side of his beautiful face. “You’re not wrong,” I said, as I pulled him in for another kiss.