“Did you see?”

Sonya showed me the paper.

“Yeah, I saw.” Checking the supplies at my station, I headed to the supply room. Alistair and Sonya had already been talking about the engagement when I'd come in, and a few others had horned in, curious. I wasn’t interested in all the hoopla surrounding him or her.

“She’s pretty, don’t you think? They look cute together.”

I shrugged as I studied the bottles lining the shelves, took some shampoo and a deep conditioning treatment I liked. After signing them out, I headed back to my station, Sonya still trailing along with me, an expectant look on her face.

I sighed. I wasn't going to get any peace until she said what was on her mind. “What?”

“You spent half the day with him. He was a nice guy. Gorgeous. And you don’t have any thoughts about this?”

“Sure.” Rolling my eyes, I dumped my supplies on the counter and then took the paper. “I have thoughts. Good looking rich guy marries good looking rich girl. They’ll have good looking babies who will grow up spoiled and over-indulged, and the cycle will repeat itself. Those are my thoughts.”

“You’re so cynical.” She huffed a little and took the paper back. “You’ve got no romance in your soul.”

“You're right,” I agreed. “But there’s nothing romantic about that picture, Sonya. It was totally staged.” People are so gullible.

She looked shocked. “No way.”

I was about to point out all the ways it was staged when the soft tinkling music sounded through the salon, alerting us so subtly and elegantly that we had a customer. Turning to my station, I put away my supplies and checked my appearance. Time to get ready for the day.

A normal day in the life of a normal, hard-working person.

“Mr. Lindstrom!”

Shit.

I tensed, and then slowly looked up. In the large mirror over my area, I could see clear to the front and yes…there he was.

And he was smiling at me.

What the hell?

Alistair cut in front of me, blocking him from my sight. “Mr. Lindstrom. I heard about your engagement. Congratulations!”

Echoes rose up all around us. I kept my back turned to him. He had enough people fawning over him. He didn’t need more over there offering him well wishes too. As Sonya gushed about how romantic the picture was, I snorted.

Staged, I thought. Totally staged.

I gave a vague smile in his direction so I didn’t have to deal with Alistair telling me that I was being rude to somebody who was probably going to become a VIP here at the salon.

Dammit. I'd completely forgotten that he’d said he'd start using FOCUS, and somehow, I had a feeling he was the sort to stand by his word, as far as that went. Maybe somebody could get shampoo in his eyes, nick him, piss him off–

“Allie!” Alistair managed to make himself heard without yelling.

Lifting my head, I met Jal’s eyes in the mirror for the briefest moment, and the small smile on his lips made my stomach sink even more. That smile should have been a warm, inviting one – and it was, really. But it wasn't an invitation I could accept.

He was taken.

By my sister.

Still, I didn’t have much choice but turn and move to the counter where Alistair was waiting for me.

He gave me a beaming smile. “Mr. Lindstrom has requested your services. He’d like a shampoo and massage.”

“Of course.” You just had a shampoo and massage on Friday; don’t you know how to wash your own damn hair? I bit my cheek to keep from saying anything close to that and gestured for him to follow me.

Jal didn’t do that, of course. He fell in step next to me, just like he had before. “Did you have a good weekend?”

“Of course. I imagine yours was as well. Congratulations on your engagement,” I said, taking care to make sure my voice held nothing but good cheer.

“I take it you saw the paper.”

I swept out a hand toward the seat and cocked my head. “The paper? Oh! Yeah. Sonya and Alistair were quite…” I pursed my lips, pretending I needed to think that over. I just couldn't seem to behave myself with him around. “Quite a flutter. You’ve made a few more conquests there. But yes, they showed it to me when I came in.”

He actually looked a little disappointed. “That was the first you saw it? It was on the front page yesterday.”

“Shocking, you being on the front page.” It was far too easy to fall into that relaxed tone with him. I swung a cape around his neck and adjusted the chair before easing him backward over the bowl of the sink. What did it matter to him when I’d seen that damn paper? Since it did, though… “I don’t spend much time reading the newspaper, Mr. Lindstrom. It’s pretty tedious. News, most of it bad, social crap which is so very boring, and a lot of other stuff that doesn’t really pertain to me.”

“Hmm.”

I’d already started to slick my hands through the healthy weight of his hair, but that hmm caught my ear. Glancing at his face, I lifted an eyebrow. “What’s that hmm mean?”

“You struck me as the sort who seemed rather interested in keeping up with events. That’s all.” Light blue eyes caught mine, held, and for a moment, I felt almost…trapped.

It was like he was seeing right inside me.

The sound of splashing water drew me back. “There are other ways of keeping up with events. Besides, there are only so many events that are worth keeping up with. Why pay attention to the things that don’t affect my life anyway?”

Before he could respond to that, I grabbed the nozzle and started to rinse his hair. Settling into the massage straight after, I fell into that familiar rhythm. I actually went longer than normal just because he'd quit asking questions. He'd also closed his eyes, which meant he wasn't staring through me anymore.

“You keep that up, and you’re going to put me to sleep,” he said finally, his voice thick and soft.

A quick look at the clock told me I’d probably spent twice the normal amount of time on the massage than I normally did. At least with him, I knew Alistair wouldn't mind me being a little overindulgent.

“Well, you seemed to be enjoying yourself,” I quipped. “Just trying to make sure you get your money’s worth, Mr. Lindstrom.”

I finished up and wrapped a warmed towel around his head before adjusting the chair. He was already sitting up, and I led him to my station so I could dry him. Once that was done, I could get him out of here.

Keenly aware of the fact that he was watching me again, I turned the chair so he wasn’t staring directly into the mirror – and therefore, at me. “Would you like me to style it or just dry it?”

“Do I strike you as the kind of man who wants his hair fussed with?” he asked, sounding like he wanted to laugh.

“Well…you did come to a salon twice within the span of what…a few days?” The question slipped out of me before I could stop it and I winced, hoping like hell Alistair hadn’t been around to hear.

Not even two seconds later, I was able to breathe out a sigh of relief because a bright, overly animated laugh filled the salon. That would be Esther Vosburg, one of the few clients that Alistair still saw to directly. Esther wouldn’t have it any other way. Most of us suspected that she was trying to get him to ask her out. She hadn't quite figured out that he was gay. Which wasn't really a surprise since he flirted back, harmlessly enough, of course, but he kept her happy.

If he had Esther in his chair, then he’d be distracted for a good hour.

I finished my remark, “I think that alone says you're the kind of man who enjoys being fussed over.”

“Ouch,” Jal said. “You’ve got claws today.”

“I’ve got claws every day.” I reigned myself in, remembering where I was, who he was. “I’m just usually better at hiding them. I think I’m having too much of a Monday. I apologize.”

“You don’t need to do that. I was just teasing you.”

He was. I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Regardless, it’s not appropriate for me to speak that way to a client.” I turned on the dryer, silencing any further discussion and breathed out a silent sigh of relief. Being so close, I could smell the scent of him and it was…intoxicating. His hair was the color of cornsilk, soft and thick. Some women came in here and spent hundreds a month, or more, trying to get, then maintain this kind of color.

Once I’d finished, I turned off the dryer, smoothed his hair a bit more with the brush and then stepped back. “You’re done, Mr. Lindstrom.”

“Thank you.” As he stood, I went about righting my station, trying not to think about how close he was standing. But the longer it went on, the more impossible it became not to acknowledge it. Turning, I pasted a blank smile on my face and tried not to take a step back.

“Is there something else you needed?”

He held out a hand. Familiar with the process, I accepted the tip, but when I saw the one-hundred-dollar bill, I shook my head and pulled my hand back without it. “I can’t accept that kind of tip for such a small service, sir. It’s outrageous.”

“Please.” He offered a smile that was both tempting and teasing. “I feel more relaxed after five minutes under your hands than two hours in a hot tub.”

“Two hours in a hot tub isn’t healthy.” I shook my head. “A tip that size is excessive and you know it.”

“Okay. Perhaps…” He dipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew a different bill.

Fifty still seemed ridiculous, but I was more comfortable with that than anything else. Besides, I'd gotten the impression he wasn't going to give up until he'd given me more than I deserved. “Thank you.”

He nodded at me and turned to make his way over to the counter.

As he took care of his bill, I slid the money into my pocket and tried to steady my hands. Sonya’s laugh, bright and fast, carried through the salon, and I tuned her out. I’d acted like I was above all of those people who'd been fawning all over Jal, but in reality, his hold on me was so much worse.

* * *

Ducking into the deli across the street, I breathed in a sigh of relief when I saw there was next to no line. I wanted a sandwich, some soup and some time to myself.

In short order, I had my meal. But within two minutes of sitting down, I realized I wasn’t going to get the time to myself.

Somebody slid into the seat across from me, and I stiffened as Jal gave me his usual charming smile.

“Don’t tell me you forgot something else in the salon.”

“No.” He gave me a sheepish smile. “There was something I wanted to take care of, but there really wasn’t an opportunity. I had some business at the bank next door, though, and when I saw you ducking into here…well…” He finished with a shrug.

Even more nervous now, I leaned back in my seat. My Reuben sandwich and potato soup sat on the tray in front of me and my stomach, rumbling not five minutes ago, had begun to pitch in an altogether different manner.

“And just what was it you needed to take care of, Mr. Lindstrom?”

A look of frustration crossed his face. “Can’t you call me by my name?”

“Mr. Lindstrom is your name,” I responded. “Unless you lead a double life.”

“Not what I meant, Allie.” He leaned forward, elbows coming up to rest on the table with a casualness I wouldn’t have expected from him. “Tell me something. Are you trying to be difficult or does it just come naturally?”

“Naturally,” I snapped back. I wasn’t at work, dammit. And I felt like I’d been…ambushed. “Now just what is it you need? I’m hungry, and I’ve got an appointment in thirty minutes.”

Something flickered in his eyes, a frown dancing across his face. I got the impression not many people gave him ultimatums on time.

“Some of us have to work for a living.”

“I…” He stopped, blowing out a sigh. “Look, it’s just…I have a function coming up in a few days. I thought you might like to go with me.”

The noise around us faded into the background as a dull roar filled my ears.

“Excuse me, what?”

He repeated himself.

Yes, he’d said exactly what I’d thought he’d said.

“It’s a fundraiser,” he said, carrying on as though I wasn’t gaping at him.

A fundraiser.

He was asking me to go to a fundraiser with him.

Had he lost his ever-fucking mind?