Her eyes were nothing short of amazing.

Almost as amazing as her hands. I hadn’t been kidding when I told her I would have been perfectly happy if she’d just kept on doing what she’d been doing for another couple of hours. It had been relaxing. Not that kind of relaxing that made me want to sleep, just…relaxing. Like all of my worries had simply melted away.

But now that I was sitting in the chair and her hands were no longer working away tension I hadn’t known I’d been carrying, my brain was back to working overtime.

Her eyes.

That mouth.

Yeah…that mouth, distracting in oh, so many ways. Not only was it just about perfect, lush and wide and soft, but she hadn't given me any of the simpering deference I was used to. She wasn’t impressed with me. I dealt with it a little too often to not know when somebody was trying to suck up.

I had to admit, it was nice. While she was sticking with the usual Sir and Mr. Lindstrom, something told me that if she wasn’t here at work, if she’d met me out on the street, she wouldn’t have had a problem using only my first name.

I had a feeling the easy way she’d brushed away my teasing would've gone out the window too. She seemed like the sort of woman who would've told me to go fuck myself but said it with a smile.

The scissors moved around my head, and I closed my eyes as they came toward them.

“How long have you worked here?” I asked. I didn’t so much as care about the answer, but I wanted to hear her voice. It was on the low end for a woman, but the sort of tone that felt like something warm and sweet coating my skin.

My fingers twitched, and I willed myself not to get hard.

“A few years.”

“Do you like it?” Her hands brushed across my forehead, and I wondered what it would feel like to feel her hands sliding lower, cupping my cheeks as I kissed her.

It was a dumb thought. Really stupid. I was...involved, and this girl wasn't like the women I took to bed for random flings.

“It’s a good job,” she was saying, reminding me that I’d asked her a question. About her job. Because I liked hearing her talk.

“I guess you meet some interesting people.”

The smirk that crossed her face was gone so fast, if I hadn’t opened my eyes just then, I would have missed it. Her face folded back into that polite, professional mask. She wore one too. I wondered if she put hers off and on as easily as I did. And why. That curiosity right there made me want to talk to her more, ask her more questions, of a different sort. Nothing that had to do with inane bullshit like whether or not she found her job stimulating, either. But real questions. Ones that would tell me more about the type of woman she was.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket, reminding me of who I was, what I was. I had business to attend to, and none of it had anything to do with a pretty little hairdresser.

The urge to ask her to join me for coffee was stronger than I liked, so I lapsed into silence, and she didn't try to coax me out of it. One thing most stylists had a knack for was knowing when to talk and when not to. She didn't speak until she finished and pulled off the cloth covering me.

“Sonya can give you my card if you decide you’d like to come back. I’m here nine to two-thirty Mondays through Fridays and on Saturdays from nine until noon.” She walked over to where she'd hung my things and picked them up.

“And where are you the rest of the time? With your boyfriend? Husband?” I slid her a look as I accepted the coat and overcoat. I put my jacket on but hung my coat over my arm as I pulled out my wallet.

Light glinted in her eyes, amusement mixed with minor annoyance. A look I didn’t get too often. It made me want to jab at her again, just to draw it out. See if I could get her to let down her guard. As I offered my card to the woman behind the counter, I glanced down at my overcoat. I had something tucked inside the pocket that I couldn’t leave behind. It needed to go with me to New York later.

“I’m doing the sort of things a woman typically does when she isn’t working, Mr. Lindstrom.” Her lips curved and once more, I found myself thinking about kissing that pretty mouth.

Licking at the seam, pushing my way past the barrier of her lips, tasting her. She’d be sweet and hot, and she wouldn’t wait for me to guide her, either. I knew it instinctively. She was too cocky, too confident. I was willing to bet she could actually be my match.

Moving a little closer, I said, “I have to admit, I’m curious about just what those things are, Allie.”

I held out a hand, wondering if she’d accept it this time.

She did. Her grip was firm and warm, but it didn't linger.

“Thanks for the haircut, Allie.”

I took my card back from Sonya and dipped my head a little closer to Allie’s, close enough that I could smell a different scent of shampoo. “Have a good day.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned and strode out the door.

It was bitterly cold, even more so without my overcoat, but if I hadn't left it on the chair inside, I wouldn’t have a reason to get back in touch with her again.

“Sir, your coat?” Thomas said, glancing back to the storefront of the salon. “Would you like me to go get it?”

“It’s fine, Thomas. Let’s go.”

* * *

The tension that had melted away under Allie’s hands was back full strength and then some. Mom had already called. Again. She’d been the one to call while I was getting my hair cut, and I knew she wouldn't be happy that I hadn’t called her back.

I didn’t plan to either. Whatever it was could wait until she had me trapped in front of her for however long our meal took. I really did love my mom – I reminded myself of that several times a day – but my patience with her need to micromanage my life was getting thin. I was already doing a shitload of stuff I didn't want just to please her and my dad. Mostly her. She didn't need to take over every minute.

“How long will it take to get to the restaurant, Thomas?” I rubbed my temples, then remembered what it had felt like to have other fingers on me, and I stopped.

“About thirty minutes, sir. Traffic is pretty light.”

“Good. We’ve got an hour yet. Let’s go down to the river.” I was going to freeze my ass off, but I needed to clear my head again.

The weather worked.

The cold wind blowing off the water cleared my head and froze my blood. I was almost positive that my balls had pretty much retreated all the way up inside my body and might take an entire month to thaw out. The sun shone down bright and clear, but didn't offer much heat. Still, I didn’t retreat back into the car.

Thomas stood next to me, his hands tucked into the pockets of a serviceable green overcoat, part of the uniform, a pair of sunglasses shielding his eyes.

“You don’t have to stand out here and freeze with me,” I told him.

“I like the river myself, Mr. Lindstrom.” He lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug.

We both lapsed back into silence, and I didn’t do much of anything but brood. First, over seeing my mother, then the flight to New York...and what would happen after that.

“What time is it?” Thomas told me and I blew out a sigh, my breath frosting the air. “I guess we need to go, or I’ll be late. Heaven forbid.” The last came out in a sardonic drawl.

I had a feeling that Thomas wanted to smirk, but he didn’t. He was far too professional for that.

I sighed. “All right. Let’s get this over with. It's going to be a long couple days, and I just want to get it all over with.”

As far as I was concerned, the lunch with my mom would be a nightmare, but I knew if I tried to put it off, she'd do something crazy like show up in New York. Just the thought of that made me shiver.