by Bekki Lynn
She yanked her hands back. This was too weird. He’d said the exact same thing to her before. The uncomfortable pounding of her pulse in her throat had her swallowing. “I recently had them done.”
“Pink Pearl isn’t your color. I think Valerie might have Peach Blossom on the shelf.”
Peach Blossom, he knew nail colors? She’d thought it’d been another of her inserted female isms. He exited the room, leaving her no choice but to think she was to follow him. He turned a light on in a room further down the hall. When she reached the entrance, she stood taking in the salon of her dreams with its pale yellow walls, green leather chairs, the polish rack on the wall, a manicure area, a styling area. Damn! Her nerves began to jump over each other.
“Sit there, please.” He gestured toward the far corner while browsing a rack of nail polish.
Cassandra sat at the nail table and watched him. His sweater rode up revealing his taut skin as he searched through the rack on a shelf. Her throat thickened when she saw his all too familiar birthmark, the arrowhead missing the tip.
When he turned with the polish in hand, she averted her eyes. She felt flushed and the heat flowed downward turning into an achy throb between her legs. Stop, she demanded while reminding herself the resemblance of the dreams didn’t mean anything. You don’t need to give so much credence to the unreal, overruling common sense. She needed to rein the whole thing in.
Silent, Elan sat on the roll-around stool and rolled over to a cart holding polish remover and other supplies. This is too weird. I’ve never had a man do my nails before. “I can do this if you need to set up.”
“The camera sees flaws an untrained eye misses.”
Her eyebrows shot up at the implication she was incapable of doing a good job, but remained quiet. He picked up her left hand, holding it with a firm grip as he removed the polish with a quickness she’d never been able to do. When he finished, he went back to her thumb, rubbing the nail. The caress added fuel to the fire within her and a dull ache drummed in the juncture of her thighs.
“You have a deep dent. It will shadow the nail. Did you once shut this in a car door?”
“Yes, years ago.”
“I’ll need to fill in the ridge,” he said, moving on to the other hand, his grip gentler. Cold liquid ran down the side of her finger and he swiped it away. He meant nothing by the action, but still, tingles spread through her veins and up her arm. Think of something else, anything else. Was he going to do her toes as well? Damn, that wasn’t the right thing to wonder. Shivers ran through her body causing her back to stiffen.
“Are you cold?”
“No.” She searched for something to take her mind off the sudden rush of desire. Cassandra forced her eyes to scan to the room. On the vanity across the room were combs and various hair tools sitting in sanitizer liquids. “Are you qualified to do hair as well?” She sounded stupid considering she already knew what he was going to tell her.
All this should have her running. Why wasn’t she? She was a controlled and sensible woman. If things went too far, she could stop herself. Well, under normal circumstances.
“Yes. Funds were limited when I started.” He looked up at her and for the first time, he seemed relaxed. “Valerie handles this area now.”
She studied his face and wondered if he shaved. There was no five o’clock shadow. Fighting the temptation to test for smoothness, she gripped the edge of the table. Boy oh, boy. If she didn’t rein her mind in, she was going to embarrass them both.
Inhaling, her eyes fluttered when the onslaught of his subtle, musk aftershave filled her senses. There had to be a topic to stave off her growing arousal to this man.
“May I ask how you started with photography?” she asked without meaning to. She bit down on her tongue, feeling like she was losing control of reality.
“In high school, I belonged to the photography club. I had an eye for capturing beauty, nature, and people.” He rolled away and came back with a couple other bottles. “I freelanced for magazines, but needed contact.” Finished with the application of the filler and base coat, Elan lifted her calves and removed her shoes. “I like hands on with my subjects.”
A hot, erotic current rolled through her body when his fingers held the soles of her feet.
“I need to do your toenails to match.” He set her feet down and stood. “I’ll find us something to drink while you remove the hose.”
Somehow, though she was alone, the pulling up of her skirt and rolling down the pantyhose seemed wrong, yet hot and naughty—delicious. Could this be how Rick felt, having his cock devoured in a semi-private room? She shook the thought right out of her head. The reason he even popped into her head was because of the run-in at the jewelry store. She shoved the lingerie into her purse and returned to the chair.
“Champagne, from an earlier shoot,” Elan told her as he entered the room.
Cassandra jumped at the sound of his voice. How come she didn’t hear him coming? The hall wasn’t carpeted. She took the glass he handed her, sipping when she wanted to guzzle it to calm her nerves.
He pulled the pedicure stool over and picked up her left foot.
Oh, wow! Skin against skin, his palm cupping her heel had her smoldering. The blood in her veins felt warm, thick, caressing as it moved upward. She inched her thighs apart to ease the sudden throb and sat back in the chair, sipping the light golden liquid. Come on, think about something else, anything but the fire of his touch. She swallowed a groan before the sound could escape and her eyes landed on the fullness behind the dark fly of his slacks. Please, please, please mind, I need you to go some place else. Follow my eyes, I coaxed as I averted them away from his crotch. She curled the toes of her free foot to give her some relief from the need to run them over him.
“Tell me what you do,” he said.
Elan’s voice pulled her eyes back to him and her cheeks warmed when she saw the set of his jaw. He knew…god, he knew she was turned on by his touch and didn’t approve. She focused on the glass, caressing the stem before realizing the suggestive motion wasn’t helping matters. Giving up, she laid her hands in her lap. “I’m a receptionist for Strickland Finance.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“It pays the bills.” His fingers were gentle, yet firm, but she wanted them to inch upward, touch her, ease the ache. She took a long sip from the glass.
“You have fantastic bone structure.” His fingers caressed her ankle and her breath hitched. “The contours will enhance the anklet.”
“Do you always flatter your subjects?”
“I speak truth.” He put the toe separators in place and gave the nails a base coat. “The light in your eyes has changed. The champagne affects you?”
He must be kidding. I’d need a more champagne than this for it to affect me the way his touch is doing. “No, I’m fine.”
He shook the nail polish and with practiced ease ran the brush over her fingernails first, then the nails of her toes. How can a man with such large, manly hands be so gentle and precise with a brush most anyone else would fumble?
He straightened and put the brush back in the bottle. “We’ll give it a couple minutes.”
She watched him pull a drying lamp over her feet. The heat felt wonderful and she started to blow on her nails when he stopped her by pulling her wrist down. “It will ripple.” He pulled another lamp over, placing the bulb over her nails and flipped the switch. “This is best.” He gathered the supplies and went to put them away. “You don’t have plans? I should have inquired. Should you phone your grandfather?”
“No, he’s with his friends tonight.”
He turned toward her. “Let’s return to the Merchandise room.”
Cassandra emptied the glass and reached for her things.
“You’re things will be safe here.”
“I’d rather not.” Her own bracelet was in her purse for one.
He took her things and motioned toward the door. She walked down the hall in her bare feet, feeli
ng small and half-naked beside him. They reentered the previous room and she saw the black velvet spread over the staging areas. The possibility of them being alone hadn’t occurred to her, but of course he had an assistant.
Elan set her things on the table. “I want to begin with the anklet,” he told her while he removed it from the case he’d left on the table. He undid the clasp and knelt. When he lifted her foot, she used the table to balance herself as he set it on his thigh. Heat radiated through the fabric covering the muscular flesh beneath the sole of her foot, tempting her to caress him with her toes. Would he think it harmless flirting or she was warming herself? What if her foot slipped from the movement and landed in his crotch?
She glanced up at the ceiling appalled at the wanton thoughts taking over her common sense. This wasn’t her. She didn’t think of sex like this and had never been this aroused around a man before.
He placed the anklet around her ankle and hooked the clasp, his knuckles grazing her, inflaming her nerve endings. Her chest heaved and she almost choked on the sudden intake of air. Damn, girl, get a hold of yourself.
Elan stood and took her hand, leading her across the room.
“Tedious work now, but relax.”
She nodded as she tried hard not to tighten around his fingers as their heat warmed hers. Her midsection coiled with shuddering spirals of need. She stepped up on the platform.
“Step forward and stop.”
Cassandra stopped in mid-stride. “How’s this?” Ok, this wasn’t so difficult, but it did feel awkward to be barefoot. Rather gave the whole scene a sensuality, and maybe this is what he had in mind?
“Perfect.”
She watched him, admiring his agility while wishing he’d stop messing with the anklet. The brushing of his skin against hers had the muscles of her chest constricting. It made it difficult to breathe normally, but she didn’t want him to notice and think she was having a panic attack of some kind, or in need of oxygen. Or worse, tell her she’s wasting her sexual excitement, because he wasn’t interested. How humiliating it would be. He looked up at her over the camera.
Chapter 5
Cassandra waited for him to speak. He watched her, his eyes steady on hers. She couldn’t tell what he thought, his eyes, his face—she found it hard to penetrate the shield he hid behind. What hardened him to the point he must hold himself so tight?
“Switching legs,” he said as he set the camera down. He moved in and reached out toward her leg. She closed her eyes. The feathery brush of his fingers as he undid the clasp of the anklet caused her heart to double skip, as if the overdrive of its beating wasn’t fast enough.
He moved it to her other ankle and she tried to steel herself so she couldn’t feel his touch, but damn it—she wobbled and her fingers went into his hair as she reached out to steady herself. “Sorry,” she croaked while extracting them from silk mass of blackness.
Her heart pounded and she curled her fingers into her palms before she jammed them back into his hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to look at her. She wanted him to see how she struggled with his nearness. How his touch unleashed desires from another realm. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to turn off the fiery need before she followed through. He had no idea of the dreams and images she’d been living with. He wouldn’t understand.
Unaware of her discomfort and frame of mind, he moved away and picked up the camera again. She couldn’t see him as he photographed the ankle behind her, but knowing he was there was enough.
“Step forward in natural stride,” he instructed.
She faltered and he caught her with hands confident and searing every nerve ending beneath the fabric of her dress. “Sorry, I guess I stiffened some.”
“Should have warned you. Go sit on the stool.”
“I can finish.”
“Not necessary.”
She looked around for the stool and saw it over at the other set he planned on using. Stepping down from the platform, she watched him walk over and pick up the bracelet. “Wouldn’t it save time if you put the entire set on rather than a piece at a time?” Common sense to her, but what did she know. She sat on the stool and waited.
Elan came to her and put the bracelet around her wrist. “Soon, you’ll wear the set.”
True. She didn’t say anything more. She observed as he adjusted the focus on the still camera and took a few photos before switching back to the digital. It puzzled her as to why he’d use both cameras, but she didn’t want to offend him by asking another ignorant question.
She watched his eyes. They never wandered while took the shots he wanted before bringing the necklace over. He leaned toward her and laid the necklace against her upper chest as he took the gold links around to clasp at the back of her neck.
His breath fanned her cheek as he moved her hair to allow the gold to lay flat. He didn’t seem to notice how her skin quivered as he arranged the loose v-shaped design to accentuate the sweetheart cut of the emerald dress she wore. The dangling gems caressed her and she fought the need to look down and touch. She knew such movement would move it from the position.
With gentle fingers, he removed her post earrings, replacing them with the fishhook style he’d had made. Lowering her lashes, she ran her tongue over her lips. He was way too near for her well being.
He picked up the ring and didn’t comment on the trembling of her hand when he placed it on her finger. Maybe he didn’t notice. Maybe she was making too much of all this. Maybe she was experiencing some kind of rebound thing. Ok, makes sense in a way. Doesn’t it? She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly when he stepped back from her.
Elan looked her over and she saw his left jaw clench. He left the room without a word. Worried he wasn’t happy with the outcome so far, a different type of heat crept up her neck and settled in her cheeks. He knew she was inexperienced, but she was trying. She shut her eyes and took deep breaths. We’re almost finished, get through this last part and I can escape. He’ll never have to see me again. He can even toss the photos and use someone else.
“Something wrong?”
Startled, her eyes flew open. They skimmed up his body as she blurted out, “I’m hot.” She wanted to slap her hand over her mouth. Embarrassed, she hoped he didn’t say anything to make her feel worse. He approached her and she saw his jaw was still set in a manner of disapproval.
“The lights are hot. They cause a shine to glare the photos. A translucent dusting will help. Then we can continue,” he told her while dipping a brush in the loose powder he’d brought in.
Elan tipped up her chin and ran the brush over her face, his hand gentle enough to feel like a caress. “Part your lips,” he told her while removing a seal from a small tube of lip color which matched her nails.
Like a caress, he ran the tip over them, wiped a line under her bottom lip. She knew what he saw. It was an issue she’d had all her life. There was a fine line under her lip where it fooled you into thinking you smeared the color. He didn’t say anything. He slipped the tube into his pocket and pulled a hairbrush from his back pocket.
Oh, no.
She held her breath when he lightly, but with purpose, took it through her long, blond strands and framed her face with feathery wisps which tickled her sensitized skin. Cassandra nearly melted into a glob on the stool, but caught herself, stiffening her body.
“Relax,” he whispered while he worked with her hair.
Sure, relax when you have my blood bubbling like a boiling pot waiting for stones.
He stepped back, looking her over. “Sit comfortable. This is the easy part.”
His voice seemed seductive as he snapped pictures, asking her to focus on the eye of the camera—look out over his head—slowly move her hair behind her ear and hold the position.
Self-conscious, she gave him a tentative smile. He took a few more shots and lowered the camera, his eyes intent on hers. He smiled and she saw a dimple under his cheekbone. It was sexy as hell. The tip of her tongue ran along the back
of her teeth. If she hadn’t done something with it, she’d be across the room dipping into the indention.
Nervous when he continued to look at her, she asked, “What?”
“An idea. Come,” he said, turning toward the open door.
Warning bells went off in her head. How in the hell can this be happening with such accuracy? Still, as in the dream, she couldn’t resist his sudden enthusiasm. A little fun wouldn’t hurt, would it? Wasn’t it part of human nature? As long as she remains aware, she can pull back before things go too far. She hoped as she followed him down the hall to the salon.
“Have a seat right here,” he said, grabbing the back of the chair in front of the table containing hair styling equipment.
“What do you have in mind?”
“You have a quality they’ll be pounce on,” he said, not acknowledging her question.
“What do you mean?”
“I have a magazine shoot scheduled. I’d like to suggest use of you. Your freshness—”
“I don’t want my face plastered for the world to see.”
“Let’s see what happens.”
She watched him via the mirror as he pulled her hair up in a lose ponytail and proceeded to do wrap sections of her hair in curls and pin them up so they fell in lose spirals. He seemed to work on automatic. There was no sign of what he thought, or felt on his face. His indifference made her want to probe and get underneath the façade. To know how he managed to see what he refused others to let others see in him. It’d haunted her in the fantasies, and now. Ok, well, not haunt her as she sat here, but raised curious questions he might find offensive since they were all but strangers.
He swung the chair around, eyed her and pulled a few strands around her face before misting it with a pump hair spray. She felt like she was preparing for the prom.
“Come.” He took her hand, leading her from the room and farther down the hall to yet another room she knew would be full of clothing—the Costume room.
He dropped her hand, disappeared among the racks, and returned with a long garment bag. “It came in size ten. It was to be returned for a size three.”
