She clenched her teeth so hard her jaw ached. What the hell had she been thinking using makeup tips from a few YouTube videos? And even more so, what made her think she and Colleen knew anything about choosing makeup? She needed professional help, at least when it came to a makeover. She should’ve gone into the department store. She should’ve taken more time, researched further before unveiling a new look. Her own desires and excitement had pushed, and she hadn’t been ready. How come she hadn’t seen that? She’d always been one to prepare, double-check, overanalyze. But not this time. Her heart had led instead of her head.
Her chin quivered as she turned to look up into Jared’s blurry face. He’d give it to her straight. “Is it really that bad?”
Even through her tears, Jared’s face—blue eyes grown soft and his head tilted to the side—gave her the answer she already knew.
...
Shit. He didn’t want to make her cry. And he also didn’t want to laugh at the fact she had red lipstick covering her front tooth. She might be a bit of a mess, but she looked so damn adorable he had a hard time not smiling. Besides the lipstick on her tooth, her color choices and the thick application would actually be comical, if he didn’t know she hadn’t meant any of this to be funny.
To see Allison out of her element sent his heart racing. She’d always been so professional, quiet, and confident—even if she didn’t think so. At least when it came to work. To see this personal side of her, to know her deepest desire, softened his entire attitude toward her. He didn’t feel sorry for her, because if he did she’d probably punch him in the gut, but he did want to see her happy. He’d watched his mother fight for years to get his father’s attention, and although Allison didn’t have a particular man in mind, he understood what she went through. She didn’t deserve that type of pain. Hell, neither had his mother. Nobody did.
He lifted her chin with the crook of his finger. “It’s not as bad as you think.”
“That’s not how you sounded a second ago.”
“You took me by surprise. I’m not used to seeing you…look so different.”
She studied him innocently. He caressed her chin with his thumb, hoping to stop that little tremor. As if that would erase the tears already drying on her cheek. Her skin was so soft, and she smelled like the cherry blossom trees in his grandma’s garden. Her tiny whimper tugged at his chest, and all he wanted to do was take away her pain, hold her, and make her smile. He pulled her in for a tight hug. Whenever he’d gotten injured as a kid, his mom always said there were only two cures: chocolate—which he didn’t have handy—or holding the hurt. If you held it, it’d feel better. If he held Allison, maybe she’d feel better, too.
He pulled her gently into his arms. She stiffened at first and then sagged into his chest.
“Don’t cry, Al,” he whispered against the side of her head.
Her soft scent surrounded him, and she sighed, even though her shoulders shook as she fought to control her tears.
“I’m sorry. I can’t believe I’m being such a baby.” She wiggled out of his grasp and took a big breath, giving him an unsteady smile. “I feel ridiculous.”
“Don’t.”
“Time for an inspection of the damage. Maybe a little reevaluation.”
“Al—”
She shook her head, independence filling her eyes as she pulled a round mirror from her purse with shaky fingers, fumbled, and watched it fall to the floor, her mouth slightly parted. As she stooped to pick it up, her shoe knocked it behind her and she bent, twisted around, and grabbed the mirror, crouching with her back toward him, staring at her face.
He held his breath as he watched her reflection in the mirror. Her wide-eyed inspection, the way the tilt of her chin lowered and then wobbled. How she delicately touched her lashes, traced her finger along her brow and down her cheek to outline her mouth.
He bent with the intention to pull her upright and offer her some words of comfort, even though none came to mind at the moment. Something surely would. Any second. But before he took action another whimper escaped her lips, and she swiped her fingers across her eyes.
“You’re going to smear your makeup.” He regretted his words the moment she stiffened. Real fucking comforting, Esterly.
“It might be an improvement.” She started to stand and, as he reached out to assist her, she lost her balance and landed on her butt. Her hands flew to her face, and her shoulders jerked.
His heart ached, and he kneeled beside her. It was only then that he realized she hadn’t burst into tears. Her shoulders were shaking because she was laughing. A soft, tingly sound that picked up in intensity.
He couldn’t help but smile as a small snort escaped from between her fingers.
“Could my day get any worse?” Her muffled voice was resigned, matter-of-fact, but strong.
He liked the sound of her laughter. Wanted to hear it again. “I probably shouldn’t mention the lipstick on your tooth, then,” he whispered cautiously.
She rewarded him with a wide-eyed smile, and then that smooth laughter filled the space between them. “Great, now I look like I ate a crayon.” She rubbed her thumb against her tooth, turning the mirror in her hand so that she had the perfect angle. She lifted her face toward him and delivered a toothy grin. “Did I get it all?”
How come he’d never noticed how her laughter tinkled like wind chimes? Another remembrance from days spent in his grandma’s garden. Peaceful days filled with no expectations or stress. Tension lifted off his shoulders, and he could breathe again, at least without that burning sensation filling his chest. He admired her spunk. Her ability to find some humor in an uncomfortable situation. Because surely she had to be uncomfortable. Allison wasn’t one to lose control, or let her emotions get the better of her.
He melted at her bright-eyed, innocent gaze. The soft smile curving her lips that held a hint of shyness. The way she looked up at him—as if he could cure the world—made him want to protect her. Make her smile forever.
The awareness sent a jolt down his spine.
“You know, you don’t need so much makeup. These changes you want to make…” She didn’t need makeup or new clothes to be beautiful. All she had to do was open herself up. He held out his arms, palms up, as if that’d make her understand. “You’re—”
“I appreciate that, Jared, but I need to do this for me. I know you don’t get it, but I’m going to keep working on making changes until I get it right.” Even though her smile wavered, she lifted her chin, exposing her neck. “First order of business is staying away from YouTube instructional videos, too much wine, and a drunk Colleen.”
She choked out a laugh, then groaned, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
“A drunk Colleen?”
“Long story.” She waved her hand in front of her face.
“Maybe someday you’ll share.” His mind already put two and two together, but he imagined hearing the details firsthand would be a lot more interesting.
She still sat on the floor, her concentration centered on her little pocket mirror, playing with her hair, rubbing her lips together.
Damn. He shoved aside the voices inside his head—the ones telling him not to get involved—as she flipped her tiny mirror closed and tossed it into her purse.
He’d seen the strength and determination in her eyes last Friday, thought about her most of the weekend, and witnessed her heartbreak minutes ago. Through all that she hadn’t given up. She might have faltered, but she returned full force.
Her persistence wrapped around him, and he wanted to help her make it happen. Allison was right. He did have contacts. There were several women in his life who’d like nothing better than to participate in a makeover. Shit, they thrived on stuff like that.
And if it made her happy…
“You’re taking the day off.” He’d barely finished his thoughts before he spoke the words aloud and pulled her to her feet.
She claimed her footing somewhat unsteadily and
then shook her head, her smile growing in force. “It’s not that catastrophic. I’ll wash my face and get on with my day. I promise not to break out in random tears for the next forty-eight hours. Or more.” A nervous chuckle complete with a short snort escaped her mouth. She released his hands.
The red creeping up from her neckline brought out another dose of his protective instinct, at the same time making her very appealing. He couldn’t think of the last woman he’d met who’d blushed. Another unicorn?
“I should really have my snout looked at, you think?”
“Why? It’s cute.”
Her eyes widened. “Cute? You think a woman snorting is cute?”
He couldn’t ignore her question, even though his focus lay more on his plan than her appealing—yes, appealing—little habit of snort-laughing. “It gives you personality. Enough about your snout and your snort. Let me rephrase what I said a minute ago.” He gripped her by the shoulders, and she jerked to attention. “We’re taking the day off.”
“But I can’t leave now. I have work to do. I haven’t even—”
“Who’s the boss here?”
“We both know the answer to that.” A circle of pink filled her cheeks.
“If you want this, Al, I’ll help you.”
“You will?” she squeaked. She tugged at her dangly penguin earrings as she scoured his face.
“Let me clarify. I’ll help with your image, but that’s as far as it goes. Deal?”
Sometime, but not right now, he’d have to ask her about her obsession with penguins. Plenty of women collected things, and he wondered why Al had chosen penguins. Most women seemed to concentrate on expensive jewelry. Travel. Clothes. At least the women he knew.
She squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back to her. “Okay, you’re the boss.”
“Damn straight.”
He’d told her how beautiful she was before, but more as a form of comfort. Now, for the first time, he looked at her—really looked at her. Deeply. To the person without all the makeup who he’d known for years. How come he’d never bothered to see her?
How come they’d never really talked? Laughed? Become more than surface friends?
Because she blended in with the wallpaper. Just like she’d said.
But not anymore. Allison had beauty inside and out. He lost all ability to speak. Maybe even breathe. The way she looked at him—her lips softly parted, her eyes sparkly and full of anticipation—ate up the oxygen in his brain, depleted the air in his lungs.
He had the sudden urge to kiss her, and he didn’t really understand why. This was Allison—Al. Nick’s kid sister. Practically family.
Over the years he’d wanted to—and had—kissed many beautiful women, but no woman had ever affected him like this.
She kind of intimidated him. Actually, she scared the shit out of him.
Was it because flirting with his best friend’s—hell, his business partner’s—sister carried a level of excitement like he’d never experienced?
Or did she really attract him that much? He grabbed her chin, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Before he went and did something crazy, he cleared his throat, turning her head from side to side. “Your application is flawless, but I think you could use a little help when it comes to color choices.”
She glanced up at him, confusion settling across her forehead for a second before she recovered with a nervous laugh. “A tad overdone?”
Before he could answer—because all he could concentrate on was the way her lips moved, how the fluorescent lights made them shine, and if they’d be as soft underneath his lips as he imagined—her face sobered. “I thought you said you didn’t know about makeup.”
He forced his attention from her mouth back up to her eyes.
“I don’t. Not really. But I know someone who does, and I’m calling in a favor.” He turned her around and, with his hands on her shoulders, steered her toward the door. “We’ll take my car.”
Respect filled him for the way she’d handled herself. Her fortitude in planning to wash her face and get on with the day. Over and over again, Allison proved just how strong of a person she was. To him that equaled confidence. How come she couldn’t see it?
And how come he’d never noticed the way her butt looked in a pair of slacks? The superb curve of her rear and the soft flare of her hips…
He tried to focus on the back of her head as he guided her out the door of the break room and down the hall, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from continuously straying south.
Chapter Four
Allison sat in stunned silence as Margarite’s slim hands flew around her head and face with sure precision. They’d barely arrived at the salon—or as Margarite referred to her business: a specialty boutique of beauty—an hour ago, but the slender woman had wasted no time in pushing Allison into a seat and getting to work.
Her brow was a smooth line of concentration as she cut, plucked, dabbed, blended, brushed, and swirled. The hem of her bright, multicolored dress—which kind of resembled a cupcake—swooshed around her knees as she moved from Allison’s left side to her right, then finally the middle. Over the course of the last twenty minutes, she’d pondered Allison with a stern stare, hands on hips, and a larger-than-life smile.
All the commotion had sent Allison’s head spinning and her heart racing. She wanted to see what Margarite had accomplished in the worst way, but her back was to the mirror. Her gaze darted around the room, hoping to connect with some type of decoration where she could catch a glimpse of her reflection. No such luck.
Beneath the gown now littered with snippets of her hair, Allison twisted her sweaty hands into a tight knot. Margarite seemed to be a woman of few words—or maybe she needed to stay focused in order to get the job done—but a little chatter would soothe Allison’s nerves in a big way.
“How long have you—”
“Shh. Shh. We’ll talk after your reveal.” Margarite’s tone brokered no argument. Not that Allison planned to give her any.
She pressed her mouth closed and lifted one brow as she glanced at Jared. He stood a few feet behind Margarite’s right shoulder. He offered her a quick nod of encouragement, although his face gave away nothing else.
She didn’t know how much more she could take. The heels of her palms dug into her thighs as she swiped them over her slacks. If only she could read something in his expression, or maybe get a glimpse of what Margarite had accomplished in the reflection of her oversize, yellow-framed glasses. She moved her head to try to catch something—anything—but all she got for her effort was a temperamental grunt from Margarite as she grabbed Allison’s chin and forced her to look straight ahead.
The tall woman had a unique look, but it suited her. Kind of a cross between Big Bird—with her shock of yellowish hair bouncing atop her head—and Katie Perry, with a wardrobe that would rival anything the singer wore onstage.
Finally, Margarite’s lips curved into a beautiful smile that went straight to her big brown eyes. With hands on her slender waist, she stepped back, clicking one thumbnail with her pinkie finger. “Voilà. I do declare you a masterpiece.”
Her gruff voice didn’t match her wardrobe, or anything about her, actually. Anyone who dared dress like she did, along with her impressive personality, had to have an overabundance of confidence. She should bottle it and sell it along with the hair-care products she had on display in her salon—sorry, boutique of beauty.
But something about her reset Allison’s pulse to normal. Maybe it was the way she took control, or the fact that her confidence level almost knocked Allison to the floor. Or that she’d finally finished, and Allison could get a gander at the results.
So much for that normal heartbeat.
Her gaze connected with the other woman’s, and then she turned her attention toward Jared. Their smiles sent the pulse point in her wrist jumping, and she pulled her arm from beneath the gown to rub at the tickle on the tip of her nose. She could actually feel the pulse in her wrist po
unding against her skin. Would she just spin the chair around toward the mirror already? Before my heart explodes, please.
The woman leaned forward and grabbed the sides of Allison’s chair. Margarite blinked, causing her long lashes to brush against her lenses. That would have driven Allison nuts. “Are you ready to see perfection?”
“Are you sure you’re talking about me?” Allison teased.
Margarite frowned. “There’ll be no talk like that. You have the most beautiful skin, gorgeous eyes, to-kill-for honey-blond hair, and your smile fills your face. All that makeup you arrived in wasn’t needed. Makeup is to be used as an enhancement, not a cover-up. Have you ever heard the saying ‘a little goes a long way’?”
Allison nodded, mesmerized by Margarite’s simple speech. Of course she’d heard the saying, it was one of many favored by Gramps.
“That’s a makeup motto, my new friend. A little bit, the right colors, and it’s magic.” She kissed her fingertips with an eccentric flare.
“I love how you think, Margarite.”
The woman waved her hand, a light rosy color highlighting her cheeks. “Trust me, hon. I’m an original. I wasn’t always the flamboyant woman you see before you. Years ago I was a quiet girl named Margaret from a small town in Kansas.”
Allison had a hard time envisioning Margarite anything less than flamboyant. Or living in Kansas. And, Margaret? She definitely looked more like a Margarite than a Margaret.
Margarite laughed. “And that’s why when Jared called me I told him I was in before he even got the entire story out. If I can make the changes I did to develop confidence in my appearance, I know you can do it, too. Tell yourself you’re amazing every day, and you will be.”
She spun the chair, and Allison locked eyes with her reflection in the mirror and gasped. Her heart slammed against her chest so hard and fast she knew for sure it filled the deafening silence in the room. She sat forward and squint-blinked as she touched her cheek and the soft layers of hair that framed her face. Margarite had tinted her hair in small sections with a deeper honey tone, and it brought out her blond. Of their own volition, her hands flew up to caress the wispy ends. So soft. She lifted a strand and smelled it, closing her eyes as the cherry scent filled her senses.
A Friendly Flirtation (Friends First #3) Page 5
