Valentine's Dream: Love Changes EverythingSweet SensationMade in Heaven

by Sandra Kitt

  “Watch your step,” she cautioned as she descended the three steps into the kitchen. After the office, the kitchen was her other favorite room. In the office she planned events that had won her high praise from the business community. In the kitchen she created delectable feasts.

  DuPont’s gaze skittered over the mishmash of chairs and tables, the lone desk and colorful knickknacks, past the unusual menage of water pitchers that graced almost all level surfaces and landed on her.

  “It’s home,” she offered sublimely. “Would you prefer coffee, cappuccino or latte?”

  “Coffee, regular.”

  Neesie hated to turn her back. His contemplative gaze made her uneasy and when she was uneasy, objects tended to leave her hands at unscheduled moments. But turn her back she did and gathered the coffeemaker, grounds and a pitcher of water from the refrigerator.

  She balanced them in her arms, taking them to the island where he stood. She hastily prepared the brew, silently congratulating herself for not dropping anything.

  Syncopated drips, then a stream of mahogany liquid poured from the machine and she watched until it was indecent behavior not to look up. When she did, Craig was watching her.

  “This will only take a few minutes. Why don’t we get the contracts out of the way,” she said, as the heat of attraction climbed her too-warm skin. She tried to stem the spark of interest that had ignited in her with the force of a blowtorch and smiled again.

  His obsidian eyes regarded her, then focused on his briefcase where he pulled out a neat folder and placed it on the island.

  “Mind if I take off my coat?”

  Neesie rubbed perspiration from her forehead. “Not at all. Forgive my manners. You found the place okay?” she asked, embarrassed more than ever.

  “The directions you gave were clear.” Berating herself, Neesie took the coat and hurried to the hall closet. When she returned the folder lay open and Craig held a pen.

  “Would you like to review it?”

  “It’ll take me just a few minutes.” She took the offered pen and began to skim the contract at lightning speed.

  The coffeemaker burped a last dribble of brew and Neesie moved to get it before Craig’s hand stopped her.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll get it.”

  “Thank you,” she said, feeling like a guest in her own home.

  “Where are the cups?”

  “The cabinet on the left.”

  He turned, stretched his gray suit-clad arm and gave Neesie an unencumbered view of his butt.

  The pen she’d just signed her name with slipped from her fingers to the floor and as she moved to retrieve it, she bumped the island with the brim of her hat.

  It popped off her head and rolled away.

  Neesie squeezed her eyes shut and from behind her tightly closed lids could see the Stadler account spiral away with each turn of the brim.

  “Here you go,” Craig DuPont said, as she crouched low on the other side of the island. He was going to freak out.

  “Put the china down, please.”

  The dishes slid onto the counter. “Ms. Clairborne, I’ve seen people with hat hair, so let’s dispense with the nonsense and conclude our business.”

  Dread and resolve mingled. Bracing her hands against her knees, Neesie pushed herself up slowly.

  In slow degrees his expression changed from frustration to horror. “What’s going on?”

  Neesie fingered the rubber band that held the tips of her hair together and pulled it off. “I know I look like an overgrown troll, but I can explain. I tried to color my hair and messed up.” A lump bumped the bottom of her stomach and she realized it was because he was moving toward the closet and his coat.

  “Uh...I...was so excited about winning this account I lost track of time and when I realized it was the wrong color, it was like this. I promise I don’t usually look this way.”

  He looked at her and blinked in rapid succession as if changing the shutter on the lens would alter the picture. When he was sure of what he was looking at, his mouth compressed into a thin line and he headed back to the kitchen and grabbed the contract.

  Neesie rushed behind him as he strode toward the door. “I can fix this.”

  “Not before three o’clock.”

  “I can. Wait!”

  He turned.

  “Don’t leave. Please.”

  “Ms. Claiborne, you’re obviously having a bad hair day and I have a job that needs a conservative professional.” He shook his head slowly. “We’re not a match.”

  Covering her hair with her hands, Neesie hurried to reassure him by speaking in a slow, clear tone. “I’m aware of Waymon Stadler’s expectations and I know I can fix my hair. I just need to get to a qualified hairstylist tomorrow and when they’re done, it’ll be like this never happened.”

  “The meeting is today.”

  “I realize that but almost all the salons in Avery are closed on Monday. I’m waiting for one place to open. I’m sure they can help me.”

  The phone rang once and the machine clicked on. A woman from the Hair Dicery stated they didn’t employ anyone who worked on black hair. She wished Neesie luck and hung up.

  Neesie rushed on before Craig could get out the door. “Didn’t you say you told Mr. Stadler I was coming? What’s he going to think when you show up without me? That his HR director made a bad decision?”

  “Don’t even try it.” His dark eyes were strangely rooted to her hair. “You did this, not me.”

  “By accident. Wouldn’t it be better if we worked together?”

  He shrugged into his coat. “I don’t know anything about hair.”

  “I know, but two heads are better than one. No pun intended.”

  When his hands slowed in the process of dragging on his coat, she knew she had him. “I know Stadler is counting on you and you don’t want to make the same hiring mistake as Waymon Stadler. I really need this account, and this situation is only temporary. Just give me a few hours to find someone who can help me. Please, Mr. DuPont, don’t give up on me. I’m the best woman for this job.”

  He expelled a long, slow breath and gave her a look that penetrated to the core.

  Despite his stony features, despite the fact that he had one foot out the door, Neesie felt the undeniable surge of carnality hit her. She acknowledged it with a huff and begged. “Please.”

  After lengthy consideration, he finally said, “I do have a cousin in the business—”

  “See! I knew we could work this out.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up.” His voice was gravelly and strong and she knew she only had this one chance to make things right. “He’s in Atlanta and one of the hottest hairstylists around. If he can’t fit you in, you’re fired.”

  Chapter 3

  Neesie’s wide-sloping eyes stared back at him. Craig shut the door of the house and advanced toward her. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but his future depended on the success of the fund-raiser and, quite frankly her hair would have them both in the unemployment lines before three-thirty.

  “Where’s the phone?”

  “Right this way.”

  He followed the woman who stood a half dozen inches shy of his six-two stature and couldn’t stop himself from admiring the way she’d almost fooled him. He’d nearly been had. Hook, line and sinker. Until her hat had come off.

  He wondered how she had managed to color her hair to look like a vanilla ice-cream cone, but didn’t ask. The fact was he might have to fire her in her own home. And under the circumstances, it wouldn’t be cool to probe about personal issues.

  Following her through a semiclosed door, Craig wasn’t surprised to see more of the shabby chic decor. Drapes layered the windows in swirls of gauzy fabric, finally touching the floor at the tips on the left and right. Scuffed furniture from another era mixed well with contemporary pieces and the odd arrangement of tables, short sofas and chairs seemed somehow meant to be.

  He walked to the table that functioned
as a desk and glanced over his shoulder to look at his now-quiet hostess.

  “I’d like some privacy.”

  Neesie dropped her fist to her hip. “If it’s all the same, I don’t want the news delivered after you’ve had time to think of kind words to say. I’ve been fired before, you know.”

  Craig couldn’t keep a short smile from curving his mouth. “Do you want to be fired again?”

  “No.” Petulant and defiant, she crossed her arms and raised her chin, obviously scared but stubborn enough to fake an act of bravado. “I don’t need a buffer. Either he’s going to fit me in or I’m out of a job. Call him.”

  “Have it your way.” Craig shrugged. “Just trying to save you some grief.” His gaze hooked with hers. “Nothing personal.”

  “You HR people think that, but it certainly feels personal when you’re the one losing your job. Make your call, DuPont,” she challenged.

  “In due time, Claiborne. First fill me in on what happened.”

  Neesie took a moment to explain the series of events and before she ended, Craig was shaking his head. He’d bet a million dollars she would never buy anything from the cart man again.

  Craig punched in the number and wondered why he was giving this woman another chance. She was all wrong as far as image went.

  Her house was a cross between a large, colorful paint-splattered mural, and a harem with the gauzy curtains and throw pillows. If her decorating style were any indication to her abilities, he was in trouble.

  How was he supposed to entrust the most important event his company sponsored to her? Doubt licked at him. He couldn’t.

  Craig pulled the phone away from his ear when a voice answered. He dropped his ear to the receiver. “Jason. Craig.”

  Neesie’s eyes brightened from scared to cautious. He looked at her and she froze. Something made him hold her gaze and look deep into eyes that were the shade of a lion’s. They held his, fixed him in place, and massaged the doubting feelings until his reason for holding the phone became unclear.

  “Wzup, cuz?” Jason bellowed in his ear, full of good cheer.

  Neesie folded her arms beneath her chest, pushing her ample bust against the front of her long-sleeved red sweater.

  Craig swallowed and stared. Maybe Jason could work a miracle.

  “Yo, Craig?”

  Pushing the phone to his other ear, Craig turned from Neesie and stared out the window. “Yeah, man. I need a favor.”

  He detailed the incident as Neesie had related it to him and his cousin asked him a series of questions.

  “How long is her hair?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, if it’s really long, I won’t be able to do it right away.”

  Neesie had moved into his line of sight and gave him a curious look.

  “How long is your hair?”

  “Above my shoulders. About chin length.”

  He relayed the information.

  “Touch her hair,” Jason instructed. “See if any breaks off in your hand.”

  “Touch her hair?” Craig repeated loudly. He couldn’t touch someone he was about to fire. Human resource directors across the country would revolt.

  “Man, what’s your problem?” Jason demanded. “You know this woman, don’t you? Run your fingers through her hair and tell me if it breaks off.”

  Craig looked at Neesie and shrugged helplessly.

  “Hold on,” he said into the phone and set it on the desk. Sliding his arms from his suit coat, he folded it, lining out, and laid it neatly over her soft pink leather desk chair.

  When he looked at her, the room grew small and all he could hear was the tick of a loud clock striking ten.

  “What is it?” she asked, when he hesitated.

  “He wants me to run my fingers through your hair.”

  “For what?”

  “To see if any breaks off.”

  Her fingers flew to the strands.

  “He said for me to do it. Come here.”

  Slowly she approached, her fingers laced in front of her. As the distance shortened, Craig was aware his breathing had grown shallow.

  If he didn’t know it would be a sexual harassment suit, he would have taken her in his arms and kissed her.

  She stopped scant inches from him and turned, her head down.

  Lifting his hand again, Craig sculpted his fingers to the curve of her neck.

  Soft, warm skin greeted his touch.

  Suddenly he was very much aware that Neesie Claiborne was no longer someone he could hire or fire in the blink of an eye. She was a desirable woman he wanted to get to know better.

  A surge of masculine pride coursed through him that this strong, independent woman was allowing him reign over her body. He moved slightly, turning her with a nudge between the shoulder blades and he glimpsed her expression.

  Three shades of eyeshadow blended over her closed lids and he couldn’t stop his pride from swelling when her eyelids fluttered, still closed.

  “Go ahead,” she said quietly. “Touch me.”

  Craig blinked slow and long, glad her eyes had remained closed. He slid his fingers against her scalp and into the mix of gold curls. A shiver passed from her to him and he steadied himself by placing a hand on her elbow. Her hair was soft to the touch and thick. He tried to imagine the style that would fit her and couldn’t. She had a classically beautiful face. Designers would probably go wild with Neesie as a canvas.

  Slowly he untangled his fingers and picked up the phone.

  “It didn’t break off.”

  “What took you so long?” Jason didn’t wait for Craig’s answer. “For you, cuz, I can see her about three.”

  Reality set in and Craig sidestepped Neesie who now rested her bottom on the edge of the table and massaged her neck, her eyes averted.

  “We have a meeting at three. Can you take her earlier, like now?”

  The distance cooled Craig off and helped him focus on his cousin’s voice.

  “I can’t do it now,” Jason said. “I’ve got to take Little Jay to school. How about one? Where’s your meeting?”

  “My office, downtown Avery.”

  Jason whistled. “We’ll be cutting it close. All right,” he conceded. “Come at eleven-thirty. If you drive fast, you should make it back in time.”

  He dropped the phone into the cradle.

  Neesie’s head lifted and she gave him a pointed look. “Are we on or not?”

  He waited, considering taking the out he’d just been offered. But there was no getting around it. He needed her.

  “We’re on. For now.”

  * * *

  Craig consulted his watch again and patted his foot against the floor. Two hours ago Jason had disappeared with Neesie and he hadn’t seen them since. There were only so many meetings he could reschedule or so many conference calls he could reroute before anxiety would set in again.

  The reception area where he waited was at times full of men and women, then a stylist would appear, greet the customer and escort them to the back. Activity hummed with a casual flow and the people who floated in or out held his interest briefly. Now he was tired of waiting.

  Standing, Craig stretched his legs and straightened the cuffs on his shirt. He’d shed the suit coat long ago and had drunk enough coffee to stay awake for four nights straight.

  One thing pressed on his mind. The three o’clock meeting. And if Jason wasn’t able to fix Neesie’s hair, who would he find to fill in? There was no one else to replace her.

  A blown lightbulb darkened the hallway and a door at the back of the salon closed. Craig could make out his cousin’s frame as he came toward him.

  “How’d it go?”

  “She’s f-i-n-e,” Jason emphasized, giving Craig a what-does-she-see-in-you look. Jason wiped his hands on a towel, then slung it over his shoulder. “Where’d you find her?” he asked Craig.

  “I... We’re business associates. Is she ready?”

  “Slow down. I got the info on her
. She doesn’t have a man. And hasn’t had one in a while. My guess is if she’s willing, you should take her out.”

  Craig’s chest swelled some, but he played it cool.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Cuz—” Jason hesitated “—you ain’t cool. You’ve got the b-a-d threads. Hugo Boss never failed you. But when was the last time you had some fun?”

  “I get mine,” Craig said, smirking. “Do women tell you everything?” he asked, somehow relieved to know the information Jason had just bestowed upon him about Neesie’s relationship status.

  “Women tell me things because I’ve got wisdom. I’ve been married for fifteen years and have three kids. Women feel comfortable talking to me.”

  Craig lost the battle with his curiosity. “Did she say anything about me?”

  Jason’s mouth spread into a big smile. “We talked about you,” he confirmed.

  “What did she say?”

  “That you’re butt ugly.” Laughing, he slapped Craig on the back and Craig would have retaliated with a foul comeback had it not been for the beauty that had closed the door at the end of the hallway and now approached them.

  “Good God Almighty,” he murmured.

  The woman’s hips swayed with each step, her hair an attractive blend of whiskey and bronze. Light bangs feathered her forehead and a jagged part cut through the top of her hair, cascading layers of thick hair down and behind her ears.

  The red sweater she wore sparked off garnet diamonds in her eyes and he stepped toward her.

  “Neesie?”

  “In the flesh.”

  “I wish,” he murmured to himself.

  Heat suffused him and he cocked his head to the side as if to say, “Is that really you?”

  She smiled and walked into Jason’s outstretched arms, giving him an enthusiastic hug.

  Over Neesie’s shoulder, Jason wiggled his eyebrows at Craig, acting as if he were enjoying the hug too much. Of course Craig knew he was joking to make him jealous. It was working.

  “You’re a miracle worker,” Neesie proclaimed, gently touching her hair after she’d separated from Jason. “How can I thank you?”

  “Come back in two weeks.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Craig felt stupid holding her blazer, winter coat and purse as his cousin and Neesie chatted. They’d just spent the better part of two hours together. What more was there to say?