"I do not need a man," Sunny Jones pronounced to the group of women comparing engagement rings in the small reception area of Sunny's Beauty Salon.
Pat scoffed. "And none of us needs chocolate, either."
Since there was no arguing with logic like that, Sunny conceded to her best friends this round of the beat-to-death subject and returned her attention to her mail stacked on the receptionist's desk.
"Jeez, not another one," Sunny grumbled the second she caught sight of the logo on the piece of paper she'd just unfolded.
M.J.'s head popped up from the circle of well-coiffed heads bent to admire the ring M.J.'s new fiancé, Daniel Brady, had given her. An ever-present curiosity twinkled in her brown eyes. "Another what?" Just like in high school, the woman had the need to know.
Sunny shook her head. "Are you ever off the clock, girl?"
M.J. winked. "An investigative reporter's work is never done." She nodded at the paper in Sunny's hand. "So what's got you groaning?"
Sunny grimaced at the paper and gave it the same treatment as the others she'd received, folding it into a paper airplane. She'd become quite good at them. "It's another letter from that monster holding company, D.K.B. They suckered me into opening this one by sending it in a plain envelope."
She expressed her opinion of the large conglomerate's actions by launching the airplane. She winced and drew her shoulders up guiltily when the plane lodged in Pat's elegant updo. "Oops."
"Hey!" Pat turned a weak attempt at a glower on Sunny while Kelly, Isabella, and M.J. hooted with laughter. Pat reached up and plucked the paper from the golden swirls Sunny had only moments ago finished pinning into place.
With no more appointments scheduled for the night, Sunny had invited the girls over to try out different hairstyles for Isabella's upcoming wedding. Though she'd been the third of the group to get engaged, Isabella had the least patient fiancé, Marco de Alvarado, of the bunch.
Kelly cocked her dark head. "Why is D.K.B. sending you letters?" Her innate attorney's skepticism showed in her tone.
"Oh, they just want to buy my salon. Or at the very least, the right to franchise it."
There was a moment of stunned silence, then they all erupted with questions.
Isabella said, "That's incredible, Sunny! Are you going to do it?"
Knowing a thing or two about going national thanks to her syndicated column, Pat asked, "Regional, national, or global?"
M.J. raised her eyebrows. "Wow! When did this all start?"
Kelly reached for the paper airplane in Pat's hand. "What sort of terms are they offering?" Though she'd recently started making forays into criminal law thanks to her new fiancé, police officer Jackson Hunter, the firm Kelly ran for her father specialized in corporate and contract law. She would have come in very handy if Sunny had any intention of considering the offer. She didn't.
She'd done the big business, corporate thing, and had been left disillusioned and unsatisfied. But rich. Her time at Everything.com had made her rich enough that her future, and that of her parents living on their little organic co-op in the foothills of the Rockies, was secure. "Look. It doesn't matter, because I'm not interested." Her tone must have been snippy, because they all blinked at her.
She took a deep breath to tamp down the anxieties about her choices that D.K.B.'s interest in her salon had stirred up. "I don't need the money, and I'm happy the way things are. Besides, if I wanted to expand, I certainly wouldn't need the help of some holding company simply looking to jump on my gravy train —"
The electronic bell on the salon's door chimed and drew everyone's attention. Sunny's jaw went slack at the sight of the tall, broad-shouldered man who had just come through the door. Ever since she'd worked her way through school cutting hair, the first thing Sunny noticed about people was their hair, but the man who filled the salon's little waiting area had so much to look at, so much maleness to process, she was momentarily overwhelmed.
He was big in a quarterback kind of way, like Pat's fiancé, Gray Lee, with enough height and bulk to take a hit but lithe enough to move fast. His beige, silky-looking short-sleeve shirt clung to molded, but not bulky, pecs as he moved and his pleated black pants accented a lean waist and long, muscular legs. If he had indeed been a football player in his college days, which guessing by the lines near his striking blue eyes and bracketing his full mouth had been about 10 years ago, his face would be an advertiser's dream come true. A square, clean-cut jaw like his could sell her anything.
When she finally got to his hair, her mouth went dry. It was thick, black, and just begged to have her fingers buried deep in it. A gal could get a serious handhold in hair like that. And it didn't look in the slightest in need of a cut.
She cleared her throat and asked, "May I help you?"
The intensity of his blue gaze when he settled it on her made her skin iron-hot. He strode straight toward her, acknowledging her friends with a slight nod of his head as he drew even with them, but appearing to not really notice them.
"I'm looking for Sunny Jones." His voice was deep and as roughly masculine as he was. It made her shiver in the silliest way. Her mother would be proud of Sunny for finally having such an elemental reaction to a man.
Before she could open her mouth to respond, her wide-eyed friends pointed at her in unison.
She laughed in a stupid, girly way that would have made the shallow divas of her high school, the Four Queens, proud. Clearing her throat again because she was not like the girls who had landed Sunny and her friends in detention and bonded them for life, she said, "That would be me."
He made the oddest rumbling sound deep in his chest, then pronounced, "I need you to cut my hair."
Looking at his gorgeous hair again, noting how it swept perfectly back from his face over his ears to curl under just enough above his collar, Sunny nevertheless flipped open her scheduling book. "Okay. When would you like to come in?" She glanced down at the book, most of the spaces full. Business was hopping. "I have an opening —"
"Right now," he surprised her by cutting in. Then he surprised her still more by leaning on the high, narrow wall that separated the receptionist's desk from the waiting area. All she could think was that his eyes were the color of turquoise spiked with gold.
He leaned in close enough that she could smell him, and her body reacted to his musky scent as if his pheromones had been formulated just for her. "I really need you to do it right now."
Because he put her in the mood for one, she asked, "Hot date?"
"Only if you're free to go out after we're done here."
Fake coughing erupted behind them. Sunny studiously ignored her friends and the unusual heat he generated in her. After all, she'd just told them she didn't need a man. "Hm, well, Mr. —"
"Rogers."
M.J. murmured, "What a beautiful day in the neighborhood."
Sunny flashed a warning glare in their direction. "You see, Mr. Rogers, I don't normally take walk-ins —"
Pat piped up with, "Oh, go ahead, Sunny. Give the poor guy a break."
A sparkle in her dark eyes, Kelly added, "Yeah. We're in no hurry."
Well acquainted with her friends' tenacity where men were concerned, Sunny relented. "Okay. Only a quick trim. No wash." Running her fingers through this guy's dry hair would be sensual torture enough. But if it were wet and slick... Talk about a cheap thrill.
"Fine. As long as I have your attention."
She snorted under her breath at the notion that he ever received less from a woman, and got him settled in the swivel chair at her station, fastening a black cape around his neck. She was incredibly aware of his size. Granted, she was short, but she had to lower the chair as far as it would go to comfortably reach the top of his head. With her scissors and comb in hand, she positioned herself behind him and did her best to ignore the rapt expressions of her friends as they watched in the mirror.
Holding her breath, Sunny slowly slipped her fingers into his hair. It was like taking the first bite of the silkiest, smoothest chocolate in the world. And for the first time in two years since she'd walked away from Alan and all he represented, she found herself wanting to make love to a man. This man.
Damn, she hated when her friends were right.
"So, Ms. Jones." He drew her attention to his reflection in the mirror. "Why haven't you responded to any of my inquiries from D.K.B.?"
What do you think of Mr. Rogers's tactic to get Sunny to listen to him?
Sunny froze with her scissors poised over a lock of Mr. Rogers's incredibly silky black hair. Why hadn't she responded to any of his inquiries from D.K.B.?
Stunned, she glanced over at the mass of paper airplanes, made out of letters outlining various offers D.K.B. was making to buy or franchise her salon, in and around a wastepaper basket beneath the receptionist desk. She'd left the mess as a symbolic reminder of her independence, of her choice to find some kind of balance in her life.
She blinked, recalling the bold signature at the bottom of each letter, right above the title of Vice President of Acquisitions, and glanced at her wide-eyed friends before looking back at the reflection of the gorgeous man seated in her swivel chair. She'd been so caught up in his heat and sexual energy that she hadn't put the two together. "You're Mitchell Rogers?"
He shifted his gaze from the reflection of the paper airplanes, the D.K.B. logo clear on the wing of one, to hers. "Yes. And because you haven't...formally responded to my letters or taken my calls, I thought I'd come see you."
She held up her scissors and her comb. "But why —"
"You'll have to listen to what I say while you're cutting my hair."
She was about to tell him, Not if I boot you out on your ear first, but she stopped. The devil in her that had made her give one of Pat's tormentors a faceful of hair spray and started the fight that had landed them all in detention back in high school thought of a better way to get back at Mitchell Rogers for essentially accosting her in her place of business. Oh, she'd give him her attention, all right. She eyed his glorious head of hair and readied her scissors.
Something in her expression must have given away her plan to make a topiary out of his head, because she heard Isabella gasp and M.J. choke on a strangled laugh. She glanced up and met her friends' gazes in the mirror. Pat, ever the counselor, was doing her darnedest to adamantly shake her head without moving it much. Kelly looked half horrified, half proud.
Her common sense warring with her need to take revenge on all the corporate types who didn't give a darn about who people were, only what they were, she shifted her gaze to the man who was about to become her victim.
The glint in his stunning blue eyes and the hard set of his strong jaw screamed, Bring it on. He knew what he'd set himself up for, and looked willing to pay the price. That deflated her considerably. If he'd looked smug and contemptuous she would have snipped him clean. But he didn't, so she couldn't bring herself to completely decimate his wonderful hair.
Again, he must have been able to read her, because he cocked a dark eyebrow at her.
She reached for the hair cement and turned him away from the mirror.
He adjusted the black cape draped over his knees. "So, Ms. Jones, I gather you found D.K.B.'s initial offer lacking."
"I found it unwanted, Mr. Rogers."
"How could an offer to become part of a company like D.K.B. ever be unwanted? If I were you, I'd consider it a gift from heaven."
She worked the stiffening gel into the glossy black hair on the top of his head, doing her best not to think about how good it felt to bury her hands in all that thickness. "Well, you're not me. And I found it intrusive."
He tried to turn to look at her, but she held his head straight. The heat radiating off him was worse with actual contact.
"Intrusive? Interesting." He sat silently for a while as she worked on his hair, then said, "Maybe I didn't do a very good job of explaining what it is we're offering you. I've been told I'm much better in person than on paper."
And how are you on silk sheets? The thought popped into her mind all by itself. There was no way she'd purposely have those kinds of thoughts about a pushy corporate hotshot like Mitchell Rogers. Absolutely no way. She'd walked away from that world for a reason.
He started in on what he clearly considered a very generous offer, judging by the number of times he used the word lucrative, but Sunny found herself most enthralled by the timbre of his voice. It rumbled deep and would be the stuff of fantasies in the dark. Whether he whispered sweet nothings or auto repair instructions wouldn't matter with a voice like that.
Then he mentioned something about her working from the main office that yanked her brain out of the bedroom and back into the salon.
She paused, her hands in his gelled hair. "Excuse me, but did you say D.K.B. wants me at corporate?"
"Well, yeah. Clearly you know what you're doing."
That brought on a fit of giggles from her friends. If he could see what she was doing to his hair, his opinion would change. Though she doubted his company wanted her for her styling abilities.
He shifted in the chair. "And of course, D.K.B. is aware of your history."
Her mood darkened at the thought of some company snooping in her life, and she added hair spray to her creation. "I already know what it's like to be valued for my credentials and ability to make money rather than for the person I am, Mr. Rogers —"
"Mitchell," he rumbled out with an irritatingly effective sensuality. Listening to him was like being dipped in warm butter.
She ruthlessly quashed her body's response. "And I'll be damned if I go back to that world again." Regardless of the fact that world contained a man like Mitchell Rogers. The kind of man fantasies were made of.
Mitchell Rogers swallowed hard against the incredibly erotic, and disastrously distracting, sensations Sunny's small hands in his hair created. He had to focus on bringing Ms. Sunny Jones, Harvard MBA and former CFO with the smarts to have foreseen the dot-com bust and get out with her money, into the D.K.B. fold. They'd promised to add an R to the company name if he did. Mitchell wanted the partnership so bad he'd sell a kidney.
And once he became a partner he'd be able to put aside this near obsession he'd developed for Ms. Jones. Despite the fact she'd turned out to be even more gorgeous in person than in the photocopied business journal photo he had of her. So much so that he'd doubted it was really her when he'd first walked into her salon. All that auburn hair and those flashing green eyes made it hard to think.
But he hadn't earned the nickname Relentless Rogers for nothing. He pressed, "Why would you think you'd have to be damned to go back to the corporate world, particularly when D.K.B. is an entirely different world than you've previously experienced?"
"Oh, please." Sunny let loose another blast of hair spray onto the outrageous style she'd shaped his sinfully thick hair into. "What do you know about my experiences?"
"More than you'd probably like."
The sexual innuendo in his tone raised goose bumps on Sunny's skin and an alarm in her head. This guy was not past using what he had to get what he wanted. Needing to get him gone, she pronounced, "I'm done," and turned him back toward the mirror.
He made a short, strangled sound when he saw the high, stiff spikes she'd fashioned the hair on the top of his head into. Then, to his credit, he smiled in acknowledgment of her retaliation. "Interesting. Can't say as I've tried this style before." He reached up a hand to touch the sharp points.
She caught his hand in hers before he made contact. "Don't. Don't touch, it'll break. Literally."
He arched a dark brow at her and curled his fingers around her hand, trapping it. A blast of heat and tingling sensations shot up her arm and zapped the pit of her stomach. He brought her hand level with his wicked mouth, absently stroking her knuckles with the surprisingly rough pad of his thumb. The thought that he intended to kiss her hand — after she'd just told him she'd made his hair breakable, no less — sent the hot, tingling sensation lower yet. She'd never been affected with such quick intensity before.
But he didn't kiss her hand. She raised her gaze from his sensual lips and found him watching her. The knowing gleam in his eyes told her he knew exactly what she'd been thinking. Her cheeks exploded with heat and she snatched her hand from his grasp.
Then he did the most obnoxious thing. He smiled. Sunny's mouth went stone dry and her friends made all sorts of soft noises of feminine appreciation. The man had a killer smile, all perfect white teeth and sexy attitude.
As if he didn't have a clue about the effect he had, he said, "You owe me dinner for this."
Sunny blinked to regain her normally reliable common sense. "Excuse me?"
He shrugged, somehow managing to look incredibly masculine and sensual despite the salon cape draped over him and the funky hairdo she'd given him. "If I have to go out in public like this, the least you can do is come along so people will think it works for me." He looked her over from head to foot with overt appreciation. "Heck, I might just start a trend of mullet proportions if guys think this do will snag them a gorgeous woman like you."
His compliment had her itching to twiddle her hair and grin like an idiot.
Pat burst out, "You do owe him dinner, Sunny."
The others turned traitor, too, with a lot of adamant nodding.
He regained her attention by saying, "I'm not going to go away until you give me a reason for not accepting D.K.B.'s offer that I can't argue with."
Kelly urged, "Tell him why over dinner." She'd been there for Sunny when no one at Everything.com would listen to her warnings about the fatal flaws in their business model. She knew Sunny's reasons for not wanting to get back into big business were sound.
Not wanting to tempt fate, or her newly awakened hormones, with this man, Sunny shook her head. "I already have plans."
Her traitorous best friends fired the last shot en masse.
Pat slapped her forehead. "I forgot! I'm supposed to help Gray at the restaurant tonight. See ya, guys."
Kelly looked at her watch. "I have some briefs I have to go over tonight. I need to leave, too."
Isabella smiled the smile that routinely landed her on magazine covers. "Marco is probably missing me."
M. J. simply grinned and said, "Gotta go."
They practically did a turncoat-conga as they left the salon.
With no other females besides Sunny to absorb it, the atmosphere instantly felt charged with Mitchell Rogers's sexual energy. But she'd never let her gender come into play when she conducted business, so she pulled in a deep breath and willed her body to behave as she unfastened the cape from around his neck and pulled it off. He unfolded his big body from the chair and the salon seemed to shrink around them, crowding him into Sunny's personal space.
She took a step back, he took a step forward. So she took another step back. She wasn't scared. Not at all, even though she didn't know him. She was scared of herself, though, having never been affected by a man in this way. Despite her "free love" upbringing — actually, because of it — Sunny had always been on the repressed side. But maybe she just hadn't met a guy man enough to turn her crank. Watching Mitchell Rogers reach into his back pocket, his beige shirt stretching tight across his sculpted chest, cranked her plenty.
Her palms started to sweat.
He pulled out his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"
"I thought I owed you dinner?"
"You do. But I still want to pay you for your services." He glanced at his reflection and quirked his mouth in a drop-dead adorable way. "Such as they were."
Sunny's conscience attacked her full force. "Look. I think I made my point. Let me wash that gunk out of your hair."
He lowered his chin and pierced her with his dark-turquoise blue gaze. "Will you still go out to dinner with me and discuss the offer?"
She figured she knew the answer, but she asked anyway, "Will you go away if I don't?"
"No."
Realizing she had no choice but to talk with him, she heaved a sigh. "All right. But once I've explained my reasons, you have to respect my decision."
"I intend to change your mind."
"You can try, Mr. Rogers. You can try."
"Please, call me Mitchell."
"Okay. Come on over to the sinks, Mitchell, and I'll wash that stiffener out of your hair."
"I'd appreciate it." He followed her to the bank of black enamel sinks against the back wall.
Sunny's body tingled and her heart pounded in awareness despite the fact he was a good two paces behind her. She drew in several deep breaths to regain her grip as she positioned a towel on the curved lip of the sink. She was only going to wash his hair, something she did every day for all types of people.
But when he sat in the chair and leaned back to rest his neck on the towel, his blue eyes fastened on her, washing his hair ceased to be an everyday occurrence.
Mitchell forced himself to relax in the reclined chair as Sunny started to run warm water over the stiff spikes she'd shaped his hair into. His already considerable admiration for Sunshine Buttercups Jones skyrocketed at the payback she'd handed him for ambushing her at her salon.
As much as he wanted to convince her to come to work for D.K.B. because it would earn him a partnership, he found himself wanting her to work at D.K.B. because he flat out liked her. A lot. This saucy side of her hadn't been remotely hinted at in the dossier on her that he'd been given. She was gorgeous and feisty and sexy as hell.
She leaned forward to work shampoo into his hair and he nearly swallowed his tongue. Her perfect breasts were mere inches from his face and her warm, flowery scent made his head swim. Never in his life had he wanted to nuzzle a woman's chest more.
It was bad enough that she intrigued him on paper to the point that he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. Now he wanted her so much physically he felt as if he were about to go up in flames.
As she worked the gunk out of his hair, all he could think about was that that would be the view — minus the shirt — he'd have with her on top, hanging onto his wrought-iron headboard as they made love for all they were worth.
He closed his eyes against her temptation, but the image of her tantalizing breasts in front of his face was burned in his brain. And just knowing she was so close made him hard as a rock.
He shifted his legs and clenched his teeth, hoping she wouldn't notice. He never mixed business with pleasure, despite business generally being his pleasure. He'd never allowed his physical wants to encroach on his work before, and even with her current refusal to cooperate, Sunny Jones was still work.
"You're awfully tense, Mitch. I promise, I'm not making your hair green or anything," she teased as she worked her incredible hands over his scalp.
"It's Mitchell," he corrected automatically. "And I'm not worried about my hair."
"Okay. Sorry." She was silent a moment as she rinsed his hair with warm water. "Why not go by Mitch? I like it."
Because it represents everything I've managed to claw my way up from. Without thinking he retorted, "Why don't you go by Sunshine?"
She froze, one hand buried deep in his hair. "How...?" her voice sounded strained.
He knew all about her determination to distance herself from the persona her hippie parents had intended for her and admired the hell out of it, but thought better of admitting as much.
"It's your legal name, so it's on the salon's documentation."
She made a disapproving noise, then finished rinsing his hair. He noticed her movements were brisk and efficient, not nearly as sensual as before. The idea that she might have been trying to turn him on before turned him on more. And regardless of his edict of never mixing business with pleasure, he wanted her to keep trying to turn him on — if that was indeed what she'd been doing.
After blotting the excess water from his hair, Sunny said, "Come on back to my station and I'll dry you real fast, then we can go eat."
He stood and snagged her elbow, her skin warm and satiny beneath his fingers. "Hey, I'm sorry about the Sunshine crack. I know what it's like to work your tail off getting to the top without any help."
"What makes you think I didn't have any help?"
"Parents don't name a baby Sunshine Buttercups with an eye to an Ivy League education."
She shrugged, though she didn't move enough to pull her arm from his grasp. "I've come to realize it's just a name, not a definer. All that matters is who you are."
"Still, if you grow up hearing cute little Mitch, too bad he'll end up in a ditch, you tend to develop an aversion."
She winced in obvious sympathy. "I'll have to introduce you to my friend Pat. She knows a thing or two about proving chants wrong." Her gaze traveled over him in a way that made him want to snatch her to him, but he forced himself to do nothing more than rub his thumb against her smooth elbow. "Though you've clearly proved them wrong in a big way, also."
"Being told you'll never amount to anything is a tremendous motivator."
Her pretty green eyes went all soft and she shifted toward him.
Her pity was just the poke he needed to get back on track. "But so is hunger." He ran his fingers through his hair to get it going in the right direction. "This mop will dry fine on its own. Let's go to dinner right now so I can start chipping away at your arguments against joining forces with D.K.B."
And finally secure his partnership without falling any further under Sunny's spell.
Sunny sat across from Mitchell Rogers at Pat's fiancé, Gray Lee's, restaurant, The Fifty-Yard Line, and couldn't quite remember why this man was the enemy. While he'd come on strong when he'd first sat down in her salon under the guise of needing a haircut, going on and on about the lucrative deal the company he worked for, D.K.B., wanted to make with her for the rights to either buy outright or franchise her salon, he'd since backed way off.
He looked relaxed in his beige, short-sleeve shirt and black slacks, with his thick black hair finger-combed back from his face. And he looked way too much like her dream man. The man who cared more about what she thought about life than what role she played in it.
After Pat and Gray made a blatant fly-by to check out the first man Sunny had gone to dinner with in ages, she found herself telling him the story of how she, Pat, Kelly, Isabella, and M. J. had become friends while in detention for fighting with a clique of girls called the Four Queens in high school.
He didn't seem particularly surprised when she admitted she'd started the row after deciding she'd had her fill of the Queens picking on Pat. She filled him in on what each of her friends had subsequently achieved with their lives and careers, and he nodded knowingly.
When their food arrived — she'd ordered a chicken Caesar salad and he'd gone for the house special, steak — she could hardly eat because she was so aware of him. And of the fact he was watching her. Every bite became fraught with sexual innuendo for her.
It must be because she'd been in the company of mostly women since she'd opened her salon. Or because he was the hottest thing to cross her path. Ever.
He listened intently as she told him how happy she was with the way things were, how by keeping the salon small she wasn't stifled by the business end of it and had time to indulge her creative side.
Flashing a wry smile, he reached a hand up to pat the top of his head, as if checking for any missed spikes. "I noticed. That was a very...creative hairdo you gave me."
"You asked for it."
"I suppose I did. But if you'd responded to my letters —"
"My lack of response was my response."
He leaned forward, his bright blue eyes glowing with the intensity of a man of strong passions, and started to speak, only to stop himself. He ran his gaze over her face and she found herself wishing she could experience some of his passion firsthand. She had been without a man too long.
Finally, he said, "How can I change your mind?"
She reined in her libido. "You can't."
He reached out and covered her hand with his large one, starting small yet damaging fires throughout her body. "But what about your potential, Sunny? You just told me how all of your friends have become so much more than what they'd seemed destined for in high school. They're realizing their potential, while you're turning your back on yours."
Astonished that he'd put words to her own anxieties, she argued, "How can not wanting to sell my salon or franchise it be turning my back on my potential?"
"This is an amazing business opportunity, and you're an amazing businesswoman."
"I'm a lot more than that, Mitchell."
"I've noticed."
He said it with so much sexual heat her lips parted with involuntary anticipation. She tried to cover her gaping reaction by taking a quick sip of water. While she should tell him thanks but no thanks for the "amazing business opportunity," the part of her that wanted to know him outside of business — and, okay, out of his clothes, too — made her ask, "What about you, Mitchell? Isn't there more to you than business?"
He leaned back in his chair and considered her for a moment, then shrugged. "What you see is what you get."
Her body was so okay with that, but she shook off the shallowness.
"Oh, come on. You said back in the salon that you'd been told you'd never amount to much and that you were driven to prove them wrong. And you did. That adds dimension in my book."
He scoffed. "Better known as baggage."
"Only if you let it weigh you down."
"I thought you said your friend Pat was the advice columnist."
She laughed self-consciously. "Sorry. I never have been able to mind my own business."
He grinned his inhibition-melting grin. "See, a businesswoman through and through."
"And you have a one-track mind."
"Two, actually, when it comes to you." He blinked at her and quickly looked away as though he hadn't meant to say it.
But her body heard him and responded accordingly. Telling herself she was simply sparing him from the embarrassment, she offered, "I seem to be having trouble in that vein, also."
He raised his gaze immediately back to hers and Sunny's heart started to pound over the risk she'd just taken. A risk-taker was one thing she'd never been.
That is, until Mitchell Rogers walked through her door.
Mitchell's eyes were hot when he met Sunny's gaze across the table at Gray's Fifty-Yard Line restaurant. Had she crossed a line by joining him in his sexual banter? Or opened a door?
"What should we do about it?" His deep voice raised goose bumps on her skin like a caress.
She hesitated on the threshold of what would surely be an exciting sexual adventure. The last time she'd allowed a man to get close he'd rejected her for not playing the part he wanted her to, for not remaining CFO of the dot-com they'd both worked for. But she'd made her intended path clear to Mitchell, and he still wanted her. At least she thought he did.
She lowered her voice to hopefully mask her nervousness. "What do you want to do about it?"
"I want you to wash my hair again."
Sunny blinked.
He smiled slowly and very naughtily as he sat back and ran his hands through his hair. "I can still feel some of that stiffening gunk you put in my hair. How about if we go back to your salon and you have another go at washing it out?"
Her lungs responded with the need for more air before her brain could catch up. She knew full well that she'd washed out all of the hair cement she'd used to fashion his thick, silky black hair into tall, stiff spikes. But apparently she wasn't the only one to have found washing his hair an incredibly erotic experience.
Thank goodness she hadn't given in to her first impulse and snipped all that wonderful hair off after he'd insisted she cut his hair so that she'd have to listen to his pitch for D.K.B.
But she'd only just met this guy. She pulled her gaze from his and focused on his forehead in an attempt to get a hold of herself.
Then a voice inside her head that sounded remarkably like a blending of her best friends' voices reminded her that Mitchell Rogers had been sending her letters for weeks. So she'd known him, or at least known of him, for some time.
She made a noise at her attempt at rationalization.
Mitchell raised his brows. "Is that a no thank you?"
"What? No. I mean…well…" she trailed off, worrying her lip between her teeth. The only thing she was sure of was that she'd regret not taking this particular chance in life. Her decision made, she waved away her own blather and pulled in a deep breath. "I'd love to wash your hair again."
He didn't flash his incredible smile like she'd halfway expected him to. Instead, he flared his nostrils slightly and shoved to his feet, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.
She held out a hand. "Dinner's on me, remember?"
He shot her a censuring look as he pulled out enough cash for the bill. "I was never going to let you buy me dinner."
Her hormone-clogged brain was sluggish figuring out if she'd been insulted or not, which gave him enough time to round the table and pull back her chair. Then it clicked. She rose and turned toward him. "You proved them wrong by becoming a success and a gentleman."
He finally smiled at her as he offered her his arm. "You're easily impressed."
"Not hardly. I've been to both extremes, from hippie to buttoned-down corporate, you know."
As he led her out of the restaurant past Pat and Gray, who were grinning like a couple of parents on prom night, he murmured, "I know."
He followed her SUV in his black sports car back to the salon. With each passing block she became more and more certain about what she was doing. And as he held the salon door for her after she unlocked it, she was convinced that if at any point it didn't feel right, he would back off if she asked him to. She didn't know why she was so certain, she just was.
He captured her hand, "I want you to know this has nothing to do with why I first came to see you."
She looked up into his handsome face, his blue eyes hot but guileless. "I know."
He didn't say another word as she led him back to the sinks and settled him in the chair. Nervous anticipation kept her throat too tight to speak, so she let her hands speak for her. Since she knew his hair was already clean, she only used enough shampoo to make her fingers slick in his wet hair as she massaged his scalp and neck.
Rumbling approvingly deep in his broad chest, he said, "I've never wanted a woman the way I want you."
Thrilled by his bluntness, she leaned toward him, threading her fingers into his hair as she rinsed it. "I'm glad."
He reached for her hair, pushing her heavy auburn curls away from her face, then skimming his fingers along her scalp. She refused to consider what they were doing, and simply let herself get lost in his gold-spiked blue eyes.
When he cupped the back of her head and gently pulled her down toward him, she succumbed to the pressure, slipping her hand from his hair to brace herself on his hard, hot chest.
The second her lips touched his, she knew this wasn't just the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do.
Mitchell kissed Sunny sweetly, gently, the shampoo she'd used on him surrounding them in a fresh-smelling halo. She could feel his heart pounding and the power in his tightly bunched muscles beneath her hand on his chest as she leaned over him in the reclined chair, but he allowed her to set the pace. His restraint turned her on unbelievably.
The hair-rinsing nozzle forgotten in her other hand, she deepened the kiss. He groaned, bringing his other hand up to grip her waist. The nozzle clattered into the sink. She explored his hot mouth, his tongue meeting hers in a rhythm that turned her bones soft.
He must have felt her weakening because he dropped his hand from her hair and gripped the other side of her waist to lift her up.
Sunny half laughed, half squeaked against his mouth and braced her hands on the black enamel sink as he settled her straddling his lap. Instantly she felt his heat and hardness through her jeans and his slacks. She nearly came apart right then and there.
He made it worse, and better, by slipping his hands beneath her white cotton shirt and tracing her sides up to the undersides of her breasts. But he didn't go higher.
She lifted her head and met his blue, blue eyes. There was hot need in his gaze, but also a question.
"Yes, I'm sure," she breathed out.
Pat, M. J., Kelly, and Isabella had been right. She had been alone too long, and she deserved to have this moment with this man.
He smiled and her body throbbed in response. Taking obvious pity on her he moved his hands upward and cupped her aching breasts. The rough pads of his thumbs teased her through the thin fabric of her bra, drawing her nipples into tight points of need.
She dropped her head back. "I love your calluses."
"I just finished building a deck off the back of my house. Want to check it out?"
Feeling freer than she'd ever felt, she rocked against him until she was about to go up in flames from the fire he'd started between them. "In the morning. I want to see your bedroom, first."
He growled his approval and gripped her bottom to keep from unseating her as he bolted up. Sunny automatically wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, but she was so small and he was so big and strong, he really didn't need her help at all.
Fortunately, he had the presence of mind to shut off the water before carrying her toward the front of the salon. He grabbed her practical little brown purse and keys off the reception desk on his way out, holding her up with just one hand. He even locked the door to the salon behind them.
His strength and thoughtfulness made her head spin, and she rewarded him with hot, wet kisses along his neck. It wasn't until he was at his little black sports car, trying to get to his pants pocket around her thigh, that reason snuck in along with the chill of the cool, high-desert night air.
"I should drive my own car. I'll follow you."
He gave a brief nod. "Yes, you should. I don't want you to think that you don't have a choice in what we're doing. And if anything doesn't feel right, or you just change your mind —"
She stopped him by putting a finger to his wonderful mouth. "I'm not going to change my mind. Assuming, of course, that you don't have manacles and chains fastened to your walls."
She was joking, but he frowned fiercely and set her on her feet. "You know, I very well could. It's not exactly the smartest thing for a woman to go home with a guy she doesn't know all that well —"
Amazed by his oddly timed lecture, but warmed by his concern, she raised her brows at him. "Are you saying I shouldn't go home with you?"
He blew out a breath and ran a hand over his face. "No, you should. Because all I want to do is make love to you all night and then some." He cupped her jaw, stroking her bottom lip with his thumb. "But not every guy is going to worship you like I will."
She swayed into him. "You're the only guy in a very long time to get the chance."
He replaced his thumb with his mouth and kissed her deeply, soulfully, gathering her into his arms and holding her close.
Sunny had never felt so...so...loved, despite not really knowing Mitchell Rogers.
Though a part of her, the part her parents would wholeheartedly approve of but she'd done her damnedest to squash, felt as if she'd known Mitchell all her life and they were meant to be together.
At least for this night. A night she would allow herself with no second-guessing, no regrets.
Assuming there were no chains and manacles hanging from his walls.
Her lips still tingling from his kisses, Sunny followed Mitchell to his Tudor-style home in a very posh part of Denver. She waited for the warning bells to go off, because this was just the type of neighborhood Alan had wanted to live in. A status home to go with his status girlfriend, who needed to be a corporate mover and shaker in her own right. When Sunny had walked away from that career path to do something that made her truly happy, Alan had walked away from her.
But Mitchell had put his company's offer for her salon aside for tonight, and wanted her for her. Sunny had never been happier, or more excited or turned on, even though the man responsible was in the car pulling into the garage in front of her, not up against her, clouding her judgment. And it seemed logical that an executive in a company as large as D.K.B. would invest his money in a home such as this. She had simply chosen to put her money into her salon.
Her worries vanished from her brain at the sight of Mitchell striding toward her SUV. He was so big and gorgeous, with his raven-black hair still damp enough to reflect the moonlight. The memory of straddling him as he reclined against one of the sinks in her salon heated her skin to the point that she couldn't wait to get her clothes off. And his.
She took his offered hand after he opened her car door, loving the way his large, strong hand gently enveloped her smaller one. He didn't give her time to savor his gentlemanly behavior. The second she was out of the car, he reached around her and grasped her bottom, picking her up as he had in the salon.
Sunny squealed and wrapped her arms and legs around him.
"I didn't want you to forget where we'd left off."
"Trust me, Mr. Rogers, I didn't forget." She emphasized her statement with a kiss that curled both their hair.
When she finally came up for air, he smiled wickedly at her. "Woman, what you do to me... I need to get you in my bed ASAP."
"Good, because I'm afraid I'm about to get naked PDQ."
He laughed, a deep, rich sound that warmed her soul. She could spend a lifetime listening to that laugh.
But when he carried her into his house and she saw how finely decorated it was, down to expensive works of art gracing most of the walls and carved molding on the high ceilings, her anxieties returned. "Nice house."
He shrugged as he carried her up the curved staircase. "It's just a house. I sometimes have to entertain, so I turned a decorator loose in it."
He couldn't have given her a better answer, and earned another kiss that tripped him when he reached the top stair. To keep from falling, he planted her against the wall, then took advantage of the arrangement and kissed her back with so much passion Sunny pulled away enough to murmur, "I don't care if we ever make it to your bedroom."
His hips, and all the heat and hardness in between, pinned her against the wall, leaving his hands free to push her shirt up enough to expose her breasts. In a crashing heartbeat he had her bra unfastened and was lavishing her breasts with the same sort of passion as he had her mouth.
"I changed my mind," she panted.
He froze, his mouth hovering above a pebbled nipple.
"I want to make it to your bedroom, after all. I want you inside of me, Mitchell. On a bed. Now."
He dropped his head against her collarbone. "Don't scare me like that, Sunny."
"Sorry. But please give me what I want."
His chuckle shook the both of them. "Yes, ma'am." He lifted her away from the wall and carried her into the room at the end of the hall.
She vaguely noted that the master bedroom was as beautifully decorated as what she'd seen of the house and that his bed was marvelously large when he laid her onto it. But she was too interested in kissing and licking the smooth skin between his emerging whiskers and his hairline below his ear. Before she knew it he'd stripped her of her clothes and was removing his with the speed found only in males of the species.
And oh, was she glad. He was incredible. Her imagination could have never come close to Mitchell in the flesh. She ached just looking at him and was seized with the urge to trace every well-defined muscle on his lean, lightly haired body.
Another major worry about the type of man he might be was put to rest when he had to go searching in his nightstand for a condom. A man who made a habit of bringing women home like he'd done with her would have the necessary accessories immediately at hand.
Just when she was beginning to worry that she might not have this night with him — at least not all of him — after all, he let out a whoop of success.
Then he was next to her, touching her, kissing her, worshipping her as he'd promised. On the verge of coming out of her skin with want, she got a good handhold in his thick hair and pulled his head up to hers.
"Make love to me, Mitchell. Please."
His blue eyes, crowded by dilated pupils, locked on hers as he settled his big body between her legs. Then he pushed inside of her. He filled her in a way she'd never experienced before, in a way she'd never forget, and it had nothing to do with the forbidden fantasy of being with a virtual stranger. Mitchell didn't feel like a stranger. He felt like a man meant just for her.
He closed his eyes. "You are so tight."
Sunny couldn't speak, the sensations were too intense. But when he started to move, gliding in and out of her one moment, then driving deep and rolling his hips the next, she started to moan. This was how it was supposed to be with a man. This was what she'd somehow known she was missing even as she staked her heart on Alan, who hadn't been able — or willing — to see the real her.
He moved faster, and every inch of her body became an erogenous zone, sparking unbelievable pleasure with each brush from his skin. He arched his back and she couldn't delay it any longer, calling out his name as her muscles contracted around him and lights exploded behind her closed eyelids. He came in a rush of liquid heat, too, and exquisitely prolonged her climax.
She wrapped her arms around him when he collapsed on her, but he almost immediately leveraged his weight off her and onto his elbows.
Incredibly content, Sunny brushed his dark hair off his sweaty forehead. "Wow."
He grinned and turned his head to nuzzle her hand. "Yeah. Wow."
"I never realized someone could shout a groan before."
He chuckled, and she felt it from the inside out. "Neither did I." Slipping off her, he gathered her against his chest. "And I am extremely glad you didn't formally respond to my letters."
"So am I, Mitchell. So am I."
Mitchell made love to Sunny through the night, until she finally fell asleep in his arms. The enormity of what had happened between them kept him awake. Being damn near obsessed with the woman he'd been promised a partnership if he could hire was bad enough.
But now he'd gone and fallen in love with her.
There was no explaining away the intense need he had for her, or the feeling of completeness he had just talking to her, laughing with her. He wanted Sunny Jones in his life more than he'd ever wanted anything. He no longer cared if he was given a partnership stake in D.K.B. for bringing her to work for them. He simply wanted her to be with him all the time, at home, at the office. Working with Sunny would be an incredible way to spend his life.
He respected her enough not to pressure her, however. If she did come to work with him at D.K.B., it would be because she wanted to.
Feeling as if he'd finally arrived at the place he'd been trying to reach all his life, he watched the sun rise and held her close as long as he could.
Sunny woke to Mitchell kissing her ear. She giggled and raised her shoulder.
He kissed her there, instead. "Good morning, Sunshine. I mean —"
She laughed and rolled on her back. "I know what you meant. Good morning to you, too." She blinked at him. "Hey, you're already dressed!"
He brushed the hair away from her face with a tenderness that made her smile again. "I'm sorry, but I damn near forgot that I have a must-attend meeting this morning and a client I have to take to lunch. But my house is your house. Please stay in bed as long as you want. Like forever." He flashed his heart-melting smile and her heart complied.
"As tempting as that sounds, Mr. Rogers, I have clients scheduled for later this morning, also. Lucky for me, none of the early risers wanted their hair cut today, which is why I'd planned an evening with Pat, Kelly, Isabella, and M.J. last night."
"Are you sorry you ended up with just me?"
She cupped his strong jaw, temptingly smooth from having just been shaved. "Do I look sorry?"
Leaning forward, he kissed her bare shoulder again. "You look like a dream come true. I'd better get out of here before you tempt me back to bed."
He pushed off the mattress and stood. Sunny wasn't prepared for the appeal of Mitchell Rogers in a well-made, dark gray suit and a tie the exact sky blue of his eyes. "Boy, do you look great in a suit."
"I'd rather be in my birthday suit with you around, so I'm going to get gone." He hesitated for a moment. "Can I see you tonight?"
She choked on a laugh. "You better."
The relief on his face made her fall completely in love with him right then and there. "Excellent. But I'm going to try to do my best not to call you every hour, being a grown-up and all." He waved and headed out of the bedroom.
Feeling complete in a way she'd never felt before, Sunny flopped her arms wide on the bed and lay there until she heard Mitchell's car drive away. Who would have thought it. She'd have to call her mom and tell her that she'd been right all along. Happiness wasn't something you could go out and get, but would come to you on its own. Just like the words of her mom's favorite song: Let it be.
She was too jazzed to be in bed — alone — so she got up and started for the bathroom, tripping on Mitchell's slacks where he'd flung them last night. Always one for order, she automatically picked them up and folded them. Mitchell's wallet dropped out of the back pocket.
"Uh-oh. Guess whose going to be in trouble when the bill for lunch comes." She knew exactly where D.K.B.'s offices were, and if she hurried, she could take Mitchell his wallet and get back to her salon before her first client was scheduled to come in.
After cleaning up and dressing, Sunny made it to D.K.B.'s upscale office building in good time, and was directed to Mitchell's office by a pleasant receptionist.
Walking down the hall past expensively decorated offices, Sunny became uncomfortably aware of her jeans and white cotton shirt, and for the first time in ages missed her power suits. Would it really be that bad to come to work every day in a place like this? Certainly not if the rest of the employees were as straightforward as Mitchell.
Before she could explore the notion further, a familiar voice hailed her.
"Sunny Jones?"
She turned and found Evan Kates, a former coworker from Everything.com, stepping from one of the offices she'd just passed. "Evan? Wow. So this is where you landed. How are you?"
"Fantastic, now that you're here. Relentless Rogers came through for us once again, I see. Not that anyone doubted he would be able to bring you on board with a partnership offer on the line." He glanced behind him. "But that's just between you and me, if you know what I mean." He shook his head and gave a wry laugh. "This company really needs someone with your business savvy right now."
Her heart hammering with disbelief, Sunny forced the smile she'd used throughout her corporate days. "Evan, you'll have to excuse me. I really need...to..." She trailed off and pointed down the hall toward where Mitchell's office was supposed to be.
He raised a hand and waved her off. "Sure. Go. I'll catch you later, and we'll rehash old times."
Sunny gave a weak nod in response, knowing the only thing she was going to rehash was how she could have foolishly believed that Mitchell wanted her for her, not for her business savvy.
Shaking with anger and hurt, Sunny stepped into Mitchell's large office. He was sitting behind a huge cherry-wood desk, his arms spread wide and braced against the top like a handsome lord of the boardroom while reading something in front of him. Was that the real Mitchell Rogers?
Without preamble, she asked, "So, Mitchell, did you spend the night with me because you wanted a partnership in this swanky place?"
He jerked his gaze up, then frowned fiercely. "What?"
"I just bumped into an old coworker of mine, Evan Kates, and he let slip that you'd been offered a partnership if you could get me to come to work for D.K.B." She swallowed hard to fight the tears that suddenly clogged her throat, then stormed up to his desk. "Is that why you slept with me? To soften me up?"
She silently pleaded for him to deny it. Maybe Evan, who hadn't listened to her warnings at the dot-com, either, and had lost a fortune, was seeking some sort of revenge on her.
But Mitchell simply stared at her, a muscle working in his square jaw.
Her eyes burned. "Did you think you could seduce me into changing my mind?" The fact that he almost succeeded made her stomach roll.
He bolted to his feet. "I told you that what happened had nothing to do with my reasons for coming to the salon."
Her name on a thick file on the corner of his big desk caught her eye. She pointed at it. "Is that some sort of dossier on me?"
"It's in my nature to be thorough."
Frustrated at her own foolishness for thinking he'd wanted her for her, she dropped her chin, shaking her head. All the pieces fell into place. "D.K.B. isn't really interested in my salon, is it," she stated rather than asked. "It was just necessary baggage to get me to work here."
"There are those who would be flattered," he said softly, gently.
Sunny's heart bled. "Not those who only want to be valued for who they are, not what they are."
He snatched up the file and held it up between them. "This is about who you are. So much so that I couldn't help falling in love with you just from what I read."
She jerked her gaze from the file to the icy heat of his blue eyes. He loved her? Every cell in her being came to life.
"That's right, Sunny. I walked through the doors of your salon already thinking you were the most amazing, balanced woman I'd ever known, without having even met you. Then when I did meet you..."
He lowered his voice until it rasped across her senses like his callused hand had caressed her skin, igniting fires as it went. "You overwhelmed me. I couldn't resist you."
He looked down and dropped the file onto his desk with a loud thwack. "Yes, dammit, I do want you to work with me, but not because of the partnership. As a matter of fact, I'd just finished drafting a letter of refusal when you came in. I realized the partnership wasn't important. You were." He ran a hand through his thick hair, reminding her how silky it had felt between her fingers.
After blowing out a breath, he added, "This morning, holding you in my arms, I realized what I really wanted." He raised his gaze to hers and the emotion in them stalled the breath in her lungs. "I want to be with you, Sunny."
Still afraid to trust, she asked, "As long as I come to work for D.K.B.?"
"No!" He rounded the desk and took hold of her upper arms in more of a caress than a grip. "No. I want you to do what makes you happy, and only you can decide that. But I want to be in your life, I want you to get to know me as well as I know you."
Her blood started to race with the possibilities. "As well as you think you know me."
He acquiesced with an inclination of his dark head. "I want us to know each other better than anyone else on earth."
Joy rocked Sunny back on her heels.
Running his hands up and down her arms and sending a delicious tremor straight to the bottoms of her feet with the hot look in his eyes, he murmured, "So what do you say, Sunny? Will you give me a chance to prove myself to you?"
A chance. Mitchell Rogers wanted a chance to prove himself — something it seemed he'd been doing all his life, and doing well. She searched his gold-spiked blue eyes and found his heart, offered up willingly for her to judge.
Let it be.
Unable to resist his pull on her own heart, she stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Only if you promise to never stop looking at me like that."
"They don't call me Relentless Rogers for nothing."
The End