just thought it accentuated her features better than when it was short. It provided a frame to her not-very-large face with its high cheekbones and fair skin.
To China’s sorrow as a makeup consultant, Abby didn’t wear much of it. Every day she applied only a little blush and a light dusting of brown eye shadow to go along with some mascara so that her almost-black eyes could compete with all the hair.
She thought her nose was a bit pointy, but at least it was straight, and she had just-full-enough lips that really only needed a little gloss.
She freshened that gloss now, before brushing cracker crumbs off of the black smock that protected her clothes and hid the body that was curvy but compact.
Then she popped a mint into her mouth and went back out to the salon, taking note that the oh-so-handsome guy in her chair wasn’t looking at himself in the mirror he was facing. Instead, he was glancing around at the shop.
It told her something about the person and the level of vanity she was dealing with. Her impression of this guy was that he took those good looks in stride. She liked that.
“Hi, I’m Abby,” she introduced herself when she reached her station.
“I know. Abby Crane—you’re who I needed to see today,” the hunk responded. “I’m Dylan Camden.”
Abby went to stand in front of the chair to get a full forward view of him.
Wow, those eyes...she thought as she got close enough to see their color—vibrant, deep ultramarine blue. She’d never seen eyes a shade of blue that intense.
“Camden...like the stores? Or is that just a coincidence?” she asked, making conversation to break the ice.
“Not a coincidence,” he answered.
So he was a Superstore Camden...
Why had a bigwig like that suddenly been so eager to get in to see her in her small, north Denver salon?
“How did you hear about us?” she asked out of curiosity.
“You. It’s you I heard about,” he amended. “First from my sister-in-law Vonni. She runs the wedding departments in our stores and she knows your work for special occasions. She’s been finding that a lot of her brides and wedding parties are hiring you instead of using the salons in the Superstores.”
“We like to go the extra mile for big events,” Abby said, rather than bad-mouthing his salons.
“And you head that team.”
“I do,” she confirmed.
“Well, I’m here to talk to you about that, along with my own hair cut. My sister is getting married in about a week and she’s in a bind when it comes to the whole hair thing—”
“And you’re thinking we could do it? In ‘about a week?’”
“I know it’s ridiculously short notice and that you’re in high demand, so what I’m asking is a big deal. But I’m willing to do all I can to make it work.”
He knew that she was in high demand? There was something about the way he said it that made it sound like he thought he was some kind of authority on her.
But how could that be?
“Did you talk to China about all this when you called?” she fished.
“No, just about the haircut.”
“But you know about my scheduling?”
“I know a few things about you. Things you can’t know about yourself—”
“Such as?” Abby challenged him, suspicious.
“Such as, I know that when you were two years old you were left sleeping in the emergency department’s waiting room of Denver General Hospital with nothing but a blanket and a note pinned to you that said your name was Abby.”
How—why—would he know that? It wasn’t as if she readily or easily opened up to anyone—clients, friends, dates, anyone. And she’d never met this man before. Plus he was a Camden. Why would someone from a family like that know those kinds of details about her?
“You get off on reading twenty-eight year old newspaper articles?” she asked.
“No, we...uh...had a different source. One closer than a newspaper article.” His eyes met hers steadily. “But that’s better talked about privately so I thought maybe we could set up a time to meet later, too—”
“Okay, what is this?” Abby demanded firmly, switching to the tough-girl tone she’d sometimes needed to use in rough foster homes.
He held up his hands, palms out. “Exactly what I’ve told you—I’m here for a haircut and to talk to you about my sister’s wedding.”
“And about something that you want me to meet you for later?”
“Because it’s better talked about in private,” he repeated, his voice quieter than hers had been.
China appeared from nowhere just then and Abby knew her friend had been lurking close enough to hear at least a portion of what had been said. China had probably only been hanging around to ogle the guy, but now any indication of admiration was gone. In its place was I’ve-got-your-back mode. China had also been a foster child and it was a pattern the two of them had developed when they’d become friends.
But even though Abby wasn’t sure what was going on here, she didn’t think it was anything she couldn’t handle so she told China, “It’s okay.”
The tall, very blonde China looked from Abby to the man in her chair through narrowed hazel eyes that were always dramatically lined and shadowed.
To the client, China said, “If there’s something fishy with you—”
“There isn’t,” he claimed, digging his wallet out of his back pocket. “Look, I am who I say I am.” He handed Abby his driver’s license and a business card. “And I’m honestly here with only the best intentions.”
Abby looked over the license and card, then let China see them, too. When they were both finished with them he retrieved his license but left the card with Abby.
“Keep that. It has all my numbers on it—business and personal. I was going to leave it with you anyway so you could reach me after this.”
Abby looked at China, who looked back at Abby, both of them confused but still suspicious.
Then China stepped out of Abby’s station and seemed to disappear, though Abby had no doubt her friend would stay nearby.
“So, what’s going on?” she demanded then.
“Right now, a haircut and talk about my sister’s wedding,” he said as if he were narrowing it down for the moment.
Abby was half tempted to refuse both and send him packing.
But
