world of bright lights, whirring blow dryers and pungent chemical smells.
Chic Art Deco furnishings incorporated the hydraulic chairs, rows of shampoo bowls and otherworldly hood dryers in an upscale salon that brought to mind images of grooming beautiful people who didn’t mind looking at themselves in walls and walls of mirrors.
Julienne hoped she could cultivate that particular skill, because when she caught sight of herself walking into the reception area, French-braided hair and dove-gray business suit unassuming amid the surrounding grandeur, she could only pray Ramón was up for a challenge.
Come on, girl. Think beautiful. Naughty girls come in all shapes and sizes.
“Jules, sweetheart.” Owner and stylist extraordinaire, Ramón, hurried down the aisle between the stylists’ booths, long black overcoat whipping out behind him like Batman’s cape. “I saw you on my book and I’m marked off for hours. Tell me, tell me. What are we doing today?”
Clients peered up from beneath wet bangs and foil strips that made their heads resemble shiny antennae. Now that she had everyone’s undivided attention…
Naughty girls enjoy being noticed.
“We’re doing something different today,” she said, not quite as enthusiastically as someone who enjoyed being noticed might say it, but reasonably self-possessed all the same.
“Not the usual ‘just put a new line in the bottom but don’t take off much length’?” Ramón didn’t give her a chance to reply as he waved at the receptionist, a beautiful young girl who sat behind a desk, completely unflustered by her boss’s theatrics. “Don’t put any calls through. And for God’s sake don’t let anyone back to bother us. I don’t care if Elvis himself shows up crooning. Jules and I have business.”
With that he latched a long-fingered hand around her upper arm and practically frog-marched her back to his semiprivate station past the rows of booths where his stylists waved, smiled and eyed her with interest.
“What is it, Jules? You finally want some shape in this mop? Or curl?”
Julienne allowed herself to be guided into the hydraulic chair and spun to face another unforgiving mirror with such speed her already fluttering stomach gave a decided lurch.
“No curl.”
“Color?” A tall, lean man, Ramón bent over her and peered myopically at her reflection in the mirror. “Don’t tell me you found a gray.”
“No. You don’t see any, do you?”
He surveyed the top of her head. “No grays. So why are you finally letting me do something to bring out the beauty of this exquisite color God gave you?”
Naughty girls look the part.
“I just want something different.”
“Be more specific, please.”
“I’m not exactly sure what,” she admitted. “That’s why I’m placing myself in your capable hands. I want a new look.”
Julienne expected exultation, or enthusiasm at the very least. After all, Ramón had been after her for the entire five years of their acquaintance to do something…anything with her hair.
But he only eyed her skeptically above the slices of black eyeglass frames resting low on his nose.
“How new?”
“New-new. Just not anything too short or too crazy.”
He circled her slowly, assessing, reminding her of Uncle Thad whenever he stepped inside an old building to assess the construction of walls and decorative moldings for restoration.
“What prompted this sudden need for a new you?”
“I just turned thirty.”
“Okay, a milestone birthday. What else?”
“What do you mean ‘what else’?”
He frowned.
“I’m just ready for a change.” She wasn’t about to tell him the truth.
“Does this sudden inspiration have anything to do with Dr. Whiteside?”
“Ramón, what kind of question is that?”
“A personal one I need an answer to, before I’ll touch my scissors to this mop you’ve been growing forever.” He sniffed haughtily. “Once I cut into the length, it’ll take decades to grow back out if you don’t like it. I don’t have the patience to listen to you sob the whole time.”
“Oh.”
She could understand caution. She’d lived a whole life filled with it. And she really had no reason to be uncomfortable about fessing up to Ramón. He’d been styling her hair ever since Ethan had insisted she make an appointment with his stylist. Besides…
Naughty girls feel good about feeling naughty.
“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Ethan does factor in a little. We called off our engagement six months ago and I’m ready to move on with my life. I’m ready to head in a new direction.”
Curiosity finally sparked in Ramón’s expression, and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the back of the chair, his face so close she could smell the spicy scent of his aftershave mingling with powerful traces of permanent wave solution from an earlier client. “A new direction, hmm? How new?”
“New-new. I plan to enjoy myself.”
There, you said it and you didn’t even blush. See, girl, twenty-one days of self-hypnosis are paying off.
“You’re booked in for the whole day,” Ramón said. “You want more than just a new hairstyle, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“Facial, makeup and image consultation? The works?”
She nodded again.
Ramón bolted upright as if he’d been shot from a gun, making Julienne jump in the chair.
“Celeste, round up the troops,” he bellowed toward the front of the salon. “Jules’ll be leaving here a new woman.”
A new woman! That’s exactly what you want to be. Now sit back and enjoy the transformation.
Julienne didn’t have a chance to sit back and enjoy anything before being herded into a dressing room, instructed to strip out of her suit and don a black salon overcoat.
The troops arrived. Kathy the skincare specialist and makeup artist. Stephanie with the body spa. Judith, the salon’s colorist, though Ramón assured her he’d be doing her color himself. She already knew Katriona, the six-foot-two manicurist, who dripped gold spandex and flaunted her cake makeup and razor-stubbled cheeks proudly.
“Well, hey, sister,” she said. “What’s this Ramón said about real nails? Tell me you’re finally giving up that modish
