Authors: Beth Ciotta

Tags: #Romance, #Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #General, #Contemporary

Fool for Love (44 page)

BOOK: Fool for Love

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“It was fine before.”

“Then what?” she snapped, fixated on her reflection. “Too short? Too long? Too clingy? Not clingy enough?”

Okay. This was a side of Rocky he’d never seen. He’d never heard, let alone witnessed, her fretting over her appearance. Never known her to ask anyone’s opinion. Unlike most of the women Jayce knew, Rocky didn’t obsess on fashion. She opted for comfortable. Casual. Jeans and T-shirts never looked so good. Sneakers never so sexy. He chalked it up to confidence. One of Rocky’s most alluring and irritating qualities. She was definitely off her game.

Jayce remained seated, although he did lean forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. He locked onto her nervous energy, her uncharacteristic insecurity, and considered that gash on her forehead. She’d just been mugged, then hit by a car. Rocky was tough but was she really up for a corporate meeting? What if she got dizzy? Or sick? Though she’d downplayed the head wound there’d been a lot of blood on her shirt. Enough to stop his heart. He’d spoken to the doctor who’d declared her fit enough to leave. But that overworked resident had also been dealing with various other crises. Could he really trust the man’s,
She’ll be sore, but fine
?

The more Jayce thought about it, the less inclined he was to let Rocky out of his sight. “Maybe you should call Tasha and ask her to postpone the meeting.”

“Seriously? I look that bad? Dammit!” She fussed with the deep-V-neckline, frowned. “Chloe said this wrap-around style was a good fit for my figure and business appropriate. I called her from Macy’s and…”

“It’s not the dress.”

“Is it the boots? Too clunky? Should I go with the pumps?” She bent over, flashing her generous cleavage as she unzipped the boots and kicked them away, treating Jayce to her shapely calves. The woman had kickass runner’s legs and she accentuated them by slipping her pretty feet into a pair of pointy-toed, three-inch-spike-heeled pumps.
Christ
.

She straightened. “Better?”

Jayce shifted to hide a boner. “Only if you want the marketing department to be distracted by your legs.” He dragged his gaze from her killer gams to those lethal eyes. “Sexy.”

She flushed, holding his gaze for a second before grunting in exasperation. “I don’t want to look sexy. I want to look stylish. Tasha said … Oh, what does she know?” Rocky turned her back and rooted through her shopping bags. “I bought a new blazer. Maybe I should just wear my jeans—”

“The dress looks great, Dash.” Jayce pushed out of the chair. “Go with the boots. Business appropriate. Stylish.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Although if you’re opting for stylish over sexy you might want to reconsider your hairstyle.” The tousled mass of soft blond curls looked just-rolled-out-of-bed enticing. He should know. She’d rolled out of his bed after that one night of lovemaking, backlit by moonlight and looking like a young and sassy version of the legendary bombshell who shared her last name.

Boots zipped, Rocky whirled back to the mirror. “I’d go with a ponytail, but I don’t want to expose my forehead. That butterfly strip looks like a freaking badge of stupidity and the bump is starting to discolor.”

“Let me see.” Jayce turned her around and gently inspected the wound. “It’s swollen now, too.” Plus, flecks of dried blood caked one edge of the butterfly strip.
Damn
. “How do you feel? Dizzy? Achy?”

“Stressed.” She batted away his hands and glanced at her watch. “I’m supposed to meet Tasha in forty minutes and I look like freaking Frankenstein.”

“Not quite that bad,” Jayce teased. “And I’ll get you there in plenty of time.” He moved into the bathroom, inspected the vanity strewn with toiletries. Powder, deodorant, lotions, hairbrush, blow dryer, elastic bands, hair clip. “Where’s your makeup?”

“Why? Aren’t I wearing enough? Jesus. I’m going for a book, not a modeling, contract. There’s something to be said for understated, you know.”

“Relax. Just looking to camouflage that bruise.”

“Oh. Right. Well, I don’t wear foundation, if that’s what you’re looking for. Just mascara and tinted lip balm.”

A natural beauty, Rocky didn’t need makeup to enhance her looks. Still, most women he’d known kept an array of beauty products even if they only used them for special occasions. Rocky wasn’t most women. He spied a nail file and a pair of manicure scissors. “How do you feel about bangs?”

“What?”

He rounded the corner—comb, towel, scissors, and hair clip in hand. “I dated a hair stylist once.”

“That qualifies you to cut hair?”

“Let’s just say I was subjected to enough fashion hype to know what qualifies as stylish.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Sit.” He motioned her into one chair, placed the towel over her lap, then pulled over the other chair and sat across from her. “Lean forward.”

She blew out a breath and did as he asked. “Fine. Chop away. Just … not too much.”

“Just enough.” Jayce concentrated on the task, thankful that Rocky lowered her lids so he didn’t have to gaze into those feisty baby blues. Breathing in the tantalizing scent of her shampoo and body lotion was torture enough.

Rocky blushed when he brushed the pad of his thumb over her cheek. Shivered, when he lightly blew wisps of cut hair from her face.

Time froze as Jayce focused intently on the woman he’d set his sights on. A woman he’d known all his life yet barely knew. Jayce had spent years waiting for Rocky to grow up and address their history, to banish the secret that had distanced Jayce from the town and people he loved. He was tired of waiting. Fuck waiting.

Sitting stock still, gaze lowered, Rocky licked her lips. “Are you done yet?”

His cock twitched at the nervous catch in her voice.
He hadn’t even begun
. As always a raw sexual heat burned between them. She was as turned on as he was, not that he’d act on it. Not now.
Let it simmer
. “Good to go.”

She cleared her throat, eased away. “How do I look?” she asked, forcing her gaze to his. “If you say:
Not bad,
I’ll sock you.”

Good enough to eat
, would at the very least earn him a glare, so instead he went with, “Almost perfect.” He raked his fingers through her silky curls—yeah boy,
heaven
—then twisted and secured an up-do with one of those hair gadgets that reminded him of a potato chip clip. “There.”

Even though Rocky scrambled toward the mirror, the heat lingered. The air sizzled. Visibly shaken, she focused on her reflection, blinked. “Wow. I never considered bangs. They not only cover the bump, but they’re … flattering. And this style … nice. How—”

“Man of many talents,” he said, coming up behind her. They locked gazes in the mirror and Jayce felt something beyond the heat. A shift. An added element. Swimming in Rocky’s vivid blue eyes, alongside resentment, lust, and hurt, he spied curiosity.

“It occurs to me that I really only know the Jayce Bello of my youth,” she said, breaking eye contact. “I’m still pissed at that man. I’d like to get past that, move on. Maybe we could do something about that while I’m in town.”

“Meaning you’re ready to talk about the infamous morning after?”

“No,” she said while nabbing a baker’s box from the mini-fridge. “Meaning I’d like to know more about the big bad private dick who just cut and styled my hair like a seasoned pro.”

Fuck waiting
. Primed for the challenge, Jayce glanced at his watch, then formulated a plan as he helped Rocky into her coat and out the door. “It’s a start.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

BETH CIOTTA
is an award-winning author who specializes in romantic comedy with a twist. Her work includes contemporary, historical, and paranormal romantic fiction. “I can’t think of anything more fulfilling than writing stories where everyone (except the villain, of course) gets a happy ending!”

Beth lives in New Jersey with her husband, two zany dogs, and a crazy cat. A retired professional performer, Beth now pours her artistic passion into her writing. To learn more about her colorful life, visit her website at
www.bethciotta.com
.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

FOOL FOR LOVE

For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

www.stmartins.com

eISBN: 9781466821187

St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / September 2012

St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

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