"Royce-"
"Naomi. I'm coming. End of conversation."
If I didn't invite him to come with me, I realized, he'd follow me and draw all kinds of unwanted attention my way. He was just too damn noticeable with that sexy, recognizable face of his. I'd rather deal with a distraction than the possibility of being spotted by my prey.
"Can you be sneaky, Royce? Can you blend into a crowd?"
"Yes," he answered, his forehead furrowed in confusion.
"Do you have a car with you?"
"Yes."
"Fine, you can come." Silver lining: I wouldn't have to walk, nor would I have to pay for a cab if I changed my mind about walking. I hated cabs, hated buses more, but I didn't yet have the money to fix my jalopy. "We're going to a salon on Main Street. Body Electric."
"The joy in your voice is making me feel all warm inside."
"Then my day is complete," I said with a sarcastic edge.
He snorted.
Lord, he was even sexy when he snorted. I felt myself melting, my bones liquefying in anticipation of a touch. Already my hands itched to explore him. Itched to touch his skin, itched to wrap around his-
"What are you having done at the salon? You're perfect just the way you are."
I tossed him a frown before pushing open the door. He was doing it again. Being sweet and irresistible, making me go disgustingly gooey inside. "Don't be nice to me, okay?" I'd already established I couldn't resist him physically, but I really needed to resist him emotionally. He made that extremely difficult with his devilish, charming personality.
"What?" He gave a choked little laugh. "Why?"
"Just because." Bright sunlight and sweltering heat hit me full force, and I was suddenly thankful he'd insisted on coming. I would have hated to spend more than a few seconds in this heat.
Beside me, bushes swayed together despite the fact that there was no wind. Odd. But then I spotted the shattered remains of my BlueJay, forgot about the ghost bushes, and steered Royce away, trying to direct his attention somewhere else. "Uh, to answer your first question, I'm not having anything done. I just want to look around. Where's your car?"
Without a word, he sauntered to a black stretch limo and opened the passenger door. Such wealth and luxury appeared odd in front of my modest apartment building, with its un-mowed, brittle grass and peeling stucco.
Royce waved me inside. "After you."
I remained in place, floundering in a puddle of shocked awe. "Are you trying to impress me? Because it's working."
"Actually," he said, a sheepish grin on his gorgeous face, "I just wanted my hands free."
Yippee, my nipples cried.
I hope he plays with us first, my thighs chimed in.
"Damn it!" I muttered. I had to get my thoughts under control. I might-might-believe him about Gwendolyn Summers, but I was on a mission to save my mom. Nothing else mattered at the moment, not even pleasure.
"What?" Royce asked, all innocence.
"You better keep those hands to yourself." I slid inside the car… and felt like all my troubles instantly melted away. Luxurious air-conditioning enveloped me. The seats were so plush and perfect I couldn't help but revel in their delicious decadence. Soft as clouds they were. I could have sunk into a coma of bliss.
Royce scooted inside until our shoulders brushed. A shiver rolled down my spine.
"Body Electric," he told the driver. Seconds later, the limo eased into motion. "Want to tell me what's bothering you?" he asked me. "You've got shadows under your eyes, and you're unusually pale."
I didn't want to talk about my cheating stepdad, so I said, "Did you see the article about me in the Tattler?"
"Well, yeah. I think everyone in Dallas saw it."
"They called me an alien. I should sue."
He uttered a short, booming laugh. "On what grounds?"
"I'm sure my attorney could think of something." My head lolled back on the pillow rest. "I'm surprised no one was waiting outside my apartment, snapping pictures of us as we walked out."
"They were."
I jerked upright and stared wide-eyed at him. "What!"
"There was a woman behind the bushes. She had a camera aimed right at us."
"And you didn't say anything? Argh. I can't believe this." I slapped his thigh. "You better do something. Pay her to give you the film or threaten to get her fired. Just do something. Anything! I do not need another hideous picture of me circulating. The last one nearly killed my mother."
Royce wrapped his fingers around mine and leaned toward me, bringing with him that delicious sandalwood scent. "I'll take care of it, okay?" He kissed my temple before settling back in his seat. "No worries." He didn't release my hand.
That single kiss affected me deeply and unequivocally, but the fact that he kept our fingers linked meant more. I yearned to melt into him, to absorb his strength, his complete ease with our being together. But I remained where I was. I would not rely on a man for anything. Especially not comfort. That's where dependency began. I didn't allow myself to consider the fact that I was relying on him to fix the little unwanted photographer problem.
"Thank you," I said stiffly.
"You're very welcome," he replied, using the same rigid tone. "Now, why don't you tell me why you want to look around this salon."
I shrugged. "I want to see what type of services they offer." It was the truth. I didn't tell him that I also wanted to speak with the employees and find out if Nora had visited.
"Why?" he persisted.
Ignoring his question, I shifted and faced the opposite window. Trees and cars whizzed past. The people in those cars strained, trying to see inside the limo, but the darkened windows blocked us from view. "Do you think you could get me a list of their employees?" If Nora wasn't the other woman, that employee list would give me somewhere else to look.
"Absolutely," Royce said. "Just tell me why you want it."
"Well," I said, turning to him, a lie forming in my mind, "my mother is a twin, and they were separated at birth. She's been searching for her sister all her life and I suspect one of the employees is that twin. And now, with my mother dying of cancer-" I pretended to wipe away a tear "-I want to give her this gift."
"How tragic," Royce said dryly. "Did you know your voice creeps higher when you're lying?"
Damn it, my mom had warned me about that betraying fact. I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned.
"Maybe a better gift for your dying mother would be grandchildren," he suggested.
My lashes sprang up and I was given a full-on view of his amusement. "You are so not funny." But I was covered in a cold sweat by the time the limo stopped in front of a white stucco building.
"We're here." Royce didn't wait for the driver, but opened the door himself and emerged. He held out a hand for me.
The dry heat clamped tight fists around me as I stepped out.
"Do we need to be incognito here?" he asked. When my brow crinkled in confusion, he added, "Before we left your apartment, you asked me if I knew how to be sneaky."
Oh, yeah. "I don't want them to know my name, but they can know yours."
He nodded. "Let me do the talking."
We entered side by side. A long desk loomed in front, manned by several young, attractive women. Too young for Johnnie, that was for sure. While he might be willing to destroy his marriage, I didn't think he'd be willing to destroy his practice for an underage hottie.
But what did I truly know about men?
"How can we help you?" the only blonde asked.
"I'm Royce Powell, and I need to speak with the owner." He voice reeked of suave authority. "My fiancee isn't sure which salon she wants to use the day of our wedding. I'm here to see what type of services can be provided so my little sugar bottoms feels extra special that day."
My stomach dropped at the word fiancee-then twisted at sugar bottoms. Sugar bottoms, indeed.