sparkled.
Standing now in her bedroom in front of the mirror, she couldn't contain the apprehension that screamed down her spine. She wanted to look nice, but she was scared about the coming evening where she knew for a fact that she'd be out of her element, and she had a niggling worry about all the money that had been spent.
Marco had arrived from work sometime before, and Natalie knew he was in his room getting ready.
His knock on her door came too soon; she hadn't had a chance to calm her nerves yet.
She walked to the door and opened it, and what she saw there had her completely forgetting about the state of her nerves. Marco stood in front of her, dressed in a designer black suit, and although she'd seen him in a suit many times, this one packed an added punch.
Her hand trembled on the doorframe as he stood still in the threshold, studying her, but completely silent as he did it.
Her brow wrinkled and she felt a pinch at the back of her throat. "Hi," she managed.
"Hi, yourself. You look--different," he said.
Natalie's stomach dropped to her feet. She so wanted to look nice tonight but his statement didn't sound good at all. Her eyes dropped from his and her hands twisted together.
He lifted her chin with one finger and her eyes met his. "I'm sorry. I screwed that up. Let me try again. You look beautiful." His words were exactly what Natalie wanted to hear, but his manner suggested he wasn't telling her the truth. His lips were pressed flat, his brows were pulled down in a frown, and there was a visible tic in his cheek.
She remained silent as he examined her, and she concentrated on taking one breath after the other. His hand left her chin and slid to an earring where he touched it--picked it up and looked at it--then let it drop, his hand sliding to the curve between her neck and shoulder. Natalie sucked in a breath and watched him from under her lashes as his eyes lifted to her hair where the stylist had managed an elaborate partial up-do, leaving the length to fall back down to her neck.
Finally, he spoke again, his thumb making swipes across the pulse in her neck. "What'd you do to your hair?"
"It's an up-do." Her brain was fragmented; she couldn't concentrate on the conversation they were having, not while his touch was on her and his awesome scent was filling her nostrils.
"I'm talking about the color. It wasn't that way when you left this morning, was it?" His voice was brusque, in direct opposition to the way his hand caressed her.
"Oh--no. Chris added highlights." She swallowed hard, trying to stay steady on her heels while she attempted to guess at his meaning. "You don't like them?"
He didn't answer her question; he ignored it completely as he continued with his own line of questioning. "Chris. As in Christine?"
She forced her brain off his intimate touch, his hand now splaying across her throat, and remembered the stylist who had worked on her hair. "No, probably Christopher."
"Christopher? A man styled your hair?" His tone was sharp as his hand fell to her shoulder and gripped tightly, drawing her a few inches toward his torso.
Her heart beat loudly in her ears as she managed to answer him. "Yes."
A dark frown settled over his features but then his eyes lifted to her hair again and he sucked in a breath. "He's probably gay."
Natalie couldn't keep up with the myriad of emotions showing on his features--not when her own were in shambles. "I don't know--I didn't think much about it."
"How could you not think about it? His hands were in your hair."
"I don't know--I was too involved with the cut and color--I didn't think about whether the masseuse was gay or straight either."
Dead silence came between them and his cheekbones became tinged with red. He breathed in deeply. "A man gave you a massage?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I didn't arrange it, Marco--or even ask for one. Joy did."
"And you
Standing now in her bedroom in front of the mirror, she couldn't contain the apprehension that screamed down her spine. She wanted to look nice, but she was scared about the coming evening where she knew for a fact that she'd be out of her element, and she had a niggling worry about all the money that had been spent.
Marco had arrived from work sometime before, and Natalie knew he was in his room getting ready.
His knock on her door came too soon; she hadn't had a chance to calm her nerves yet.
She walked to the door and opened it, and what she saw there had her completely forgetting about the state of her nerves. Marco stood in front of her, dressed in a designer black suit, and although she'd seen him in a suit many times, this one packed an added punch.
Her hand trembled on the doorframe as he stood still in the threshold, studying her, but completely silent as he did it.
Her brow wrinkled and she felt a pinch at the back of her throat. "Hi," she managed.
"Hi, yourself. You look--different," he said.
Natalie's stomach dropped to her feet. She so wanted to look nice tonight but his statement didn't sound good at all. Her eyes dropped from his and her hands twisted together.
He lifted her chin with one finger and her eyes met his. "I'm sorry. I screwed that up. Let me try again. You look beautiful." His words were exactly what Natalie wanted to hear, but his manner suggested he wasn't telling her the truth. His lips were pressed flat, his brows were pulled down in a frown, and there was a visible tic in his cheek.
She remained silent as he examined her, and she concentrated on taking one breath after the other. His hand left her chin and slid to an earring where he touched it--picked it up and looked at it--then let it drop, his hand sliding to the curve between her neck and shoulder. Natalie sucked in a breath and watched him from under her lashes as his eyes lifted to her hair where the stylist had managed an elaborate partial up-do, leaving the length to fall back down to her neck.
Finally, he spoke again, his thumb making swipes across the pulse in her neck. "What'd you do to your hair?"
"It's an up-do." Her brain was fragmented; she couldn't concentrate on the conversation they were having, not while his touch was on her and his awesome scent was filling her nostrils.
"I'm talking about the color. It wasn't that way when you left this morning, was it?" His voice was brusque, in direct opposition to the way his hand caressed her.
"Oh--no. Chris added highlights." She swallowed hard, trying to stay steady on her heels while she attempted to guess at his meaning. "You don't like them?"
He didn't answer her question; he ignored it completely as he continued with his own line of questioning. "Chris. As in Christine?"
She forced her brain off his intimate touch, his hand now splaying across her throat, and remembered the stylist who had worked on her hair. "No, probably Christopher."
"Christopher? A man styled your hair?" His tone was sharp as his hand fell to her shoulder and gripped tightly, drawing her a few inches toward his torso.
Her heart beat loudly in her ears as she managed to answer him. "Yes."
A dark frown settled over his features but then his eyes lifted to her hair again and he sucked in a breath. "He's probably gay."
Natalie couldn't keep up with the myriad of emotions showing on his features--not when her own were in shambles. "I don't know--I didn't think much about it."
"How could you not think about it? His hands were in your hair."
"I don't know--I was too involved with the cut and color--I didn't think about whether the masseuse was gay or straight either."
Dead silence came between them and his cheekbones became tinged with red. He breathed in deeply. "A man gave you a massage?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I didn't arrange it, Marco--or even ask for one. Joy did."
"And you
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