Page 74 of The Price of Scandal
“How was your day?” I asked, stuffing the first cracker in my mouth.
“Productive,” he said. He placed a comb between his teeth while he buried his hands in my hair. “Yours?”
“Same,” I said, trying not to close my eyes as his fingers massaged my scalp. I wondered what it would feel like if he washed my hair.
“I think we’ll do something that makes a bit of a statement,” he said, swooping my hair this way and that. “Something that says badass.”
Involuntarily, my lips responded in a smug smile.
I relaxed and snacked as he twisted and tucked, fingers working quickly and competently.
“How did you learn to do this?” I asked as the style began to take shape.
“After my stepfather made me give up thievery, I had to earn a living somehow. My mother was keen to keep a close eye on me. She made me work at her salon after school. I picked up a few things in the years I was there.”
“A few things meaning women?” I asked.
He gave me a cat that ate the canary look in the mirror. “Perhaps. You have to admit, I’m excellent with my hands.”
“I’ve seen you steal wallets and style hair. That is the extent of my experience with your hands.”
Was I flirting with him?This was not a smart move, no matter how I played it. Encouraging Derek would only get one of us hurt.
“Perhaps you’ll experience something a little more hands-on tonight?”
“For the cameras, of course,” I said.
He fluffed the hair at my crown and sprayed it.
“Notonlyfor the cameras, love.” His eyes were a hypnotic blue in the mirror. I wanted him to press those lips to the back of my neck. To bite the skin where my neck and shoulder met. To trail his tongue over me.
I felt a rush of something delicious between my legs. “Are you this flirtatious with all your clients?”
He tucked another stray pin into place at the nape of my neck then leaned in so I could feel his breath on my shoulder. “Only you, darling Emily,” he whispered. “What do you think?”
“I think us having sex would be a huge mistake.”
Amused, he laughed. “Some mistakes are worth making. But I meant your hair.”
He’d styled it in a teased pompadour on top and sleek bun in the back. It was edgy, interesting. My mother would hate it.
I loved it.
“Not bad, Price.”
“You’ll want a smokey eye and a more subtle lip,” he told me. “Unfortunately, I’m only good at kissing away makeup so you’re on your own there.”
“I’ll do my face in the car,” I told him, giving my reflection another pleased glance.
“Do it now. I’ll get us there in time,” he promised.
And for some reason, I believed him.
24
Derek
Emily looked decidedly unamused when we pulled up to Bluewater’s private airfield.
