Underneath It All

“I’m sorry, too, if my temper led me to say anything I shouldn’t have.”

When she smiled at him she noticed his eyes widen in shock and he shoved the now-freed glasses back on his face.

She turned to leave.

“Wait.”

She glanced back.

He was holding out the camisole. “Please keep this.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. It’s much too expensive.” It occurred to her that this man didn’t know you could buy inexpensive camisoles at any department store, as she had. He must think you had to go to a lingerie store, or one of those fancy catalogs. “You could return it.”

He straightened from his careless slouch and looked down at her. He was surprisingly tall when he stood upright, over six feet. “I’m not going to take it back. If you accept it I’ll know you’re not still mad at me.”

Something in his voice, a trace of command, made her reach out to take the wisp of silk from him. “All right,” she agreed softly. “It’s beautiful. Thanks.”

Feeling even more foolish, she turned once again to leave.

“Maybe we should set up a schedule?”

Puzzled, she turned back. “A schedule?”

“For the laundry. If each of us has assigned laundry days, we won’t have a problem in future.”

Kate thought of Annie and her in the laundry room together chatting, throwing their jeans and socks together to make up a load. It used to be so much fun. She sighed. “Sure.”

“I’ll put something together on my computer. Do you have a preference?”

“I don’t know anything about computers.”

He grinned. She was amazed to see he could grin. “I meant days of the week.”

“Oh, of course. Well, I work different shifts. I’m busiest on the weekends and usually not so busy midweek.”

“I can work with that.” He cleared his throat. “Um.” He seemed to be struggling. Finally he held out his hand. “My name’s Dean Edgar.”

“Kate Monahan.” She grasped the outstretched hand, which clasped hers with warm strength. She glanced up in surprise.

He pulled his hand back as though she’d given him an electric shock. Then suddenly he was gone, back into his apartment like a gopher diving down into its burrow.

She shook her head as she walked slowly down the steps. He was a strange one, all right. But she didn’t think she’d have any more trouble with him, now she’d let him know she was not to be messed with.

He was even kind of cute when you got past the hair and the wardrobe.

And there was that odd tug of familiarity. It was surprising, but she worked on a lot of men in the salon. He probably looked like one of her clients.

Not that any of her clients would ever leave her chair with their hair like that.

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