The Heart of a Man

She immediately decided to take Dustin at face value unless he proved her wrong. It was only fair, and he seemed nice enough.

She cupped her chin in one palm and leaned forward to better hear his answer.

“Well, I can’t afford it, for one thing,” he said. “At least, not until I get my inheritance.” He laughed at his own joke. “And for another, I think fancy cars give off kind of a hoity-toity attitude to the general public, don’t you?”

Isobel nearly choked. Towncars were a regular, accepted part of her existence as an image consultant, and something she’d taken for granted. She had been raised in a small Texas town and had not grown up with such luxuries, yet she admitted now she’d never given a single thought to how a person on the streets of Denver, perhaps someone less fortunate than herself, would consider the mode of transportation she chose.

“But you said you drive a sports car,” she countered tightly as it occurred to her. It was an accusation, and she knew it sounded like one.

“That’s true. I do,” he said, smiling. He didn’t look the least bit offended, but he offered no further explanation.

“And that’s okay with you.”

His grin widened. Then he lifted his dark eyebrows and shrugged.

“Are you hungry?” Dustin asked, meeting her gaze squarely. She had the feeling he knew exactly what she was thinking and was playing rescuer to her own guilty conscience.

It was an unnerving feeling. She shook her mind from the thought and said, “No, thank you. I try not to eat much after noon.”

He glanced at his watch, as if he weren’t already aware it was well after the noon hour. “You’re kidding. That can’t be good for your health.”

Isobel chuckled. Ten minutes into their first conversation and he was already trying to change her. What an amusing paradox.

“A drink, at least?” he coaxed in a warm, rich voice. “You aren’t going to sit across from me with nothing while I stuff my face, are you? I missed lunch and I’m starving.”

“All right,” she said, giving in gracefully to this one small concession. “I guess I might enjoy a good cup of hot tea. Herbal. And make sure it has no caffeine or sugar.”

He stood and saluted. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll bring you just what you ordered.”

“Thank you, Dustin,” she said with a sigh as she watched him approach the counter. She wasn’t sure if he’d heard her or not, for he didn’t turn or acknowledge the comment.

“Dearest Lord, what have I gotten myself into?” she prayed under her breath as she stared at Dustin’s broad back. “I’m feeling a little overwhelmed here. This is a new one for me. A little help? Please.”

Actually, she could use a lot of help. She felt she was way out of her league where Dustin Fairfax was concerned.

He quickly returned to the table with a loaded tray, placing it on the table before turning his chair around properly and seating himself.

“One cool-mint hot tea for you, and two large, completely indigestible pastrami sandwiches with extra jalapenos and onions, extra-large French fries and a large cola for me.”

With a cheeky smile he leaned on his elbows and began unwrapping his first sandwich.

“Are you trying to give yourself a heart attack?” she quipped.

He burst into laughter and had to cover his mouth to keep from spitting food. Putting his index finger in the air in a gesture for her to hold on for a moment, he chewed and swallowed his large bite of sandwich, then chased it down with a big drink of cola.

“This stuff doesn’t bother me,” he assured her. “I’m as healthy as a horse.”

She eyed his meal in disbelief, then twisted her lips and met his sparkling gaze. “Right. Tell me those same words again in ten years.”

“I had my cholesterol checked when I turned thirty. Honest.”

She shrugged. “Eat whatever you want. They’re your arteries.”

With a grin, he picked up his jumbo-sized sandwich and took another big bite, right out of the middle of the bread.

Etiquette was evidently going to have to be added to Isobel’s list of things to go over with Dustin in their six weeks together.

She was amazed at how fast the sandwiches and fries disappeared, especially since Dustin was doing most of the talking during the meal.

He cheerfully talked about his childhood—about growing up in the Fairfax household, how he had felt having a controlling father and a competitive older brother like Addison around.

He glossed over the death of his mother, though Isobel thought it must have made a huge alteration in the life of a considerate, impressionable young man, both then and now. Certainly such a tragic event would have had a great deal of influence on the man Dustin had become.

Addison was Dustin’s only sibling, and according to Dustin’s many laughter-filled stories, they had done their share of fighting and wrestling when they were young. Addison had always been bigger, but Dustin was slick, smooth and, he told Isobel with a smile that could spark up a lighthouse, he could run faster. So the disputes had remained fairly even, and Dustin spoke of his brother with affection.

He asked Isobel about her family, but she said as little as possible, other than that she was an only child and grew up in a small town in Texas.

Since Dustin’s parents had been together forty-five years until his mother’s death, Isobel felt awkward discussing her own parents’ divorce when she was an infant, and the many ways that had affected her.

Besides, everyone’s parents got divorced these days. Why should she have been any different?

She didn’t remember her father, and though she’d made peace with that, it rose up to haunt her now. She felt overly emotional trying to discuss her childhood, though Dustin had been open about his.

Not that she’d had a bad life—her mother had become a Christian soon after her father had left, and Isobel had been raised healthy, happy and loved, with plenty of hard work to bind them together in strength and lots of support from their home church.

Still, she didn’t like talking about it, especially to a man she hardly knew. She didn’t even want to think about it.

When she said as much, Dustin seemed to take it in stride, though he tried time and again to engage her in talking about herself; if not her childhood, at least what she was doing now.

“I have a small condo in the city that I share with my best friend, Camille. Have you met her?” she asked inquisitively.

He shook his head vigorously. “No, but I’ve heard she’s a great girl.”

“Camille would have a fit if she heard you calling her girl,” Isobel replied. “We’re both twenty-eight, you know.”

“Oh,” he said, frowning as he strung out the syllable. “Old ladies, then.”

She couldn’t help it. She kicked him under the table, and thought she made good contact with his shin.

He didn’t even acknowledge that he’d been kicked at all, except perhaps in the tiniest widening of his all-male grin.

“I have the rest of the afternoon off,” he said with his usual casual bluntness. “If you want to take advantage of me, that is.”

Isobel choked on her tea. She knew her face was flaming, and it didn’t help that Dustin only chuckled mildly when he realized what he’d said, or rather, how it had sounded.

He shook his head and cuffed the side of his head to indicate he hadn’t been thinking. “What I was really trying to say was—”

“I know what you were trying to say,” she said, surprised she could speak. “And I’m going to surprise you by taking you up on that invitation, however awkwardly it may have been worded,” she teased, enjoying the way his attractive smile widened when their eyes met.

She fought a grin as she considered her plan. Oh, she would take advantage of Dustin, all right—or rather, of his easygoing nature.

Isobel was certain she could make him a changed man in a single afternoon. She thought even Addison would be impressed, not to mention pleased, with such a feat.

Maybe Dustin would get his inheritance after all, if she had anything to do with it.

And she did.

Chapter Four

“Do you want to take a ride in my sports car?” Dustin offered, jingling the keys in his pocket as he held the deli door open for her and gestured her through ahead of him.

She glanced up at the dim sunlight. At least it didn’t look as if it was going to rain, or worse, snow. Colorado winters were unpredictable. “Tempting as the offer sounds, a ride won’t be necessary. We can walk where we’re going.”

As soon as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, he automatically repositioned himself so he was walking closer to the curb. The sign of a true gentleman, Isobel thought. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

Dustin kept his hands in his pockets and whistled as he walked, glancing at her from time to time and genuinely smiling, although a bit as if he had a secret he wasn’t yet ready to share with her. He seemed in no hurry, but rather content just to walk slowly and casually, as if they were old friends.

And he was certainly taking this well, having to make sudden changes in his life dictated by another person he had only just met and had no reason yet to trust.

If she were in his position, she knew she would be balking and pulling at the reins at such outrageous and uncomfortable demands.

Then again, maybe he didn’t really know what he was getting himself into.

Yet.

She stopped and gestured at a shop door. “We’re here.”

Dustin glanced up at the sign and froze.

“No way,” he said, his voice low and guttural. “No possible way.”

“Now, Dustin, be reasonable,” she pleaded, reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder, hoping he would take the hint and look at her.

He did.

And when their eyes met, Isobel felt exactly what he was feeling—the shock, the panic, the desire to run.

Truth told, she felt like running, herself, and pulling him along. But that wasn’t what she was here to do, and Dustin had to start somewhere. Here was as good a spot as any.

She would not back down, no matter how his bright green puppy-dog eyes implored her to do so.

“It’s not as bad as all that,” she assured him, not certain how committed she sounded.

He shook his head. “Says you.”

“Trust me?” she urged.

His gaze asked, Why should I? His jaw was clenched, but he stepped forward and opened the door for her. “After you.”

She grinned in triumph, her heart pumping at the battle of wills she had just fought and won. This was a big victory for her—her first—and would no doubt be one of her best. It would pave the way for other small successes and triumphs.

The end result, of course, would be a final product of which she could be proud—and more importantly, of which Dustin could be proud.

“Ricardo, please meet my friend, Dustin,” Isobel said as her regular hairdresser rushed forward and kissed both her hands.

Ricardo was unique and not a little odd with his spiked purple hair and dozens of gold necklaces that encompassed his broad, hairy chest, not to mention his bombastic personality and shrill voice.

His personality and flashy looks took some getting used to, but when it came to hair, Ricardo was the best in the industry.

Dustin, his eyebrows raised and his expression one of pure panic, was halfway out the door before Isobel caught him by the elbow.

“No way,” he whispered in her ear. “Look at that guy’s hair. I’m not letting him anywhere near me with a pair of scissors. He obviously has no clue what he’s doing.”

She laughed. “Hairdressers don’t do their own hair,” she said, nudging him back into the room. “Haven’t you ever heard the elementary-school logic problem about the small town with only two barbers?”

He looked at her as if she’d gone mad. She smothered a smile.

“Obviously not.” She burst into laughter at the horrified, stubborn look on his face. He was adorable when he was being mulish.

With a flourish of her arms, she continued with her story. “So, then. There were only two barbers in this small town. One of the barbers had a neat trim, and the other’s hair was chopped at odd edges. Now think about it, Dustin. Which of these two barbers would you rather go to?”

Delighted, she was aware of how his eyes immediately began to sparkle with understanding and his amused gaze turned on her.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve never heard that one before, and I’ll admit you have a valid point. But then again, I have no reason to trust Ricardo, despite your clever stories.” He winked at her. “I haven’t seen the other barber, so to speak,” he reminded her, his voice grave but his eyes alight with humor.

“Oh, yes, you have,” she countered, grinning back at him. She ran her fingers through the thick lengths of her long, chocolate-brown hair, circling the ends with her fingers. “You’re looking at her.”

“That man does your hair?” he said in an incredulous whisper. “Surely not.”

“Oh, but he does. Ricardo is a genius. He not only cuts my hair, but he has a clientele list that would blow your mind. The best haircuts in Denver are provided by this man, I assure you.”

Dustin yanked off his newsboy cap and scratched the top of his head, still looking as if he might bolt. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered.

Isobel wordlessly took his arm and led him farther into the hair studio. Ricardo, who had no doubt heard most of their conversation, elegantly gestured to a barber chair and indicated Dustin should sit. Isobel was surprised the hairstylist’s expression didn’t betray a thing.

He drew a smock around Dustin and directed his gaze to Isobel. “What would you like done with the young man, my dear?”

“His hair,” Isobel joked.

“Really?” Ricardo made a gesture of surprise, his hands over his mouth. “And here I was all ready to give him a pedicure.”

Dustin’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped at what he no doubt considered a threat. Pinching his mouth closed with a frustrated twist to his lips, he quickly tucked his feet under the smock, making Ricardo howl with unabashed laughter.

“Cut it short,” said Isobel decisively, and Dustin cringed, shirking his shoulders and glaring first at her and then at Ricardo.

She paused a minute to let him stew before continuing her direction to Ricardo, not allowing herself the satisfied smile she was feeling inside.

“Not too short, though. A business cut. Something to keep his curls in order. And he’s still young—keep the front long enough to comb back.”

“I’m going to look like a toddler,” Dustin grumbled good-naturedly.

“Not with Ricardo’s help, you won’t,” she assured him, moving forward to place a hand on his shoulder. “He is perfection itself.”

She turned halfway away from him and muttered, “Not like you could look like a toddler.”

“What was that?” Dustin asked immediately, sounding suspicious.

She turned back to him and grinned. “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking aloud.”

Dustin’s gaze met hers in the large mirror in front of them. He still didn’t look convinced.

“Trust me,” she pleaded. “I really do know what I’m doing.”

He gave her a clipped nod.

Knowing no amount of verbal persuasion would help, she stepped back then and let the master hairdresser go to his work.

The first thing Ricardo did, after giving Dustin a thorough shampoo and returning him to his chair, was to turn Dustin away from the mirror, which Isobel immediately understood and thought was an excellent idea. The worst thing that could happen would be for Dustin to run out before his haircut was finished.

Half a haircut would definitely not be an improvement on no haircut at all. She curled her fingers around in front of her mouth to hide her amusement, but Dustin caught her motion and glared at her anyway.

Dustin closed his eyes as Ricardo trimmed the back of his hair flush with his neckline. The more the hairdresser snipped, the curlier Dustin’s hair became, but they were soft, natural curls instead of the long, frizzier style he’d worn before.

Finally, Ricardo dropped a bottle of hair gel into Dustin’s lap without a word.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Dustin growled, picking up the bottle and eyeing it suspiciously. “I’m a wash-and-wear kind of guy.”

“Allow me to demonstrate,” Ricardo said, not taking no for an answer. “You put a nickel-sized amount of the product on your palm and then work it through the tips of your hair with your fingers. Work the hair up and out. There is no need to work it into your scalp.”

The hairdresser took the bottle from Dustin and held out his palm. He squirted a dollop of orange gel in the exact shape and size of a nickel, dropped the bottle back in Dustin’s lap, then rubbed his hands together and began stroking his fingers expertly through Dustin’s hair.

Dustin was still staring at his lap, hardly watching what Ricardo was doing. “I’ve never in my life…” he said, sounding stunned, or at least stubbornly uncomfortable.

“There’s a first time for everything, right, Dustin?” Isobel asked quietly, totally amazed at his transformation. “Take a look at yourself.”

Holding her breath for his response, Isobel turned Dustin’s chair back toward the mirror.

Dustin stared at his reflection, hardly recognizing the man staring back at him. Who was this slick-haired man?

Perhaps he had worn his hair in the same style for a few years longer than he should have. Isobel may have had a point.

Of course, that was her job, wasn’t it? To find the best places to make changes in order to make him a better man?

He still wasn’t completely sold on the idea, but this was one point in her favor.

That said, he wasn’t at all convinced about putting sticky orange gel in his hair every morning. But he had to admit the guy staring back at him in the mirror had his own charm.

Between the haircut and the gel Ricardo had meticulously applied, the hairdresser had done an outstanding job taming the wild curls Dustin had battled all his life. Ricardo had parted his hair just off to the right side of center and combed every strand of hair neatly back into place. Only a few stray curls escaped.

As Isobel had instructed, the hair on his forehead was combed back in the current style. He had to admit it looked good, though he wasn’t at all sure he could duplicate the process when he was alone in his own home.

But in the end, the score was: Isobel one, and Dustin zero.

He stared in the mirror one more second, memorizing every detail.

He looked, well, contemporary.

And though there was no way he would admit it to anyone—especially Isobel, who would no doubt report such findings straight to Addison—Dustin found he rather liked his new look.

Especially with a hat.

“Double or nothing,” he mumbled under his breath with a quick shake of his head.

“What was that?” she queried back, looking wary and more than a little suspicious.

He adjusted his newsboy cap backward on top of his new haircut, winked at Isobel and walked out the door without a word.

Chapter Five

Dustin didn’t wait for Isobel to call him. Part of him—probably the sensible part—wanted to hide from her and tenaciously avoid her for as much of the prescribed six weeks as possible, but something about Isobel intrigued him. Completely apart from the stupid agreement he’d made with Addison, perhaps even in spite of it, he wanted to get to know her better.

Besides, in the long run it was the only way to get to his trust fund. He wouldn’t examine his motives any deeper than that.

Isobel was certainly a beautiful woman, with her deep brown hair filled with red highlights and her warm brown eyes. She was tall and lithe. Maybe she could stand to gain a pound or two, in his opinion, but she still had the hint of womanly curves that would turn any man’s head.

What caught him most, though, were her gorgeous bee-stung lips and knockout smile, especially when it was directed at him.

Perhaps it was this thought that made him hold his breath as he dialed her number.

“Dustin,” she said when he greeted her. She sounded surprised, but did he hear a bit of excitement in her voice, as well, or was it his imagination and a healthy dose of wishful thinking? “I certainly didn’t expect to hear from you so s-soon,” she stammered.

“Well, I figured you owe me one.” He waited for her response, a grin pulling at his lips.

Dead silence.

He listened to the telephone line crackling and the praise music in the background, obviously coming from Isobel’s stereo.

“Look at it this way. I put up with your torture yesterday, so today you’re on my terms. And that’s why I’m calling.” He chuckled.

“That’s not how this scheme is supposed to work,” she protested immediately in a high, strained voice that only made Dustin’s smile widen. “We’re not supposed to be having a social relationship. I’m working on you, remember?”

“How are you going to help me become an honest, hard-working citizen if you don’t know anything about me?” he countered. “Granted, you chopped off my hair without even knowing my middle name, but I don’t think you can turn me into the best I can become without knowing a little bit more about the real me.”

“What is your middle name?” she asked, sounding distinctly uncomfortable.

“So, you want to know now, do you? After you whack my hair off?” he teased. “How fair is that?”

“Dustin,” she pleaded.

“James.”

“Dustin James Fairfax. That’s very nice. Now I will know that crucial bit of information for future whacking and/or cutting.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Oh, no,” she said with a laugh. “Consider it a promise.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” he said. “Even more reason for us to get together today, though, if you ask me. Which you didn’t,” he pointed out wryly.

She sighed extravagantly. Pointedly.

“What did you have in mind?” She sounded as if he were about to ask her to walk the plank.

The horrible pirate captain. That was him, all right. Fit him like an old pair of sneakers. He held in the callous chuckle that would befit his pirate status, but he was tempted.

Instead, he told her why he’d really called. “I thought you could join me at my flower shop. To see what I do all day, you know? The regular nine-to-five thing my brother doesn’t really think I have going on.”

She breathed an audible sigh of relief, and this time it sounded genuine. “That actually sounds reasonable.”

“And you sound surprised.”

She laughed. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be. I have an active imagination. You’ll learn that about me as we work together. I’m more tempted to believe the moon is made of green cheese than that astronauts have landed.”

“I thought so—something like me holding you at sword point as you walk the plank?”

“Mmm. Something like that,” she murmured thoughtfully.

“Aaargh,” he said playfully in his best gravelly pirate’s voice.

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