Boots zipped, Rocky whirled back to the mirror. “I’d go with a ponytail, but I don’t want to expose my forehead. That butterfly strip looks like a freaking badge of stupidity and the bump is starting to discolor.”
“Let me see.” Jayce turned her around and gently inspected the wound. “It’s swollen now, too.” Plus, flecks of dried blood caked one edge of the butterfly strip. Damn. “How do you feel? Dizzy? Achy?”
“Stressed.” She batted away his hands and glanced at her watch. “I’m supposed to meet Tasha in forty minutes and I look like freaking Frankenstein.”
“Not quite that bad,” Jayce teased. “And I’ll get you there in plenty of time.” He moved into the bathroom, inspected the vanity strewn with toiletries. Powder, deodorant, lotions, hairbrush, blow dryer, elastic bands, hair clip. “Where’s your makeup?”
“Why? Aren’t I wearing enough? Jesus. I’m going for a book, not a modeling, contract. There’s something to be said for understated, you know.”
“Relax. Just looking to camouflage that bruise.”
“Oh. Right. Well, I don’t wear foundation, if that’s what you’re looking for. Just mascara and tinted lip balm.”
A natural beauty, Rocky didn’t need makeup to enhance her looks. Still, most women he’d known kept an array of beauty products even if they only used them for special occasions. Rocky wasn’t most women. He spied a nail file and a pair of manicure scissors. “How do you feel about bangs?”
“What?”
He rounded the corner—comb, towel, scissors, and hair clip in hand. “I dated a hair stylist once.”
“That qualifies you to cut hair?”
“Let’s just say I was subjected to enough fashion hype to know what qualifies as stylish.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Sit.” He motioned her into one chair, placed the towel over her lap, then pulled over the other chair and sat across from her. “Lean forward.”
She blew out a breath and did as he asked. “Fine. Chop away. Just … not too much.”
“Just enough.” Jayce concentrated on the task, thankful that Rocky lowered her lids so he didn’t have to gaze into those feisty baby blues. Breathing in the tantalizing scent of her shampoo and body lotion was torture enough.
Rocky blushed when he brushed the pad of his thumb over her cheek. Shivered, when he lightly blew wisps of cut hair from her face.
Time froze as Jayce focused intently on the woman he’d set his sights on. A woman he’d known all his life yet barely knew. Jayce had spent years waiting for Rocky to grow up and address their history, to banish the secret that had distanced Jayce from the town and people he loved. He was tired of waiting. Fuck waiting.
Sitting stock still, gaze lowered, Rocky licked her lips. “Are you done yet?”
His cock twitched at the nervous catch in her voice. He hadn’t even begun. As always a raw sexual heat burned between them. She was as turned on as he was, not that he’d act on it. Not now. Let it simmer. “Good to go.”
She cleared her throat, eased away. “How do I look?” she asked, forcing her gaze to his. “If you say: Not bad, I’ll sock you.”
Good enough to eat, would at the very least earn him a glare, so instead he went with, “Almost perfect.” He raked his fingers through her silky curls—yeah boy, heaven—then twisted and secured an up-do with one of those hair gadgets that reminded him of a potato chip clip. “There.”
Even though Rocky scrambled toward the mirror, the heat lingered. The air sizzled. Visibly shaken, she focused on her reflection, blinked. “Wow. I never considered bangs. They not only cover the bump, but they’re … flattering. And this style … nice. How—”
“Man of many talents,” he said, coming up behind her. They locked gazes in the mirror and Jayce felt something beyond the heat. A shift. An added element. Swimming in Rocky’s vivid blue eyes, alongside resentment, lust, and hurt, he spied curiosity.
“Meaning you’re ready to talk about the infamous morning after?”
“No,” she said while nabbing a baker’s box from the mini-fridge. “Meaning I’d like to know more about the big bad private dick who just cut and styled my hair like a seasoned pro.”
Fuck waiting. Primed for the challenge, Jayce glanced at his watch, then formulated a plan as he helped Rocky into her coat and out the door. “It’s a start.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BETH CIOTTA is an award-winning author who specializes in romantic comedy with a twist. Her work includes contemporary, historical, and paranormal romantic fiction. “I can’t think of anything more fulfilling than writing stories where everyone (except the villain, of course) gets a happy ending!”
Beth lives in New Jersey with her husband, two zany dogs, and a crazy cat. A retired professional performer, Beth now pours her artistic passion into her writing. To learn more about her colorful life, visit her website at www.bethciotta.com.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
FOOL FOR LOVE
Copyright © 2012 by Beth Ciotta.
Excerpt from The Trouble With Love copyright © 2012 by Beth Ciotta.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
www.stmartins.com
eISBN: 9781466821187
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / September 2012
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Honorary Cupcake Lovers recipes
Teaser
About the Author
Copyright