Sold on You (24 page)

Clay took another swig of beer and wiped the froth from his upper lip. "Where does she work?"

"She owns the Villabella Beauty Salon in South Beach."

"I've never set foot in a prissy salon, but I'll stop by. I can ask for a haircut and get her talking."

"Good idea." Marcos eyed Clay's ponytail. His cropped brown hair was much shorter than Clay's. "Going shorter?"

Clay nodded. "Yeah, I don't need long hair for undercover now that I'm working homicide."

"It shouldn't be too hard to gain her confidence. Marisol is pretty outgoing and friendly. Flirting comes as naturally to her as breathing. When it comes to men, she's a magnet," Marcos said with a wry twist of his lips.

"I'll keep that in mind." It sounded like Marcos wanted to warn him off.
Why
? Clay wondered. He wasn't interested in going after Marcos' kid sister.

"Don't let her playful side fool you. She's very smart and used to getting her way. And damned stubborn, Gator." Marcos had begun calling Clay "Gator" when they were roommates in undergrad and he'd learned Clay was a native Floridian.

"Let me get this straight. Your sister is playful, outgoing, a male magnet and damned stubborn. Anything else you want to warn me about?"

Clay's comment was meant to be flippant, but Marcos looked solemn as he said, "I think that about covers it." He gave Clay a measured look. "Will you do it?"

"Sure, you can count on me." The tension eased from Marcos' face as he finished his beer with a satisfied gulp. "You've never asked me for a favor, even though I sure owe you one."

"You don't owe me anything. I really appreciate it, man," Marcos said, giving him a hearty clap on the back. "Thanks. Now that I know she's in good hands, I can get back to my patients." He paused. "There's one more thing you should know. Marisol is impulsive and that often lands her in trouble."

"I'm sure I can handle her," Clay said in a dry tone.

"Good." Marcos threw some cash on the counter. "My treat. Later, Gator."

Clay downed his beer and left with him. Marcos seemed overly concerned about Clay getting along with his sister.

How much trouble could one girl be?

* * *

Marisol Calderon studied the strong, lean planes of her client's face. A tiny shiver teased her spine when she glanced at his intense black eyes, deep set and heavily rimmed by thick black lashes. He was looking at her as if he knew something private about her and it was a bit unsettling.

The guy looked so out of place in her salon it was almost comical. He sat before her with strong arms braced on the armchair wearing snug, faded Levi's and a black T-shirt that stretched across a hard-muscled chest and shoulders. His body exuded power in a sinewy way, not like a beefed up gym rat. His shoulder-length, pitch black hair was secured in a ponytail and a small scar marked his sharp left cheekbone on tanned skin.

She wondered if he was the guy who'd been bothering her with anonymous messages lately. When he'd entered her salon, Marisol had noticed his guarded stance and dark, watchful eyes. He had asked for her in a smoky voice that snared her attention.

Mentally propelling herself into action, she draped a plastic cape over his broad shoulders and slid the rubber band from his ponytail. She took a wide-toothed comb from her apron and ran it through his thick hair before generously slathering it with her homemade conditioner.

His head whipped around and firm lips parted to reveal strong, white teeth when he asked, "What are you doing?"

"Oh, sorry. I should have warned you it would be cold. I keep the mix in the fridge so it won't turn brown."

He went still. "What's the green slime you're putting on my head?" he asked, not amused.

Marisol had been thinking how hot he looked with his hair down, when that low, gravelly voice hit her below the knees.
Get a grip, silly, he's watching you
, she told herself.

She patted his rigid shoulder. "Hey, chill. It's my special all-natural conditioner. Your hair looked a little dry when you came in," she lied. In truth, it shined like volcanic glass.

"I asked for a haircut, not a beauty treatment," he said in a blunt tone.

"Don't worry. This fabulous conditioner is my special this week. It's included in the haircut and won't cost you a penny extra."

She normally didn't do hair treatments before getting the client's consent; she'd done it to keep him there long enough to find out if he was the mystery guy.

"I'm not worried about the cost." He looked suspicious. "What's in it? It stinks."

"Mashed avocado and olive oil," she said, smiling as she applied more conditioner.

He snorted. "I'd rather eat avocados."

"Me, too. I love guacamole." Marisol squelched a giggle at the sight of his tough, rangy body confined in the pink leather chair.
Better start asking questions
, she thought,
he looks ready to bolt.

"Did you say your name was Clay?" she asked, lightly massaging his scalp.

"Yeah."

"What do you do for a living?"

"Marisol!" the receptionist at the front desk called out. "Phone call."

Marisol smiled. "Don't go away. I'll be right back."

Clay's striking black eyes sent her an uncompromising message. "Hurry back or I'll wash it out myself."

Marisol tossed her short tumble of blond-streaked, honey-brown hair and shrugged her shoulders. He heard her mumble something in Spanish about him being impatient as she brushed by, pert backside swaying.

Clay observed Marisol from across the gleaming, art-deco style pink and black room as she chatted on the phone. When a male customer walked in, she hung up and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek before leading him to one of the stylists.

With head-turning curves sheathed in a tangerine mini dress and golden tanned legs perched on high-heeled sandals, there was nothing demure about Marisol as she flitted around the salon. Petite and practically bouncing with energy, Marisol seemed younger than twenty-nine. She had a heart-shaped face with sparkling amber eyes, a tiny cleft in her chin and a rosebud mouth that naturally curved upward giving her a decidedly mischievous air.

That one was going to be a handful.

Sophia Knightly enjoys writing in many genres: romantic suspense, romantic comedy and chick lit, creating fun and sexy contemporary romances. A two-time Maggie award finalist, she believes in love-at-first sight and happy endings, and she always enjoys a good laugh. Her stories are enriched by travels and previous experience as an actress, model, airline reservations agent and mom of two beautiful daughters. When not writing or reading, she finds pleasure in walking the beach, exploring museums, enjoying good food, and watching movies. One of her favorite pastimes remains simply watching people, especially those in love!

You can write to her at [email protected].