Hot Pickle - J.J. Knight Page 0,29
hit it again for the final. I don’t like too much buildup on the face.”
I nod. “Some of the competitors do look odd.”
“If you win this one, there will be a photo shoot. You don’t want to look raccoon-ish or uneven.”
A photo shoot. I guess Franklin’s never gotten this far, so he wouldn’t know what to tell me. “What else should I know? Do you have other clients at this level?”
“I have clients who travel to China. Brazil. Europe.”
“Wow. You ever go with them?”
She comes around to the front and lifts my chin. “Not so far. It sounds glamorous, but unless you have big sponsors, or a bunch of them, you might be traveling on a shoestring, piling into hotel rooms with other competitors. There’s no budget to bring your own personal tanner. We’re everywhere, so you can hire one on-site.”
“Not as good as you.”
She holds my eyes for a moment. “I’m sure I’m an amateur compared to many. But I do well enough here.”
I relax back on the stool. I’m in good hands. Her touch is light and easy. As long as I keep my thoughts under wraps, this will be no problem.
She runs the back of her hand across my cheek. “As much as I like this scruff, most bodybuilders lose their facial hair as they move up.”
My knuckles graze my stubble. It’s a look I’ve had a while. “Really?”
“You don’t have to, but go look up any major bodybuilding competition that’s gotten press. You’ll see very little facial hair.”
“I believe you.”
“I’d like to shave you. Is that all right?”
“Sure. I can regrow it later.”
“Exactly. When you come in Saturday morning, make sure you shave. I’ll do whatever moisturizing and cleaning up I need to do before we apply the last tan.”
“Got it.”
She moves to one of her many cabinets and rummages around. I watch the easy grace with which she moves, the way she examines a bottle and sets it on a fresh towel.
Then she removes a long blade and scrapes it across a sharpening block.
Whoa.
She approaches with the razor and a bowl.
“You do it the old-fashioned way.”
She smiles. “Same as any barber worth his salt. It’s the best shave.”
“Do guys get worried when you bring out a blade like that?”
She tilts her head and gives me an impish smile. “Max Pickle, are you nervous? Do you think I might slip and slice this beautiful throat of yours?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Don’t make me an enemy.” She winks.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Not with that in your hand.”
She moves in close, her legs straddling one of mine.
I take in all her scents. Something lightly floral. Something else citrusy. She smells delicious.
She spreads cream on my face, then the only sound in the room is the gentle scrape of the blade across my cheek.
She moves quickly with precise motions and absolute concentration.
I watch her face as she works. She’s inches from me, the closest we’ve probably ever been, except for that one brief kiss.
I’m desperate to touch her. Put my hands on her waist, her hips, to learn the curves of her.
But I have to content myself with her nearness. She switches to the other side. For a moment, our eyes meet, her lips tantalizingly close. She hesitates. “You probably know you’re brutally handsome, right?”
I should probably play this off, make a joke, but instead I say, “My sincerest hope is that you think so.”
She doesn’t move, gently breathing in and out. Our gazes hold.
Then her gaze flicks down to my lips.
Is she thinking about kissing me?
It takes two-thousand percent of my control not to lean in.
“You’ve got something right here.” She uses her thumb to rub my upper lip. But then her touch remains.
There are moments from your life that imprint on your memory. Your mom laughing. Racing your brother before jumping in a pool. Your father’s hand on your shoulder.
This is one of those moments. Camryn is so close her breath caresses my cheek. Her thumb lingers on my mouth. I’ve never felt so much anticipation before. Like everything I’ve ever wanted has come into reach.
“I do,” she says finally. “I think you’re magnificent.”
I’m not going to let that go unreciprocated. “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.” And I mean it.
Our gaze holds a moment more, but something’s changed. I feel it bubbling up inside me. She must, too, because a second later, we’re both shaking with laughter.
Camryn carefully holds the blade away as she bends over, one arm over her belly.
“Good Lord,” she says.