about antiaging herbs when a woman strolled from the treatment area, swaddled in a long, thick robe and wearing terry slippers on her feet. She headed for the magazines, then drew up short when she noticed Vance. He wondered if he’d missed a spot while shaving or was walking around with food on his face.
“Uh...” he said, shifting in his chair. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” She started forward again, offering a smile. Her butter-yellow hair was pulled back from a cute face, with round cheeks and a dimpled chin. “I’m sorry. I was just surprised to see a man in the waiting area. I come here every two weeks and have never seen one before.”
Vance smiled back. “I had to learn the secret pass code.”
“Oh?” She laughed. The receptionist looked over, sending an admonishing look and the robe-wrapped woman lowered her voice. “And what is the secret pass code?”
He made a big show of glancing around as if he couldn’t let it fall into the wrong hands, then leaned forward. “Mani-pedi,” he stage-whispered.
She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle another laugh. “I’ve never—”
“I know. Heard a man say that phrase.” He relaxed into his chair again, grinning. The cutie grinned back, loosening him up a little more. After days of being overfocused on one woman, this felt good. Easy. Maybe he should ask for her number. Living at Beach House No. 9 with Layla didn’t mean he couldn’t go out for a drink with someone else.
The colonel’s daughter wasn’t his woman, after all.
Clutching the sides of the robe together at her throat and at her knees, the blonde perched on a nearby chair. “Are you here with your wife?”
Getting her number was looking better and better. “I’m not attached.”
“No?” she asked, blue eyes definitely flirtatious. “You’re here with your sister, then?”
Vance opened his mouth just as the treatment area’s door reopened and another robe-wrapped woman stepped out. His teeth clicked shut as he stared at Layla. Her bangs were swept back with some kind of hair band, revealing the glowing skin of her pretty face. His heart lurched hard against his ribs.
God, she was something, he thought, staring. Like a dew-dampened rose.
“Not a sister,” the blonde murmured, moving away from him.
“Huh?” Vance glanced at her, and then his gaze was drawn back to the colonel’s daughter. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Wonderful,” Layla said, smiling. “My appointment ran a little long. The pedicure.” She pointed one bare foot in front of her like a ballerina. He could see the nails had been painted a midnight-blue. In addition, a small half moon decorated each big toe, with a tiny jeweled star beside it. “I wanted to tell you I’ll be out in a flash.”
Then she was gone again, and Vance realized the blonde had left, as well. He’d lost his chance at her number. It didn’t make him happy that he couldn’t work up any disappointment.
Not after seeing Layla like that, lit up like a candle, her smile a thousand watts of energy. It had been as if the world was right again, with Layla looking genuinely delighted. He’d wanted to stand up, grab her, kiss her.
Which you didn’t do to a stranger you planned to keep your distance from. That thought had him frowning after they left the beauty place and moved the car nearer to the tea shop. He shoved his hand through his hair as they walked down the sidewalk, groaning when the cast thumped against his forehead. “Jesus, you’d think I’d remember about that,” he muttered.
Layla glanced over. “Was it the spa? Did too much estrogen put somebody in a bad mood?” she teased.
“I’m not in a bad mood.” It was just that he’d missed his opportunity to get that blonde’s number.
“Cranky, then.”
He shot Layla a glare. “And I’m not cranky.”
She only laughed as she preceded him into the tea shop. In moments, they were seated at a small table set near a bow window. It was covered by a floral cloth and held a centerpiece of fresh flowers. Layla sniffed at the blossoms, clearly still in a happy frame of mind.
Good, he thought. Maybe she was permanently over her dark mood.
Nothing that happened next changed Vance’s opinion. A waitress in a flower-printed apron came by. She seemed a bit nonplussed to see a man prepared to partake of tea, but he murmured his new fail-safe, “mani-pedi,” and though the girl just blinked, this time Layla laughed.
A pot of Earl Grey was delivered to them, and then a