"I believe this belongs to you."
Lauren Frazier met the teasing gaze of the handsome stranger standing on her porch as he handed over the knob to her front door. She promptly burst out laughing, examining the ancient piece of crap with a shake of her head.
"Sorry," she said once she'd brought it down to a chuckle. "But the handle on my back screen door fell off this morning, too."
The stranger grinned. "I might stay home today, if I were you."
"Ya think?" She set the doorknob on the counter and stepped back. "So, what can I do for you?"
His keen brown eyes searched her living room, landing on the barber's chair in the corner with obvious relief. "Wasn't sure if I was in the right place."
"Yeah, the beauty shop sign fell off the house a few weeks ago."
His lips twitched. "I need a trim. The librarian recommended you." He held out his hand. "Caleb Hunter."
"I'll have to send Matt a thank-you note. Lauren Frazier." She shook his hand, and then gestured toward the barber's chair. "Have a seat."
He sat down and leaned back with his long legs sprawled out, getting comfortable. Lauren studied him from the corner of her eye as she pulled out a clean plastic cape and her trimming shears. About six feet tall, with broad shoulders, slim hips, and a muscular upper body, Mr. Caleb Hunter could have walked right off the cover of GQ magazine. He had big, bedroom brown eyes, full sexy lips, and a patrician nose that looked as if it'd seen a fist or two. His crowning glory, a thick mop of wavy auburn hair, needed at least an inch trimmed off--Lauren itched to run her fingers through it.
Thank you, Matt.
She stepped up behind him and covered him with the cape, securing it with a hair clip. His heady masculine scent assailed her senses, and Lauren resisted the urge to lean in and get a big whiff of his spicy aftershave. Whoa, girl, get a grip. He met her gaze in the mirror, and she swore she saw blatant interest in his eyes.
She ran a comb through his hair. "You've got a gorgeous head of hair, Caleb Hunter. So, who's to thank, your mom or dad?"
He cleared his throat, and if Lauren didn't know any better, she'd swear her innocent little question had upset him.
"Sorry, didn't mean to pry. It's just part of the job, you know? Make small talk."
"I know. It's just ... I lost my mother two months ago."
Lauren's hands froze. "I'm so sorry. Open mouth, insert foot. That's me."
"You couldn't have known. Don't worry about it."
Lauren nodded and got back to work on his hair.
She'd love to ask him a few questions, like what was his sign, boxers or briefs, top or bottom, but thought better of it. The last thing she wanted or needed was a man in her life--although if Bob Vila showed up on her doorstep right about now, she'd drop down on bended knee so fast it'd make his head spin.
)
