When An Alpha Purrs(5)

"About my hair. It occurs to me that I owe you a second chance. A real  chance to cut my hair. Albeit, probably shorter than I initially  intended, given our misunderstanding."

"Excuse me? Did I just hear you say you want me to cut it? Now I know you're screwing with me."

"No tricks. Once I calmed down yesterday, I had a chance to reflect on  what happened. I never truly gave you a chance. I let chauvinism cloud  my judgment. But in my defense, my only other haircuts by women were  done by my mother and aunts, whose idea of a trim involved a bowl and  kitchen scissors."

Kira's turn to wince. "Ouch."

"Indeed. Perhaps that might help you to understand my hesitation. I  should also admit I later spoke to your uncle at the barber shop.  Initially, I'd planned to return to see him to have the damage blended.  However, he assures me you are the best they have after Dominic."

She couldn't help but swell with pride at the praise. "I'm in pretty  high demand." Or had been until her old shop got burned down under  suspicious circumstances.

"What do you say we start over? Hi, my name is Arik." He stuck his hand out, and she stared at it.

Was he screwing with her? She shot him a wary glance but saw nothing in his face but sincerity, or a really good fake of it.

Given he was one of her granddad's clients, and only a bitch would throw  his apology in his face, especially after what she'd done, she slipped  her fingers into his massive grip.

An electrical tingle of awareness slid through her. Whatever his faults, she certainly couldn't deny her attraction to him.

"I'm Kira."

"Kira." The way he rolled the syllables of her name sent a tingle  through her. Good thing he didn't host late night radio. There'd be a  lot of tired women in the morning. "Well, Kira, now that we've been  properly introduced, would you cut my hair? Please."

Oh dear god, the way he said it. She almost leaned against the door for  support. Her attraction to him was truly insane. But it wasn't his  fault. She obviously had a problem.                       
       
           



       

I wonder if there's a pill I can take to prevent attraction to the wrong kind of guys.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"But I need you to do it." Purred softly. He inched closer, and all her  attention was taken by him, the towering height and breadth of him, a  big man just the way she liked. His eyes were focused on her, intent,  not afraid to meet her gaze, which was ridiculously sexy.

She wanted to press herself against him and soften the hard line of his lips, taste the teasing smile lurking at its corners.

How could she hope to cut his hair when all she wanted to do was run her hands over him?

She needed chaperones to keep her in line. "If you come back in about an hour when we open, I'll get you all fixed up."

"An hour? I don't suppose you could fit me in earlier somehow. I've got a  business meeting this morning, and I'd really rather not go looking  like this."

Amber eyes begged her. She hesitated. Those eyes were way too seductive. She wished she could look away. Not give in.

But …

Technically, she could cut his hair now. She had the key to the shop. The only problem was no one else had arrived yet.

Did she dare let him in and cut his hair, alone? In other words, did she trust herself with him?

Am I seriously being such a coward? She really needed to take back some  control over her hormones. She wasn't some giddy teenager who fawned  over a boy. She was a woman, who knew how to handle herself with the  opposite sex. She was also very well acquainted with the word ‘no'.

She could resist his charm, and besides, it wouldn't be as if she would  be alone with the big guy for long. Her uncle would meander in shortly,  not to mention there were wide plate glass windows and people passing on  the sidewalk.

Witnesses in case her hands thought to betray her again.

But what of her safety? Perhaps the flirting was a ruse. Perhaps his whole apology was to get her to lay down her guard.

While they spoke, the sidewalks had begun to fill up as people started their day.

If the big guy meant her ill, there would be witnesses.

However, glancing at his expression, which bore smoldering interest but  none of the fury she recalled, she didn't get the impression he wanted  to hurt her. At least not in painful ways. On the contrary, the hand  that held hers, which he hadn't yet relinquished, stroked a thumb over  her skin.

Do it.

Don't do it.

Her mind was split, but there was really only one choice. Kira wasn't  one to usually pussy out. The man had swallowed his pride and  apologized. The least she could do was help him out.

"Come in and I'll see what I can do." And by that, she meant do his hair, not do him.

Why did her spirits deflate at the thought?

He finally relinquished her hand, only to rub his thumb across her cheek. "Thank you. I appreciate this."

Ack. No, not the dimple. If she'd not caved before, she would have now as he unleashed the most devilish smile of thanks.

She forced herself to turn away. With shaking hands, she used the key and let them into the shop.

As she bustled around flicking on the lights, turning the sign to open,  and pulling her hair items from the sanitized bag they were placed in by  the cleaners, she tried to ignore him.

Not easy. He just seemed to consume the space of the room. No matter where he moved, she was intensely aware of him.

He hung up his outer jacket, revealing even more of his upper body. The  dress shirt, made of a silk she could never hope to afford, molded to  his chest and thickly muscled arms. He loosened his tie as he moved with  a slow swagger to the barber chair.

He seated himself without prompting and proceeded to watch her in the mirror.

I should have made him wait. Too late now. She'd have to cut his hair.

A smile lurked at the corner of his lips as she fumbled the protective vinyl cape around him.

"I make you nervous," he stated.

Yes! "No. If you're talking about the clumsy hands, I'm still waiting for my caffeine to kick in," she lied.

For distraction, she plucked the hat from his head and winced as the  shorn spot glared at her. She threaded her fingers through his silky  locks, trying to see a way she could camouflage whilst keeping his  preferred style. Alas, she'd trimmed a little too much. A part of her  dreaded giving him the only option he had to fix it. She doubted he'd  like her answer. "If I'm going to blend it, then we're going to have to  cut it pretty much all off."

To his credit, he didn't erupt, although his face tightened, and she  might have imagined a mournful meow, which made no sense since the shop  didn't have a cat. Lazy, hairy things.

"Do what you must to my hair. I trust you."                       
       
           



       

The words shouldn't have sent a shiver-the erotic kind-down her spine,  and yet they did, every word he uttered so sinfully sexy with his low  baritone.

She resolved to cut only what she had to, and while he wouldn't sport a  long, golden surfer mane by the time she was done, he'd look good.  Better than good.

Way too delicious for words.

Seriously. As the hair flittered to the floor in a silky shower, his appearance changed. Grew more rugged. More masculine.

With every snip, she enhanced the craggy lines of his face, the strong  squareness of his jaw, and the fact he had a perfectly shaped head.

When she was done, she took a step back and bit her lower lip as she surveyed the result.

My god he's attractive.

Or so she thought, but her opinion wasn't really the one that mattered.

"What do you think?" she asked as she held the hand mirror at an angle behind him so as to give him a peek.

For a moment, he didn't say anything, just stared at his reflection in  the mirror. "You know," he said slowly, "I've been sporting the same  haircut for years. It was my look. My thing. So this is pretty drastic  to me."

She could hear a ‘but' coming, and she braced herself.

"But I think I wish I'd met you years ago. This is a really good haircut." He sounded surprised.

The tension in her frame eased. "So you like it?" She couldn't help but  ask as she unsnapped the protective cover and removed it from him.

"Very much so. How much do I owe you?"

She lifted her hands and fluttered them. "Nothing. This one's on me."

He rose from the chair and towered over her. How petite he made her feel. "Nonsense. I insist."

"Consider it my apology for what happened." She would have taken a step  away from his virile presence. However, the vanity with its rack of  power hair tools blocked her path.

"You have to let me give you something."

The husky lowering of his voice sent a shiver through her.

"Refer your friends to the shop." She busied her hands with her tools, wiping them down and placing them on her tray.