“Maybe.” He let out another of those killer smiles. “Maybe not.”

“Humph.” She crossed her arms and turned away, unreasonably annoyed with him.

“You could be happy for me.”

“Might be happier,” she muttered, reaching for her notes. “If I was getting some too.”

“To get some, Becca, you actually have to date.” With wry amusement, he leaned back against the counter as she fussed at her station, the picture of rough and ready trouble.

“How do you know I’m not?”

“Well, you told Cookie, who told Tami, who told-”

“Ah.” She ground her teeth. “The gossip mill.”

He smiled, which only magnified the mischief dancing in his eyes. But there was something about discussing her nonexistent sex life that really got her going, and it was only slightly mollifying to know he actually thought she was rejecting date requests, instead of not receiving any.

“Of course you’d have to break away from work long enough to have a good time,” he added conversationally, reaching around her to flip on a second light over her work station.

He smelled good, she noted reluctantly. Not like cologne, but more an outdoorsy, male sort of smell that made her yearn. And that annoyed her all to heck, too.

“I’d ask you what you did this weekend but I could probably guess.” He smiled. “You worked on school stuff, and for some extra excitement, you came in here to put in a little time on your latest project.”

Was that really what everyone thought? That she was all work? No play?

That it was true didn’t help. “How do you know?”

He waggled a daring brow, every single hard-muscled inch of him oozing sin. “Because you have that not-relaxed, still-tired-even-though-I-just-had-a-weekend look.”

A quick glance in the small mirror over one of three sinks confirmed the painful truth. It was there for the entire world to see. Pale skin, paler green eyes rimmed with fatigue, the hair beneath her baseball cap a dull, nondescript brown.

Who had time to worry about hair? The glasses she wore hid most of her face, which was fine since she didn’t wear an ounce of makeup. Not that she didn’t like makeup, she thought defensively, it was just that when she applied it she had the tendency to resemble Frankenstein’s bride.

Her body was blah, not curvy, not lean. Just average. And totally hidden under baggy jeans, T-shirt, sweatshirt and lab coat.

But that was because she didn’t like to worry about what to wear in the mornings. Thankfully S.S.L. provided the oh-so-bulky lab coats, so really, it hardly mattered how she dressed.

Bottom line though-she wasn’t great date material. Not even average date material.

“Another frown.” He sounded surprised and wary, too, as if he knew he was the cause, but didn’t quite know what to do about it. “Maybe you should work,” he said with genuine concern. “That always seems to cheer you up.”

“Oh yeah, there’s the answer, more work.”

He blinked at her reaction and she felt a spear of guilt. “I’m sorry. I guess I’ve got the Monday blues.”

“No, that’s not it,” he said slowly, cautiously. “You’re different today.”

Yes, she was different. At least, she wanted to be. “Well, to tell you the truth…”

“Uh-oh. You want a raise already.”

“This isn’t about work!”

“Okay.” He leaned back and crossed his ankles, looking totally at ease, while her hopes and dreams gnawed at her. “Shoot.”

But the phone rang, and while Kent studied her thoughtfully, she answered it. “Sierra Labs.”

“Becca!”

Summer, her sister, had a carefree, happy, infectious voice that instantly made people smile. Becca resisted.

“Hey, you there?” Summer asked. “What’s the matter?”

Becca broke eye contact with Kent and shoved her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. “I haven’t said a word. How do you know something’s the matter?”

“I just know. Work or school?”

“Life,” Becca said without thinking, then wished the words back.

“Well you work too hard. You never give yourself a break, much less a good look in the mirror. But that’s why I’m calling, I have just the thing to fix that.”

“You always have ‘just the thing’,” Becca said. “And the last time I fell for that, I ended up with green hair.”

Kent raised his eyebrows.

“I was just learning to use color effectively,” Summer said into the phone with great dignity. “I’ve come a long way since then.”

From the corner of her eye, Becca watched Kent bend over his own work, his wide shoulders flexed with intense focus, his hands steady and sure.

He’d already forgotten about her.

Made sense. He was only her boss. They barely knew each other. So why couldn’t she look away? His muscles were clearly outlined down the length of his taut, lean back. His long fingers stretched and worked, and suddenly, with a shocking heat, she wanted those fingers on her.

It was the craziest thing.

Kent reached for his coffee and took a sip, his strong throat muscles working as he swallowed. Such a great swallow, she thought, entranced. But since she apparently couldn’t look at him and still have a functioning brain, she readjusted her baseball cap and turned away.

Still, the strange and unwelcome lust pulsed through her.

Oh boy, this was bad. Getting hot over her boss. Very, very bad. She definitely, really, really, needed an adventure, and fast.

“Becca?”

“Yeah.” She cleared her husky voice and tried to get control of her hormones. “I’m here. Listen, Summer…” She lowered her voice. “Remember how we always talked about having a wild adventure together? Like flying to Italy on a whim without a travel plan? Or learning to deep-sea dive? Or going to a strip joint?”

Behind her, Kent choked on his coffee.

In her ear, Summer laughed. “You mean when we were young and stupid?”

Had it been that long since she’d dreamed? Carefully she avoided Kent’s curious gaze and said, “Let’s do it now.”

“Oh Becca, you’re so funny. As if either of us could just take off now that we’re so busy. And speaking of that, let me get to it. I just wanted to congratulate you.”

Becca sighed. “For what?”

“You won our first monthly salon makeover. Here at the salon. Isn’t that cool?”

“But I didn’t enter any-”

“Now I know you won’t take this the wrong way,” Summer interrupted smoothly. “But no one is more deserving of Summer’s Place First Giveaway Makeover than you.”

“Gee, thanks. I think. And when did you decide to run a contest for a makeover?”

“I’ve been dying to get my hands on you for years now, you know that.”

A makeover. Good Lord. “Look, I’m going to be really busy having an adventure-”

“No one’s ever too busy for salon treatment.”

“I will be,” she promised, but then she glanced down at her plain white tennis shoes, then turned her head and looked at Kent, who’d again immersed himself in work. He had files open, slides prepared and his light on. Even his face was tight with concentration as he scrupulously studied…a lingerie catalogue?

He caught her watching him and sent her a lazy smile that illuminated his face and made her catch her breath. His eyes were heavy-lidded, sensual, and for a moment, Becca allowed the fantasy to root. To put that look in his eyes, to be responsible for all that maleness…

But a makeover?

The whole thing was vain, narcissistic…and embarrassingly appealing.

“Think of all the publicity it will generate for my shop,” Summer coaxed.

“Yes, but…”

“I’ll need before and after pics because no one is going to believe the change in you, going from…well, absolutely no style, to-”

“Hey!”

“-to the height of fashion! I know you’ve never let me help before-”

“Because I do fine by myself.” Right. Uh-huh. Which was exactly why she’d just turned thirty and hadn’t had a date in so long her date-only lipstick had dried out. Again she looked at Kent, who’d gone back to studying his magazine, and her tummy tingled.

“Oh, Becca.” Summer’s voice lowered to plea level. “You are going to do it, aren’t you?”

Becca didn’t have a lot of family, Summer was basically it. For as long as she could remember, her sister had been after her to do something with herself. For herself. “I just don’t think-”

“That’s perfect,” Summer said quickly. “Don’t think.”

“A new hairdo is hardly going to change my life.”

“No, but it’s a start. It’s the works, Bec. Hair, makeup, clothes, everything.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re making this up as you go along?”

Her sister laughed lightly. Quickly. “Don’t be silly.”

But it was silly. And yet… “I don’t wear makeup.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“My clothes are fine.”

“Yeah, if you’re into Blue Light Specials.”

“Well at least my hair is…”

“Mousy. Baby, I’m sorry, you need a change. I can do it for you, let me.”

She sounded so sure, so excited. But then again, Summer-as her name implied-was everything Becca was not. Tall, thin, beautiful.

Pride was an ugly thing. “Let me think about it.” Setting the receiver back in place, Becca stood there for a long moment. She hated to disappoint Summer, it was like kicking a puppy. Her sister was just so happy and excited and bubbling and…perfect. All the time.

It wasn’t as if she was jealous, she loved Summer with all her heart. They were all each other had, but sometimes being with her was strangely deflating.

Kent tossed his catalog aside. “A strip joint?”

“Is that the only part of the conversation you heard?”

“It’s the part that grabbed me,” he admitted. “Are you going to do it?”

Truthfully, the idea of a makeover actually scared her. Gave her a weightless feeling deep in her stomach. Made her wonder, just for a weak little second, how things could be if…