Chapter Three: Will she? Won't she?

Why on earth would he ask me out to dinner? She leaned forward and swiped gloss on her lips. Every time she’d thought about it last night her cheeks burned. She just didn’t get it.

Did he go around asking any pretty girl out? Duh, he’s a rock star maybe that’s just what he did. She pressed her lips together, humming under her breath as she snapped the cap on her lip-gloss. A little boogie in her step, she slid into her shoes.

Signs of life bustled from underneath her. Jonathan usually beat her to the clinic most mornings. That suited her just fine, especially when a hot cup of her favourite coffee greeted her the moment she walked in. Opening early also meant they could grab a slice of the early morning commuters as they breezed in for coffee on their way into the city.

She ran a brush through her hair and smiled. Her life was pretty good and the business was steadily doing better each quarter. Not that it stopped her from looking for ways to expand and re-invent her business to keep it fresh.

What the hell was the tune she was humming?

You’ve got to hold on… to what you’ve got…doesn’t make a difference if you make it or not…

“Oh crap!” She slapped the hairbrush into her palm. And there she was, back to Jon. She couldn’t discount his influence on her business. The word of mouth alone could put her on the map. But being asked out to dinner by him? It was just too unreal. Oh, he was handsome—Mercy, he was beautiful, flaws and all—but she wasn’t his type.

She didn’t socialize in his circles.

She didn’t socialize outside her shop, and that’s the way she preferred it. It was safer on the all around. But she couldn’t discount what a man like Jon could do for her business. And that’s all it would be—for the good of the business. No matter how utterly perfectly perfect he looked.

And now you’re singing his songs.

She collected a bottle of water, her keys, and closed down her laptop. How old was Jon anyway? He had to be in his late forties. Why did that even matter? It wasn’t like she was going to date him. He was probably looking for an easy lay. It was what rock stars did, right?

There probably wasn’t much substance beneath those character lines on his face. Oh, he probably had an amazing body under the battered leather and denim, but that’s all it was...pretty packaging, a flirty personality, and an orgasm if she was lucky. She would put her hands on him, do her job and walk away with a client list to die for.

Keep your eye on the prize.

She glanced out at the concrete jungle of New York City, and as always she was stunned how different it was from her beloved Christchurch.

The moment she’d seen her shop, she’d felt the first stirrings of home in too many years to count. She’d leased not only the shop space, but the building itself. Originally used for storage, she’d transformed it into a loft apartment for herself.

From the mezzanine floor that flowed out of her bedroom and spiralled down the staircase to the steel framed railing brushed to a high sheen, she’d lovingly created every corner of her living space.

She smoothed her hand down the white washed banister, taking in the birds-eye-view of her front door, fire escape, and the street below. Like her shop, the colours were neutral creams for the walls with a deliberate splash of red, blue, or pink in a piece of furniture or art.

The transition had been as brutal as the learning curve. It had been a lot of lonely nights filled with one project after another. She missed home, but she had to believe where she was now was the best thing for her. She’d made her choice a long time ago.

She made her way downstairs, locking up before she cut through the internal access to the shop—another bonus about the place. She slid her cell phone, keys, and purse under the reception counter and started when Jonathan popped his head up and grinned. “Good morning, lovely.”

"Morning yourself sunshine. Java is just seconds away." 

It was a steady day and she was tied up with Jon for the bulk of it. Bugger. "You're a saint, Jono. Wow.” she flipped through the book and scanned the appointments before looking up at her assistant. “Busy day, huh?"

Jonathan handed her mug and picked up his own. "Very. I noticed you've blocked yourself out all day. Need a break?"

“I wish. No, I’ve booked in a VIP client for the day. He came in late last night for some acupuncture and I upgraded him for a bunch of treatments.” She sighed appreciatively as the hazelnut took the edge off the bitterness of the coffee.

“Ohhh, do tell.” Jonathan loaded the sterilizer with a pile of eyelash curlers, tweezers, and other assorted beauty tools.

"Well, you’ve heard of Jon Bon Jovi, right?”

He spun around, "I knew it! That man doesn’t look half his age for a reason. So what have you got him in for? And who did we steal him away from?”

"The all-day deluxe special.”

His brow lifted and he nodded approvingly. "That’s great. I’m sure life catches up with him once and awhile and…” He paused for a second, one long finger tapping on his mug. “I think he's a father of four as well."

"Oh?" God did she sound interested? 

"Don't worry, love, he's got the celebrity diploma. Dee-vorce," he said in a sing-song voice.

"Well, I did wonder why—" she stopped when Jonathan raised a brow. She sighed. "He tried to bribe me into going to dinner with him as a trade for business."

Jonathan laughed. "Oh man! Going out with Jon Bon Jovi for the good of the business." He clutched his chest. "How will we ever repay you?"

"He won't. I'm not going. I declined." Was she stupid to decline just one dinner though? No, she’d give him excellent service today so he’d have tell his friends about her shop. And she wouldn’t even need to go out to dinner with him to cinch the deal.

"Wow, really? Just dinner? Not interested in the quintessential rock-star?"

She twisted her ring. "Uh, no I’m not." Jon was so public and she was so...well, not. 

"Devon, honey, he's just a guy. Would it really hurt you to go out with a real guy instead of being locked up like Rapunzel in her castle every night?"

Devon smiled and fingered the ends of her bob cut. "I have hardly the hair to be Rapunzel." He had a point. It wasn’t normal to be locked away from the world, but it was the life she chose, whether she wanted it or not was another question altogether.

"Look." He came over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "You're gorgeous, Dev, and you're wasting away in here instead of feasting on a whole world of eligible men and opportunity out there. Believe me."

She truly did love Jonathan but it was hard for him to understand. Hell, it was hard for anyone to understand why she didn’t go out too often. "Thank you." He was just looking out for her like he had so many times before.

"I could pretty you up just right so that you say: I’m classy but if you want more you'll have to work for it." He winked and flashed a smile.

She burst out laughing. "Thank you, but no. There won't be any dates with Mr. Bon Jovi in the near future." Even if every time she thought about him something clawed inside her belly.

He snapped on some gloves and filled up the bottles of hair solution by the basins. "Ok, the offer is still there. Who would have thought, my Devon being asked out by a rock star?"

She shook her head and made sure Jonathan was too busy before she brought up Google on the computer and plugged his name in. OK, so she was a little curious after all. She didn't know anything about the guy except he was in a band. Maybe he was one of those sex addicts, or just liked to play with women’s heads? Or maybe he was going through a mid-life crisis?

Shut up Devon.

Would just one date really be so bad? Her heart gave a hard knock when tabloids pictures came up first thing. Speculation behind his divorce, of his picture-perfect marriage, of his sex life…

“Great,” she muttered and clicked on a link dated just last week. It was a very good thing she'd declined. The last she needed right now was a great big spotlight on her. She clutched her belly as it rolled. Good God, there was no way she could do this.

"Are you ok?"

Her gaze flicked up to a warm blue eyes and a broad grin that shot straight to her knees.

"I'm early, but I figured I'd come and try some of your coffee." He thumbed behind him to the coffee counter. 

"Uh, sure." She quickly clicked the big red X and smoothed down her apron. Her cheeks could stop burning any time.

He was dressed casually, in camo pants and flip flops and a tight black v-neck tee. His hair was mussed, fresh from the shower she assumed, and of course he smelled amazing.

Damn, this was going to be harder than she thought. She needed to stop acting like one of his groupies and fast. She took a deep breath and smiled. “Whew, I thought I double booked someone but it’s all sorted.”

Nice save.

He leaned forward, his elbows propped on the counter. His eyes as mesmerizing as a hypnotist. "So, are you going to make me some coffee?"

Dammit, why did he throw her off centre so easily? "Sure, what would you like?" She walked out and around the booking area, smoothing down her apron. She slipped behind the large granite counter complimented with a handful of matching barstools. He followed her and slid onto one of the chairs.

"I'll have a latte. Better make it non-fat." He patted his stomach and grinned again. 

She managed a small smile and cranked the machine into gear. Like he needed to worry about his weight. The snug tee was distracting enough. She needed to concentrate on his coffee and not how great his ass looked even in baggy camo pants.

If he’d stop staring at her, that would be a great start.

She steamed the milk, thankful for the noisy squeal of the frothing machine to break the tension. Unnerved, she tried to ignore his eyes on her as she went through the steps she’d done a thousand times. She felt clumsy and stupid. She banged the jug on the counter-top to settle the bubbles and then poured his latte into a cup.

"One skinny latte. I'd offer you something to eat, but I'm putting you in the steam room shortly so I'll need you to stick to water after this.”

His brow lifted. "Steam room?"

She picked up a cloth and wiped up her mess. "Uh-huh. I need your body cleansed before I start on the rest of you."

She bit her lip as he shifted on the stool. Now who was feeling intimidated? Ok, so it wasn't quite the same—not by a long shot—but she was taking the small win.

"I didn't bring any—I mean...” He cleared his throat. “Do I have to go in..."

She raised her brow and grinned. "Naked, yes. But don't worry it's all private in there. It even has a change area before you come back out. You can lock the door from the inside." She was a glutton for punishment as she considered it in her mind for even a second.

He lifted his cup to his lips, took a sip, the smirk half shielded. "Alone, naked? That's a pity."

Dammit, he'd done it again. She turned away from him just as Jonathan came over to them. 

"You must be Jon, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Jonathan. I'm Devon's assistant manager." He held his hand out to Jon and he shook it. She envied Jonathan sometimes. He had all the confidence in the world. She did, in the right situations, but with Jonathan…nothing fazed him. 

"Nice to meet you Jonathan, I'm Jon."

"You're in the best hands, Jon. Devon will take good care of you."

Jon took another sip. "Oh, I'm counting on her hands." 

Oh yeah, he was good.

If she had the guts she’d go all out on the girly treatments just to make him squirm, but she didn’t. "Ok, finished? You might as well get into that steam room so I can set up your private area where we’ll be doing the remainder of the treatments.”

His face relaxed and he set down his cup. "That would be great. Thank you, I appreciate that." 

She had many clients that preferred the privacy. "Now, because this is your first visit—and the first of many of course." She grinned cheekily. "What would you like in your room so I can prepare it? I'd usually have these details in your client file."

"Wow, the rock-star treatment. My very own rider?"

"Well yes, I guess it's a little like that. We have teas, coffee, waters, juice, and various healthy snacks all at our disposal. And if you take that brochure you can pick a play list for the day from our music." She handed him one of the many brochures she had lined up at the main reception desk. "It's all about customization."

He took the brochure and nodded approvingly. "I'm impressed, Devon. You know, my friends that I mentioned—they would love this place.”

"There’s nothing to stop you from telling them, now is there?" She knew she just opened herself up for it, but she was at least prepared this time. 

"I know a great Italian place..." he mused. 

She shook her head and poised herself. "We'll just let the results speak for themselves."

"Now that’s sort of confidence I like."

"If you'd follow me, I'll get you started." The floor space stretched out all around her and she'd put it to good use. Tanning bed booths, a half a dozen private beauty consult rooms equipped with a bed and all the latest equipment from wax warming appliances to facial steamers. She'd leased most of the equipment at first, but slowly and surely she was replacing leased with her own.

"Just pop in here. Everything is in there for you, water, and towels. Make sure you drink both of those bottles of water. The whole point is to flush out the toxins in your system." Devon reached around flicked the light on. "And here are the music controls, there is a call button in the actual steam room if you need assistance or feel woozy." She let him walk in and cautiously looked around as he popped his knuckles.

"You're ok with small spaces?" She lowered her voice.

He nodded. "Not my favourite, but I'll be fine."

"Ok, I'll see you in thirty minutes then." She clicked the door behind him and took a deep breath. She made her way her way back to the reception and smiled as some her stylists came in for the day. She picked up her coffee and took a long sip. What the hell was it about him? He wasn't creepy. Christ, far from it, but when his eyes were on her she turned into a puddle.

"Dev?" 

She looked up at Jonathan grinning. "Yeah?"

He leaned in over the counter. "Are you a wee bit flustered, darlin'?"

Her eyes widened, damn him for being able to read her. "No, I--I just want everything to go perfectly."

"Right. So that's why you've flicked the hell out of that tab on your coffee lid." 

Her eyes narrowed as she looked down to her lid. "Don't you have work to do?"

"This is my work. Supporting the boss. So where is he taking you to dinner?"

Her belly bottomed out again. “We’re not doing dinner. He’s going to be dazzled by my brilliant skills and tell his friends anyway. That’s the plan.” And she always had a plan, no matter what the situation was.

Jonathan sighed. "Devon, honey. You're young, attractive and lovely. I worry about you more because you don't go out."

His smile was comforting and she knew that he was just trying to make her feel better as he always did. Sometime she didn't deserve it but she made sure she always looked after him in his job. “I’m fine, truly. He’s just not my type.”

Jonathan shuffled some papers and collected his apron. “And that’s why you left two pages of Google open with him splashed across it.” He winked as he walked off.

“What? I closed that---dammit!” She sipped her coffee and rolled back on her heels. She wasn’t interested, she just wasn’t. Perhaps the more she kept repeating it the more she’d actually believe it.