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He stiffened, and I kept working, hoping they’d talk freely.
She paused and looked at me. “No Angelique?”
“No,” Rhett said.
The woman sighed. “Well, it’s about time we found a replacement after the steakhouse incident.” She turned her attention to me. “Have you signed the forms?”
My hands paused, fingers lost in Rhett’s luscious hair. “What forms?”
“That’s ano.” She turned her attention back to her iPad and clicked furiously, her nails tapping loudly. She approached, turning the iPad toward me. “Here.”
A lot of small writing took up the screen, some all caps, other bits bolded. I didn’t know what it was, and I definitely couldn’t read it, but it looked a lot like my rental contract. “What is it?”
“A nondisclosure agreement. You shouldn’t even be in this room without having signed that.”
“I’m just filling in.”
“I don’t take any chances.”
This woman and her pinched, wrinkled lips were 100 percent serious. I swiped my greasy, pomaded finger over the line that required my signature, leaving a shiny streak on the screen. I wasn’t going to say anything about what I did here today—not publicly, at least.
Charlie was going to get every moment described to her later in minute detail, but her lips were as good as sealed. She was practically married to a celebrity herself. Well, maybe celebrity was too strong a word for Liam, but he knew people. Like Rhett, for instance. The guy was friends with Rhett.
The woman kept talking. “I need your info for flights. I’ll leave my card here; email me your stats.” She removed a card from her wallet and set it on the workbench near my kits.
The world came to a stop. “I’m sorry, flights?”
“For the campaign.”
“What campaign?”
Rhett looked from me to the woman. When I lifted my eyebrows at him, he didn’t say anything.
The woman gave a long-suffering sigh. “Well, are you replacing Angelique or not? We’re moving too fast to rely on agencies for this. We need someone for four weeks. Take it or leave it.”
Four weeks. Campaign. Flights.What?My legs were shaky, so I turned my focus back to what I knew best: hair. I pushed Rhett’s pomaded hair up and over to the side, perfecting it with my comb.
Rhett’s deep voice rumbled through the small room. “Bridget, I think she needs a minute.”
Bridget and her scowl didn’t seem to think that was a necessity.
“I need more than a minute,” I said, my voice remarkably calm given the situation. “I need an explanation. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Rhett snatched my attention through the mirror and held it. I was powerless to look away. “I’m starting a charity tour next week. It’s ten cities in four weeks around America, and my publicist is trying to offer you a job.”
I froze, forgetting how to breathe, how to speak, how to stand normally. I was sure my legs were doing wonky things. Why had I not heard of this yet? I kept up to date on all things Rhett.
“So,” Rhett said, holding my gaze through the mirror, “want to come?”
Chapter Four
My chest constricted. Four weekswith Rhett? Four weeks oftouchingRhett?
And four weeks of canceled appointments.
A pit opened in my stomach, achy with concern. I wanted to take this opportunity by the horns and dive in, but I couldn’t abandon my coworkers or my clients. Not without asking first, at least. “I need to call my salon and make sure they can do without me.”
“Well, call them,” Bridget said impatiently.
