Suddenly, she was lunging out of her chair and falling into his lap. “Put your hands in my hair.”
Since he’d almost bobbled his orange juice, he carefully set it on the table before threading his hands against her scalp.
“Now, ruffle it up like you did last night.”
She could feel his laughter bubbling up, but he did as she asked. When he lowered his hands, she jumped back up and pointed to her skull.
“See! I’ll bet it fell right back into place. It’s incredible. I mean, the guy should have a gold medal in the Hair Olympics. My staff stared at me, although they tried not to. Pierre told me I looked pretty, which I do not. I don’t know who this woman is in the mirror.”
He took her hand. “Maybe you’re seeing a side you haven’t seen before. Youarepretty, although I’d go further and say you’re beautiful and sexy as hell.”
No, that was too much to take in. She wagged her finger at him. “Take that back, Kyle.”
He stood up, his blue eyes simmering now. “What if I don’t want to? What if I stand here and tell you that you’re the most beautiful, sexiest woman in the world?”
She crossed her arms. “I’d take your temperature and call an ambulance.”
“Do you find me attractive?”
Sputtering, she laughed. “Attractive?The day you were created was like the day chocolate was created.”
“Your food allusions never fail to amuse me. That good, huh? Well, that’s how I feel about you, only I’d say you were created the same day ice cream was created.”
Her throat did feel like she had a cold coming on, but she knew it wasn’t a virus. It was all these stupid feelings she was experiencing over something equally stupid.Hair.
“Why does the haircut bother you?” he pressed.
She stalked off toward the fridge, taking out eggs and setting them on the counter, needing something to do withher hands for this discussion. “Because I’m not a perfect haircut kind of girl.”
He took a seat across from her at the kitchen island as she grabbed a bowl. “Why?”
“Do I look like those women in Miami who love sashaying into a salon? No way. I’m a tough girl from Liberty City. Besides, you pay a fortune for something that only causes trouble. I got used to looking a certain way. This cut makes me look chic, and I’m not chic.”
“You look like a kick-ass chef and woman,” he only stated in that serious tone he used when he meant business. “Beauty and brains with a side of badass. But to me, you simply look like Madison.”
“Do I though?” she asked, holding up an egg. “Because I feel weird when I look in the mirror.”
“You felt weird about us when we first got together.” He shot her a knowing smile. “Look how you feel now.”
She started cracking eggs. “Yeah, but that’s you. This is hair!”
“Is it?” he only pressed.
She considered throwing an eggshell at him, but that would ruin his nice clothes. “Say what you’re going to say.”
He bit his lip again as she grabbed a whisk and started beating out her frustration. Eggs liked a good whipping.
“This is about your image changing—you’re a hotshot chef now who lives in Paris.”
She groaned. “And in a mansion with a hot guy to boot. I’m living the dream.” Then she winced. “Oh God, that was awful of me. Did it hurt your feelings?”
He only shook his head, laughing. “Nope. When you get like this, I only love you more. Feel free to groan about having perfect hair and living with a hot guy in a mansion in Paris. Especially when that guy is me.”
“You’re so lucky I’m resisting the urge to throw a cracked eggshell at you,” she said, pointing her whisk at him.
“I know.” He walked over and kissed her on the top of her perfect head. “Save it for Dean. While I know the others will see the Madison they’ve always loved, Dean can be counted on for some cute observation.”
“I’ll bring my cleaver. The real one. That’s all there is to it.”
