Category: The Beautician and the Billionaire

About the book

Charisse is still reeling from a miscarriage that tore her relationship apart last year. Her only focus is making her beauty salon a hit in Manhattan.

Conor is still recovering from the death of his wife three years ago. He spends his days orchestrating corporate takeovers.

Charisse and Conor want nothing more than to be left alone.

But when Charisse’s dad loses three of Conor’s ships at sea, negotiations begin that land Charisse under contract to Conor.

An excerpt from the book

Charisse withdrew her shaking hand, making a fist in the hopes he wouldn’t see it. She’d been prepared for his cold business mask—the one she was sure he used when taking over companies. Instead he’d arrived with sincerity and honesty. She’d almost leaned in and kissed him when he told her why he’d been such a rat bastard after the shampoo yesterday.

She should’ve kept her restraint instead of practically offering to undress him. Jeez Louise, she was getting in way over her head.
He watched her as he slowly slid his tie out from beneath his collar and undid the top buttons of his shirt. To keep herself from undoing the rest, she turned away and pulled out a towel from a shelf behind the sink.

Steady girl. You’re not ready for a relationship, especially with a tycoon like Conor Grishin.

But the words in her mind echoed hollowly throughout her head as she concentrated more on the way his body eased into the chair. Fantastic butt and broad shoulders just as she liked them. She tucked the towel around his collar and pressed on his shoulders to indicate he should lean back. She didn’t speak for fear her voice would shake like her hands.

But he understood and leaned back with his eyes closed. She drew her hands away slowly as he’d done when he touched her arm early. Turning on the water, she sprayed it over her hands until it was hotter than she’d had it get yesterday. She guessed by the way he drank his coffee fast while it was scalding, he wouldn’t want the water lukewarm.

The water cascaded over his head. “Is that too hot?”

“Not at all,” he said. His voice already sounded drowsy. He must not take much down time. She combed her fingers through his hair and raised the bottom of his head up to make sure the back got wet too. When she began massaging the shampoo into his head, she relaxed the muscles in her arms and allowed her connection to him to guide her fingertips.

He exhaled a long breath. His face appeared serene. The Mozart music made her recall her fantasy of walking through the gardens of Versailles. But France was so far away. They should start with dinner. No, he’d just asked her to shampoo his hair, not go on a date.
Her gaze trailed down his chest, broad like his shoulders, over his slim torso and right to a large bulge in his pants.

Her hands froze for just one moment. Then she drew back and turned the water on. So maybe dinner was an option. Or maybe he was hoping to get down and dirty at the sink. She stifled a nervous giggle. He was probably just hoping she hadn’t noticed. But how could she not? He was huge.

It was good to be a woman. Her panties had been wet since he’d touched her arm at the couch, but she wasn’t advertising it.

After she finished rinsing his hair, she took out a fresh towel and dried his hair, sneaking peeks at his lap—still bold and big. Her face burned with embarrassment or desire, she wasn’t sure which. She dropped the towel into the sink and styled his hair with her fingertips. She should just tell him she could style his hair at her chair. And ignore what was going on in his pants.
He still had his eyes closed and appeared at peace. He hadn’t fallen asleep again had he?

She stepped to his side and put her hand on his shoulder. “Conor?”
He gave a sigh, but didn’t open his eyes and didn’t say anything. She tugged at the towel around his neck. He finally lifted his head up and opened his eyes.

“I thought you’d fallen asleep again,” she said with a smile as she removed the towel around his neck and also dropped it into the sink.

His hand caught hers and his other hand wrapped around her waist. A second later, she was sitting on his lap with her legs hanging over the armrest of his chair. Her whole body tingled. She blocked off her rational mind telling her she wasn’t ready for any sort of intimacy and allowed the emotions and lust to flow freely.

He searched her face and gazed at her lips before pressing his own gently against hers.