“And two, I had to get a respectable job for after school and weekends. I was a delivery boy for the first few months. Luckily, one of my new teachers, Miss Mullins, noticed my efforts at school and introduced me to her brother who owned a bookshop. I started out sweeping the floors, then moved to apprentice. When I graduated from high school, he gave me a job. I’ve worked there ever since.”
“I’m so happy to know you achieved your dream.”
“Thank you. But now it’s your turn to spill the truth.” He ignored her scoff. “What are you doing here by yourself? The Genie I knew would never have missed out on all the holiday fun Seattle has to offer.”
“Utter rejection.”
Her tone might be melodramatic, but Tommy didn’t miss the underlying sadness. His grip tightened on the door frame.
“Who rejected you?”
“My fiancé, for starters.”
His nails dug into the wood. “You’re engaged?”
“The more accurate phrase would be former fiancé.”
“Thank you for the clarification,” he managed, his stomach unsure whether to relax or not. “What happened?”
“He jilted me. Rather publicly,” she added. “I’m hiding out here until the hubbub dies down. Hopefully, there will be a few other scandals this holiday season and my sad story will soon be old news.”
“Why did he break the engagement?” He kept his voice as level as possible, but inside he was shaking. From rage, from impotence…from relief.
“We were a good match, at least on paper. But he never took the time to know me. He was positively flabbergasted at the Roberts’ winter gala when I corrected his assertion that I’d give up my hobby once children came along. I tried to keep the conversation private, but you should have seen how his lip curled with distaste. Then he said my artistic dreams were an embarrassment, and I’m afraid I quite lost my composure.” She heaved a sigh. “As soon as all eyes were on us, he broke the engagement. It was horrible.”
Tommy’s brows rose. Even as a girl, the quickest way to make Imogen do something was to tell her she shouldn’t. Or couldn’t. “What a blockhead. Sounds like you escaped a lifetime of misery.”
“I agree. Besides, now I have more time to focus on my profession. It’s going very well. In fact, hold still…” He froze and there was a faint click and whirr. “All done.”
He shut the door, removed his boots, and placed them against the wall where they belonged. He turned around. Imogen hadn’t emerged from behind her camera, but her stance surprised him. The successful professional she’d just claimed to be had already been replaced by a nail-chewing novice who stared down at her equipment like it was an unsolvable puzzle.
“Will you develop the image today?”
Imogen’s shoulders tensed and she jerked her hand from her mouth. She grimaced in what he gathered was supposed to be a smile. “The plate will keep. Let’s take care of that hair.”
Something was bothering her, but it was clear she had no interest in sharing. As someone with plenty of his own secrets, he could understand. Just because they’d become friends again didn’t mean they had to bare their souls to each other. Not like the old days, when he had to clamp a hand over her mouth and beg her to stop giving him a moment-by-moment narration of her morning. The difference sent a prickle of sadness through him, but he shrugged it off.
While Imogen moved to the hearth to collect water warming in a pan, he settled on a wooden chair at the small, square table in the center of the room. He removed his hat and the muslin cloth beneath, grimacing as his fingers touched the smelly goop smeared in his hair. “Yuck. How do you stand this?”
“I don’t. My mother does.” Imogen poured the water into a shallow, metal washbasin and lifted it carefully. “You’re lucky she left a bottle up here during her last visit. There.” She set the washbasin on the table and moved in front of him. A strange expression flitted over her face.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said hastily. “Lean your head back.”
He squinted at her, but she nudged his shoulder until he did as ordered. A cupful of warm water sluiced down his head, and then her fingers were in his hair. The gentle sifting was exquisite. A shiver went down his spine and he closed his eyes, his rigid body softening in surrender. Her breath wafted over his forehead and he drew in her sweet and spicy scent with greedy inhales. The warm heat of her hip pressed into his shoulder, anchoring him to the earth while his mind floated on a cloud of tranquility. He never wanted to lose her soft touch. Never wanted to leave?—
“Do you feel like you’re in danger?”
His eyes flew open. Yes, he wanted to say. Of wanting you too much. Again. “No, why?”
She gestured to his lap. “You’re…aroused.”
He let out a startled laugh. “The only danger is how good your hands feel in my hair. Are all your visitors charged a peep for such pampering?” She tugged sharply on his hair, but he only laughed again.
“Yes, I peeped. You would have, too. But no, I’m not pampering you.”
“Then why do you caress me so sweetly?” He gave her his most wicked grin. “Perhaps you’re imagining a different appendage of mine?”
