Three hours and Maggie wasn’t sure how many outfits later, she found herself sitting in front of a mirror at a very upscale beauty salon. She knew the place had to be pricey because they’d offered her a latte, bottled water or cocktail before discussing her hair. No one had ever offered her a cocktail before cutting her hair. Of course the way her stomach was jumping, getting tipsy didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
“Not too short,” Qadir said as he stood behind the chair, next to the stylist—a short man with a ponytail. “I like her hair long.”
“I agree.” The stylist, whose name Maggie couldn’t remember, ran his hands through her hair. “She has a natural wave. I want to layer it so we can see the movement.”
Maggie wrinkled her nose. “Does anyone care that I hate my natural wave?” It was one of the reasons she wore her hair as long as she did and always tied it back. To hide the natural wave.
“Not really,” Qadir said with a smile, then bent down and kissed the side of her neck.
“But it’s my hair,” she murmured without much energy. She was too caught up in the tingles racing through her body.
It had been a nothing kind of kiss—the only kind Qadir seemed to give her. A light brush, a meaningless peck. Kisses for show. Kisses that stole her breath away and made her want to…to…to something. Kiss more. Kiss back. Beg. Instead she was forced to sit there quietly while they continued to discuss her hair.
In the end, they chose the layered style they’d talked about, along with subtle highlights.
“Could I be blond?” Maggie asked. “I’d like to be blond.”
Qadir turned the chair so she was facing him. “You are beautiful just as you are.”
Beautiful? He didn’t mean that, did he? “But I’m getting highlights. Going blond is practically the same.”
“Not to me.”
“Should we have the whole ‘this is my hair’ conversation again?”
“I will not be listening.”
He leaned in and kissed her. On the mouth. Firmly.
She told herself it was just so the people in the hair salon would gossip about them. She told herself it didn’t matter to her at all, one way or the other. It was just a kiss.
But it felt like a lot more.
His lips were warm and firm, taking and offering at the same time. He braced himself on the arms of the chair so they weren’t touching anywhere but their mouths. Still, that was enough to make her whole body sit up and take notice.
He moved his mouth back and forth before brushing her lower lip with his tongue.
Instinctively she parted for him. Anticipation made her tense. When he slid inside, she wanted to squirm closer, to take whatever he offered. Instead she lifted her hand to his shoulder and felt the strength of him.
His tongue touched hers. Sparks flew in every direction. He circled her as they began a dance so exciting, so erotic, she found it difficult to breathe.
She’d been kissed before hundreds of times. She’d made love. She’d experienced desire for a man. But nothing had prepared her for the hunger that consumed her whenever Qadir kissed her.
Wanting began low in her belly and spiraled out, filling every cell with a need that almost frightened her. She felt control slipping and worried she would beg him to take her right there, in the chair, in front of anyone who happened to be watching. She felt breathless and out of control. It was frightening…and yet she never wanted him to stop.
At last he pulled away. Something hot and bright burned in his dark eyes. She had a feeling he could see the same in her. Passion, she thought. Heady and unfamiliar, but more compelling than she’d ever thought possible.
“You are a surprise,” he murmured.
“I could say the same about you. Of course it could be a prince thing. You might take special classes and be taught techniques not known to mortal man.”
“I am mortal and there is no special training.”
Which meant it was just him. A slightly scary thought.
“I must go. The car will return and the driver will wait to take you back to the palace.”
“Okay.”
“I look forward to seeing your transformation this evening.”
“We’re doing something tonight?” Not that she minded.
“A play.”
“Right. You mentioned that. I should probably get a calendar.”
“I’ll have my assistant print out a schedule.”
That made her smile. “I’ve never dated by schedule before. Maybe he should include suggestions on what I should wear. Formal, informal, strictly casual.”
“If you like.”
She started to say she’d been kidding, but then realized having that information would help. “Theater is dressy, right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” She thought about the clothes they’d bought earlier that afternoon. “I have a couple of things I can wear. What’s the play?”
“A musical. Les Miserables. The king’s favorite.”
“Has he seen it?”
“Many times. He’ll see it again tonight.”
“Oh. He’s going, too?”
“We’ll be in his box. It will be a good opportunity for him to get to know you better. As the woman I’m dating.”
With that he straightened and walked away.
The stylist returned. “He’s so hot. You’re really lucky. Are you all right?”