Husband for Hire by Susan Wiggs Page B

“The choices you’ve made.”
    “Honey, I don’t have time to stop for lunch, much less validate my life choices.”
    “Going back is necessary closure. You’ve told me enough about the circumstances of your leaving that I understand you left a few loose ends untied.”
    “That’s a diplomatic way of putting it.” The truth was, she had fled a town that had humiliated her father, left a husband who had hung her out to dry, and found herself alone with a mother so devastated by events that she couldn’t bring herself to leave the house. After a couple of glasses of wine one time, Twyla had confessed this to Sadie, whose eyes had filled with angry tears for the broken young girl Twyla had been and for the panic-stricken Gwen, who had yet to step off the porch of the old McCabe place.
    “It’s not too late to cancel,” Twyla said. “I really should stay. I know Diep can do hair as well as nails, but Saturday’s always a big day at the shop, and I’ve never spent a night away from Brian—”
    “You worry too much,” Diep Tran scolded, bustling past with a tray of clanking nail supplies. “I keep the salon open, your mother keep Brian, you go to Jackson with Dr. Hunk. No worries, none at all.”
    “Ha. Easy for you to say.” She pumped down the swivel chair and untied Sadie’s smock, shaking it out and tossing it into a stainless steel pail. “If I really wanted validation, I’d go alone instead of leaning on Dr. Hunk.”
    “Why would you want to when you have a willing hunk to lean on?” Sadie asked.
    “That’s what I mean about something being wrong. He’s too willing. There’s got to be something the matter with this picture.”
    “Good God, did you leave your self-esteem hanging on the back of the bathroom door this morning?” Sadie demanded. “Why can’t you simply allow the idea that a gorgeous, successful man wants to take you away for a weekend?”
    Twyla would never admit it, but just hearing the words made her stomach jump with a forbidden thrill. Maybe he did find her attractive and interesting, though they had so little in common. On the other hand, maybe he was simply a responsible guy who wanted to fulfill his end of the bargain. Every time she was tempted to believe in him, she reminded herself that logic could explain his actions. Best to be practical, she told herself briskly. Hopeless romantics were just that: hopeless.
    Diep checked the clock. “No appointments for half an hour. You sit, Twyla. Time to do your nails.”
    “I never get my nails done,” she protested. “It interferes with my work.”
    “No more working today. You take tomorrow off. Get ready for Dr. Hunk.”
    “Oh, God—”
    “Quit being such a baby.” Sadie pressed the small of her back, propelling her to Diep’s station. “Do as Diep says and call me tonight. I have to run.”
    After Sadie left, Twyla sat down and laid her hands on the table. “Okay. I’m all yours.”
    “Feet first,” Diep said sternly. “Shoes off.”
    Twyla knew she would get no peace unless she complied, so she took off her shoes. The pedicure, she hadto admit, was pure heaven. Silky, heated lotion in the foot tub. A massage that made her shut her eyes and groan. Delicate strokes of the brush, applying a perfect seashell pink.
    “Too bad it’s not a real date,” Twyla said. “I wouldn’t mind showing off my feet.”
    “It is a real date. And you better show off your feet,” Diep said sternly.
    “Maybe I’ll wear sandals on the flight to Jackson,” Twyla conceded.
    “Maybe you go barefoot.”
    Twyla bit her lip sternly, trying not to picture herself naked…with Rob Carter.
    Diep finished, then plucked Twyla’s hands out of the heated gloves. “Okay, now the hands.”
    There were women who drove as far as seventy miles to get their nails done by Diep Tran. When it came to nails, she had no peer. She bent industriously over Twyla’s hands, transforming the blunt, workmanlike nails into the elegant, sculptured