She was nervous as hell about this little meeting.
“Would you stop fluttering around the shop like some sort of drunken butterfly?” Josie asked, exasperation in her voice. “He’s only a man, sweetums. And men are a dime a dozen. You can take my word for that.”
“He’s not a man, he’s a business associate. That’s the only reason I’m seeing him tonight. Business.”
“If you say so,” Josie said with a sly smile.
“I do.”
“Well, then settle down.” There was more than a hint of indulgence in Josie’s voice.
“I’m not nervous,” Libby said with as much force as she could muster.
“Hey, my appointment just canceled,” Pearly called as she came in from the back room.
“Why don’t you just take off early?” Libby offered.
“That’s one idea,” Pearly said slowly.
Libby sensed a trap, but asked anyway, “What’s the other?”
“You could let me have a go at that hair. It’s getting so long, and it’s such heavy hair that carrying around that weight all day can’t be comfortable.”
Libby grabbed her braid. No way was she going to let Pearly start trimming. “It’s fine.”
“Don’t you trust me?” Pearly asked innocently. Much too innocently.
“Of course I trust you,” Libby reassured her, even while she silently added, As far as I can throw you. “But I don’t have time to get my hair cut. I have a meeting in an hour and have to close up the shop and—”
“We’ll close up the shop for you. And I’m not talking a cut, just a small trim,” Pearly pressed.
“You really need one,” Josie said, blatantly choosing Pearly’s side as she joined the skirmish.
“Well…”
“Come on, Libby.” Pearly sensed the kill was at hand and pounced. “You just sit yourself in this chair and let me give your hair a quick rinse. We’ll have it all trimmed, smart and proper, before your date—”
“It’s not a date, it’s a business meeting,” Libby said again. Exactly who she was reminding she wasn’t sure. She’d had meetings in the past and had never felt this jittery about any of them.
“Who’s Libby meeting?” Mrs. Kane asked from Josie’s manicure chair.
“The new doctor next door,” Josie said.
“It’s just a meeting,” Pearly soothed. “Well, let’s get this done before your meeting shows up.”
Reluctantly Libby sat. The wash went fine, and Pearly led her to the chair, had the cape whipped over her shoulders before Libby could blink an eye. It wasn’t until Pearly picked up the scissors that the trouble started. “Uh-oh.”
“Uh-oh, what?” Libby asked, craning her head to peek in the mirror.
“I slipped with the scissors,” Pearly cheerfully responded.
“How did you slip with the scissors when you’ve only just started?”
“It was easy. But don’t you worry. You’re going to just sit here and let me fix up this mess I created.”
Knowing that her hacked hair was no accident, Libby resigned herself to a real cut—a cut she hadn’t asked for and didn’t necessarily want.
“Pearly, what are you doing?” she asked as the snipping seemed to continue for an inordinately long time. Libby cut hair for a living and knew that this was taking longer than a trim—even a trim with slipping—should take.
“You just sit back and relax. You don’t relax nearly enough.” Clip. Clip.
“And it doesn’t appear I’m going to get much relaxing done tonight.”
“Yeah, meetings aren’t very relaxing, are they?” Pearly asked. Snip. Snip.
“Especially not when you’re meeting with a handsome man like Joshua,” Josie added.
Clip. Clip.
“I haven’t met the new doctor yet.” Mrs. Kane looked interested. “Is he that good-looking?”
“Better,” Josie assured her.
“Worth getting an eye exam,” Pearly added. Snip. Snip.
Clip, clip, clip.
“It sounds like a lot of cutting for just a small trim.” Libby tried to turn and catch a glimpse in the mirror of what Pearly was up to, but Pearly grabbed her head.
“Well, there was that slip, remember.” Clip. “But don’t worry, you’re going to love it.” Snip.
“I already do,” Josie piped in.
Libby groaned.
And when Pearly finally turned the chair so she could look at her trim, she groaned even louder. “Pearly!”
“I told you I slipped.”
Muttering about scissor-slipping stylists, Libby toyed with her now-shoulder-length hair. It wasn’t so bad, but she wasn’t about to tell her sneaky, snipping, conniving employees that. She gave her head a small shake and watched in delight as the brunette curls, freed from the weight of her hair and her ever-present braid, bounced.
Despite the fact she didn’t hate the cut, might even like it a bit, she wasn’t about to admit a thing. She was just about to read them both a riot act when the bell over the door chimed merrily.
“Ready?” Dr. Gardner, the hunky reason for Pearly’s slippage, asked as he walked through the door.
“Just let me get my coat.” She grabbed it off the hook in the back room. Before she walked out the door she turned to the two haircut cohorts. “And don’t forget to get in an hour early tomorrow for that little meeting we’re going to have.”
“What little meeting?” Pearly asked.
“The one where we discuss professionalism, honesty and nonslip scissors.”
The phone rang and Josie practically vaulted over the chair to get it and escape the lecture.
“Nonslip scissors?” Dr. Gardner—Libby refused to think of him as Joshua—asked.
“Snips and Snaps,” Josie said into the receiver.
“Private joke.” Libby trudged after him toward the door. “Where are we going?”
“My place? I’ve got an apartment at Lovell Place, so it’s close.”
There was no way she was going to Joshua Gardner’s home, no way at all. This was a professional association, and professional associations didn’t get all chummy at each other’s homes—dates did. And this wasn’t a date.
“I was thinking maybe a restaurant, or—”
“Libby,” Josie called. “It’s Mrs. Henderson.”
“Meg?” A sense of dread crept into Libby’s heart. “Is something wrong with Meg?”
“She said there was a small accident.”
A helpless feeling washed over Josh as the color totally deserted Libby. She raced for the phone, and he followed. Who the hell was Meg? A sister? A friend?
As she spoke in hushed tones to this Mrs. Henderson, some of the color returned to her face. By the time she hung up she looked better, though obviously still concerned. “Listen, I hate to cancel on you, but I’ve got to go.”
“Who’s Meg?” he asked.
“My