Pleasure In His Kiss. Pamela YayeЧитать онлайн книгу.
thoughts. Suddenly, perspiration drenched her forehead and breathing was a challenge.
Karma checked him out on the sly. The man had it all. Flawless, cocoa-brown complexion? Yes. Perfect teeth and a defined jawline? Yes. Boyish good looks, and more muscles than Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson? Yes, yes, yes! There weren’t enough words in the English language to describe how gorgeous he was, and for a moment Karma was starstruck, consumed with desire. He was wearing a striped polo shirt, knee-length shorts and white sneakers, but he carried himself like a man in a designer suit, and Karma was so anxious to meet him she moved through the salon faster than an Olympian speed walker.
“You have to do something,” the stranger fumed, addressing the receptionist. “This is important. Very important. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”
His cologne, like his voice, was captivating, and listening to him made Karma tingle from her ears to her toes. Swallowing hard, she mentally chastised herself. Told herself to get a grip, and quit lusting after the man with the piercing gaze and ripped physique.
Joining the receptionist, Abigail Reese, behind the front desk, Karma offered her right hand in greeting, even though she knew touching him would push her horny body over the edge. Driven to succeed, she’d put her career above her personal life, and although her girlfriends teased her about being celibate, Karma loved being single and had zero desire to settle down. Why would she? Relationships sucked, and her ex-boyfriend had proved that even humble, sensitive men with good reputations couldn’t be trusted.
Her gaze returned to the stranger’s face, and zeroed in on his thick lips. Oh my. I bet they could do some serious damage. Tingles flooded her body, pricking her skin. Karma couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex, but if Mr. Tall-Buff-and-Dreamy invited her to his place she’d say yes in a heartbeat. It was an outrageous thought, considering she didn’t even know his first name, but her body had a mind of its own, and it wanted his hands in her hair, on her breasts and between her legs—
“Who are you?”
Startled by his curt tone, Karma broke free of her thoughts and met his gaze.
“Hello,” she said brightly, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. “I’m Karma Sullivan, the owner of this fine establishment. How may I help you?”
“You’re the owner? Finally. It’s about time you showed up.”
Ice spread through Karma’s veins, chilling her to the bone. Put off by his cold demeanor, she dropped her hands to her sides, and pinned her shoulders back, radiated confidence even though his rigid stance was intimidating. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“I’m Morrison Drake, Reagan’s uncle...”
He reached into his back pocket, took out his wallet, then raised his driver’s license in the air. Scanning it, Karma committed the details to memory. According to the information on the card, he was six feet six inches, two hundred and twenty-five pounds, with dark brown hair and eyes. Morrison was thirty-four years old, and he was born on...August 2...
Overcome with emotion, sadness stabbed her heart. Morrison shares the same birthday as my mom. Needing a moment to gather herself, she took a deep, calming breath. Thinking about Carmelita’s tragic death six years earlier always made her cry and since she didn’t want to break down at the salon, she willed herself to keep it together.
A troubling thought ran through her mind. Was Reagan okay? Was she in trouble? Needing more help at, Beauty by Karma, she’d hired the high school senior as a salon associate weeks earlier, and already had a soft spot for the teen. Karma straightened her bent shoulders and tried her best to recall everything Reagan had ever said about her uncle, Judge Morrison Drake.
Uncle Morrison is serious, stubborn and strict, she’d complained, one evening last week when they were cleaning the salon after closing. He rarely laughs or smiles, but I hope he finds a girlfriend soon, because I’m sick of him running my life. I’ll be eighteen in July, Ms. Karma. I should be able to do what I want, and go as I please...
Bits and pieces of other conversations they had filled her mind and, as Morrison glared at her, Karma suspected everything Reagan had told her about him was true. She had her work cut out for her, knew it was going to be hard to turn his scowl into a smile, but Karma was up for the challenge. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Drake. Welcome to Beauty by Karma.”
He nodded, but didn’t speak. Stared at her as if he was bored out of his mind.
“Reagan tricked me,” Karma said, hoping to lighten the mood with a joke. “You’re tall, dark and handsome. There’s no way you’re a tyrant!”
Morrison didn’t laugh. Instead, his frown deepened, and his lips formed a hard line.
“Is Reagan here? Have you seen her? Do you know where she is?” he asked, his gaze darting around the salon. “Your employees won’t tell me anything and it’s infuriating.”
Karma shook her head. “No, she’s not here. Why? What’s going on?”
“Reagan didn’t come home last night, and I’m worried about her.”
“Are you sure? Maybe she got home late, and left before you woke up.”
“I checked the alarm history. I set it before bed, and it was never deactivated.”
“Have you tried calling her?”
“Of course, I’ve tried calling her,” he snapped, his frustration evident by his sharp tone. “But every time I call, her cell goes straight to voice mail. Worse, she hasn’t responded to any of my text messages, and none of her friends know where she is, either.”
His voice cracked, faltered under the weight of his emotions, and his demeanor softened. As Karma watched Morrison pace the length of the waiting area, his head bent, his hands balled into fists, two things became abundantly clear: he was angry, and he was scared. Filled with sympathy, Karma wanted to help. All of her employees knew and loved Reagan, and she did too. Treated her like the kid sister she’d always wanted, but didn’t have—
“How long has my niece been working here?”
Caught off guard by the question, seconds passed before Karma spoke. “A month.”
“A month?” he repeated, stopping abruptly. “Are you kidding me?”
His gaze was full of confusion, but Karma didn’t know why. Couldn’t understand why he was shouting at her. Wondered why he was staring at her in disgust.
Morrison gestured to the reception desk with a flick of his head. “My niece came in here, filled out an application, and you didn’t think it was important to contact me before offering her a job?”
“No, Reagan’s almost eighteen, and her CV was impressive—”
Before she could finish her thought, Morrison cut her off midsentence.
“You should have called me. If I didn’t go into Reagan’s room this morning, and snoop through her things, I wouldn’t even know she worked here. Thank God I found a pay stub in her desk, or I’d still be in the dark about her having a part-time job.”
Karma winced, couldn’t believe Morrison had invaded his niece’s privacy, and had the nerve to look proud of himself, as if he’d made a three-point basket from half-court with his eyes closed. Feeling the need to defend herself, she said, “I rarely hire high school students to work in my salon, because they’re often unreliable, but I’m glad I took a chance on Reagan. She’s a wonderful young lady, and a model employee.”
Morrison snorted, then argued that a beauty salon was no place for a teenager.
Karma pursed her lips together and swallowed the fiery retort on the tip of her tongue. She treated everyone who entered her salon—from the delivery person to the relentless salesperson—with respect, and whenever her staff complained about clients, Karma would quote her mother’s favorite saying. Kindness