LITMIR.BIZ

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before. That was his favorite—fudge brownies. It could make a good song title. Most of her silly curses could. He was keeping a list.

      “Lily of the valley!”

      A new one. That was a goodie. On his laptop, Jordan switched from his music-notation program to the word-processing file and added “lily of the valley” to such expletives as “dreamsicle” and “shantung.” She said “shantung” like two words with the emphasis on the second syllable. If she was really mad, she added “silk” to the phrase, starting quietly and building, “Silk shan-TUNG!”

      Damn. He was lying here, writing a new song, and falling in serious like with Lia whateverherlastnamewas.

      Serious like.

      The last time he’d felt the L word in any form for a woman, it hadn’t gone well. The relationship had degenerated into a tug-of-war over whose career was more important and who was going to have to accommodate whom at any given time. And neither he nor Shanna had been willing to give up what they’d been doing to follow the other one. Shanna had real talent. As did he. So they’d called it quits. Lesson learned.

      Lia didn’t have a band of her own and concerts booked two years in advance. Lia—

      He was getting way ahead of himself. An hour ago, he’d just wanted her to admit she found him attractive. Rattle her cage a little. Now, he wanted more.

      Jordan closed his eyes and listened to her speak with pleasantly firm professionalism. He’d bet she was smiling because she’d read that people could hear smiles in your voice. And that would be the only reason she was smiling, because she sure wasn’t happy.

      He could make her happy. Real happy.

      And he’d do it by freeing her inner Lia.

      He’d start not at her neck, but by unfastening that straight black skirt at the waist. This woman needed to breathe, breathe deeply and feed her muscles with oxygen. Then he’d unbutton a button at her neck—just one—and the buttons at her wrist, because he wanted her to be able to stretch and move.

      An image of Lia stretching, catlike, before raising her arms overhead, drifted into his thoughts. He saw her arms slowly rise and her wrists emerge from the long sleeves. The cuffs flapped open. Her fingers flexed. Her wrists rotated. It was like watching a slow-motion video of a growing flower, maturing and opening.

      Good Lord Almighty, since when had a woman’s wrists turned him on?

      In his mind, she lowered her arms and smiled at him. He saw his own hands touch her shoulders, kneading away kinks and awakening muscles. She exhaled a sigh and tilted her head back. His hand reached forward and unbuttoned another button on her blouse, allowing him to slip his fingers beneath the collar and touch her skin. Warm. Smooth. Soft. As his thumbs massaged the knots beneath her nape, his fingers slipped the bra straps off her shoulders.

      Jordan smiled, because in his mind, they were sturdy, utilitarian straps, and then he frowned because they’d left grooves in her shoulders.

      Ooooookay. He was fantasizing in way too much detail.

      He cleared his throat—and his mind—turned the light back on and concentrated on his song.

      Which was about her, naturally.

      So. He was attracted. He was interested. He was intrigued. And he was most definitely having carnal thoughts.

      “Fudge brownies, fudge brownies, fudge brownies!”

      Jordan chuckled to himself. Definitely carnal thoughts. He leaned his head against the fitting-room wall and listened.

      “I know. I know. Yes, I told you not to access the network. It’s totally my fault. Zhin! Chill! Your face is fine. And at least we got the pinks. How do they look?”

      Silence.

      “Yeah, I had doubts about Morning Frost. Go ahead and substitute Morning Blush. I trust you. Well…I’m honored that you’re honored.”

      Silence.

      “Really? So they like the idea that much? Wow. I’m…Hey, I’ve got an idea. Tell them—no, ask them…well, first tell them it would be an honor, and then ask them if they’d pose for a photo we can hang in our salon. We can call them the Chrysanthemum Wedding team.”

      Jordan could actually hear the Chinese girl chattering through Lia’s receiver. Lia must have pulled the phone away from her ear. Jordan couldn’t make out what Zhin was saying and wasn’t sure whether she was speaking in English or Chinese, but she sure was excited.

      Lia was speaking again. “I’m glad they’re enthusiastic. I know Ms. Gray will love the idea. Zhin, you’ve got a good capitalist streak going there…. That was a compliment! I wish I’d thought of that idea myself…. Zhin, stop it. You know, I’ll still like you even if we disagree sometimes. Of course I like you! I was just saying that if you ever disagree, don’t be afraid to say so.”

      Silence.

      “Actually, I didn’t mean right now.”

      Jordan laughed, tried to stop it and ended up with a horrible muffled snort. His ear popped.

      “Zhin, I’ve got to go.”

      Oops. Lia had heard him.

      “I’ll let Ms. Gray know what happened and we’ll re-create the orders. I’ll e-mail you when I’m up and running again.”

      Should he say something?

      He flinched as Lia’s voice sounded right next to his ear. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.” She walked away.

      Moments later, he heard the front of the salon door open and close.

      He couldn’t help himself. Jordan leaped up and hurried outside to follow her.

      He didn’t have to run far.

      A furious Lia stood outside the shop, cell phone pressed to her ear. “Do you mind? This call is going to be bad enough without you listen—Elizabeth? Sorry to bother you.” Lia angrily waved him back inside the shop before pressing her finger to her ear.

      Jordan shook his head and made a cutting motion over his throat. There was nothing that had happened that couldn’t wait until morning. She didn’t have to go and spoil William’s night out.

      He’d seen the way the man had looked at Beth Ann and the expensive suit he’d worn this evening. When a man wore a suit like that on an outing with a woman, he had serious intentions toward that woman. Men noticed the effect. Women noticed the details.

      And Jordan noticed the effect details had on women.

      “Don’t say anything,” he mouthed at Lia.

      After glaring at him, she turned around.

      “THERE’S NOTHING MORE to do tonight.”

      Lia stared at Elizabeth. The poor woman must be in shock. After Lia had described the disaster, Elizabeth had seemed distracted, remarking that she remembered the orders and proving it by rattling off the brides who’d come in today and their selections and sizes, waving off Lia when she’d scrambled to write them down.

      “Do it tomorrow,” she’d said. And then, Elizabeth had looked off into space before clearing her throat and announcing that there was nothing more to do. “Just finish up here and go on home.” And then she left.

      Left. As in left the shop without the orders placed, without the orders even recorded. Left. Left Lia with the drowned computer.

      Okay. Okay, think. Calm. Think calming thoughts. But things were already calm. There had been no yelling, although Elizabeth didn’t ever yell per se. When she was angry, her words became very distinct and clipped. But Elizabeth had just spoken normally, if somewhat preoccupied.

      Lia didn’t know what to do. Either her boss was having a breakdown or…

      Or nothing. Her

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