He’d kissed her. She should forget all about that kiss. She should…

Let’s not aim at the stars here, she told herself. Let’s just be a good little employee and put the memory of that kiss on the backburner.

But not very far back.

He was out of his depth.

They’d purchased three salons so far in this round of expansion. In each of those, Guy had visited early, taken note of the features of the building as they were, then brought his notes back to his cool grey office in Manhattan and drawn them up as he’d like them to be. With plans prepared, he’d sent a team of professionals to do his bidding, and six months later they’d opened as a Carver Salon.

Now, thanks to Lorna’s indiscretion, the Carver name would be used before he could leave his imprint.

He had to get rid of the fluff, and fast. Instead of sitting down, calmly planning for the future, he was trying to figure how he could get this place clear so if the media arrived to see the latest Carver Salon they’d see something worthy of the name. How to transform fluff to elegance in a week?

And how to ignore Jenny, sitting silently at her desk? She sat with her hands folded in front of her, a good little employee, waiting for instructions.

What was it about this woman that unnerved him?

Why was she so different?

He didn’t do relationships. He didn’t…

‘Phone Kylie,’ he said at last, goaded. ‘Tell her she’s having a Carver Wedding.’

‘I already have,’ she said meekly.

He was out of his depth. He needed help here.

‘I need your assistance,’ he snapped, and she nodded, ready to be helpful.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Jenny…’

‘Sir?’

‘Will you cut it out?’

‘Cut what out?’

‘I don’t know where the hell to start,’ he confessed, and watched as she struggled to keep the expression on her face subservient.

‘You’re asking for my input?’

‘I want some solid help here,’ he told her. ‘I assume you’re not just the girl who mans the desk? You’ve been running this place on your own since Lorna’s stroke.’