“I’m platinum blonde, Vicky, it doesn’t get lighter.”

“Slightly lighter streaks and slightly darker ones give light to your hair.”

“I’ll take the haircut, but I won’t be enslaved by hair color until my hair turns gray. It’s a tip I learned from my mother.”

“What Saint likes is a good ol’ easy woman. He’s not used to working for it—it’s always available to him, and that’s how he probably likes it. Though he really did seem thoroughly hooked on you, Rachel.”

My phone buzzes. I stare at the caller ID, my body once again getting into the action. SIN. Flushing just at the thought of him, I tuck the phone aside and watch my toes get a nice pink coat of paint.

“After the toes, full-on bikini wax,” Victoria announces from her seat next to mine.

I wonder whether she could speak a little louder so that not only the entire spa but the outside world as well could hear.

I lean forward and drop my voice. “No thanks.”

“Um. Hello? Not a question.”

I laugh. “Girl, I’ve got it perfectly maintained. Leave it!”

“All right.” She slaps down the magazine she’d been reading and sets it aside. “But guys like Saint like Brazilians.” She smiles secretively. “And of course, all those gorgeous girls from Brazil too.” She chooses a new magazine and continues in her role of advisor, like she’s an expert on him. “Womanizers like all girls; it’s part of their charm. They’re perfect specimens, and we can’t help but be drawn to that.” She smiles. “You know that earthiness about you, that gentle fierceness—he can be drawn to that. I saw that he was drawn to that. Under that drive, you’re sweeter and more gentle, and he’s more like fire, more forceful, more ambitious. Saint plays around but he’s hard—as everybody who’s done business with him knows.”

My phone vibrates, and this time it’s a call. SIN.

Force and fire.

Hard.

I want to answer. I want to hear his voice.

I also want to not want these things.

I swear, if the knot in my stomach gets any tighter, I’m going to implode.

I’m staring at my phone when another text pops up.

What does a man need to do to get you to say yes?

Chewing on my inner cheek, I stare at my phone for what feels like forever. Yes! Yes! YES! But also NO. We cannot. NO. NO. NO.

Finally I focus on the job, tell myself it’s a yes with an emotional and physical no attached, and answer:

I’ll meet you there

My hand is shaking as I tuck my phone away again and try to come back to the present. Spa. Makeover. Victoria. Oh yes, Victoria. Very interesting development here. I scrutinize her in confusion, then say, “From what you just told me, I’m starting to think you actually want me to succeed.”

To be honest, I don’t bother to hide my surprise because, well, I’ve been surprised by Victoria in a great way today.

“I do want you to succeed—why wouldn’t I? I love working at Edge. Where am I supposed to go?” A look of puzzlement crosses her face. “We all know we’re on our last breath. Nobody’s taking over. Our print run gets tinier by the second. Every one of us will end up without a job.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want that.” She sighs. “I want to be looked upon favorably by our bosses, but to be honest, I’m not sure what I’d do with Saint if I ever had him.”

“Oh, that boy just can’t be had.” I laugh lightly, but inside, this makes me sad. That Saint is so apart from the crowd may make it harder for him to feel like he “belongs” anywhere. That he will never belong to anyone at all.

“What do you mean, ‘he can’t be had’?”

“He just can’t be had, not in any way that matters to him. Nobody’s gotten more than just a tiny piece of Saint. Not his dad, not even his mother. No woman. Not his friends or his businesses. He spreads himself around, even in his interests. Nothing really claims him. He keeps that to himself, all that fire. He just gives you a glimpse of the spark.”

“Well”—she fans her face with her hands—“you already have a better grasp of him than I do!”

A little before 8 p.m., I enter my apartment, remembering I’d promised Victoria I’d wear a dress. “Try not to reveal too much. People always take their tops off for Saint. He might like wondering what’s underneath instead.”

“He won’t get to see it, so he can wonder to death,” I flippantly said.