Café Noir was dim, the late afternoon light waning on a cold December day. Christmas had just passed and New Year's was looming. Daniel Randall did not want to spend the next year as he had the last ten.

He looked across the table at Sasha. Damn, she was a nubile young thing. The minute she had walked into his OB/GYN office to apply for the job as his assistant, he had wanted her. She was pure sexuality in stiletto heels. And Daniel had spent a lot of time over the last few months keeping those heels spread wide with his cock buried deep between her lovely long legs. Sasha was the opposite of Valerie, his wife. Sasha mewled like a kitten during sex, coming within minutes, and then begging for more. She was fire to Valerie's extinguished flame. And Sasha had begged him to do things that Valerie didn't even have in her vocabulary. Just the thought of Sasha's high, round ass bent over his desk ready for him to slam into, her screams of passion getting him off like nothing had before, made him swell with lust.

Valerie had always been the prim, proper wife. The wife that he'd needed when he started his practice. Now that he was the most prominent gynecologist in town, he was ready for a fresh lithe body to heat his bed. Sasha had the look--and the willingness to please him in anyway that he wanted.

Daniel was surprised that he found himself in love with Sasha, in a certain way.

But leaving Valerie for Sasha would not do. He had his reputation to think about. It had to look like Valerie's fault.

Sasha pursed her lips at him, pouting. "When can we be together all the time, Daniel? I miss you when you're not with me."

Daniel shifted in his seat, his dick stiffening at the sight of her puckered mouth, deciding in that instant he was going to be a little bit later getting home tonight. He had to have those full red lips ringing his cock, sucking him off like a Popsicle before he went home tonight.

He cleared his throat. "Don't worry, Sash. We'll be together soon. I have a plan."

And he did.

Within six months, his colleagues would be commiserating with him, asking him just how he had put up with such a crazy wife for so long...

Chapter One

"That son of a bitch!" Nicole Steele hissed as she pushed her way through Valerie Randall's barely open front door. She dropped her bag on the tile floor of the entrance hall and gathered Valerie into her arms. "What the hell happened? What has he done to you?"

Valerie Randall was her best friend and at the moment the usually not-a-hair-out-of-place-and-in-full-makeup-Valerie looked like she'd been in a catfight. And lost. Plus, she was crying as if her heart had been ripped to shreds. As soon as Valerie had peeked through the crack in the front door, Nicole had known Daniel had something to do with it. With the way that Valerie now looked--like a lost waif--she knew that it was bad. Valerie definitely didn't look like the gorgeous wife of Daniel Randall, the most prominent gynecologist in town.

"He--he left me, Nic," Valerie said, her voice muffled against Valerie's shoulder.

Nicole gritted her teeth and kicked the front door shut. "Come on, hon," she steered Valerie toward the kitchen. "We need a glass of wine."

* * * *

Valerie handed the glass of Merlot to Nicole and tried not to sniffle. Her nose was so stuffy that she didn't think she'd ever be able to breathe right again. She'd been doing so well today, not breaking down, but when she'd seen Nic at the front door, she lost it. Now she was struggling to get her emotions under control again. Sitting down at the table across from her best friend, Valerie fought back tears. "It's not my fault. Is it?"

Nicole's eyes glittered, tears of her own swimming in them. "When did he leave?"

"Two days ago." Valerie looked down at her own glass. She felt empty and unwanted.

"Why didn't you call me then?" Nicole reached over and touched her hand.

Valerie shrugged and looked up. "At first," she began, her throat tight with the words she wanted to say, "I thought he was, you know, trying to shock me. But then," she raised her fingertips to her temple, "the divorce papers came today." Her head pounded, spikes driving into her temples with every beat of her heart.

"Did he give you a reason? I mean, I know you've been through a lot, with your hysterectomy and the cancer thing back in January but..."

"That's just it," Valerie interrupted. Her eyes teared up again. She swiped at them angrily. "It's July. It's been six months. Ever since the surgery, he's been strange but I couldn't put my finger on it. Now ... I know. Do you know how many times Daniel and I have had sex since I had surgery?" Valerie raised two fingers in an angry peace sign. "Twice. And the last time was in April."

"So, he's having an affair." Nicole met her eyes.

Valerie let out a harsh laugh. "Not only do I think he's having an affair, I know he's not attracted to me any more." She got up from the table and snatched the bottle of Merlot from the countertop. "I," she said, refilling her glass, "am no longer what Daniel considers a 'woman.'" Valerie raised her wineglass in a toast to the wide-eyed Nicole, and then took a sip. The wine, room temperature just as she liked it, snapped against her tongue with a flavor like the tart skin of a grape directly off the vine, warm in the sun. She swirled it in her mouth, the first thing she had savored since Daniel had left. To be more precise--it was the first time she had bothered to savor anything since the cancer scare and the surgery.

Nicole drained her glass and held it out for more. "Hon, if you were having so much trouble, you should have called me. I could have taken a few days off."

Valerie poured more wine into Nicole's glass. "It wasn't something I wanted to talk about. To be honest--I still don't." She put the bottle on the table and sat down again. She had kept her feelings caged inside since the surgery, the sharp knife of doubting her sexuality constantly slicing at her. Rubbing her face with her hands, she sighed. "Daniel is right, you know," she said, looking up at Nicole.

"Having a hysterectomy doesn't make you less of a woman and you know it." She reached over and squeezed Valerie's hand. "You had to have it done, sweetie. I'm just glad that the tests on the cysts came back cancer free and you're going to be okay."

"Well, so am I. I'm glad the test came back okay but that's not the real problem, is it? Daniel said..."

Nicole raised a hand, palm up, cutting her off. "Stop."

Valerie closed her mouth. How could Nicole know how she felt? Nicole Steele was an agent who handled some of the most prominent sports figures today. She was confident and brassy. Her life consisted of travel and big names. Nicole was of average height and not what you would say was "gorgeous," but she could command a room from the time she entered it with just one look of her large hazel eyes. Nicole lived a life she loved and had no complaints.

Valerie, on the other hand, had been confident in herself up until the surgery. So many things were left undone in her life that the surgery had affected. She wanted to have a solid marriage and be a mother. Now, she had neither and her sense of being was shaken to the core. She felt stripped to the bone and ugly as sin. She had heard that having a hysterectomy could effect a woman this way, but she'd never thought she have to experience it herself. Ever since the surgery, whenever she looked in the mirror, she questioned just who she was. Her hair was a mess. Her skin was blotchy. Then, when Daniel had kept refusing her advances, she took it out on herself with chocolate. Ten pounds gained and now her clothes were skintight. She was a mess. Daniel was right. She was a frumpy housewife that had absolutely no sex appeal, and she was only thirty-six.

"Stop looking like that," Nicole scolded, bringing Valerie out of her reverie. Nicole rose from the table and went directly to the phone.

"Who are you calling?" Valerie asked.

Nicole's fingers flew over the buttons. "I know just what you need--Diana!" Nicole turned her back, talking to someone named Diana on the other end of the line.

Valerie couldn't hear what she was saying. Her eyebrows drew together. She wasn't sure if she liked this.

Nicole hung up. "There."

"There, what?" Nicole could surprise Valerie at times and there were other times--Valerie had learned the hard way--that you didn't dare share your secrets with Nicole. She didn't really mean to, but sometimes Nicole just blurted things out that should have been left unsaid.

"You'll see," Nicole said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Valerie speared her with a look. "Tell me now. I'm not up to one of your surprises. Not now."

Nicole sighed heavily. "Oh, alright. I made you an emergency appointment with Mason for in the morning. You look like you need it. No offense." She smiled. "Mason can work wonders, you know."

Valerie did know. Mason. She hadn't seen him since before the surgery and she looked like it. She just couldn't bring herself to go to Sense of a Woman when she didn't really feel like "being" one.

Valerie had been going to Mason Cole's salon, Sense of a Woman, for two years now. It was her only extravagance. The salon had opened just when Valerie had decided to change hairdressers and she thought she'd give it a try.

Sense of a Woman was different from any salon Valerie had ever been to. The staff catered to a woman's every need. Hair, nails, pedicures, facials--all in a private atmosphere. Each stylist was adept at every procedure and each had their own private room where, when you were being worked on, you didn't have to worry about anyone seeing you "not quite at your best." Sense of a Woman was relaxing and soothing. A gem in this small town.

And Mason Cole was not only the best stylist--he was also the owner.

Valerie had hit it off with Mason from the first day that they met. He had talked her into putting golden streaks in her strawberry blond hair. The effect had been amazing.

She found herself attracted to him but her marriage had been number one to her and she would never jeopardize it with a fling. Instead, Mason had become her confidant. Mason, with his milk chocolate eyes and long chestnut hair that was naturally lightened by the sun, falling to just past his shoulders and so shiny, Valerie always found herself wanting to touch it. But she never did. His tanned skin and high cheekbones spoke of his American Indian heritage, and the way that he carried himself was one of a powerful sort of grace.

Mason was who she really wanted to talk to but--

Valerie shook her head. "I can't. I don't feel like going out of the house. I haven't seen Mason in so long..." Her voice trailed off.

"And that's the perfect reason to see him now," Nicole said. "You need his touch."

Valerie met Nicole's eyes, her mind on another sort of touch.

As if Mason would ever consider touching me in that way, she thought, remembering her reason for not seeing him for so long.

"Here, drink up," Nicole said, pouring the last of the wine into Valerie's glass. "I'm staying the night to make sure you go to your appointment. It'll do you a world of good." She grinned. "You'll be a whole new woman."

The next morning, Valerie awoke with a raging headache. Too much wine, too many tears. Nicole would not let her out of her appointment though. She pushed, prodded and shoved Valerie until she got her in the car and on their way to Sense.

"Tell me," Nicole said as she drove through the quiet morning streets, "why is it that you stopped going to Mason?"

Valerie picked at a torn fingernail. "It was Daniel, really. He was the reason I stopped going." Valerie fought the urge to flip down the sun visor and check her face in the mirror on the back of it.

"Jealous, was he?"

"You could say that." Valerie fingered the thin gold bangle that graced her right wrist. "He had the strange idea that Mason and I were having an affair."

Nicole let out a laugh. "Good God--who wouldn't want to have an affair with Mason Cole? Just looking at him makes my mouth water and I only see him every six months."

Valerie looked out the window, knowing that most of Mason's clients had eyes for him. But Mason, though always polite and sometimes flirty, had never gone further with any of them except what he did for them at Sense. At least that's all Valerie knew of. Mason had told her once that it was taboo in his book to deepen the client/stylist relationship. Except for the friendship they shared, which existed inside the salon, they had never seen each other outside the salon. They had traded birthday cards. They had given each other Christmas gifts. But the gifts had never been too personal, even though they talked about their personal lives to each other. She rubbed her thumb over the thin edge of the bangle. Why did he give me this last Christmas? She wondered. A gift of jewelry was a personal gift. Had their friendship been moving toward something more and she didn't notice? The small piece of jewelry that Mason had given her had been the cause for the accusation of the affair.

The fight with Daniel had been horrific. He wanted to know why her hairdresser had given her such a gift. Was there something more between them? Something he didn't know about? Valerie had seen more anger flash in Daniel's eyes that night than ever before. She promised him that there was nothing--they were just friends--but he didn't believe her. So she told him that she wouldn't go back to Sense again. After that, came the cancer scare and the surgery and though she missed Mason's quiet way of talking and his friendship, she just didn't have the energy to fight two battles at once. She had to fight the battle with herself, and later with Daniel, concerning the surgery and the change it had made in her life. She couldn't fight for her friendship with Mason. Something had to be put aside. Valerie had been a bad friend to Mason--not calling and explaining her absence. She knew Mason would not call her. It was against his policy. He would be crossing his own line.

But the fight Valerie had concentrated on was keeping her husband's love.

Tears stung her eyes yet again. She'd lost that battle and now she'd felt as if she'd lost so much more than Daniel's love.

Valerie had lost herself.

* * * *

Mason entered the salon through the back door, pleased to see that Ryan was already there and setting up. It was eleven o'clock and Mason had slept late, knowing he didn't have a client until one. He jangled the keys to his Corvette as he walked down the hall, glancing into the enclosed booths as he went. Everything was as it should be. Lighting slightly subdued. Fresh flowers in vases. The air conditioning on, the vents infused with the scent of vanilla. Perfect.

He continued on to the reception room.

Ryan, his receptionist, sat at the white wicker desk that was centered on a pale blue, oval rug. Ryan looked up, his eyes shining. "Mason. Good morning."

Mason nodded. "Everything okay?"

Ryan raised a finger. "Yes. But there was something..." Ryan opened the appointment book on the desk and ran a manicured finger down the page. "Diana left me a note. Ah, Nicole Steele called yesterday and made "an emergency" appointment with you for this morning but it wasn't for herself. Let me see ... it's for Valerie Randall!" His head whipped up. "She's one of your favorites, isn't she? We sure haven't seen her for a while."

Mason felt a familiar tingle at the mention of Valerie's name. Valerie Randall was his favorite but he had a hard and fast rule when it came to his clients. "Look but don't touch." And he hadn't touched, but that hadn't stopped him from developing a certain friendship with her. All of his clients told him their secrets. It was just a "thing" with hairdressers, like bartenders. He was someone to tell their troubles to. But with Valerie, he really paid attention. There was just something about her that seemed to glow, as if it was coming from inside her. Over the past two years she had been his client, she'd told him a lot about herself and her life. Their friendship only existed here at Sense of a Woman though. It had been the only thing that had saved him from touching. Keeping what he truly felt for Valerie Randall locked up inside, not only inside the walls of the salon but also inside his heart.

He juggled his keys between his hands. Mason hadn't seen Valerie in six months. Hadn't heard from her at all. Strange for a woman who had a manicure and pedicure every two weeks and a trim of that long gorgeous hair once a month. He had watched the newspaper, in case something had happened to her but had seen nothing and none of his other clients had said anything about Valerie. If something bad had happened, he would have heard about it. A salon was the hottest source of gossip in the universe and Valerie was well known in this town, being the wife of the leading gynecologist.

It had been a long six months...since Christmas. Since he'd given her the gold bangle bracelet that looked so lovely on her slim wrist. Something had happened then but it wasn't his place to find out what. He couldn't call her and ask why she hadn't come back. He dare not cross that line. Not with Valerie.

Mason looked down at his hands and forced himself to stop juggling the keys. His nervousness wasn't good for the atmosphere. Wasn't good for him either.

The entrance door opened.

Mason looked up. Shock penetrated him like a knife. "Valerie?"

* * * *

Valerie looked up and focused. Mason. Her lower lip began to tremble again and the tears, they just wouldn't stop. Before she realized what she was doing, Valerie flung herself at him, her voice hoarse. "Oh God, Mason--Daniel left me."

His arms came around her. Valerie laid her cheek against his chest, her eyes burning from three days of crying. Why couldn't she stop? In the warmth of Mason's embrace, a fresh torrent flowed as she struggled to control herself. Mason's arms tightened around her shoulders, hugging her tightly to his solid chest. Valerie closed her puffy eyes and breathed through her mouth. Her nose was stuffing up again. Mason's heart thudded beneath her ear, a strong, calming rhythm.

Valerie started to relax. It felt so good being held. Warm, strong, arms cradled her. His body a solid rock to lean on. Mason felt so wonderfully male and she needed comfort.

Suddenly, she opened her eyes. "Oh geez," she sniffled, pushing away from his chest. "What am I doing?" His arms loosened their hold. Valerie stepped away, heat rising in her cheeks. She brushed her palm over his pure-white t-shirt, embarrassed. "Mason, I'm so sorry. I've ruined your shirt." The shirt was wet in splotches from her tears, becoming almost transparent in spots, revealing his tanned chest beneath. She felt like an idiot, crying and blurting out her troubles as soon as she laid eyes on him.

He grasped her flitting hands in his. "It's alright, Valerie," he said, his voice deep and mellow. "Come. Let's go see if we can find a place more private."

Valerie hiccuped and met his eyes. Even with her tear-blurred vision, she could see that his jaw was clenched. She'd overstepped her bounds with him, throwing herself at him like that. Her stomach tightened. Was Mason going to shove her away too? After all, she hadn't seen him in six months. Maybe their friendship hadn't survived her silence. "Maybe I shouldn't have come," she said, digging in her purse for a tissue.

Before she could find one, Mason had one in his hand. "Let me." He tipped her chin up and began to gently wipe the tears from her cheeks. His eyes roved over her face. Valerie knew she looked awful. There was clear concern in those melted chocolate eyes of his but his close scrutiny of her tear streaked, red and swollen face caused her to reach up and take the tissue from him.

Their eyes caught and held for a moment.

"I--um," Valerie swiped at her eyes. "I should just go home and--."

"Nonsense," Mason said, taking her elbow and leading her to the door that led to the hall and his personal booth.

"Ryan, cancel my one o'clock, will you," Mason said over his shoulder. His hand touched the small of her back as he closed the door to the hallway behind them.

Valerie sniffled. She wished Daniel had touched her that tenderly. She knew Mason meant nothing by the way he touched her. They were only friends. He was her stylist. It was just his way.

They entered Mason's personal booth. Valerie finally had her tears under control. "I must look a wreck," she said, easing into the stylist chair.

Mason moved around the room, looking for something. "Don't worry. We'll get you fixed up." He bent over to look inside a cabinet. "You don't look bad, Valerie. Really."

Valerie took a deep breath. God, I love watching that man bend over, she thought. Skintight jeans hugged his chiseled butt like an ad in Playgirl. Then she caught herself. She shouldn't look at him that way. It had to be the lack of male companionship. Daniel had been so distant for so long. Or, it was the lack of sex, period.

He stood and turned, a small bottle in his hand. "I've got something that is going to feel nice."

Valerie tried to focus on the small vial but couldn't see what it was. He moved behind the chair. "Now, tell me what's been up with you," he said. He draped a silk cape over her to protect her clothes.

"Daniel left me," she said, still unsure if it was really true or she was having a nightmare.

"He give you a reason?"

Mason's long, experienced fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of her neck. They started to undulate, pressing against her scalp. Valerie closed her sore eyes and relished the feel of his hands. Mason's scalp massages were wondrous. "He told me that I wasn't woman enough," she said.

Mason's fingers stopped moving. "What?"

A tingling sensation was beginning where he had massaged on her scalp. Was that peppermint she smelled? "He said I wasn't..." Pain sliced at her, remembering Daniel's words, silencing her.

Mason's fingers began to work their magic again. "Why in the world would he say something like that? I thought you had a fairly comfortable marriage."

In spite of herself, Valerie let out a laugh. "Comfortable. I guess that would describe it. For awhile anyway."

"What exactly made him decide you weren't woman enough for him?"

Valerie opened her mouth, and then shut it. She wanted to tell him but the words just wouldn't come out just yet. She'd always been able to tell Mason anything. Had even told him how she had lost her virginity to her high school crush in the back seat of his car. She had kept that a secret from everyone, until Mason. But she could tell Mason anything. This was the only place and he was the only person that was "safe." She knew that he would never repeat anything that she said. But this--the fact that she'd had a total hysterectomy and was now on hormones to take the place of her lost ovaries, the fact that Daniel said since she no longer had the workings of a woman her sexual appetite would dwindle and he wasn't ready to be celibate--she just couldn't. Why? Because Daniel had been beating it into her head for the past six months that it was now something she should be ashamed of. Valerie knew Daniel's words weren't the truth but after being told over and over that she was no longer a sexual being, Valerie had begun to believe it. "Mason, can I just sit here and not talk for a little while?"

"Of course. Relax and let me take away your troubles."

* * * *

Mason couldn't believe what he was hearing. As he tenderly massaged the peppermint infused deep conditioner into Valerie's hair, his insides churned. The feeling was extremely foreign to him.

So Valerie's husband had left her. Said she wasn't woman enough. The guy had to be nuts.

Mason threaded his fingers through her hair, kneading the tension out of her scalp. Valerie's long tresses, though ragged on the ends from lack of trimming, flowed liked red-gold silk over his wrists. Mason watched the play of color against the tanned skin of his arm and wondered how that mass of smoldering red-gold would look draped over his thighs as Valerie closed those luscious rose-tinted lips around his cock. Just the vision of it in his mind made his member twitch and come to life. Mason glanced in the mirror on the wall opposite them.

He and Valerie were reflected in the glass. She sat relaxed in the chair, draped in emerald green silk, her eyes closed. Her chin was tilted up as she leaned her head back into his massaging fingers. Valerie's face was ethereal, her skin pale, her lips slightly parted. Even though there was a puffiness around her eyes and her nose was a bit reddened, Mason thought she looked like an angel.

His gaze met his own in the mirror.

No. He couldn't act upon his feelings. She was vulnerable and hurt. If she responded to him, to his advances, he would never know whether it was because of him or the fact that she was rebounding.

Besides--it was against the rules.

His rules.

Mason cleared his throat and drew his fingers from her hair. "Now, let's get this shaggy mane of yours washed and back in shape." He wiped his hands on a towel that he plucked from a stand behind him.

Valerie sighed softly. "That was--wonderful," she said, her voice a husky whisper.

Mason drew in his breath. He met her eyes in the mirror. Their gaze locked. Her eyes were shockingly dark, the slight redness from her apparent crying sharpening the indigo blue color. Mason caught a flicker of emotion in their depths and then it was gone. Valerie dropped her gaze, as if embarrassed by something and fluffed out the cape that was draped over her. "That massage helped, Mason. I can feel the coolness of the peppermint. My headache is almost gone."

Mason breathed deeply as he began running warm water into the washbasin. The peppermint scent cracked in the air, mixing with the vanilla from the ventilation system. It made him wonder what she would taste like. Spicy or sweet? The water flowed over his hands, warm and inviting. "Come here, Valerie," he said, his voice surprising him when he noticed the deepness of his tone.

Valerie rose from the stylist chair and sat down at the wash station, the cape swirling around her. Mason moved to her side and reached to the side of the chair, lowering her back into the washbasin.

He leaned over her, his body alive and aware of their closeness as he began to lather her hair. The shampoo foamed, adding to the silkiness of her hair, delicious in his hands. He worked the shampoo in, entering a zone of nothing but "touch."

"Mmm," she murmured. "You are so good at this. You make washing my hair feel--sensual."

Mason looked down into her face.

His hands stopped.

It took all of his resolve not to act on what he saw there in her deep blue eyes. Need. Yearning. Arousal. Mason fought against his own need, almost coming undone when the pink tip of her tongue peeked out and traced her upper lip. If there was any woman that could tempt him into breaking his most cardinal rule, it was Valerie Randall.

* * * *

Valerie stared up at Mason, heat spreading through her. His sensual touch and the caring way he treated her was just what she needed, but there was something more there, in his eyes. Something deeper. Something so very sexy. Valerie realized that for the first time in months, she felt a sexual attraction to someone.

Mason.

She'd always had a crush on him, had dreamed of him in weak moments when Daniel had treated her as if she were just window dressing. Dreamed of him touching her in ways that were beyond friendship. Dreamed of him so strongly, envisioning him as she touched herself, pretending that her hands and fingers were his, that Mason stroked her most heated places, his skilled hands warm and experienced. Whenever she had dreamed of his touch, pretended, Valerie had an orgasm within seconds, heat rushing through her like an all-consuming fire. But immediately after, she had felt guilty. Not only guilty that she felt that way about a real friend but also because she was a married woman. She had struggled to tamp down her attraction to Mason, satisfying herself with her fantasies and his friendship. Telling herself he was off limits, she was married. But why was it that she had never felt the same all-consuming heat as she felt for Mason when she thought about Daniel, her husband?

True, she was married and she loved her husband, didn't she? But soon--Valerie would be free, wouldn't she?

Her womanhood tingled and dampened at the thought. Could she? Would he want her? Did Mason see her as an alluring woman?

Valerie tilted her head. "Mason?"

He blinked. He shook his head, his hair moving like a curtain over his shoulders. "Sorry. I guess I was ... daydreaming." He reached for the rinse head, brushing against her as he did. An electric shock seemed to pass through her skin. Valerie shuddered.

"Cold?" Mason began rinsing the shampoo out of her hair.

Valerie hugged herself beneath the cap. "No. I'm fine. Really." But she wasn't. She was so hot for him right now that her nipples had pebbled and her body crawled with heat. It had snuck up on her, this sudden awakening of her sensuality. As Mason moved over her, his hands stroking her scalp, his hard body brushing against her, Valerie felt panic seep into her mind. What was wrong with her? She'd never felt this way with Daniel. Ever. Had that been the real problem in her marriage?

Mason wrapped a towel around her head and lifted her up to a sitting position. "Okay, Milady, let's move back over and see if we can shape up this mass of hair for you." He took her elbow to help her from the chair. Valerie jerked away from his burning touch and almost bolted out of the chair.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, realizing that she was acting like a madwoman. She climbed back up in the stylist chair, her face on fire due to her carnal thoughts about him. "I'm just--jumpy."

He smiled, a dimple delving into his right cheek. "Don't worry about it. Women jerk away from me all of the time."

Valerie laughed. "Yeah, right. Mason Cole, you are the most handsome, sexiest man in town and you know it. Everyone wants you."

"Really?" Mason moved behind her and began combing conditioner through her hair. It was the kind that she loved--a leave-in that left her hair shiny and smelling wonderful. Mason smiled at her in the mirror. "Not all women want me," he said.

Valerie pursed her lips. "Wanna bet?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

Valerie's breath caught. What was going on here? She was definitely flirting with him. But, she couldn't stop. "Okay. Who doesn't want the sexy Mason Cole, who knows exactly how to treat a woman? Who?"

He stared at her in the mirror for a moment, and then broke eye contact. "So, what have you been doing these past six months?" he asked, effectively changing the subject.

Valerie swallowed. Her mind went back to the last six months and the pain it caused. Her hands began to shake again. "God, Mason, I'm so pitiful." The comb ran smoothly through her hair, then his long fingers followed in its trail. "I just don't get it," she continued. "I thought Daniel loved me."

"Maybe he does."

Valerie shook her head. "How could you love someone then tell them that they aren't woman enough for you? Then--just leave?"

"Sounds to me like some kind of head game. Any idea what brought it on?"

Valerie bit her lip. "Mason, can I tell you something?"

He caught her eye again. "Tell me anything. Tell me everything. Whatever you want." His face was serious.

Valerie sighed. She could trust him Trust him with her secrets. He wouldn't repeat what she had to say. "I know what made Daniel feel that way. That I'm not feminine."

Mason began combing her hair again, using long, slow stroke. "Go on."

"I had a hysterectomy in January," she said, the words spilling from her mouth, "and now I don't feel like..." She shook her hands, searching for the right word.

Mason stopped, waiting silently.

"Argh! I don't feel womanly. I don't feel feminine. I feel like I've lost myself." There. She'd said it.

Mason watched his own hands as he picked up his scissors and began to trim the ends of her hair.

Valerie's heart skipped a beat, wondering what he was thinking.

Finally, he looked up and met her eyes in the mirror again. There was a hint of anger on his face. "Has your husband been telling you that pack of lies? That you're not the woman you always were because of some surgery?"

Valerie nodded. At first, after the hysterectomy, she had felt sort of okay with it, but then Daniel had started making snide comments. About her hair. About her weight. About how when they did finally have sex, she had become dry, making him have to use lubrication. He had said it was a sign of a woman going through menopause and he just didn't find that sexy. "Yes. He's been telling me ... things ... for quite a while."

Mason's mouth formed a thin line. His scissors flew. "And you've come to believe what he said?"

"Yes."

His jaw clenched again.

Valerie hated feeling like this. Like she was a lump. Not only had Daniel hurt her, he had managed to damage her soul. Daniel was a stern, sometimes cold, man. Valerie had always tried to look past that, tried to see down into his heart. She knew now that he was a lost cause. Hopefully, she wasn't.

Valerie cleared her throat. "Mason, I've always thought of you as a trusted friend."

"I'm glad you do," he said. He spun her around in the chair to face him and pulled a strand of hair from each side of her face to check the length. "I am your friend and you're mine."

"Good. I need your help."

His eyes flicked to hers. "You know you have it. How can I help? What do you want me to do?"

Valerie took a deep, shaky breath. "I want you to help me find myself again. Help me regain my inner woman."