Texan for the Holidays. Victoria Chancellor

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СКАЧАТЬ Mrs. Desmond and she said we should talk to you. If we could get enough people, we could file a class action lawsuit and get a lot of money.”

      James shook his head. “Ladies, there is no basis for a class action lawsuit, where you would need to have suffered actual losses from a defective product or fraudulent contract or claim. You can’t sue a hairdresser because you don’t like your hairstyle. If you were unhappy, you should have refused to pay for the service.”

      “That just seems so rude, don’t you think, Ellen?”

      “Yes. We didn’t want to be rude, even though she is awfully different, with that red hair and those wild clothes.” The one who must be Maribelle leaned close to his mother and added, “She has one of those pierced belly buttons. That would be so painful! And can you imagine how many times it would get snagged on your clothes?”

      James closed his eyes at the image of Scarlett’s belly button ring getting snagged on his clothes. On his zipper…He did not need this complication. “Please, go talk to Clarissa. I’m sure she can straighten this out.”

      “Oh, we can’t talk to Clarissa. She lives here.”

      He felt as if his head were about to explode. “I’ve already talked to Scarlett, and she’s leaving as soon as her car is repaired. That could be any day.”

      “But what about the lawsuit?”

      “There is no lawsuit!”

      “James, really, you don’t need to yell,” his mother reminded him. “It’s not professional.”

      “I’m sorry, but this controversy over the new stylist has gotten out of hand.” Not that he would mind getting his hands on Scarlett, just to shake her up, of course. Not for any other reason.

      “I think you should talk to her again,” his mother said, before he could tell her not to get involved.

      “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

      “But you’re so good at working out these problems.”

      “We want you to see if there are other people who want to get in on this class action thing.”

      “There is no class action lawsuit!”

      “James, you’re yelling again.”

      He closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry. If I promise to speak to Scarlett and Clarissa, will you promise me that you’ll wait to do anything? No talking to anyone else, and Mrs. Desmond especially?”

      “Oh, all right. We always did like Clarissa,” Ellen said, her tone one of resignation.

      “But we aren’t so sure about our hair,” Maribelle added in her whiney voice.

      “I’ll go see them today. Just—” He held up his hand in what was probably a futile gesture to keep them silent. “Just don’t talk to anyone about your hair unless they compliment you, and then you can say, ‘Thank you.’”

      As soon as the ladies left and he admonished his mother one more time not to encourage potential clients who wanted to sue businesses in or around Brody’s Crossing, he called Clarissa Bryant. A few minutes later, he told his mother he was going out for a while.

      With heavy steps and a sense of foreboding, he walked the block or so to his hair appointment with Scarlett, recently of Atlanta, on her way to California, who really didn’t like him all that much. He was beginning to feel a little bit sorry for the temporary, temperamental stylist. And for himself, for being in the middle of a hair crisis.

      “YOU’RE MY ELEVEN O’CLOCK?” Scarlett asked as she stared, openmouthed, at James Brody. He slipped out of his jacket and hung it on the rack.

      “I am,” he said, easing into her chair. “I thought I’d see what look you might choose for me, given you have such strong opinions about the right style for everyone else.” He crossed his hands over his flat stomach and gave her a smarmy lawyer smile. “You are capable of cutting men’s hair, aren’t you?”

      “Perfectly capable,” she replied, snapping open a black cape while she gritted her teeth. So now he was tempting her to run her fingers through his thick, dark brown hair? Fine. She was a professional.

      “Telling you this probably isn’t a good idea,” he said as she picked up a razor, “but I had two more visitors to my office.”

      She tested the sharpness of the blade with her finger, then looked at him through her lashes. “Really? More irate mothers with poor taste in hair and clothes?”

      He shifted in the chair as he watched her handle the implement. “No. Irate grandmothers.”

      “Who?” she asked, putting the razor down and picking up a spray bottle. She misted his hair with water.

      “Maribelle and Ellen. Twins or close to it. Formerly with steel-blue curls.”

      “Ah yes, I remember them well.” She bit the bullet and sank her fingers into his hair, all the way to the scalp. He was warm and he smelled really good, like crisp soap and clean male. She spent an extra moment savoring the feel of his strong, healthy hair. When she finished working the water through, she looked at him in the mirror. His hair was clumped into spikes around his well-shaped head. He had the kind of bone structure and features that could pull off almost any style.

      “Are you ready to get started?”

      “Oh, sure.” She made her decision, seeing his style in the lay of his hair, the amount of curl and body. “What about Maribelle and Ellen?”

      “They were sort of complaining. They seemed distressed that their style and color were different.”

      “They were happy when they left. Sort of.” She pulled his hair between her fingers, angled away from his head, and ran the razor along the ends.

      “I promised them I’d talk to you.” He sighed, then said, “Actually, I told my mother I’d talk to you.”

      “Aren’t you a little old to be reporting to your mommy?” She had to distance herself, because he was entirely too appealing on a physical level.

      “She works for me. And I don’t report to her.”

      “Whatever. Why do these supposedly dissatisfied customers keep coming to you rather than mentioning to me or Clarissa that they’re unhappy with their hair?”

      “They told me that withholding payment or talking to Clarissa seemed rude. I told them there was no basis for a class action lawsuit, but I have a theory.”

      Class action lawsuit! As if she were a faulty heater! She worked her way up to the crown of his head and forced herself to relax. “What’s your theory about this lawsuit that shouldn’t even be considered?”

      “Don’t worry. No one is filing a lawsuit. However, ever since I returned to Brody’s Crossing last year, I’ve had a steady stream of folks wanting to sue. There must be some pent-up legal needs in town, because I’ve had some wild requests.”

      Scarlett took a deep breath and decided to ignore talk of lawsuits, СКАЧАТЬ