‘I have a hairdressing appointment. I go every Friday morning.’ It was an indulgence, she knew. But it was the most relaxing thing she did all week. Natalie especially enjoyed the head massage after the shampoo.

His eyes lifted to her hair. ‘In that case I suggest you dump your present hairdresser before December and find someone with a bit more pizzazz.’

Natalie glared at him across the table. ‘And I suggest you find someone else to marry.’

He seemed startled, as though he wasn’t aware that he was being abominably tactless. ‘You like the way your hair looks?’

‘I did my hair this way today. Not my hairdresser.’

‘Oh, I see. So you deliberately make yourself look as unattractive as possible whenever you’re interviewing a new male client.’

Did she? Perhaps. She had a tendency to be self-destructive when depressed. And she’d been depressed with her personal life for several months.

‘What time will you be finished at the hairdresser’s?’ he asked abruptly.

‘Around twelve.’

‘I’ll pick you up at your place at one-thirty.’

‘Fine. I’ll be ready.’

‘Good. That’s it for tonight, then,’ he said, and called for the bill.

He left a hefty tip, Natalie noticed.

Brandon had been a big tipper. He’d been a big man, too. There were lots of similarities between the two men, Natalie realised. Too many for comfort.

When he slid the four-wheel drive into the kerb outside her house, she refused to let him get out of his car and walk her to the door. She didn’t want to stand next to him on her doorstep, dying to ask him to come in, hating herself for already feeling excited about tomorrow.

She didn’t like him. But she was wildly attracted to him. Just sitting next to him in that car for less than three minutes had rendered her breathless.

She could feel his eyes still on her as she unlocked her door. He’d said he wouldn’t move off till she was safely inside.

That reminded her of Brandon also, the way Mike’s male presence made her feel protected. Was it just because of his size, and his strength? Whatever, being around Mike Stone gave her that same slightly helpless and very feminine feeling that was as irritating as it was seductive.

Natalie hated the fragility of that feeling. And the frustration it inevitably evoked.

At the same time, she suspected that come one-thirty tomorrow she would open this same door looking totally different from the way she looked at this moment. If nothing else, Natalie would have the satisfaction of seeing those hard, dark eyes widen with surprise.

Not that it would change anything. Mike still wouldn’t like her. And she wouldn’t like him.