“You put a bit of oil on your hands”—she demonstrated—“then rub it into your beard and massage it into the skin.” She leaned close, so close that she was practically straddling him as she worked her fingers through his beard, then rubbed his jaw. His body tensed under hers, and Becca was getting ever so slightly aroused just from this. Touching him was a turn-on, always. “What do you think?”

He scowled at her. “I think I don’t like the idea of you doing this to your customers.”

She arched a brow at him. “You think I crawl all over all my clients just to rub a bit of oil into their beards? This is just for you.” She stroked her fingers through his beard again. “Don’t you think this feels softer? Sexier?”

He groaned and tugged her closer, his hands cupping her butt. “I like the way this part feels.” Hank gazed at her thoughtfully. “You sure you don’t want me to cut it off for you? I will.”

“I like you just as you are,” Becca admitted. “If you like the beard, I like the beard. Besides, I think it’s sexy.” She rubbed the tip of her nose against his. “All of you is sexy.”

“Becca,” he groaned, closing his eyes. “Before we get too distracted, we—we need to talk.”

She leaned back, eyeing him with worry. “Well, that didn’t sound good. Talk about what? Is this why you came bearing gifts?” She was immediately suspicious . . . and a little hurt. This had happened in her last relationship, too. Whenever Greg had wanted to apologize for something or to tell her something he knew would upset her, he’d tried to sweeten the bad news with flowers or a nice “surprise” dinner out. It had gotten to the point that she’d started to dread whenever Greg showed up with flowers, because it meant her day was about to go downhill.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Hank began.

She jumped out of his lap instantly, stung. What the hell? “You’re breaking up with me?”

“What? No, I didn’t say that.” Hank lurched to his feet.

Becca rushed away from him, grabbing a hand towel and wiping the oil from her palms. “You came here with gifts so you can break the bad news to me easily, is that it?” She laughed bitterly. “I guess it’s a good thing we never made it past casual, right?”

He practically snarled, the sound surprising in its utter frustration. “That’s the problem, Becca. You keep saying that we’re casual like it’s something we both decided on, but every time I hear that word, I want to scream.”

Surprise flooded through her. She turned to look at him, confused she hadn’t just misheard him. “You don’t want to be casual?”

“Have I ever said that I did?”