Maria Ynez Parker watched the tall man approach her manicure station, her penetrating gaze measuring his fluid stride, the precise break of his tailored trousers over a pair of highly polished black wing tip loafers, the casual drape of a matching navy blue suit jacket over his broad shoulders, and the crisp fabric of a pale blue cotton button-down shirt he had paired with a solid navy blue silk tie.
Her large brown eyes were fixed on the lines furrowing his high, intelligent forehead and compressed lips. His grim expression indicated annoyance. And she knew instinctively that his displeasure had something to do with the young woman who had come with him into Della’s House of Style for a complete makeover for her high school prom.
Maria was also aware of all the female gazes following the man’s retreat from the front of the upscale, full-service salon to an area where tables and chairs were set up for manicure and pedicure services.
All conversation tapered off, then stopped completely inside the renowned salon, with its stark white walls and a distinctive pastel pink and blue marble-tiled flooring. The swollen hush was as smothering as the heat inside a crowded New York City subway car during the summer, as stylists, shampoo girls, the receptionist, the masseur and the aesthetician, who were waiting patiently for their next clients, watched Cameron King bear down on the incredibly talented nail technician.
He had come into the salon a week ago, requesting to speak to the new owner, Della Frazier. Even before he left Della’s private office, gossip swirled throughout the salon as to what he did for a living, as well as his marital status. The more resourceful salon employees had uncovered that Mr. Cameron King was CEO of King Financial Services, an accounting and investment company that had recently relocated from a prestigious Wall Street address to a town house in one of Harlem’s historic districts popularly known as Striver’s Row. The amateur sleuths thought themselves quite clever once they had unearthed this information, but were frustrated because a week after Cameron had walked into Della’s for the first time, they still had not uncovered whether there was a Mrs. King.
If there is a Mrs. King, then she’s a lucky woman, Maria told herself as the object of her musings stopped several feet from her. He’s perfect, she thought. A little too perfect, she added.
* * *
Cameron King tilted his head at an angle, staring down at the woman who had been selected to do his niece’s nails. The woman Della had identified as Maria Parker was sensuously stunning, even though his impassive expression indicated total indifference to her looks. His eyes narrowed slightly behind the lenses of his thin black wire-framed glasses as he took in everything about her in one sweeping glance. Her short, naturally curly dark hair was brushed off her face, showing off her delicately carved facial bones. Her questioning eyes were a mysterious brown, reminding him of a smoky topaz. Her nose was short and rounded on the tip, and claimed a light sprinkle of cinnamon-colored freckles over the bridge. Her cheekbones were high, exotic. But it was her mouth, full, pouting, and outlined in a soft orange-brown that captured his rapt attention. The shade of her lipstick complemented the shimmering gold undertones in her khaki-hued complexion.
“Ms. Frazier informed me that you’ve been assigned to do my niece’s nails,” Cameron said, addressing Maria for the first time.
Stunned by the rich vibrancy of his mellifluous voice, she nodded, finding herself momentarily mute. And there were not too many times when she had to struggle to get words to flow from her lips. His deep, velvet voice seemed to float up from the depths of his diaphragm, swirling around her like a comforting, cloaking mist.
“I have a slight problem,” he continued, lowering his head and his voice further.
Maria shivered noticeably as if he had trailed his fingertips over her bare flesh, but recovered quickly with the newest revelation. So, the young woman wasn’t his daughter, but his niece.
“What kind of problem?” she asked, speaking for the first time.
It was Cameron’s turn to react, to the sound of her voice. He never would have expected the petite woman to claim a husky voice—one that suggested the taste of smooth, dark, rich sherry. His frown vanished quickly, replaced by an expression of inquisitiveness. Maria Parker had earned two points on the asset side of the balance sheet: He was attracted to her face and her voice.
“Valerie claims she wants a full set of nail extensions, decorated with gaudy designs and rhinestones.”
Maria shrugged a delicate shoulder under her black smock. “It’s quite popular with teenage girls to have their nails airbrushed.”
“Not the teenage girls in my family,” Cameron retorted. There was no mistaking his annoyance as his scowl returned.
Crossing her arms under her breasts, Maria tilted her chin in a haughty manner. “What do you propose I do about your niece?”
“Give her a set of nails, but leave off the graffiti.”
The pompous buffoon! Maria sputtered inwardly. How dare he call her nail art ‘graffiti?’ In fact, she had grown up with boys who scrawled their graffiti art on any flat surface they could find, and some had gone on to become legitimate artists with a sizable following.
Counting slowly to three, she managed a polite smile. “Look, Mr.…”
“King,” he supplied.
“King.” She practically spat out the name. “I am a licensed nail technician, and I will execute whatever it is you want for your niece. But I’m also here to satisfy the clients who walk into Della’s. And once your niece sits down in my chair she will become my client. Given her tender age, I am certain I can come up with something that should please you and her.”
Cameron compressed his lips, successfully curbing his temper while acknowledging the manicurist’s facetiousness. Since he had unofficially claimed paternal responsibility for his deceased brother’s teenage daughter, he found his stress levels escalating appreciably. And seventeen-year-old Valerie had subtly manipulated him for the past two years. It was as if she were angry with the world because of her father’s unexpected passing. Her grades had slipped, she openly challenged her mother and any other authority figure, and there were times when her behavior was totally inappropriate for a young woman. His sister-in-law was at her wits’ end until Cameron suggested she include grief counseling with their regularly scheduled family group counseling sessions.
After less than a dozen counseling sessions, Valerie accepted the fact that her father would have wanted her to follow through with the plans her parents had made for her future. She apologized to her mother, improved her grades, and scored above thirteen hundred on her SATs. She had applied to and been accepted to attend her mother’s alma mater. And in another eight weeks she would leave New York to enter Spelman College as an incoming freshman. And one of Cameron’s graduation gifts to her was that he would underwrite the expense of her senior prom.
Once he committed to the undertaking, he could not believe that the cost of all of the incidentals for a successful senior prom had escalated so appreciably. When he graduated from high school, his senior class celebrated in the ballroom of a catering hall, then gathered on the beach at Sag Harbor before returning to their homes. Valerie had given him a staggering total for the cost of her dress, accessories, limousine service, and a complete beauty makeover.
“I’m certain you will please Valerie, Miss…”
“Parker,” Maria supplied. Everyone usually referred to her as Maria. However, the very pretentious Mr. Cameron King would not be given the privilege to become that familiar with her.
Cameron inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Miss Parker. As I was saying, I’m certain you will please my niece, but the final results must please me.”
Maria managed a supercilious grin. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He gave her a lingering glance, then turned on his heel and retraced his steps, stopping at the station where a stylist was pinning up Valerie King’s thick dark hair in an elaborate twist. He spoke briefly with his niece, offering her a gentle smile while leaning over to kiss her forehead before he walked off the salon floor.
Kimm Gilmore, Della’s full-time aesthetician, moved over to Maria’s station, watching the manicurist’s narrowed gaze. “What did he say?”
“He felt the need to warn me not to put any graffiti on his niece’s nails.”
Kimm folded her hands on her ample hips, shaking her head at the same time she clucked her tongue against her teeth. “That man better ask somebody about who he’s dealing with. I’m sure Della told him that you’re the best in the business when it comes to doing nails.”
“It probably would not have mattered even if she had. Mr. Cameron King came in here with his own preconceived opinions, and I doubt whether anyone can change his mind.”
This time Kimm nodded in agreement. “You’re probably right. The brother is sure fine enough to give a second look, but he appears a little too stuffy for my tastes.” She glanced down at the watch on her wrist, frowning. “Mrs. Nichols promised me the last time she was here that she would be on time for her next appointment.”
“How late is she this time?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
Maria spied the eccentric elderly woman as she made her way past the reception area, stopping to exchange greetings with each stylist, as well as the stylists’ assistants and shampoo girls.
“She’s here,” she whispered to Kimm.
Kimm’s gaze narrowed. “By the time she makes it back to me, she’ll be half an hour late.”
Leaning closer, Maria crooned, “Patience, girlfriend.”
“Pray for me,” Kimm retorted. “After you finish up with Clark Kent’s niece, send her to me for her makeup session.”
Maria smothered a bubbling laugh. “He does remind you of Clark Kent. Especially with the glasses.”
“I call them as I see them,” Kimm stated confidently. She waved to Maria, then returned to the area where she performed her hydrating European facials, while Maria waited for the stylist to put the finishing touches on Valerie King’s expertly coiffed hair before she applied a holding spray.
Valerie surveyed her swept-up hairdo in the mirror, nodding her approval. Less than a minute later she made her way to the back of the salon.
* * *
Maria stared at Valerie King’s youthful face, smiling. The resemblance between the girl and her uncle was startling. She looked enough like Cameron to be his daughter. They shared the same clear brown coloring, reminiscent of polished rosewood, and the shape of their large, deep-set dark eyes was an exact match. And, Maria thought, if she learned to use her eyes effectively Valerie would be certain to make many a young man weak in the knees.
“Hello, Valerie. I’m Maria.”
Reaching across the table, she grasped the teenager’s hands, visually examining her fingers. They were long, slender, and well-shaped. Her nails were cut short, but the nail on the thumb of one hand appeared to be bitten away.
“Hi,” Valerie said shyly.
“What happened with this one?” the manicurist questioned, pointing to the thumb.
Valerie grimaced, lowering her gaze. “I was stressed and—and sorta bit it off.”
Maria gave her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. What did the child have to be stressed about? “I hope you’ve gotten over your anxiety, because once I glue your nails on, it is going to be a little difficult to bite them off.”
“I’m okay now. I won’t bite them off.” Valerie’s even, white-toothed smile was dazzling.
Maria returned her smile. “Good for you.” She glanced over at her appointment book. Valerie King was scheduled for a manicure and pedicure. “I’m going to put your nails on first, and while the polish is drying I’ll give you a pedicure.” She pointed to a carousel filled with rows of nail polish in every shade and hue. “What color do you want?”
Valerie shrugged her shoulder under an oversized baggy T-shirt. “I don’t know.”
“What color is your dress?”
“I have a picture of it,” the teenager volunteered, opening the black crocheted-woven bag she had placed on the floor beside the table. Unfolding a page from a boutique advertisement, she handed it to Maria.
The dress was exquisite—perfect for a high school prom. It was a Jessica McClintock ball gown with narrow straps, pale pink butterflies and green vines embroidered on a bodice of ivory silk, and trimmed in satin with a flowing skirt of ivory organza.
“Very, very nice,” Maria stated softly. She met Valerie’s expectant gaze. “I’ll give you nail tips—”
“I want them long,” Valerie interrupted.
“How long is long?”
“An inch,” she replied sheepishly.
“An inch? You don’t want nails, but talons or claws.”
“I don’t want them short,” Valerie argued softly. “And I want them airbrushed.”
“Your uncle—”
“My uncle is living back in the day,” Valerie interrupted again.
A shadow of annoyance crossed Maria’s delicate features. There was no doubt Cameron King had his work cut out for him when dealing with his niece. “Your uncle may be living, as you say, ‘back in the day,’ but that doesn’t give you the right to be rude. You’ve interrupted me twice.” Valerie recoiled as if Maria had slapped her, her eyes widening in shock. “Now, if you let me finish what I was going to say…” she continued, this time in a softer tone.
The young woman managed to look contrite. “I’m sorry, Miss Maria.”
“Apology noted. I’m going to give you acrylic tips, then I’m going to cut them down to a length where you’ll be able to manage dressing yourself and anything else you’ll need to get you through the night without embarrassing yourself. Then I’ll give you a French manicure with a soft beige and pink combination to complement the colors in your dress. How does that sound to you?”
She barely nodded her head. Her disappointment was apparent by the set of her tightly compressed lips.
Her expression so mirrored Cameron King’s that it was uncanny. Like uncle, like niece, Maria mused as she began the task of filing Valerie King’s nails before she pushed back her cuticles.
An hour and fifteen minutes later, Valerie surveyed her hands, surprise and delight crinkling her eyes and parting her lips. Her nails were beautiful. The frosted pale pearl pink shade shimmering over her extensions was accented with the application of a sheer beige on the tips in an inverted V design. Maria Parker had not airbrushed her nails, but had added a minute rhinestone near the tip on each of her little fingers.
“Do you like it?” Maria questioned.
“I love it,” Valerie gushed.
“Good. Now for your toes.”