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Maybe add a few highlights?” she coaxed eagerly. “Nothing major, mind you, just to soften the look and highlights will give this gorgeous hair of yours more depth. What do you think?"
    “Go for it, Denise,” I allowed.
    Forty-five minutes later Denise had finished.
    “All done,” she announced pleased with the look. We hurried into the bathroom so she could show me the results. Flipping on the light, she spread out her arms. “Voila!”
    “Wow,” I said, then another “Wow!”
    “You like?” she beamed proudly.
    “Uh, Denise, actually, it looks…I look like—”
    “—Rachel!” she squealed, delighted that I recognized the cut.
    I swung my head from side to side. The layers bounced. I stared at my reflection. How could I not love looking like Jennifer Aniston’s hair double?
    Denise was clearly pleased with her workmanship. My hair was now an exact replica of Jennifer Aniston’s style from, oh, what? Like fifteen years ago? As long as it was still long enough to pull up into a ponytail when I worked I could hang with it. I knew Denise was waiting for more.
    “Denise,” I said, turning to her and smiling, “I love it!”
    I gave her a big hug and watched as she beamed proudly.
     
     

Chapter 5
     
     
    I was alone in my hospital room for the first time all day. I figured I might as well get dressed for bed.
    I went to the bathroom and changed into a clean hospital gown, wishing I'd asked Ray to bring a nightgown or sleep shorts to me from my cottage.
    I clutched the edges of the open back together, even though there was no need since it was just me and made my way back to my bed.
    “Well, Ms. Preston, I see hospital garb suits you well.”
    “Oh!” I exclaimed, startled. Trey was half sitting, half sprawled out in the only cushioned chair in the room. He'd taken his suit jacket off and tossed it over the back of the chair. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his tie was loosened. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to just below his elbows. His sapphire blue eyes seemed even darker as they flickered appreciatively over my body, coming to rest on the generous cleavage created by the too-small camisole. I scrambled into my bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. I could feel the blush coloring my face; I glared at him for causing it. He chuckled, displaying that magnificent dimple.
    He approached the side of my bed. He lifted a lock of my newly highlighted, layered hair, thoughtfully rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.
    “I like it,” he said thoughtfully. “Denise did a very nice job on your hair.”
    “Thank you,” I managed a smile.
    “It’s not exactly my style, but I guess I'll get used to it."
    “You’re extremely beautiful, but I suspect you knew that already."
    I blushed at the compliment, not quite sure how to respond to this unfamiliar territory. Maybe a change of subject would take those piercing blue eyes off of me.
    “Tre…I mean Mr. Sinclair?” I started, "Why are you here?"
    “Please, let’s dispense with this ‘Mr. Sinclair’ stuff once and for all,” he said, laughing and waving his hand dismissively. “After all, I’ve seen parts of you over the course of the past few days that clothes would never cover if it were up to me. It’s Trey, okay?”
    I blushed when I tried to imagine the extent of what he'd seen.
    “You and I need to discuss a few matters, if you’re not too tired at the moment?”
    “I’m fine,” I answered, “in fact, I feel almost back to normal. I get to go home tomorrow."
    “Actually you were released today,” he said. “I insisted they keep you over at least another day or two so that arrangements can be made.”
    “I’m not sure what you mean about arrangements.”
    “Several of the staff members have attempted to reach your mother on the number listed in your personnel file. It's no longer a valid cell phone number. It could've been put into our computer system in error. I'd like for you to call her now,