Be My Baby by Susan Andersen

enough time already ignoring her possibilities; he didn’t need some she-male to point them out to him. It didn’t make a lick of sense that he’d be attracted to little Juliet Rose at all, but good sense seemed to be conspicuously absent today.
    Lola turned back from his search and extended a tube of lipstick to Juliet. “Try this. It’s your color.”
    “No!” Beau felt almost panicky. The fact that Rosebud was too prim to call attention to the very possibilities that kept grabbing him by the balls had been the only saving grace in an increasingly uncomfortable afternoon.
    Luckily, Juliet took a slight step back in perfect synchronicity to his protest. “Oh, I couldn’t.”
    Lola’s eyes cooled and he dropped the lipstick back on the table. “Of course not. Because one never knows where my mouth might have been, right?”
    “No,” Juliet disagreed with quiet dignity, “because Grandmother drummed it into my head that one does not share one’s personal grooming items, and it’s difficult to kick established habits.”
    Lola perked right back up again. “Ooh, girlfriend, I love that—it’s so chi-chi. Where did you find her?” he demanded of Beau. “Wait, wait!” He scrambled through the dressing table drawer. Finding what he was searching for, he held out a lipstick brush to Juliet. “How about this? It’s brand-new, and look, I’ll wipe off the lipstick.” He suited action to words by picking up the duel-textured silver tube again, swiveling up a cylinder of tawny rose color, and ruthlessly removing a deep layer from the top. He held it up to Juliet.
    She hesitated a moment, but then leaned forward and accepted the cosmetic brush, daubing it against the top of the lipstick. Rounding her lips, she leaned farther in to the mirror and carefully stroked the color onto her mouth. She daubed up more color and applied that, too. Then, handing the brush to Lola, she rubbed her lips together and pulled her head back a fraction to survey her reflection in the mirror. She smiled, her teeth gleaming white between newly rosy lips. “I like it.”
    So did Beau, and it made him want to howl.
    Juliet flipped the tube over and read the label on the bottom. “Ah, Clinique.” She raised her gaze to Lola. “You’ve probably guessed I’m from out of town. Where would I go to find a counter?”
    “Dillards, girlfriend. Well, Saks, too, I suppose, but they don’t know me there. Go to Dillards,” he said decisively. “Tell ’em Lola Benoit sent you.”
    “I’ll do that, Lola; thank you.” Juliet exchanged chitchat for a few moments longer and then graciously eased them out the door. Her smile was warm as she took leave of Lola, and Beau watched her moodily, feeling edgy and out of sorts.
    It was a considerably cooler smile she turned on him when the door closed at their backs.
    “Don’t mistake me for a fool,” she said flatly, and he narrowed his eyes, mesmerized by that sulky, rose-colored mouth. “You think I’m completely lacking in intelligence? Well, think again, Beauregard, because it hasn’t escaped me that you haven’t asked after Clyde Lydet in the last several places you’ve taken me, and I have to believe— Will you pay attention? What are you looking at?”
    “Nothing,” he said sullenly and licked his lower lip. He dragged his gaze up to her eyes, but then her hair drew his attention. Jesus, had it grown even thicker? Wavier?
    “As I was saying, that leads me to believe that our sole purpose for going to these bars was to show me the seamier side of your city. Do you harbor some illusion that the air I breathe is too rarefied to tolerate the dives you favor?”
    “There’s no ‘harbor’ about it, sweet cheeks.”
    “Oh, and you know me so well,” she said with cool sarcasm. “After one day.”
    Heat beat through his veins and he stepped in close, giving her nowhere to go. “I know that you’re screwing up my life, and I want it to stop.” He thrust his face at her. “Go to