Chapter Thirteen
When Rachel came back into the room, she was barefoot, wearing comfortable jeans and a loose-fitting white shirt. She was opening a leather case that contained a pair of barber’s scissors and a comb. The movement jostled her breasts and Taz could see by the way the fullness rebounded that Rachel had taken off her bra. Taz tried to ignore the twinge of uneasiness.
Rachel snapped the scissors. “Grab your drink, sweetie. Let’s do this in the kitchen; the light’s better.”
Taz wanted to protest but Rachel was determined– and a woman to be reckoned with, besides. Resigned to the inevitable, Taz picked up her drink and, trotting after Rachel, she stepped into a huge, glimmering kitchen that would have been the envy of any celebrity chef.
Rachel pulled out a stool from the cen
