Free Sweet Texas Charm by Robyn Neeley Page B

decided to take a spur-of-the-moment vacation was plausible.
    Meg returned with her classmates and they set down the plastic bags and two pink suitcases they’d brought in.
    “Nice to meet you, ladies.” He extended his hand to both. The two women looked to be around Meg’s age, both dressed casually in jeans and T-shirts. Mandy was a brunette and Val was a redhead, her hair was a little darker than Meg’s. “I’m sorry I took you away from your Sunday.”
    “Not a problem.” Mandy took a seat next to him.
    Val squatted down and began opening the two suitcases, adding, “We’re here every weekend.” She winked. “You’re our first real customer. Normally we just practice on each other.”
    “Well, I’m excited to see what you do.” He leaned back in his chair. “Meg, my only request: Please don’t bleach my hair.” Coop Jackson was definitely not a blond surfer kind of a dude.
    “Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan, and it won’t involve making you a blond.” Meg patted his head. She then grabbed a rectangular cardboard box from Val and set it in his lap. “But first, you need this.”
    “What’s this?”
    “Your lunch.”
    He opened the lid and stared down at the colorful assortment of glazed, chocolate, and powder jelly donuts. “Thanks.” He held the box up to Val. “Would you like one?”
    “Oh, no.” Meg blocked his attempt to share the donuts. “They’re all yours.”
    “All twelve?” He raised an eyebrow.
    “Yep. First thing Coop Jackson needs to do is put on twenty pounds.”
    Whoa.
That wasn’t happening. His hand tapped his washboard abs.
Still there.
He took pride in his trim physique and worked damn hard on his six-pack. Even five pounds would undo years of crunches. “How about one donut and no weight increase?” he asked, picking up a glazed one and taking a bite. “Why do I need to gain weight, anyway?”
    Meg steadied her arm on his chair, and her eyes met his in the mirror. “Because suit-wearing CEO Grayson Cooper doesn’t have love handles.” She turned the chair away so he could no longer see his reflection. “But working-class, beer-guzzling-after-a-long-day Coop Jackson does.”
    “Wow. You’ve given this a lot of thought.” He hadn’t really had a clue about his alias other than having a different hair color.
    She put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed. “That’s why you’re paying me the big bucks. Now, eat.”
    “Okay, then.” One donut wouldn’t kill him, and he was hungry. Between bites he asked, “So, Meg, what do you have in mind for my disguise?”
    “The girls and I’ve been talking. We think the best thing to do is keep your own hair, but fit you with a wig.”
    “A wig?”
    “Don’t worry. It will look very real.” She ran her finger across his chin. “And a sexy beard. Both brown, and much lighter than your own dark hair.”
    “Why do I need a beard? Won’t the wig be good enough?”
    She spun him back around and took her two pointer fingers, pressing into each side of his mouth. “Sugar, it’s your dimples.”
    He smiled in the mirror, and there they were.
    “I can’t fill those with makeup, but the beard will help conceal them.”
    “Wow, you’ve thought of everything.” He clapped his hands together and rubbed. “Okay, ladies. Let’s do it. Make me Coop Jackson.”
    While Meg went to work on his hair with a paintbrush, dipping it into what she explained was a special kind of adhesive for the wig, Val came up with a small, black case.
    “What’s in there?” he asked.
    “Well, if you are going to lose some of your well-known features, we’ve got to do something about your eyes.”
    “My eyes?”
    “Contacts.”
    “Why can’t I just wear glasses?”
    Meg started laughing as she began to fit the brown wig over his head. “Because you’ve got the bluest eyes south of San Antonio. Any woman who’s ever caught your gaze will know it’s you.” She bent down, whispering in his ear, “And there’s one