It would be the most sensible thing, and probably best for business, Rachel decided, if she just politely told Jake when he called that she’d changed her mind. She was going to be in enough trouble already for the hair incident.

Which is why, when the phone rang that night in her apartment at the top of the high rise, with Rapunzel’s lights dark far below her, she closed her eyes and said, “Six?

That sounds great, see you then.”

So much for being sensible.

* * * *

She knew she was in trouble when Jake pulled up in a limo. At least he didn’t bring a dozen roses, she thought, blushing as a driver opened the door for her and she stepped in. Jake was drinking something amber colored from a fat glass.

“Hey there, Rapunzel.” He smiled when she got in and slid into the seat across from him. “Ready for game two?”

“Let’s hope it’s better than game one.” Rachel made a face. The Red Wings had lost game one in overtime three-to-two.

“I’ll drink to that.” Jake lifted his glass. “Do you want anything? Wine?

Champagne?” He nodded toward the bar and she glanced over to see it was fully stocked. He’d really gone all out.

“Is that brandy?” she asked, looked at his glass. He nodded. “Got any scotch?” He raised an eyebrow but reached over to the bar without comment. The car began to move as he poured her a shot and handed it over. Rachel took it with trembling hands. She’d spent an hour and a half getting ready for this non-date. That’s what she kept calling it in her head-a non-date. How a woman could spend so much time on beauty when she didn’t even have any hair was a paradox, she was sure, but that’s how long it had taken her. She didn’t even want to know how long she might have spent if she’d considered it a real date.