Caroline Anderson - Escape for Valentine's - Beauty and the Billionaire / Her One and Only Valentine / The Girl Next Door

“Absolument.”

“You look fantastic,” he said to Sinclair.

It was a rocky start. But then she reflexively glanced in the mirror beside her, and he could tell by the shine in her eyes that she liked the outfit, too.

“Try to have fun,” he told her.

“I’m getting there.”

He gave her a thumbs-up.

They’d need some jewelry to go with it, of course. But that could be tomorrow’s mission.

It occurred to Hunter that he was probably having a little too much fun at this himself. But he shrugged it off. Dressing a beautiful woman ought to be fun. And if a man couldn’t have fun spending his money, what was the point in making any of it?

Jeanette herded Sinclair back into the change room, and Hunter returned to his phone call.

“Thanks for waiting,” he said to Richard.

“Do you have a contact name?” asked Richard.

“Seth Vanderkemp. The Castlebay Spa headquarters is on Rue de Seline. Do we have a contract lawyer on standby?”

“We do. In fact, I can get someone there overnight. When will you know?”

“Tomorrow. If it looks like we can get a contract, I’ll give you a call.” Hunter knew this was their last chance to get Luscious Lavender into a spa chain in time for the Valentine’s launch. If Castlebay was open to making a deal, he didn’t want to lose a single minute.

He ended the call.

Immediately, his phone rang again.

“Hunter Osland.”

“What the hell?” came his cousin Jack’s voice.

“What the hell what?” asked Hunter, reflexively cataloguing his actions over the past couple of weeks to see what could have upset his cousin.

“One, you’ve got Sinclair in Paris? Two, there’s trouble with her job. Three, you’re dressing her like an android hooker. And four, you’re probably sleeping with her? Take your pick.”

“Oh, that,” said Hunter.

“That’s your answer?”

“What do you want me to say?” Hunter could tell his cousin to shut up and mind his own business. It was hardly a crime to go shopping. And he was behaving responsibly, particularly considering the attraction that still simmered between them.

“That you’re not sleeping with my sister-in-law.”

“I stopped.”

“Good. Stay stopped. She works for us. And you’re you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means.”

Hunter sighed in exasperation. His reputation as a womanizer was not deserved.

“Tell Kristy I am not having a fling with her sister. Sinclair’s job is not in jeopardy. And she doesn’t look the least bit like a hooker.”

“And you’re not going to break her heart?”

Hunter pulled the phone away from his ear and frowned at it for a second. Then he put it back.

“Obviously, that was Kristy’s question,” Jack went on.

“What exactly have you told her about me?”

“Anything she asks. Plus, Gramps gave her the lowdown on some of your previous relationships. And you and Sinclair did start out with a one-night stand.”

“Thanks for the support there, cousin.”

Hunter hadn’t had that many relationships. All right, some of them may have been short-lived. But they simply hadn’t worked out. It wasn’t as if he went around breaking hearts on purpose.

“Personally,” said Jack, with more than a trace of amusement in his tone. “I’m more concerned about you. She’s got red hair.”

Hunter didn’t bothering answering. He hit the end button and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

His cousin’s joke was lame.

When Hunter was sixteen years old, he’d accidentally burned down the tent of an old gypsy fortune-teller. The woman had predicted Jack would marry a woman he didn’t trust. They’d lose the family fortune. They’d buy a golf course. And Hunter would marry a redhead and have twins.

So far, the only thing that had come close to happening was Jack marrying Kristy before he trusted her. But it was enough to get Jack fixated on redheads and the possibility of twins.

The door to the changing room opened again.

Sinclair emerged in a strapless, jewel-blue, satin evening gown that revealed creamy cleavage on top and silver-strapped, sexy ankles on the bottom. She’d pinned her hair up in an ad hoc knot. As she moved gracefully toward him, the fabric rustled over her smooth calves, while her deep, coral lips curved into a satisfied smile.

Hunter’s body reacted with a lurch, but then his stomach went hollow when he realized he couldn’t touch her.

Kristy had absolutely nothing to worry about. If anybody was getting their heart broken around here, it sure wasn’t going to be Sinclair.

Sinclair knew she’d be disappointed if Castlebay didn’t work out. There was her job, her future, Hunter’s reputation at the company, the success of the Luscious Lavender product line all to consider. And she’d reminded herself, she’d lived through two letdowns already. Still, walking up the stone steps to the Castlebay Spas head office, she was determined to fight the butterflies in her stomach.

“What should I focus on first?” she asked Hunter, anxious to get her part right.

She was wearing a mini, tweed coat dress, with pushed up sleeves, large black buttons, black stockings and high-heeled ankle boots. She’d pulled her hair into a simple, tight bob, as Jeanette had advised, and put on a little extra makeup, especially around the eyes.

“Leave the financial details to me. Give out product information only. If I brush your hand, stop talking. And, mostly importantly, walk, talk and act like a winner.”

She gave him a swift nod.

“Oh. And mention that you’ve tried the mousse.”

She shot him a disgusted stare.

“That was just to lighten you up.” He pulled open the heavy brass and glass door. “Relax.”

She took a breath. “Right.”

They didn’t talk in the elevator. And while they crossed the marble floor of the Castlebay lobby, Sinclair concentrated on her new shoes. She did not want to stumble.

“We have an appointment with Seth Vanderkemp,” Hunter said to the receptionist.

Sinclair caught the woman’s admiring look at her outfit, and she couldn’t help but smile. Wouldn’t the woman be surprised to find out she was staring at plain, old Sinclair Mahoney from Soho?

“Mr. Vanderkemp is expecting you,” said the woman. “Right this way.”

She stood and led them down a long hallway to an opulent meeting room. It had round beech-wood table, with a geometric, inlaid cherry pattern. There were four high-backed, burgundy leather chairs surrounding it. And the bank of windows overlooked the Seine.

“Good morning, Mr. Osland. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Not at all,” said Hunter. “We just got here. And, please, call me Hunter.” He turned to Sinclair. “This is my associate, Sinclair Mahoney.”

“Seth,” said the man, holding out his hand to Sinclair. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Sinclair shook. “Sinclair,” she confirmed.

Seth gestured to the round table. “Shall we sit down?”

Hunter pulled out a chair for Sinclair, then the men sat.

“Osland International’s latest acquisition,” Hunter began, getting right to the point, “is a boutique beauty-products company out of New York called Lush Beauty.”

“I’ve heard of Lush,” said Seth with a nod.

Sinclair thought that fact boded well for the discussions, but Hunter’s expression remained neutral.

“We’re in Paris for a few days,” explained Hunter, “looking for partners in the upcoming launch of a promising new line called Luscious Lavender.”

Sinclair mentally prepared herself to talk about the products. She’d start with skin care, move to cosmetics, then introduce some of the specialty personal care items.