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

“Sorry,” said Sinclair, leaning into Hunter’s shoulder. “I should have recognized you right away but I guess I was focused on Hunter.”

Hunter’s chest puffed out, and he put an arm around her. “What can I say?”

Both men guffawed at his posturing, but smiled at Sinclair and held out their hands.

She shook. “Loved the music.”

“Thanks,” Bobby nodded. “We’re trying out some new stuff tonight. It’s always a challenge.”

“Well, it’s great,” she said sincerely.

“Got time for a drink?” asked Hunter.

Bobby shook his head. “We’re on in ten minutes.”

A server stopped at the table and topped up Sinclair’s glass of champagne.

The two musicians rose from their chairs. “Coming to the party?” asked Bobby. “Suite 1202 at the Ivy.”

“Not sure,” said Hunter.

The men glanced at Sinclair with a sly, knowing grin. But, surprisingly, Sinclair found she didn’t mind.

“Sorry about that,” said Hunter after they’d left.

She shrugged. “Were they wrong?”

He leaned very close to her ear. “That,” he rumbled, “is entirely up to you.”

Blast On Black took the stage once more.

Sinclair wriggled her feet back into the strappy sandals. “Want to dance?”

Sinclair’s shoes dangled from her fingertips as they made their way down the hotel hallway.

“Tired?” asked Hunter, slipping the key card into her room lock.

“A little tipsy,” she admitted, crossing the threshold and tossing her shoes in the corner. The bed had been turned down and the adjoining door left open.

“Champagne in France will do that to you.”

“It was delicious.” She took a deep breath and blinked away the buzzing in her head.

Hunter locked the door, then reached into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. He pressed the on button and sighed.

“Messages?” she asked, digging into her purse to check her own phone.

“Thirty-five,” he said, hitting the scroll button with his thumb.

“I have six,” she frowned. “Boy, do I feel unpopular.” Two of them were from Kristy, the rest from the office. She’d been keeping in touch with Amber via e-mail, making sure the ball plans were under control, despite Chantal’s meddling.

“Enjoy it,” he advised. Then he pressed a couple of keys, putting the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Richard,” he said.

Then he waited in silence.

Sinclair struggled to reach the zipper on her dress.

“They did?” said Hunter.

She gave up and crossed the room to Hunter, turning her back. She automatically reached to pull her hair out of the way, but it wasn’t there. She touched the top of her head, raking her fingers through her new short hair, enjoying the light feel while Hunter tugged down her zipper.

She wandered into the bathroom to find fresh towels and robes. Stepping out of her dress, she shrugged into a robe. She scrubbed off her makeup and carried the dress to the closet. She’d have to send it for cleaning tomorrow, but she didn’t have the heart to toss it on a chair overnight. It was a fabulous dress.

“Thanks, Richard,” Hunter was saying. “That’s great news.”

The tone of his voice caught Sinclair’s attention.

Hunter snapped his phone shut. “It’s done.”

“What’s done?”

“You are looking at the new owner of Castlebay Spas. Everything should clear escrow tomorrow.”

A huge grin burst out on Sinclair’s face. “That’s fantastic!” She skipped across the room to give him a hug.

He nodded against her shoulder, squeezing her tight. “Sweetheart, the two of us are going to launch Lush Beauty to the stars.”

“As long as I can keep up the glam charade so Roger is happy.”

“I’ll fire Chantal tomorrow if that’s what it takes.”

Sinclair sobered. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

“I won’t have to.”

“But, even if you did. You’d never do that. I mean, I couldn’t live with myself if I built a career based on your intervention.”

He took both her hands in his and squeezed. “It’ll never happen. Seriously. Stop borrowing trouble. We just had some amazingly good news, and we need to celebrate. And we need to plan a tour of the spas. Rome, London …”

She felt better. The makeover was moving along as planned, and the spa launch was more than she’d ever dreamed.

He loosened the knot in his tie. “I’m going next door to shower.”

“Okay.”

“While I’m gone, you get happy again. Okay?”

“I will.”

“Good.” He winked at her, stripping off the tie as he strode through the adjoining door.

Sinclair curled up in an armchair. She mentally did the math on time zones and realized she could safely return Kristy’s calls.

“Hello,” came Kristy’s voice.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“You. Finally! What the heck’s going on?”

“I’m still in Paris.”

“Wonderful, dear sister. But tell me how you ended up in Paris in the first place?”

“We took the jet. That’s one very cool jet, by the way.”

“Funny. What on earth happened at work?”

“You remember my boss, Roger?”

“Short guy, big nose.”

“That’s him. Well, he’s got this new protégée, Chantal, who’s off the charts avante garde, giggly and girly and squealy. And he’s decided she’s the face Lush Beauty needs for PR.”

“They fired you?”

“No. Nobody fired me. But I can easily see her at the podium and me in a dingy back file room if things keep going like this.”

“You know Hunter’s the CEO now, right?” asked Kristy.

“And, so?”

“Well, you are my sister ….”

Sinclair was slightly insulted. “You’re suggesting nepotism?” That was as bad as sleeping her way to the top.

“You don’t need nepotism. But if Roger and this Chantal are out to lunch—”

“Actually, Hunter agrees with them.”

Silence.

“He thinks my image could use some updating.”

Kristy’s voice took on an incredulous quality. “And you’re okay with that? That doesn’t sound like you.”

Sinclair had to agree that it didn’t sound like her. And she’d been avoiding delving too closely into her motivations for going along with him.

“True. But the new wardrobe is nice.”

Concern grew in Kristy’s voice. “Sinclair, you’re not—”

“I’m not.”

“—falling for Hunter. Because I’ve been talking to Jack, and to his grandfather, and he’s not a good long-term prospect.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” said Sinclair, embarrassed that Kristy would have discussed the situation with the Osland family.

“You remember how you were after Zeke.”

“I got over Zeke just fine.” It hadn’t taken that long, maybe a few weeks. “And I have Hunter completely in context.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Well, kind of sure. “It’s all business,” Sinclair insisted. “In fact, we’re about to launch Lush Beauty in the biggest way.” She thought about the spa deal and the time spent with Hunter. “Do you ever find your new life with Jack surreal?”

Kristy laughed. “All the time.”

“Hunter and I went to a club tonight. First class all the way. The band even stopped by. And the weird thing? It seemed pretty normal.”

“It does take some getting used to,” Kristy agreed.

“Yeah, for the launch of the new Luscious Lavender line across Europe, Hunter bought a chain of spas!” She heard him moving around next door. “Sounds like he’s out of the shower.”

“Hunter is in your shower? What the—”

“He’s next door. We have adjoining rooms.” Then Sinclair realized she probably didn’t want to have a detailed conversation on that, particularly when Hunter was about to waltz back into her room. “Better go.”

“Wait—”

“Bye.” Sinclair quickly disconnected.

“Hey, babe,” said Hunter, padding inside in one of the white robes. “You’re not going to shower?”

She stifled a yawn, dropping her phone on the little desk beside the armchair. “Tomorrow.”

He crossed toward her. “Works for me.” He smiled as he leaned down to kiss her. “Ready for bed?”

“Just let me find something to change into.”

He burrowed into her neck, planting kisses along the way. “You’re not going to need a nightgown.”

She chuckled at his gravelly voice and the way his rough skin tickled hers.

His hands slipped beneath her robe. “What’s this?”

“It’s called underwear.”

“You trying to slow me down?”

“Not worth the work, am I?”

“Always.” He drew her to her feet.

Then his cell phone rang.

He swore, but picked it up and checked the number. “Richard.”

“You need to take that?”

“Tomorrow,” he said. “Tomorrow, we need to strategize.”

“Over the spas?”

He nodded.

Sinclair squinted. “I thought the deal was done?”

“It is.” His lips compressed. “Tomorrow I figure out how to explain to my family I spent several hundred million.”

Everything inside Sinclair went still. “How do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m going to hear words like reckless and impulsive. They’ll be ticked, so I need to figure out how to present this just right so Gramps doesn’t go ballistic.”

Her stomach turned to a lead weight. “But I thought …”

He waited.

“I thought you were ready to tell them.”

He coughed out a cold laugh. “Not hardly.” He tossed the phone down and moved toward her. “But it can wait until tomorrow; you’re what’s important tonight.”

“I have to use the bathroom,” Sinclair blurted.

“Sure,” he said, obviously puzzled as to why she was making a big deal about it. “You should go ahead and do that.”

Hesitating only a second, she grabbed her phone.

He glanced at her hand. “Expecting a call?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” She headed for the door. “Time zones, you know.” Then she quickly shut herself in.

Her hands were shaking as she dialed Kristy.

“Come on. Come on,” she muttered as the connection rang hollow. “Pick up.”

She got her sister’s voice mail and jiggled her foot as she waited for the beep.

“Kristy? It’s me. I really need to talk to you. I’ll try again in a few minutes. Make sure you pick up.”

What to do now? She needed Hunter out of the way. She needed Hunter … asleep.

Okay, this was going to be tricky. He didn’t seem like he was in the mood for anything remotely quick.

She exited the bathroom, and was pulled immediately into his arms, engulfed in a major hug, peppered with kisses that under any other circumstances would have been erotic and totally arousing.

“Uh, Hunter?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m … not …”

He pulled back. “Something wrong?”

“I’m still woozy from the drinks,” she lied.

His eyes glowed pewter as he waggled his eyebrows. “You maybe need to lie down?”

She shook her head. “No. I mean yes. I mean.” She hit him with the most contrite expression she could muster. “Can we wait until morning?”

His gaze grew concerned. “That bad?”

She nodded. It was worse, only not in the way he was imagining.

“Come on, then.” He led her to the bed, pushing aside the comforter and tucking her in.

He slipped under the covers beside her and spooned their bodies together. He kissed the back of her neck, smoothing her hair. “Sleep,” he muttered.

She nodded miserably, and pretended to do just that.

Half an hour later, his breathing was deep and even. Engulfed in his warmth, she was struggling to stay awake herself. She didn’t dare wait any longer.

She cautiously slipped from the bed, snagged her phone, and tiptoed into the bathroom.

She tried Kristy again, still coming up with voice mail.

“Kristy?” she whispered harshly. “You have to call me. I’m sleeping with my phone on vibrate. Wake me up!”

Then she clicked it off, forced herself to swallow her panic, took a drink of water to combat her dry throat, and headed back to bed.

“You okay?” Hunter mumbled as she climbed back in.

“Thirsty,” she responded guiltily as he drew her against him.

“You’ll be better in the morning,” he assured her with a kiss.

She’d be better when Kristy called and was sworn to temporary secrecy. That’s when she’d be better.

Sinclair awoke to Hunter’s broad hand on her breast. His lips were kissing her neck, and his hardened body was pressed against her backside.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he murmured in her ear.

She smiled. “Morning.”

He caressed her nipple, sending sparks of desire to her brain. His free hand trailed along her belly. She gasped, the warmth of arousal swirling and gathering within her.

“I’ve been waiting,” he rumbled. “You slept too long.”

“Sorry.”

“Make it up to me.” His hand slipped to the moisture between her legs.

He flipped her onto her back.

“Right now,” he growled.

In answer, she kissed him hard.

A pounding sounded on the door, and someone shouted his name.

Hunter jerked back. “What the—?”

It took her a second to realize the person was pounding outside Hunter’s room.

“Don’t move,” he commanded, staring into her eyes. Then he jackknifed out of bed and stuffed his arms into the robe. He pushed the adjoining door shut behind him. Sinclair sat up, shaking out the cobwebs.

She felt a lump under her thigh, and realized it was her phone. Flipping it open, she quickly checked for a return call from Kristy.

Nothing.

The voices rose in the room next door, drawing Sinclair’s attention.

“—be so freaking reckless and impulsive!”

It was Jack’s voice, and Sinclair was afraid she might throw up.

“We have talked and talked about this,” came another gravelly voice. It had to be Cleveland.

The family knew. They were here. And they were angry. And it was all her fault. Sinclair wrapped her arms around her stomach and scrunched her eyes shut tight.

At first, Hunter was too shocked to react.

He’d gone from Sinclair, soft and plaint in his arms, to his grandfather’s harsh wrath in the space of thirty seconds. His brain and his hormones needed time to catch up.

“I can give you the prospectus,” he told them. “The financials and the appraisals.”

“You can bet your ass you’ll be giving us the prospectus, the financials and the appraisals,” shouted Gramps.

Then it was Jack’s turn. “You can’t make unilateral decisions!”

“I can. And so can you and Gramps.”

“Not like this.”

“Yes, like this. There’s no advantage in three guys spending time on what one can do alone.” Hunter was warming up now. He just wished he was wearing something other than a bathrobe. “This is a good deal. It’s a great deal!”

“That’s not the point,” Jack said.

“The point being that you and Gramps are control freaks?”

“The point being you need to play with the team.”

Hunter turned on his grandfather. “You thought it was funny to send me to Lush Beauty. You thought it was funny to send me to Sinclair. Well, guess what? You send me to run a company, I run the damn company.”

“I have half a mind to take away your signing authority,” Cleveland threatened.

“Because that wouldn’t be an overreaction,” Hunter countered, folding his arms across his chest.

“You, young man, spent hundreds of millions without so much as an e-mail.”

“It’s amortized over twenty years. The property values alone—”

“If it wasn’t for Sinclair telling Kristy—”

“What?” Hunter roared, unable to believe what he’d heard.

Jack and Cleveland stopped dead.

Hunter stared hard at them. “You got information from your wife because my … Sinclair talked?”

“And thank God she did,” said Cleveland.

But Hunter was past listening to Jack and his grandfather.

“We’re done,” he said to them, moving to open the door. “Richard has the details. You take a look at the deal. If you don’t like it, I’ll sell my Osland International stock and go it on my own.”

Jack squinted. “Hunter?”

Hunter swung open the hotel room door. “Talk to you later.”

“It wasn’t Sinclair’s—”

“Talk to you later.”

Jack moved in front of him. “I can’t let you—”

“What?” Hunter barked. “What do you think I’m going to do to her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Give me a break,” he scoffed. He wasn’t going to hurt Sinclair. He wouldn’t let anybody hurt Sinclair. But the woman had one hell of a lot of explaining to do.

Eight

Hearing the latch click on the adjoining door, Sinclair broke out in a cold sweat. Her fingertips dug into the arms of the chair as she stared straight at the dove-gray painted panel.

The hinges glided silently and Hunter filled the doorway, his eyes simmering obsidian. But his voice was cool with control. “I thought we were a team.”

She wished he’d shout at her, wished he’d rant. She could take his anger a lot more easily than his disappointment.

She’d let him down. She wanted to explain. She wanted to apologize. But her vocal cords were temporarily paralyzed.

“I trusted you,” he continued. “I trusted your confidentiality. I trusted your discretion.”

She fought to say something, to gather her thoughts. “I didn’t know,” she finally blurted out.

“Didn’t know what? Was there something ambiguous about ‘don’t tell anyone, including Kristy and Jack’?”

“But that was before the deal went through.”

“The deal went through at 3:00 a.m. this morning. Are you telling me in the five minutes I was in the shower—” He snapped his jaw. “You called Kristy.” He gave a cold laugh. “You were so anxious to share gossip about my business dealings that you couldn’t even wait until morning?”

“It wasn’t gossip.”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

She slowly shook her head. She could only imagine the implications of her behavior now that she had all the facts.

“Well, that makes two of us,” he said. “Because I just offered to sell out of Osland International.”

The contents of her stomach turned to a concrete mass.

She opened her mouth, but he waved a dismissive hand. “Much as I’d like to sit around and debate this with you, I’ve got a few problems to solve this morning. I’ll have to talk to you later.”

Then he turned back to his own room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Sinclair’s cell phone chimed.

She glanced reflexively down to see Kristy’s number on the readout. She couldn’t talk to her sister now. She didn’t think she could talk to anyone.

There was every possibility she’d ruined Hunter’s life. The worry that she might not get plum assignments or choice promotions at Lush Beauty faded to nothing in the face of that reality.

She stared at nothing for nearly an hour, then shoved herself into a standing position. She crossed to the closet and took out the clothes she’d been wearing when she arrived in Paris. They looked pale and boring compared to the new outfits, but she didn’t have the heart to wear any of them.

She combed her hair, brushed her teeth, left the cosmetics on the counter and gathered up the suitcase with her old clothes inside. It seemed like a long walk to the elevator, longer still across the marble-floored atrium in the hotel lobby.

She figured Hunter would check out for her, so she wound her way past smiling tourists, bustling bellboys and intense businessmen. The men reminded her of Hunter and made her sadder by the moment.

Finally, she was out on the sidewalk, glancing up and down for a taxi. A hotel bellhop asked her a question in French. She tried to remember how to ask for a taxi, but it had slipped her mind.

In the sidewalk café next to her, propane heaters chugged out the only warmth in her world. People were eating breakfast, enjoying the sights of the busy street, their lives still intact.

The bellhop asked the question again.

She remembered. “Cabine de taxi?”

“Going somewhere?” came Hunter’s voice from behind her.

“The airport,” she answered without turning.

“I thought Mahoneys didn’t run away.”

“I’m not running away.”

“You mad at me?”

The question surprised a cold laugh from her.

“Because I’m pretty mad at you,” he said.

“No kidding.”

A taxi pulled up, but Hunter let someone else take it. “So, what’s your plan?”

She sighed. “Why’d you do that?”

“We’re not finished talking.”

“I thought you had problems to solve.”

He snorted. “And how. But I want to know your plans first.”

Sinclair looked pointedly down at her suitcase.

“You left the rest of your clothes in the closet,” he said.

“Those are your clothes.”

“So, you’re going to pout? That’s your plan?”

“I’m not pouting.” She was making a strategic exit from an untenable situation before he had a chance to ask her to go himself.

Another taxi came to a stop, and Hunter sent it away.

“Do you think we could sit down?” he asked with a frustrated sigh, gesturing to the café.

Sinclair shrugged. If he wanted to ream her out some more, she supposed she owed him that much.

He picked up her suitcase, and she moved to one of the rattan chairs. She folded her hands on the round glass table and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Go ahead,” she said, steeling herself.

“You think I’m here to yell at you?”

She didn’t answer.

“Good grief, you’re as bad as Jack.” Hunter signaled the waitress for coffee, and Sinclair decided it might be a very long lecture.

“It seems to me …” said Hunter, as the uniformed woman filled their cups. He shook out a packet of sugar, tore off the corner and dumped it into the mug.

Sinclair just stared at the rising steam.

“You have two choices,” Hunter continued. “You can slink back to New York with your makeover half done and take your chances with Roger. Or you can buck up and stay here a few more days to finish it.”

“It seems to me,” she offered, forcing him to get to the heart of the matter. “Those are your choices, not mine.”

“How so?”

“Why would you want me to stay? Why would you want to help me? I ruined your life.”

“We don’t know that yet.”

“Well, I might have.”

“Possibly. Did you do it on purpose?”

“Of course not.”

“So you weren’t dishonest, you simply lacked certain details and a little good judgment.”

She tightened her jaw. She normally had great judgment. “Right,” she said.

A small glimmer flickered in his eyes. “You want to fight me, don’t you?”

She wrapped her hands around the warm stoneware mug. “I’m in the wrong. I can take it.”

“Very magnanimous of you.”

“Are we done? Can I go now?”

“Do you want to go now?”

She didn’t answer.

“Seriously, Sinclair. Do you want to walk out on Paris, the makeover and me just because things went off the rails?”

Things had done a lot more than go off the rails. She forced herself to ask him, “What do you want?”

“I want to turn the clock back a couple of hours to when you were sleeping in my arms.”

“I want to turn it back nine.”

He nodded, and they sat in silence for a few moments while dishes clattered and voices rose and fell at nearby tables. A gust of cool wind blew through, while the propane heaters chugged gamely on.

Hunter took a sip of his coffee. “Let me tell you why Jack and Gramps were so upset.”

“Because you spent hundreds of millions of dollars without telling them?” As soon as the flip answer was out, she regretted it. “Sorry.”

But Hunter actually smiled. “Good guess. It’s because they wanted me to call them first. They wanted to jump in and assess the deal before I made a decision. They wanted to research and analyze and contemplate. Do you have any idea how long Jack and Cleveland’s brand of due diligence takes?”