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“Do we celebrate?”
“As soon as the deal is approved,” Hunter answered as they turned onto the sidewalk. “The financing has to be put in place first. And we need to get the signatures on the contracts.”
She nodded eagerly.
“And, until then, we carry on as normal.” He hesitated over the wording of the next part. “And we don’t tell anyone about it.”
She squinted up at him. “Anyone being?”
“Anyone. Including Kristy and Jack.”
“But, why—”
“Convention.” Hunter shrugged with feigned unconcern. “We investigate things like this all the time. No point in cluttering up everyone’s desk over it until there’s something concrete.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either. The deal was somewhat larger than Hunter would normally undertake on his own. And he hadn’t yet figured out exactly how to tell Jack and his grandfather. He knew they’d be worried, and they’d definitely come at him with accusations that he was being reckless and impulsive. But he didn’t have time for his grandfather’s plodding approach to due diligence, which had taken weeks, even when he’d “rushed” the Lush deal.
Still, Hunter was fully confident in his decision. And he was fully confident time would prove it to be an excellent investment. But, for the short term, he needed a few days to work up to an explanation.
In the meantime, all the reasons for Sinclair’s makeover remained.
“Jewelry store?” he asked her.
She laughed and unexpectedly captured his hand. “You are in a spending mood.”
“I am,” he agreed, kissing her knuckles and pointing to a five-story, stone-arched jewelry store across the street.
They dashed across the traffic and entered to discover the building decorated for Valentine’s Day. Golden hearts, red ribbons and bows hung from the ceiling. Massive bouquets of red roses covered every surface. And tiny, heart-shaped boxes of truffles were being handed out to the ladies as they exited.
Hunter scanned the glass cases and the stairway leading to the second floor. Then he looked down at their clasped hands.
“You with me on this?” he asked.
She nodded.
He rubbed a finger across her nose. “No complaints now.”
She took in the festive scene. “I’m not complaining.”
“I may buy you something expensive.”
“Just so long as you take it back when we’re finished.”
He frowned. “Take it back?”
“Save the box,” she said. “Or you can give it to a girlfriend in the future.”
Hunter had no intention of taking anything back, or giving it to some future girlfriend. But he didn’t see any point in sharing that with Sinclair.
“Sure,” he agreed.
Sinclair smiled and turned her attention to the display cases.
Convinced she was buying for some other mythical girlfriend—who Hunter could not remotely picture at the moment—Sinclair plunged right into the game.
She selected a sapphire-and-diamond choker, a pair of emerald-and-gold hooped earrings, teardrop diamonds, delicate sapphire studs, a ruby pendant that Hunter was positive she thought was an imitation stone, and a whimsical little bracelet with one ruby- and one diamond-encrusted goldfish dangling from the platinum chain.
Hunter bought them all, clipping the bracelet on her wrist so she could wear it back to the hotel.
Then they walked to a nice restaurant, taking seats overlooking the river. The maître d’ brought them a bottle of merlot and some warm French rolls.
Sinclair jangled her bracelet. “You’re very good at this.”
“I have a mom and a sister.”
“Nice answer,” she nodded approvingly, lifting her long-stemmed glass. “Never buy for girlfriends?”
“Why do you keep setting me up?” He didn’t want to talk to Sinclair about his former girlfriends. “Tossing out questions I can’t answer without being a jerk?”
“I know you’ve had girlfriends.”
“But I don’t want to tell you about them.”
“Why not? Wouldn’t I like them?”
“You’re really going to push this?”
“No reason not to.”
“Is that what you’re telling yourself?” He didn’t know what was going on between them, but he sure as hell didn’t want to hear about any of her old boyfriends.
Then again, maybe her feelings were different than his. There was one way to find out.
“Melissa,” he said, watching Sinclair’s expression carefully, “was a weather girl in Los Angeles. We dated for three months, played a lot of squash and beach volleyball. She was a vegetarian and a social activist. She wouldn’t let me buy anything from a very long list of countries with human or animal rights infractions.”
Sinclair’s expression remained impassive.
Hunter tore one of the rolls in two. “Sandra worked in a health club. She also played squash. We dated maybe two months. Deanne taught parasailing. We did a lot of mountain climbing, and some swimming, and she loved dancing at the clubs. But I introduced her to one too many movie stars, and she was gone.”
Sinclair’s expression faltered. “Did she break your heart?”
Hunter scoffed out a laugh. “It was at the six-month mark, normally my limit. Now, Jacqueline—”
“Is this going to take the entire dinner?”
“You did ask.”
“I’ve had two boyfriends,” she offered.
“I didn’t ask,” Hunter reminded her.
“Roberto decided his mother was right after all, and Zeke drove off on his Harley.”
They left her? Now, that surprised Hunter.
“They break your heart?” he found himself asking, genuinely wanting to know.
“I thought so at the time. But, you know, neither of them even took me to Paris.”
Hunter grunted. “It’s a sad day when a man won’t even take his girlfriend to Paris.”
“Now that I’ve seen Paris—” Sinclair spread her hands palms up “—that’s going to be the baseline.”
“Smart girl.”
“Thank you.”
“You might want to add diamonds to that list.”
“You think?”
Hunter nodded and pretended to give it serious thought. “Private jet, too.”
Sinclair picked up the other half of his roll. “How else does one get to Paris?” She took a bite.
“A woman needs to be smart about these things.”
“Thank you so much for the advice.”
To his surprise, Hunter wasn’t jealous of Roberto and Zeke. The men were morons.
He signaled the waiter for menus, and sat back to enjoy the company.
Sinclair awoke with a smile on her face in the river-view room at the Ciel D’or Hotel in downtown Paris. She felt different. The clothes Hunter had bought her were hanging in the closet and the jewelry package was sitting on the nightstand. Someone was tapping gently on her door.
She flipped back the comforter and slipped into the plush, white hotel robe, tying the sash around her waist. The fish bracelet dangled at her wrist. She knew it was silly, but she hadn’t wanted to take it off.
Through the peephole, she could see a black-tuniced waiter carrying a silver tray. Coffee. Her entire body sighed in anticipation.
She opened the door, and the man set the tray down on a small table beside the window. She realized she didn’t have any money for a tip, but he assured her it was taken care of.
Before she had a chance to pour a cup of coffee or tear into one of the buttery croissants, the phone on the bedside table began to ring.
“Hello?” She perched on the edge of the unmade bed.
“You awake?” came Hunter’s voice.
“Barely.”
“Did the coffee arrive?”
“It did.”
His breath hissed in. “Call me when you’re dressed.”
Her gaze darted to their connecting door. “I’m covered from head to toe.”
“You sure?”
She glanced down. “Well, maybe not my toes. But everything else. Come and have coffee.”
“Toes are sexy,” he said in a rumbling voice.
“My nails need trimming, and I haven’t had a pedicure in months.”
“In that case, I’ll be right over.”
She grinned as she hung up the phone and opened her panel of the connecting door. Then she settled into one of the richly upholstered chairs and poured a cup of extremely fragrant coffee and gazed at the sparkling blue sky against the winter skyline.
The door on Hunter’s side opened. “Did I mention the Castlebay Spa offers pedicures?”
“Are you offended by my toes?”
He took the seat across from her, pouring his own coffee. “I’m not even going to look at your toes. If you lied about their condition, they’ll probably haunt my dreams.”
She tore a croissant in two. “You got a fetish?”
“Only for gorgeous women.” His gaze caught her bracelet. Their eyes met, and there was something excruciatingly intimate in his look.
And then it hit Sinclair. They were having an affair. They were having an affair in every possible way except sleeping together. The awareness brought a warm glow to her stomach. She deliberately moved her hand so the bracelet would tap against her wrist. The sensation sent a shot of desire through her body.
Hunter cleared his throat. “So, do you want to continue the makeover in Paris, or perhaps we should switch our base of operations to London … or Venice?”
“Is there a better place than Paris for a brand-new hairdo?” She had absolutely no desire to leave.
“Not that I know of.”
“Then I vote we stay here.”
She sipped her coffee from the fine china cup and bit into the most tender croissant she’d had in her life.
Hunter selected an apple pastry sprinkled in powered sugar, and Sinclair decided she’d try that one next.
“Are you at all worried I’ll get spoiled and refuse to go home?” she asked, taking another bite.
He grinned. “Go ahead.”
“You’re not serious.”
