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“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.
