“You okay?” His voice seemed to come from a long way off. His body was a delicious weight on top of her, and she couldn’t move a muscle, including her eyelids.

“Sinclair?” he pressed, sounding worried.

“I think we’ve cured the tension,” she mumbled.

There was a chuckle low in his throat, and he eased his weight to the side, gathering her in his arms. “I do believe you’re right.”

Seven

Sinclair caught sight of her new haircut in the mirror at Club Seventy-Five. She’d second-guessed herself about getting it so short, but she had to admit, she loved it. Textured to spiky wisps around her ears and neck, it was light on top, and her new bangs swooped across her forehead, while the foil, blond highlights brought out the color in her cheeks.

Of course, the color could have come from the tote bag full of Luscious Lavender cosmetics that she’d had applied this afternoon. The beautician had painstakingly shown Sinclair how to apply the makeup herself, but she wasn’t so sure she’d be successful-at least not without a lot of practice.

But, for tonight, she felt gorgeous.

She was wearing one of the jazzier dresses they’d bought at La Petite Fleur. A Diana Kamshak, it was a mint-green satin party dress. The short, full skirt sported blue horizontal stripes, and it was accented by a blue and silver border at the mid-thigh hem.

Above the wide silver belt, the top was tight and strapless, with a princess neckline that drew attention to her breasts. She wouldn’t normally be comfortable in something so revealing. But every time she looked into Hunter’s eyes, she felt beautiful.

She’d had dozens of covetous looks at her sapphire-and-diamond choker. Or perhaps it was because she was also wearing the Diana Kamshak dress. Or perhaps it was because she was with Hunter.

She’d decided on the teardrop diamond earrings, and she liked the way their weight bounced on her ears. She still hadn’t taken off the goldfish bracelet, and it made a kicky addition to the outfit. She liked it. She liked it all.

The lights and the music pounded lifeblood through her bones. Or maybe it was Hunter that pounded through her bones. They were out on the floor, amidst the crowd, alternating between touching, smiling, and just moving independently to the beat.

He slipped an arm around her waist, tugging her close, spinning her to the rhythm of the house band. Sinclair smiled, then laughed out loud, she couldn’t help it. The musicians launched into another lively and compelling tune.

“You thirsty?” he called in her ear as the song finished with a metallic flourish.

She nodded.

He put at hand at the small of her back, guiding her off the dance floor. “Water? Wine? Champagne?”

Sinclair did a little shimmy next to their table. “Champagne.”

He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “My kind of girl.”

Then he helped her into the high bar chair and disappeared into the crowd.

Sinclair liked being Hunter’s kind of girl.

She liked the fashions. She liked the limos. She loved the sex. And she loved the way they arrived at a club and got escorted immediately through the side entrance. No waiting around on the curb for Hunter Osland.

But putting all that aside, what she liked most of all was Hunter-the person. Period.

Okay, the one thing she didn’t like was the high shoes. She supposed she’d get used to them at some point, but right now, they just made one of her baby toes burn and both calves ache.

She slipped the heels off under the table.

Hunter returned with the drinks as the band announced a break. She sipped at the bubbles and grinned.

“Good?” asked Hunter, picking up his own glass.

“Great,” said Sinclair.

Two men slid into the other chairs at the table. “Hey, Osland,” one greeted.

“Bobby,” said Hunter. “Nice to see you.” Then he nodded to the other man. “Scooter.”

Scooter nodded back.

Then both men smiled appreciatively at Sinclair.

“Sinclair Mahoney,” Hunter introduced. “This is Bobby Bonnista and Scooter Hinze from Blast On Black.”

“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-”