While Stiletto was simply a commodity to a man like Cole Sinclair, something easily bought or sold, it was her everything.
He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Think about it, Ms. Matthews,” he continued. “We’re talking about a lot of money here. You’re a young woman. Wisely invested, it’ll last a lifetime. You could travel the world worry-and responsibility-free.”
“And how did that work for you?”
Sage caught the tic of a muscle beneath the shadow of beard along his strong jawline. The tiny telltale movement was the only indication her question made him uncomfortable. “You spent the past few years on your boat sailing around—where was it I read, again?—Italy? Greece?”
“Both.”
“Yet, instead of continuing to enjoy the idyllic carefree life you described, you’re back in Nashville running Espresso.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. She noticed her unconscious movements mirrored his and abruptly unfolded her arms. “Not only that, you want my company, too.”
“I came back home because my family needed me. The company my mother poured her lifeblood into needs me.”
“Then you should understand why I won’t sell Stiletto,” she said. “I’ve spent years building this business. Now that it’s finally showing some promise, you want me to just hand it over to you.”
“Sell it to me, Ms. Matthews, for what we both know is triple what your small company is actually worth.”
His statement brought up a question that had niggled at her since she’d seen his staggering starting offer.
“I’m curious. Why are you willing to pay big money for my ‘small company’?”
Their waiter returned. A slight incline of Cole’s head and he quickly removed the plates of barely touched food, then vanished as if he’d never entered the room.
Sage met the hard stare of that man across the table. She held it through a tension-filled silence, wondering if he’d give her the real answer to her question or some pat bullshit reply.
Part of her hoped he’d do the latter. It would make it easier to dismiss Cole Sinclair and snuff out any attraction she felt toward him.
“Our image problem is no secret. The article that ran in America Today certainly didn’t help it,” he said. “Acquiring Stiletto would give Espresso instant access to and credibility with a younger market, which we desperately need.”
Sage shouldn’t have been surprised. Everything about him so far had been straightforward. The stark honesty in his reply raised him in her esteem.
Despite her efforts to the contrary, she found herself actually liking Cole Sinclair, though not enough to sell him her company.
“While I understand your predicament, you’ll have to find another solution to Espresso’s problems. Stiletto isn’t for sale. Not at any price.”
“So you’ve said.” He seemed nonplussed at her declaration.
However, Sage knew he wasn’t ready to give up, because they seemed to be two of a kind, and in his shoes, she wouldn’t.
“Be smart, Ms. Matthews. Not only is this a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you, it’s one for your company, too,” he said. “And while I applaud what you’ve been able to accomplish with Stiletto with such limited resources, I think you’ve hit a ceiling. You won’t be able to take it to the next level.”
And just like that, Sage didn’t like him so much anymore.
“But you can?”
“Yes,” he said, matter-of-factly. The lack of conceit in his tone irked her more than his words.
Sage snorted. “With what, money?”
“Money, along with two other things you don’t have—infrastructure and experience.”
Sage listened as he continued to build his case.
“Espresso may have an image problem, but it also has the distribution channels. We have the department store counter space and Espresso Sanctuary spas.”
“Thanks to that mention from Crave, Stiletto is on a roll,” Sage countered. “It’s only a matter of time before I’ll have those things, too.”
Cole chuckled as if she’d told him a knock-knock joke. The deep, rich sound sent the same involuntary tingles through her body as his touch, and at the same time, ratcheted up her annoyance. “Perhaps in ten years or so,” he said. “I can do it now.”
Sage grudgingly acknowledged the man had a point, but only to herself. She’d never give him the satisfaction of saying it aloud.
“Like you said, I’m a young woman. Time is on my side.” She spared a glance at the folded slip of paper with his offer, before leveling her gaze at him. “Besides, there’s more to taking a business to the next level than deep pockets.”
“Deep pockets and experience.”
“Experience in what?” Sage muttered. “Lucky investments? Globetrotting?”
Annoyance flashed in his dark brown eyes as they bored into hers, but he extinguished the show of emotion as quickly as it sparked.
He exhaled a long drawn-out sigh. “I grew up in this industry at my mother’s side.” He spoke slowly as if he were correcting a naughty child. “During my hiatus from Espresso, I indeed made a shrewd investment that paid off royally, which gave me an opportunity to take off and see a bit of the world. However, I also spent seven of those nine years working my way up the ladder to vice president of acquisitions at Force Cosmetics.”
Sage’s mouth dropped open at his disclosure, and she promptly slammed it shut, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
“The articles written about me tend to leave out that particular part of my bio, preferring to focus on my so-called lucky investment,” he said.
Damn. An internet search on Cole Sinclair had pulled up at least a dozen articles. None of them had mentioned he’d had a top job at Force. They practically dominated the beauty industry.
Also, it seemed strange.
Why had he gone to work for an international giant like Force Cosmetics when he had blood ties to Espresso, she wondered. Sage shrugged off the question. It wasn’t any of her business.
“Don’t underestimate me, Ms. Matthews,” he said. “There’s a lot more to me than money.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Sage conceded the round of verbal sparring to him. Still, it wouldn’t get him what he wanted.
He rested his back against the chair. His easy smile returned, oozing with Southern charm, but his dark eyes brimmed with an unspoken challenge.
“Also, don’t let pride stand in the way of your common sense.” Like his smile, the deep, melodic baritone belied the man’s uncompromising words. “Let me take Stiletto off your hands because the bottom line is I can run your company better than you ever could.”
Sage stood abruptly. The condescension and the kernel of truth in his hard-hitting statement stung as if he’d pelted her with a handful of rocks.
“This meeting is over, Mr. Sinclair,” she said, walking toward the door of the private dining room.
Sage didn’t intend to give him a backward glance but turned around at the sound of that arrogant, infuriating, panty-melting voice.
“Keep in mind, if you won’t sell Stiletto to me, I’ll be forced to go with my alternative plan. One I don’t think you’ll like.”
Sage’s