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