Her only regret was that she wouldn’t be there to see the look on Sinclair’s face.
A week after their disastrous lunch, Sage Matthews remained on Cole’s mind. His thoughts bounced from those sexy, shapely legs to that sassy mouth of hers painted the hottest shade of red he’d ever seen.
“Mr. Sinclair?”
Cole blinked, the sound of his name dragging him back to reality. Damn, he’d done it again.
And again, he told himself he was only pondering his next step to persuade the woman to sell her business.
“Sorry, could you repeat that?” Cole glanced around the coffee-and croissant-laden conference-room table where Espresso’s department heads had gathered that morning for their biweekly meeting. His uncharacteristic distracted behavior drew a quizzical stare from Victor and a smug, know-it-all one from Loretta, who had been needling him all week about Stiletto’s owner rejecting his offer.
He looked past them to the company’s special events coordinator.
Tammy Barnes adjusted her eyeglasses. “I was saying it appears the Valentine’s Day minimakeover event at our department store counters will have some competition, at least locally,” she said. “Stiletto Cosmetics is holding an event the same afternoon.”
Preston Tate’s buttons strained to keep his shirt closed as he hurriedly washed down his third croissant with a gulp of coffee. “So we anticipate a lower-than-expected turnout,” Tate, who was the head of their marketing team, chimed in. “It’ll also mean generating less buzz nationwide, when the bloggers take to social media with comments and photos all about Stiletto.”
As Cole listened, he wondered if this event was Sage’s idea of getting back at him. She’d been furious when she’d stormed out of the restaurant. Moreover, the woman had practically challenged him. Just like you did to her.
Seated at his right, Loretta glanced down at her tablet computer. She’d balked when he’d upgraded every Espresso employee to the latest technology upon his return. Now the tablet rarely left her hands.
“Next on the agenda is Lola,” she said.
A collective groan echoed across the room at the mention of Cole’s youngest sister, and a young man seated at the opposite end of the conference table cleared his throat. “A few days ago, she and some of her model friends held a wild party in London and totally trashed their hotel suite. Now the European tabloids are having a field day. I think we need to...”
“Nonsense.” Victor cut him off. “You can’t believe anything the media reports anyway.”
“But they had photos, and considering Lola is the face of Espresso, it reflects badly on the company,” the young man countered.
“Brat,” Loretta grunted.
“Watch your mouths. That’s my baby girl you’re talking about,” Victor warned. “Those damn tabloids are making a big deal out of nothing. End of story. Case closed.”
The faces around the table turned to Cole, knowing he was the one with the final word on any subject concerning the company. “I agree with Victor,” he said. “Lola’s just high-spirited.”
“Enabler.” Loretta snorted.
Cole held up a silencing hand and then turned his attention back to their marketing head. “Tate, I want to hear more about this event of Stiletto’s.”
“I’ll just bet you do,” Loretta muttered under her breath.
Cole shot his secretary a censorious glare, which earned him another gravelly snort. If she were anyone else, she would have been looking for a new job.
“It’s a meet and greet for social media beauty gurus,” Preston said. “Light refreshments, swag bags, et cetera.”
Cole tapped his fingertip against the table. “Do you happen to know if this was something they pulled together in the past week?”
“I don’t think so.” Preston shrugged. “Looks like they posted it on their website a month ago.”
Cole nodded absently. He was just being paranoid, he reasoned. Sage might be bold. The name of her lip color crossed his mind. However, she wasn’t badass enough to take him on...or was she?
A thump vibrated the conference table, jolting him out of his reverie.
“Dang it!” Victor stood abruptly, drawing concerned stares from the room. He stomped his foot. “Leg fell asleep.”
The older man shook his leg. He walked over to the wall of windows, on the other side of the room to coax life back into his sluggish limb. Located two floors below Cole’s office, the floor-to-ceiling windows offered the same panoramic view, but at a lower vantage point.
“Funny you should ask about last week, though.” Preston swiped at his tablet. “It looks as though they expanded the event a week ago and reached out to more bloggers and YouTube vloggers.”
Maybe he wasn’t being paranoid after all, Cole thought. Was this Sage’s way of taking him on? He dismissed the idea. The challenge she’d issued had simply been an angry rant. Nothing more.
Tammy raised her hand to get their attention before clearing her throat. “Does anyone know when Tia will be back? I need to talk to her about including the spas in an upcoming event.”
Cole shrugged. His sister and brother-in-law, Ethan, hadn’t had time for a honeymoon after their quickie Las Vegas nuptials six months ago. Last month they’d flown to Australia, where it was still summer, for an extended road-trip honeymoon.
“She gets back to Nashville on Valentine’s Day but won’t return to work until the week after,” Loretta answered.
Tammy nodded. “Thank...”
“Holy Moley!” Victor bellowed from the other side of the room.
Again, his outburst attracted the attention of the department heads seated at the table.
“For goodness’ sake,” Loretta said. “The entire room doesn’t have to be privy to your circulation problems. I’m no spring chicken, but you don’t hear me squawking about every little twinge.”
“It’s not me. It’s...” Victor turned away from the window. He wore a stunned expression on his face. “Cole, I think you should take a look at this.”
Concerned, Cole rushed to her stepfather’s side. The older man pointed out the window, and Cole looked in the direction of his finger.
“What the...?” Cole blinked.
He stared dumbfounded at the electronic billboard in the distance, unable to believe what he was seeing. The gasps of the employees who had followed him to the window filled Cole’s ears.
No, the hell she didn’t.
The ad for Burger Tower’s mouthwatering burger was gone. In its place was an advertisement for Stiletto Cosmetics, featuring the man in drag from the newspaper article photo. Even though it was a mile away, the ad flashed boldly against the gray winter sky.
The faux old lady wore the same lopsided gray wig, a hideous paisley dress and a thick coating of outdated makeup. He was juxtaposed against a chic young woman in skintight leather pants and high heels.
Cole’s molars ground against each other as he glared at the caption—Stiletto: Not Your Granny’s Makeup. It was scrawled across the bottom of the ad, in the same shade of red as Sage’s lipstick, as if she’d signed it personally.
The blasted woman knew he’d see it. He’d