Barbara Dunlop - Beauty And The Billionaire

Tuxedoed men accompanied glittering women dressed in traditional black or brilliant-red evening gowns. The couples were smiling and laughing as they made their way past the sweeping staircase and a central glass sculpture. Plush armchairs dotted the multi-story rotunda, while marble pillars supported sconce lights and settees along a lattice-decorated walkway to the main ballroom.

Flashbulbs popped and cameras rolled as the media vied for footage of the A-list event. The PR person in Sinclair was thrilled with the hoopla, the woman in her was disappointed to be there alone. She squelched the silly, emotional reaction and answered a few questions from a reporter for a popular magazine. But then the reporter spotted someone more exciting and quickly wrapped it up.

“Sinclair,” came Sammy Simon’s voice.

She turned to see one of the Lush Beauty Lavender suppliers decked out in a black tux and tie.

He took both of her hands in his. “Lovely,” he drawled appreciatively, taking in her strapless white satin dress. It had a sweetheart neckline and tiny red hearts scattered over the bodice. The hearts gathered into a vertical, then cascaded down one side of the full skirt.

Sammy kissed her on the cheek. “I had no idea you were a fan of haute couture.”

She gave him a laugh. “A little something I picked up in Paris.”

He squeezed her hands. “Find me later for a dance.” And he joined the throng headed for the party.

“Sinclair,” came another voice, and an arm went around her shoulders.

“Mr. Davidson.” She greeted the owner of a chain of specialty shops that had featured Lush Beauty Products for years.

“This is my wife, Cynthia.”

Sinclair smiled and leaned forward to shake the woman’s hand. As she did, Wes Davidson’s hand dropped to an uncomfortable level near her hip.

“And one of my store managers, Reginald Pie.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Pie.” Sinclair shook the man’s hand.

Wes Davidson spoke up. “It’s such a pleasure to see you, Sinclair. I’ve been meaning to arrange a meeting to talk about the new product lines.”

“Absolutely,” she agreed.

“I’ll call you,” he said. “Great to see you looking…so…great.”

Mrs. Davidson reddened.

Sinclair gently pulled away. “Oh, look. There’s Ethan. I need to say hello. So good to see you Mr. Davidson. Mrs. Davidson.”

Sinclair slipped away.

She made a beeline for Ethan. He was talking to two of their distributors.

“But if the price breaks don’t work for the small retailers,” one of the men was saying, “you’re going to compromise your core business.”

“Hello, Ethan,” Sinclair broke in, grateful to find a safe conversation.

The men stopped talking and turned to stare at her.

“You remember Sinclair,” said Ethan.

What a strange thing to say. Of course they remembered her.

“Sinclair,” said Ron. “You look incredible.”

“Fabulous to see you again,” said David.

Then the conversation stopped dead.

Sinclair glanced from one man to the other. “You were talking about price breaks?” she prompted.

David chuckled. “Oh, not tonight,” he said. “You look incredible,” he repeated Ron’s sentiment.

“Thank you.” But that didn’t mean her brain had stopped working.

There was another strained silence.

“I’ll see you all inside?” Sinclair offered.

The men seemed to relax.

“Yes,” said David.

“Looking forward to it,” said Ron.

Ethan winked.

Sinclair walked away and immediately spotted Chantal.

She was surrounded by admirers, and she didn’t seem to mind they were focused on her looks and not on her business savvy. She was a glittering jewel in low-cut bright red, and she seemed to revel in the role.

Sinclair, on the other hand, was having serious reservations about her makeover. Men used to take her seriously. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so awkward in a business conversation.

Her cell phone rang in her evening purse, and she welcomed the distraction. She picked up the call.

“Can you hang on?” she asked, not expecting to be able to hear the answer.

She sought out an alcove behind the concierge desk, next to a bank of phone booths.

“Hello?”

“It’s Hunter,” came a welcome and familiar voice.

“Hey, you,” she responded, her voice softening, and the tension inside her dissipating to nothing. “Are you out front?” She glanced at the foyer, straining to see him coming through the main doors.

“I’ve had a complication.”

“Oh?”

He was going to be late. Sinclair tried to take the news in stride. She really had no expectations of him. At least, she had no right to have any expectations of him. But in that split second, she realized she’d been counting the minutes until he’d arrive.

“I’m on my way to London.”

“Now?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“There’s a couple of cruise ships, and a bankruptcy, and a complication in the Paraguay election.”

“I understand,” she quickly put in.

“I’m sorry-”

“No need. It’s business.” She’d been warned he’d hurt her. Hadn’t she been warned?

She heard him draw a breath. Traffic sounds came through his end of the phone.

“We only have twelve hours,” he told her.

She forced a laugh. “Another quick deal?”

“Jack’s on board this time.”

“That’s good.”

“We can get a really great price.”

“Of course.” She tried to ignore the crushing disappointment pressing down on her chest. She had no right to feel this way. He’d done so much for her already.

“You’re great,” he told her. “You’ll do fine on your own.”

“I know,” she nodded, realizing how very much she’d been counting on their last dance tonight. There was something about their relationship that cried out for closure-a closure she hadn’t yet experienced.

“I wouldn’t do it, except-”

“Hunter, stop.”

“What?”

“I knew this going in,” she pointed out, proud of her even tone.

“Knew what?”

“You. You’re reckless and impulsive. You have to fly to London. You have to buy ships. And you have to do it in less than twelve hours. That’s you. That what I lo…like about you. Have a great time.”

He was silent on the other end.

“You sure?” he finally asked.

“Do I sound sure?”

“Well, yeah.”

Her lying skills had obviously improved. “There you go. I’ll see you at the office. I gotta go now.”

“But-”

“See you.” Sinclair clicked off the phone.

She rounded the corner, taking in what now looked like a daunting mix of finely dressed people. And at the same time, she was beginning to fear her colleagues wouldn’t take her seriously. While Chantal seemed to be managing the glam persona with aplomb. And now Hunter wasn’t even going to show up.

Damn.

She had to stop caring about that.

Had she expected to be Cinderella tonight?

Had she expected he’d sweep the new her onto the dance floor, realize he’d fallen madly in love, and carry her off to happily ever after?

It was a ridiculous fantasy, and Sinclair was horrified to realize it was hers.

Her fingers went to the ruby-and-diamond goldfish bracelet-the one she hadn’t taken off in a week.

She’d thought about him every moment while she’d primped tonight. She’d worn a white, whale-boned bustier. It gave body to the dress, but it was also shamelessly sexy. She told herself no one would see it. But, secretly, deep down inside her soul, she’d hoped he would. She’d hoped they’d find an excuse to make love one more time, or maybe a hundred more times.

Truth was, Kristy’s fear had proven true. Sinclair had fallen hopelessly in love with Hunter. Hunter, on the other hand, skipped the ball to make a new business deal.

Her eyes burned while a knot of shame formed in her belly. Suddenly the designer clothes felt like zero protection for her broken heart.

She should have stuck with her regular wardrobe. Beneath her skirts and blazers and sensible blouses, she was in control of her world. People saw what she wanted them to see, and they respected what she represented. She was a fool to think she could beat Chantal at her own game. And she was a fool to think she could hold on to Hunter.

Reckless and impulsive. She’d heard those words so many times. There was nothing Sinclair could offer him that would compare to a high-risk, hundred-million-dollar deal in London at midnight.

She stepped away from the alcove, determined to get this horrible evening over with as soon as possible.

The jets taking off from JFK squealed above Hunter’s head as his driver circled his way through the terminals. He had his PDA set to calculator, running the numbers he knew he needed banking software to properly compute.

But the mini screen kept blurring in front of his eyes. He was seeing Sinclair in her white and red dress. The piping along the neckline. The teardrop diamonds. The ruby neck lace. Her expression when she’d realized the massive ruby was real.

He chuckled at that, particularly the part where he realized she still liked the goldfish bracelet better.

He wondered if she’d worn it tonight.

He wondered if she’d got her makeup just right.

Had her hair behaved?

Were her feet getting tired?

She’d gamely practiced for hours in those high shoes, but he knew she didn’t like them.

He wondered who she was dancing with right now, and quickly acknowledged that he cared. Something pulled tight inside him at the image of someone else holding her, their broad hand splayed across her back, another man’s jacket nearly brushing her breasts, the jerk’s lips whispering secrets into her ear.

If he was in the room, he’d probably rip her from the guy’s arms.

His cell phone beeped.

“Hunter Osland,” he greeted.

“Hey, Hunter.”

“Sinclair?” His heart lifted.

“It’s Kristy.”

“Oh.”

“Were you expecting Sinclair?”

“No.”

“Because I think she’s at that ball tonight.”

“She is.” He shifted in the backseat of the car. All alone at the ball.

“I just talked to Jack,” said Kristy.

Sinclair was all alone, because Hunter had let her down.

“Jack’s cell was running low on battery power,” Kristy continued.

It wasn’t like he’d had a choice. Osland International needed him, and his grandfather was always after him to be more dependable. That’s what he was doing by helping Jack.

“Jack wants you to call Richard for him.”

This was being dependable-and patient and methodical. Those were the other things his grandfather wanted.

Kristy’s words rambled together on the other end of the phone without making a whole lot of sense. “He said you’d know why.”

Though he’d also been patient and methodical when he convinced Sinclair to get a makeover, then when he took her to Europe, then when he bought her clothes, then when he taught her to dance. He also made sure she was completely ready to face Roger and the rest of Lush Beauty.

“Hunter?” prompted Kristy.

And…then he’d abandoned her for the first exciting project that came along.

Oh no.

He pictured her in his mind, stunningly gorgeous and all alone, other men circling like wolves.

Was he out of his mind?

“No!”

“What?” came Kristy’s worried voice.

The Sinclair project wasn’t over. There were things left to do for her. A whole lot of things left to for her, patient and methodical things left to do for her, some of them involving the rest of their natural lives.

“Hunter? What’s going on.”

“Tell Jack I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

“Tell him I can’t call Richard. I can’t go to London. If he can’t work it out himself, well, tell him there’ll be other cruise ships.”

“Other cruise ships?” Kristy parroted in confusion.

“For once in my life I’m not going to be reckless and impulsive. I’m going to be dependable.” Why hadn’t he thought about that before? He was such a fool.

“What are you talking about?” Kristy was obviously trying to be patient.

“I have to go see Sinclair.”

“How’d Sinclair get into this?”

“Because,” Hunter hesitated. Part of him didn’t want to say it out loud, and part of him wanted to shout it from the rooftops. “I’m in love with your sister,” he admitted to Kristy. “I’ll have to call you back.”

Then he disconnected and caught the driver’s amused gaze in the rearview mirror.

“The Roosevelt Hotel,” he hollered.

The driver’s face broke into a full fledged grin.

“No, wait,” said Hunter. “Make it the apartment. I have to change.”

If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right.