key on his computer. “Right. Like any reasonable stalker, I bought your company to get close to you.”
She shrugged. “Could happen.”
“Well, it didn’t. This is Gramps’ idea of a joke. I think he knows I slept with you,” said Hunter.
“Then there’s something wrong with that man.” And there was something frightening about a person with enough economic power to buy a four-hundred-person company as a joke. There was something even more frightening about a person who took the trouble to actually do it.
“I think he’s losing it in his old age.” Then Hunter paused for a moment to consider. “On the other hand, he was always crotchety and controlling.”
“Kristy likes him,” said Sinclair. Not that she was coming down on Cleveland Osland’s side. If Hunter was right, the man was seriously nuts.
“That’s because he’s batty over your sister.”
Sinclair supposed that was probably true. It was Cleveland Osland who had helped Kristy get started in the fashion business last month. And now her career was soaring.
A soaring career was what Sinclair wanted for herself. And what she really wanted was for Hunter not to be a complication in that. She had a huge opportunity here with the planned company expansion and with the development of the new Luscious Lavender line.
She advanced on his wide desk to make her point, forcing herself to ignore the persistent sexual tug that had settled in her abdomen. Whatever they’d had for that brief moment had ended. He was her past, now her boss.
Even if he might be willing to rekindle. And she had no reason to assume he was willing. She was not.
She dropped into one of his guest chairs, keeping her tone light and unconcerned. “So what do we do now?”
A wolfish grin grew on his face.
All right, so maybe there was a reason to assume he was willing.
“No,” she said, in a stern voice.
“I didn’t say a word.”
“You thought it. And the answer is no.”
“You’re a cold woman.”
“I’m an intelligent woman. I’m not about to sleep my way to the top.”
“There’s a lot to be said for being at the top.”
“I guess you would know.”
He leaned back in his chair, expression turning mischievous. “Yeah. I guess I would.”
She ignored the little-boy charm and leaned forward to prop her elbows on his desk. “Okay, let’s talk about how this works.”
“I thought we’d pretty much demonstrated how it worked last month.”
She wished he’d stop flirting. It was ridiculously tempting to engage. Their verbal foreplay that night had been almost as exciting as the physical stuff.
“Nobody here knows about us,” she began, keeping her tone even.
“I know about us,” he pointed out.
“But you’re going to forget it.”
“Not likely,” he scoffed.
She leaned farther forward, getting up into his face. “Listen carefully, Hunter. For the purposes of our professional relationship, you are going to forget that you’ve seen me naked.”
“You know, you’re very cute when you’re angry.”
“That’s the lamest line I’ve ever heard.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Can you be serious for a second?”
“What makes you think I’m not serious?”
“Hunter.”
“Lighten up, Sinclair.”
Lighten up? That was his answer?
But she drew back to think about it. Could it be that simple? “Am I making too much of this?”
He shrugged. “I’m not about to announce anything in the company newsletter. So, unless you spread the word around the water cooler, I think we’re good.”
She eyed him up. “That’s it? Business as usual?”
“Gramps may have bought Lush Beauty Products for his own bizarre reasons. But I’m here to run it, nothing more, nothing less. And you have a job to do.”
She came to her feet and gave a sharp nod, telling herself she was relieved, not disappointed, that it would be easy for him to ignore their past.
“See you around the water cooler, I guess,” she said in parting.
“Sure,” Hunter responded. “Whatever.”
Despite the casual goodbye, Hunter knew it would be hell trying to dismiss what they’d shared. As the office door closed behind her, he squeezed his eyes shut and raked a hand through his hair. Their past might have been short, but it was about as memorable as a past could get.
For the thousandth time, he saw Sinclair in the Manchester mansion. She was curled in a leather armchair, beneath the Christmas tree, next to the crackling fireplace. He remembered thinking in that moment that she was about as beautiful as a woman could get. He’d always had a thing for redheads.
When he was sixteen years old, some insane old gypsy had predicted he’d marry a redhead. Hunter wasn’t sure if it was the power of suggestion or a lucky guess, but redheads were definitely his dates of choice.
The flames from the fire had reflected around Sinclair, highlighting her rosy cheeks and her bright blue eyes. Her shoulder-length hair flowed in soft waves, teasing and tantalizing him. He’d already discovered she was smart and classy, with a sharp wit that made him want to spar with her for hours on end.
So he’d bided his time. Waiting for the rest of the family to head for bed, hoping against hope that she’d stay up late.
She had.
And then they were alone. And he had been about to make a move. She was his cousin’s new sister-in-law, and he knew their paths might cross again at some point. But he couldn’t bring himself to worry about the future. There was something intense brewing, and he owed it to both of them to find out what it was.
He came to his feet, watching her closely as he crossed the great room. Her blue eyes went from laughing sapphires to an intense ocean storm and, before he even reached her chair, he knew she was with him.
He stopped in front of her, bracing a hand on either arm of the chair, leaning over to trap her in place. She didn’t flinch but watched him with open interest.
He liked that.
