“Okay,” he groaned, dropping the phone on the bedside table. “All kidding aside. We’ve got trouble.”
“We certainly do.”
He propped himself up on his elbow and traced a line from her shoulder to her wrist. “Question is,” he drawled softly, “what do we do about it?”
“You’re still my boss,” she said.
“I am.”
“We still can’t have an office fling.”
“Agreed.”
“Of course, we’re not in the office now.”
“I like the way you’re thinking.”
She popped up on her elbow, facing him, matching his posture. “We could keep it up until we get home.”
Hunter watched her for a few minutes, concern flitting across his expression. “Kristy’s afraid you’ll fall for me.”
“I know she is.”
He took a breath as if he was steeling himself. “You gonna fall for me, Sinclair?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she quickly put in. “You’re too reckless and impulsive to be a long-term bet.”
“Plus, I lie.”
“Plus,” she agreed with a nod, “you lie.”
He reached out to stroke her cheek with the pad of his thumb, brushing back her hair.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.
She squelched her softer feelings. It was a fling or nothing, and that was the hard, cold truth of the matter. And she didn’t want nothing, so she was taking the fling.
“What if I hurt you?” she suggested in return, just to keep things fair.
“I don’t think Kristy cares so much about that.” He paused. “We’ve got three whole days until the Valentine’s ball.”
“And two whole nights to go with them.”
He kissed her nose. “So we’re decided then?”
She nodded against him. “I think our only hope is to get it out of our system.”
“Agreed.”
Sinclair pushed to a sitting position. “We’re going to see the spas today, right?”
“Paris, London and Brussels.”
“Then we should get going.”
Hunter groaned, tugging her back into place and pulling the covers over them. “First, we sleep.”
“The sooner we get going, the sooner we get back.”
He paused and opened one eye. “To this big, lovely bed.”
“In this big, lovely suite.”
“Can we get room service this time?”
“Poor baby,” she cooed, drawing his fingertips to her lips and kissing them one by one. “Did you cut yourself chopping?”
“It’s a time-saving ploy,” he explained. “I have my sights set on the whirlpool.”
Sinclair hopped up. “I’m in.”
They laughed their way through the shower and into their clothes. Hunter had Simon pour on the power across the Channel and then back through Belgium. Sinclair gave the spa managers an orientation to the Luscious Lavender products, put them in touch with Ethan, and with Mary-Anne from distribution, then they hightailed it back to the heart of Paris.
By early evening, they were in the whirlpool.
Hunter pulled Sinclair back into the cradle of his thighs, handing her a flute of champagne and kissing her damp neck. She sighed in contentment, sipping the sweet, bubbly liquid while he lazily scrubbed a foamy loofah sponge over her back.
With his other hand, he touched the jeweled fish on her bracelet.
Sinclair had forgotten she still had it on. She jangled it in front of her eyes. “I think it’s my favorite.”
He drew her wrist forward to kiss the tender, inside skin. “
“Really?” She pointed to her elbow. “I thought this was your favorite.”
He kissed her there. “That, too.”
“And this?” she pointed to her shoulder.
“Of course.”
“This?” Her neck.
“All of it.”
She laughed.
He sat back and his sponge strokes grew longer along her spine.
“Did you get a hold of Roger?” he asked.
“I did. He wasn’t thrilled about me delaying my return even longer.”
“You mean Chantal’s not the wunderkind we all imagined?”
“He didn’t complain about her. He said I was setting a bad example.”
“By taking your holidays?”
“I guess.”
“Want me to talk to him?”
“Oh, yeah. Great idea. Why don’t you call him up?”
Sinclair’s cell phone chimed.
“If that’s Roger,” said Hunter. “Tell him I say ‘hey.’”
She elbowed Hunter in the ribs, drying one hand before reaching for her phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, you.”
Sinclair guiltily pushed Hunter’s sponge hand away. “Hi, Kristy.”
He continued to rub her back.
“What’s up?” asked Kristy.
“Not much. Where are you?”
“Off the coast of New Zealand. We just got cell service back.”
“Great.”
“So, what are you doing?”
Hunter’s hand slipped around to her stomach. “Went to the spa in Brussels today, and the one in London. Met with the managers. Got them all set up for Friday’s launch.”
“Good for you.” Kristy paused. “Hunter still in Paris?”
“He’s here. But he was a little standoffish after you left.”
Hunter choked back a laugh.
“I guess he came to his senses,” said Kristy.
“I guess he did,” Sinclair agreed, as the sponge meandered toward her breast. She clutched it to her stomach to stop his progress.
“So, when are you coming home?”
“By the fourteenth, for sure. I need to be there for the ball.”
Hunter wrenched his hand free.
Sinclair bit down on her lip to keep from gasping as the sponge brushed between her legs. “I better go,” she blurted, grappling for Hunter’s meandering hands.
“Anything wrong?”
“Uh, something’s boiling on the stove.”
“The
“I moved to a suite. Talk to you in a few days.” She disconnected.
She turned on him. “Are you crazy?”
“No.” He kissed her mouth.
“Do you know what would happen-”
