“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Sinclair nodded, glad of Ethan’s assessment.
“I really just wanted to give you a high five on the spa deal,” said Ethan.
Sinclair grinned and held up her hand.
Ethan smacked his palm against hers. “Hunter’s a smart man,” he said.
Sinclair nodded her agreement.
“He told me the idea originated with you. So, you know, you probably have a supporter in that corner.”
“That’s good to know,” said Sinclair, trying to keep the secretive glow out of her eyes. Earlier this morning, as the jet taxied to the terminal building at JFK, Hunter had kissed her goodbye and pledged admiration for her business savvy and his support for tonight.
Ethan made for the door. “See you tonight?”
“You will.”
As Ethan left, Amber peeked through the doorway. “I hope you don’t mind.” She took in Sinclair’s outfit one more time. “I gave your name and cell phone as an after-hours contact for the caterer tonight.”
“Of course I don’t mind.” That was standard operating procedure.
“Oh, good.” Amber disappeared.
Sinclair straightened the Castlebay files, hoping her makeover went a whole lot better tonight than it went today.
Ethan hadn’t noticed, Amber was afraid of her, and who knows what Roger had thought? She’d hardly wowed them here on the home front.
Freshly shaved, in his dress shirt and tuxedo slacks, Hunter looped a silk bow tie around his neck. Sinclair would be wearing her most elegant dress tonight, and he wanted them to go well together. Although they were trying to keep their relationship under wraps-okay, their former relationship under wraps-he seriously wanted her to shine. And he was planning on at least a couple of dances.
He stepped in front of the hallway mirror in the Oslands’ New York apartment and leveled the two ends of the tie.
Then his cell phone rang.
He retrieved it from the entry-room table and flipped it open. “This is Hunter.”
“Two things,” said Jack.
“Go,” Hunter replied, squinting at a strand of lint on the crisp white shirt. He brushed it off.
“The incumbent president of Paraguay just dropped dead from a heart attack.”
“No kidding?”
“No kidding.”
Hunter sat down on the entryway bench. “Did you use the mine as collateral?”
“I did.”
“Damn.” That was a setback.
“And two,” Jack continued. “Frontier Cruise Lines is filing for Chapter Eleven tomorrow morning. There are three ships up for sale in the next twelve hours.”
“And our cash position sucks.”
“It sucks.”
Hunter paused. “You really want to get into the cruiseship business?”
“Kristy loved it.”
Hunter could relate. Sinclair loved the spa business.
Wait.
He shook the comparison out of his mind. He had to get used to thinking of himself and Sinclair as separate entities, not as the same thing.
“Where are you?” he asked Jack.
“Sydney.”
Hunter glanced at his watch. “Banks open in London in four hours. You serious about this?”
“What does your gut say?” asked Jack. “You’re the quick thinker.”
“There’s no denying the quality of Frontier ships. And it’s an expanding market. We could dovetail Castlebay marketing with a new cruise-line marketing strategy, maybe even put Castlebays on each of the ships.” Hunter clicked through a dozen other details in his mind. “You have a sense of the Frontier prices versus market?”
“Fire sale.”
“We might be able to do something with the Lithuania electronics plant. Restructure the debt…”
“Gramps will kill us.”
“Welcome to my world.”
There was silence on the line.
“You know,” said Jack. “I think I’m understanding the appeal of this. It’s like Vegas.”
“Higher stakes,” Hunter quipped.
“No kidding,” said Jack.
Hunter glanced at his watch. “I’d have to go to London.” The Lithuania banking was done through Barclays, and they needed the time-zone jump start to pull it together.
“That a problem?” asked Jack.
Hunter’s mind flashed to Sinclair. She’d be all right at the ball. Truth was, he was merely window dressing tonight. She was
“I need to make a couple calls,” he said.
“You get the financing in place, and I’ll nail down the contracts with Richard.”
“Where is he?” asked Hunter.
“L.A.”
“Too bad.”
“Should I send him to New York?”
“It’d be better if you could get him to London.” Hunter paused. “No. Wait. New York will work. Tell him I’ll call him around 4:00 a.m.”
“Perfect.” It was Jack’s turn to pause. “And, Hunter?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“All part of the game, cousin.” Hunter disconnected.
He dragged off the bow tie and released the buttons to his shirt.
On the way to the bedroom, he dialed Simon and asked him to have the jet ready. Then he changed into a business suit, put another one into a garment bag and called down to his driver to let him know they’d be heading for the airport.
Sinclair stood in the lobby of the Roosevelt Hotel. She hadn’t expected Hunter to pick her up and escort her every movement. It wasn’t as if they were on a date. Still, she would have felt a little less self-conscious with somebody at her side.
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.
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.
