Beauty and the Billionaire. Barbara Dunlop

would begin to spread in advance of the ball.

      The event should have come off without a hitch.

      But at the last minute Roger had inserted Chantal into the mix, displacing one of the beauticians and making the lineups unnecessarily long. Amber, who had already heard about Chantal’s appearance at the spa meeting, was obviously upset by this latest turn of events. Sinclair didn’t need her loyal employee feeling uncertain about her future.

      The result had been a long day. And as the clock wound toward closing time, Sinclair was losing energy. She did her hourly inventory of the seven makeover stations, noting any dwindling supplies on her clipboard. Then she handed the list to Amber, who had the key to the stockroom and was in charge of replenishing.

      She reminded the caterers to do another pass along the lineup, offering complimentary champagne and canapés to those customers who were still waiting. The cash register lineup concerned her, so she called the store manager on her cell, asking about opening another till.

      The mirrors on stations three and six needed a polish, so she signaled a cleaner. In the meantime, she learned they were almost out of number five brushes and made a quick call to Amber in the back.

      “How’s it going?” Hunter’s voice rumbled from behind her.

      She couldn’t help but smile at the sound, even as she reflexively tamped down a little rush of pleasure. They hadn’t spoken in a few days and, whether she wanted to or not, she’d missed him. She twisted to face him, meeting his eyes and feeling her energy return.

      “Controlled chaos,” she mouthed.

      “At least it’s controlled.” He moved in beside her.

      “How are things up on the executive floor?” she asked.

      “Interesting. Ethan gave me a tour of the factory.” Hunter made a show of sniffing the back of his hand. “I think I still smell like a girl.”

      “Lavender’s a lovely scent,” said Sinclair, wrinkling her nose in his direction. She didn’t detect lavender, just Hunter, and it was strangely familiar.

      “I prefer spice or musk.”

      “Is your masculinity at stake?”

      “I may have to pump some iron later just to even things up.”

      “Are you a body builder?”

      Even under a suit, Hunter was clearly fit.

      “A few free weights,” he answered. “You?”

      “Uh, no. I’m more of a yoga girl.”

      “Yoga’s good.”

      “Keeps me limber.”

      “Okay, not touching that one.”

      “You’re incorrigible.”

      “My grandfather would agree with you on that point.”

      A new cashier arrived, opening up the other till, and the lineup split into two. Sinclair breathed a sigh of relief. One problem handled.

      Then she heard Chantal’s laughter above the din and glanced at the tall blonde, who wore a cotton-candy-pink poof-skirted minidress and a pair of four-inch gold heels. She was laughing with some of the customers, her bright lips and impossibly thick eyelashes giving her the air of a glamorous movie star.

      With Hunter here, Sinclair felt an unexpected pang of self-consciousness at the contrast between her and Chantal. Quickly, though, she reminded herself that her two-piece taupe suit and matching pumps were appropriate and professional. She also reminded herself that she’d never aspired to be a squealing, air-kissing bombshell.

      She tucked her straight, sensibly cut hair behind her ears.

      “So what happened at the spa?” asked Hunter.

      “Unfortunately, it was a no go.”

      “Really?” He frowned with concern. “What was the problem?”

      “Some kind of conflict with their supplier.”

      “Did you—”

      “Sorry. Can you hang on?” she asked him, noticing a disagreement brewing between the new cashier and a customer. She quickly left Hunter and moved to step in.

      It turned out the customer had been quoted a wrong price by her beautician. Sinclair quickly honored the quote and threw in an extra tube of lipstick.

      When she looked back, Chantal had crossed the floor. She was laughing with Hunter, a long-fingered, sparkly-tipped hand lightly touching his shoulder for emphasis about something.

      He didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by the touch, and an unwelcome spike of annoyance hit Sinclair. It wasn’t jealousy, she quickly assured herself. It was the fact that Chantal was ignoring the customers to flirt with the CEO.

      Sinclair made her way along the counter.

      “Chantal,” she greeted, putting a note of censure in her voice and her expression.

      “I was just talking to Hunter about the new mousse,” Chantal trilled. Then she fluffed her hair. “It works miracles.”

      Sinclair compressed her lips.

      In response, Chantal’s gaze took in Sinclair’s plain hairstyle. “You should…” She frowned. “Uh…have you tried it?”

      Hunter inclined his head toward Sinclair. He seemed to be waiting for her answer.

      “No,” Sinclair admitted. She hadn’t tired the new mousse. Like she had time for the Luscious Lavender treatment every morning. She started work at seven-thirty after a streamlined regime that rarely included a hairdryer.

      “Oh.” Chantal pouted prettily.

      Sinclair nodded to a pair of customers lingering around Chantal’s sample station. “I believe those two ladies need some help.”

      Chantal giggled and moved away.

      “Nice,” said Hunter after she left.

      “That better have been sarcasm.”

      All men considered Chantal beautiful, but Sinclair would have been disappointed in Hunter if he hadn’t been able to see past her looks.

      “Of course it was sarcasm.” But his eyes lingered on the woman.

      Sinclair elbowed him in the ribs.

      “What?”

      “I can tell what you’re thinking.”

      “No, you can’t.”

      “Yes, I can.”

      “What am I thinking?”

      “That her breasts are large, her skirt is short, and her legs go all the way to the ground.”

      Hunter coughed out a laugh.

      “See?” blurted Sinclair in triumph.

      “You’re out of your mind.”

      “The doors are closing,” murmured Sinclair, more to herself than to Hunter, as she noticed the security guards stop incoming customers and open the doors for those who were exiting.

      “You got a few minutes to talk?” he asked.

      “Sure.” Hunter was the CEO. She was ready to talk business at his convenience.

      She nodded to two empty chairs across the room.

      They moved to the quiet corner of the department, and Sinclair climbed into one of the high leather swivel chairs. She parked her clipboard on the glass counter.

      Hunter eased up beside her. “So what’s the plan now?”

      She glanced around the big room. “The cleaning staff will be here at six. Amber will make sure the leftover