I know youve had girlfriends.
But I dont want to tell you about them.
Why not? Wouldnt I like them?
Youre really going to push this?
No reason not to.
Is that what youre telling yourself? He didnt know what was going on between them, but he sure as hell didnt want to hear about any of her old boyfriends.
Then again, maybe her feelings were different than his. There was one way to find out.
Melissa, he said, watching Sinclairs expression carefully, was a weather girl in Los Angeles. We dated for three months, played a lot of squash and beach volleyball. She was a vegetarian and a social activist. She wouldnt let me buy anything from a very long list of countries with human or animal rights infractions.
Sinclairs expression remained impassive.
Hunter tore one of the rolls in two. Sandra worked in a health club. She also played squash. We dated maybe two months. Deanne taught parasailing. We did a lot of mountain climbing, and some swimming, and she loved dancing at the clubs. But I introduced her to one too many movie stars, and she was gone.
Sinclairs expression faltered. Did she break your heart?
Hunter scoffed out a laugh. It was at the six-month mark, normally my limit. Now, Jacqueline-
Is this going to take the entire dinner?
You did ask.
Ive had two boyfriends, she offered.
I didnt ask, Hunter reminded her.
Roberto decided his mother was right after all, and Zeke drove off on his Harley.
They left her? Now, that surprised Hunter.
They break your heart? he found himself asking, genuinely wanting to know.
I thought so at the time. But, you know, neither of them even took me to Paris.
Hunter grunted. Its a sad day when a man wont even take his girlfriend to Paris.
Now that Ive seen Paris- Sinclair spread her hands palms up -thats going to be the baseline.
Smart girl.
Thank you.
You might want to add diamonds to that list.
You think?
Hunter nodded and pretended to give it serious thought. Private jet, too.
Sinclair picked up the other half of his roll. How else does one get to Paris? She took a bite.
A woman needs to be smart about these things.
Thank you so much for the advice.
To his surprise, Hunter wasnt jealous of Roberto and Zeke. The men were morons.
He signaled the waiter for menus, and sat back to enjoy the company.
Sinclair awoke with a smile on her face in the river-view room at the Ciel Dor Hotel in downtown Paris. She felt different. The clothes Hunter had bought her were hanging in the closet and the jewelry package was sitting on the nightstand. Someone was tapping gently on her door.
She flipped back the comforter and slipped into the plush, white hotel robe, tying the sash around her waist. The fish bracelet dangled at her wrist. She knew it was silly, but she hadnt wanted to take it off.
Through the peephole, she could see a black-tuniced waiter carrying a silver tray. Coffee. Her entire body sighed in anticipation.
She opened the door, and the man set the tray down on a small table beside the window. She realized she didnt have any money for a tip, but he assured her it was taken care of.
Before she had a chance to pour a cup of coffee or tear into one of the buttery croissants, the phone on the bedside table began to ring.
Hello? She perched on the edge of the unmade bed.
You awake? came Hunters voice.
Barely.
Did the coffee arrive?
It did.
His breath hissed in. Call me when youre dressed.
Her gaze darted to their connecting door. Im covered from head to toe.
You sure?
She glanced down. Well, maybe not my toes. But everything else. Come and have coffee.
Toes are sexy, he said in a rumbling voice.
My nails need trimming, and I havent had a pedicure in months.
In that case, Ill be right over.
She grinned as she hung up the phone and opened her panel of the connecting door. Then she settled into one of the richly upholstered chairs and poured a cup of extremely fragrant coffee and gazed at the sparkling blue sky against the winter skyline.
The door on Hunters side opened. Did I mention the Castlebay Spa offers pedicures?
Are you offended by my toes?
He took the seat across from her, pouring his own coffee. Im not even going to look at your toes. If you lied about their condition, theyll probably haunt my dreams.
She tore a croissant in two. You got a fetish?
Only for gorgeous women. His gaze caught her bracelet. Their eyes met, and there was something excruciatingly intimate in his look.
Only for gorgeous women. His gaze caught her bracelet. Their eyes met, and there was something excruciatingly intimate in his look.
And then it hit Sinclair. They were having an affair. They were having an affair in every possible way except sleeping together. The awareness brought a warm glow to her stomach. She deliberately moved her hand so the bracelet would tap against her wrist. The sensation sent a shot of desire through her body.
Hunter cleared his throat. So, do you want to continue the makeover in Paris, or perhaps we should switch our base of operations to Londonor Venice?
Is there a better place than Paris for a brand-new hairdo? She had absolutely no desire to leave.
Not that I know of.
Then I vote we stay here.
She sipped her coffee from the fine china cup and bit into the most tender croissant shed had in her life.
Hunter selected an apple pastry sprinkled in powered sugar, and Sinclair decided shed try that one next.
Are you at all worried Ill get spoiled and refuse to go home? she asked, taking another bite.
He grinned. Go ahead.
Youre not serious.
He paused for a moment, gazing at her in the streaming sunlight. Actually, I am. But youre not.
Sinclair didnt believe it for a second. Although it was nice of him to say so. As fantasies went, Hunter sure knew how to put on a good one.
Have you called for a special opening of a hair salon?
He shook his head. I dont know anything about hair salons in Paris. But I do know people who know people.
And theyll do you favors.
They will.
Why is that?
Because Im a nice guy.
That you are.
Sinclair sat back, gazing around the room, at the ornate moldings, the carved ceiling, the marble bathroom, and the four-poster bed. But the money must be frustrating. I mean, how can you tell if people like you or not?
He shrugged. How does anybody tell? Theyre friendly. They dont jeer at me. They laugh at my jokes.
But how can you tell its you and not the money?
You can tell.
I bet you cant.
Most people are terrible liars.
Sinclair pushed her hair behind her ears. Not me. Im a great liar. She and Kristy had pulled the wool over her parents eyes on numerous occasions.
Yeah? asked Hunter, his disbelief showing.
Yeah, she affirmed with a decisive nod.
He put down the pastry and dusted the sugar off his hands with a nearby linen napkin. Okay. Go ahead. Tell me a good lie.
Like shed fall for that. Youd already know its a lie.
Then tell me something that may or may not be a lie, and Ill tell you if its the truth.
Ohkay. Sinclair thought about it. After a minute, she sat forward, warming to the game. That morning at the Manchester mansion, I stole something from your room.
Hunter sat back in apparent surprise. What did you steal?
Is it a lie or not?
He peered at her expression. Youre telling me youre a liar and a thief?
She shook her head. Im either a liar or a thief. If Im lying about being a thief, then Im only a liar. But if Im telling the truth about being a thief, Im only a thief.
His eyes squinted down.
Come on, she coaxed. Which is it?
Youre a liar, he said. You didnt steal anything from my bedroom.
You sure?
Im positive.
You got me, she admitted.
Okay. Now its my turn. He folded the napkin and set it aside. I once wrestled an alligator.
A real alligator?
He nodded.
She was intrigued. Who wouldnt be? But she wasnt sold, yet. Where?
A little town in Louisiana.
Was it a trained alligator? Like in a zoo or something?
Nope. Out there in the bayou.
It must have been pretty small.
I didnt measure it or anything, but Jack guessed it was about six feet long.
Jack was there, too?
Hunter nodded.
Sinclair held out her hand. Your phone.
What?
Im calling Jack.
Oh, no, youre not.
Oh, yes, I am. She wiggled her fingers.
Hunter shrugged and handed her the phone.
Youre so lying, she said. Which speed dial?
He grinned. Four. And Im not lying.
Sinclair hit number four, and waited while it rang. You are busted, she said to Hunter.
Jack Osland, came a sleepy voice. Too late, she remembered the time-zone difference.
Hi, Jack, she offered guiltily. Its Sinclair.
There was a pause. Jacks voice turned grave. What did he do?
She watched Hunter while she spoke. He claims he wrestled a six-foot alligator in a Louisiana swamp.
He told you that?
He did.
Well, its true.
Sinclair blinked. Really?
Saved my life.
Really?
Anything else? asked Jack.
Uh, no. Sorry. Bye. She shut off the phone. You saved his life.
Hunter shrugged. He exaggerates.
Sinclair whooshed back in the chair. Id have bet money you were lying.
Hunter took a sip of his coffee. I was.
She stilled. What?
He nodded I was lying. I didnt wrestle a six-foot alligator. Are you kidding? Id have been killed.
She looked down at the phone. ButJack
Was lying, too.
You couldnt possibly have set that up.
We didnt have to. He lifted the phone from her hand. You started the conversation by saying Hunter told me he wrestled an alligator. Jacks my cousin; of course hes going to back me up.
Tag-team lying?
Its the very best kind. Your turn.
Im not going to be able to top that.
Give it a try.
Sinclair racked her brain. What could she possibly say that might throw him? Something believable, yet surprising.
Aha!
Im pregnant.
Hunters face went white. What? he rasped.
Oh, no. No. Shed gone too far. Im lying, Hunter.
He worked his jaw, but no words came out.
Hunter, seriously. Im lying.
Youre not pregnant?
I am not pregnant.
If you were, would you tell me?
Im not.
Because wed get married.
Hunter. Its a game.
Will you take a pregnancy test?
No.
I let you phone Jack.
She stood up and rounded the table to him, bending over and putting all the sincerity she could muster into her eyes. Im sorry I said I was pregnant. Im not.
He searched her expression. You scared me half to death.
She smiled at that, reaching out to pat his cheek. Not ready to be a daddy?