Brett Thornton. Kayla barely managed to suppress a grimace. How was it possible to so thoroughly dislike a man she’d never even met? In the course of only four months, he’d become the bane of her existence. She was well accustomed to dealing with everything from the media to demanding executives to high-maintenance, diva-like models. Who would have thought that some unknown nerdy scientist could prove such a problem?

“I flunked Spying 101,” she said with a breezy laugh. “So clearly I’m not the best choice.”

“You are the best choice,” Nelson said in the deep, implacable tone Kayla recognized all too well after working for him for the past ten years. It was the tone that indicated he’d made up his mind and there’d be no changing it. “Thornton’s claims of developing an anti-aging formula that will not only render cosmetic surgery obsolete but has aphrodisiac qualities, as well, is the cutting edge we need.”

“Unfortunately every other cosmetics company in the world feels the same way.”

“Exactly. Which is why I want to make sure La Fleur has the upper hand right from the beginning. We lost out two years ago on that new sunless-tan formula. We’re not losing again.”

“But Thornton’s been dangling that golden carrot for four months and hasn’t produced yet.”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t.”

She made a disgusted sound. “My personal opinion is that he’s loving all the attention every cosmetics firm-including us-is lavishing on him. Basking in the perks, the wining, dining and wooing-he’s milking it for all it’s worth, and when it finally comes time to put out his so-called miracle product, he’ll have nothing.”

“That is a possibility,” Nelson agreed. “But it’s also just as likely he’s being cautious, and as aggravating as that is, I can’t blame him. If his claims are true, the product will revolutionize not only skin care but foreplay as well. Who could resist such a product? You know as well as I do that sex sells. And La Fleur will own the product.”