A knock on his office door snapped him back to reality.

“Yeah?” he barked.

The door cracked open.

It was Sinclair again.

She slipped inside, still stunningly beautiful in that sleek ivory skirt and the matching blazer. Her pale-pink tank top molded to her breasts, and her shapely legs made him long to trail his fingertips up past her hemline.

“Since it’s business as usual,” she began, perkily, crossing the room, oblivious to his state of discomfort.

“Right,” he agreed from between clenched teeth.

“I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

At the moment, he had something he wished he could discuss with her, too.

“Fire way,” he said instead.

She took up the guest chair again and crossed her legs. Her makeup was minimal, but she didn’t need it. She had a healthy peaches-and-cream glow, accented by the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen. Sunlight from the floor-to-ceiling bay window sparkled on her hair. It reminded him of the firelight, and he curled his hands into new fists.

“I have this idea.”

He ordered himself to leave that opening alone.

“Roger’s been reluctant to support it,” she continued.

She wanted Hunter to intervene?

Sure. Easy. No problem.

“Let’s hear it,” he said.

“It’s about the ball.”

Hunter had just read about the Lush Beauty Products’ Valentine’s Ball. They were going to use it to launch the Luscious Lavender line. It was a decent idea as publicity went. Women loved Valentine’s Day, and the Luscious Lavender line was all about glamming up and looking your best.

“Shoot,” he told her.

“I’ve taken the lead in planning the ball,” she explained, wriggling forward, drawing his attention to the pale tank top. “And I’ve been thinking we should go with something bigger.”

“A bigger ball?” He dragged his attention back to her face. They’d rented the ballroom at the Roosevelt Hotel. It didn’t get much bigger than that.