“No,” she spoke to the wall. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Silence.

“Will you come down then?”

She gave a shaky nod. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him as she started down the ladder. Maybe all of what he said made sense. Maybe she’d been hasty in dismissing a makeover. After all, what could it hurt to try?

What exactly was the principle she was standing on? She’d always wanted the world to take her seriously. She hadn’t wanted a free ride because of looks and glamour. But did she want to put herself at a disadvatange?

“I suppose,” she said as her foot touched the floor and she turned toward him. “It wouldn’t kill me to try the shampoo.”

“That a girl.” His voice was full of approval.

“It’s just that I never wanted to cheat,” she tried to explain. “I never wanted to wonder if a promotion or a pay raise, or even people’s reactions to me were because of my looks.”

“You’re not cheating. You’re leveling the playing field. Besides, being beautiful has nothing to do with makeup and mousse.” He shrugged out of the ruined jacket and tossed it on the floor. He whipped off his tie. “You’re beautiful, Sinclair. And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

Her heartbeat thickened in her chest, wondering what would come off next.

But he rolled up his sleeves. “Okay, let’s get to work.”

That threw her. “We’re going to the office?”

“We’re painting your walls.”

“You want to spend the afternoon here?”

“You bet.”

By late afternoon, Sinclair’s arms were about to fall off. Her shoulders ached, and she was getting a headache from the paint fumes. Her latest can was empty, so she climbed down the ladder to replace it.

Hunter appeared, taking the can from her hands.

“You’re done,” he said.

“There’s another whole wall.”

He pointed across the room. “See that bag over there? Full of bath oil, shampoo and gel?”