Suddenly, she wished he had.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m going to paint for a while, or we’ll never finish.”

“I can paint later.”

His finger brushed over her lips to silence her. “The price of being a guy. Your mission is to get all glammed up and frou frou. My mission is to give you the time to do that.”

Then he winked, and left the room, clicking the door shut behind him. And Sinclair shifted her attention to the deep, claw-footed tub.

It looked decadently wonderful. He’d set out the shampoo, bath gel and lotion. And he’d obviously poured some of the Luscious Lavender foaming oil into the water. She’d spent the last six months thinking about the artsy labels, the expensive magazine ads, the stuffed sample gift baskets for the ball, and the retail locations that needed some extra attention promotions-wise. Funny, that she’d never thought much about the products themselves.

The water steamed, and the lavender scent filled the room, and the anticipation of that luxurious heat on her aching shoulders was more than tempting.

She peeled off her T-shirt, unzipped her jeans, then slipped out of her underwear. She eased, toe-first, into the scorching bathwater, dipping in her foot, her calf, her knee. Then she slowly brought in her other foot, bracing her hands on the edges of the tub to lower her body into the hot water.

After her skin grew accustomed to the temperature, and her shoulders and neck began to sigh in pleasure, her thoughts made their way to Hunter. He was on the other side of that thin wall. And she was naked. And he knew she was naked.

She pictured him opening the door, wearing nothing but a smile, a glass of wine in each hand. He’d cross the black and white tiles, bend to kiss her, maybe on the neck, maybe on the lips. He’d set down their glasses. Then he’d draw her to her feet, dripping wet, the scented oil slick on her skin. His hands would roam over her stomach, her breasts, her buttocks, pulling her tight against his body, lifting her-