‘It didn’t occur to you that I might have been embarrassed by what had just happened between us?’ she asked exasperatedly.
‘No,’ Sin said. ‘But I was definitely curious enough to know that it might be in my best interest to—see you again. I had a little difficulty tracking you down at first,’ he acknowledged ruefully, ‘but enquiries at the hotel restaurant established that you had been dining with two executives from Wow magazine that evening. It wasn’t too hard to find out the names of those executives, or to make an appointment to see the younger one—’
‘You’re incredible, do you know that?’ Luccy gasped disbelievingly.
He gave an unapologetic shrug. ‘I went along to Bridger’s office this morning and had an illuminating little chat with him before coming to your studio.’
Luccy stared at him. Just stared at him. Sin had—Then he had—And he believed Paul Bridger’s version of what had happened that night rather than her own? It was unbelievable! Absolutely unbelievable!
More than that, it was damned insulting!
‘How very Sherlock Holmes of you!’ she snapped.
‘I thought so.’ Sin’s smile was completely lacking in humour.
She gave a disgusted shake of her head. ‘And that night I thought you were—I believed—You’re no better than Paul Bridger!’
His lips curled with distaste. ‘Not a pleasant individual, I grant you. Although it wasn’t exactly pleasant of you, either, to threaten him with the fact that he’s married.’
‘I didn’t threaten him. You were there in the hallway. You heard some of what was said—’
‘I heard you mention Bridger’s wife,’ he admitted grimly.
Luccy became very still. She had mentioned Paul’s wife to him that evening. But only out of desperation, as a deterrent, not—
‘He expected—He wanted—I only mentioned his wife because I was only trying to remind him of his—of his responsibilities,’ she defended herself, realising just how lame that sounded.
‘He claims you were trying to blackmail him into giving you work. His boss—Dale Harris is his name, I believe?—he seems to believe it too.’
This was a nightmare. An unbelievable nightmare. She had taken Paul and Dale to dinner, had paid for the whole damned evening—and now it seemed she was going to be made to pay in another way, too.
‘Let me try and get this straight,’ Luccy exclaimed. ‘You believe I tried to blackmail Paul Bridger into giving me work on the magazine he works for by threatening to tell his wife that he tried to get me into bed after our business meeting? You’re also of the opinion, based on that belief, that my ultimate intention was to somehow blackmail you, too?’
‘That works for me, yes.’ Sin nodded slowly. ‘But having transferred your attention onto me so impulsively it must have presented something of a problem for you when I told you that I didn’t have a wife, let alone kids.’
Luccy frowned at his continued insistence that she had deliberately planned what had happened between them that evening. ‘Even supposing—just supposing!—that your accusations were true, what do you possibly have that I could want?’
‘Off the top of my head?’ he drawled derisively. ‘Your future employment seems like a good enough incentive.’
Luccy had heard enough. She really had. ‘What future employment are you talking about?’
‘You still have a contract with PAN Cosmetics, I believe?’
Luccy became very still. He had mentioned the PAN contract earlier today, too. As he had just mentioned her future employment…
‘What does any of that have to do with you?’ she asked warily.
Mocking brows rose over those icy grey eyes. ‘Still pretending ignorance, Luccy?’
She wasn’t pretending at all! But she had a definite premonition she wasn’t going to like his answer when it eventually came!
‘Sleeping with the boss just isn’t what it used to be, is it?’ he derided.
The boss? What boss?
The only boss Luccy had came with her contract with PAN Cosmetics…
She swallowed hard. ‘You work for PAN Cosmetics?’
He gave an impatient sigh. ‘I own PAN Cosmetics, Luccy. As you are well aware,’ his voice grated harshly.
He owned…?
Luccy didn’t just stare at him now—she goggled. ‘Jacob Sinclair is head of Sinclair Industries, the company that owns PAN Cosmetics…’ Was that strangulated voice really her own?
‘Yes.’
Luccy could barely breathe now. ‘But Jacob Sinclair is—Isn’t he an elderly man, almost eighty?’