The Irresistible Mr. Sinclair

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  “I—”

  “Moving right along,” he said, moving right along. “Your theory about lack of passes due to wearing these glasses produces the possibility that if you don’t wear these things this evening, you’ll still be unable to devote your entire brain power to our discussion because you’ll be wondering if I’m going to make a pass at you. Correct?”

  “I—”

  “So we need to get that concern out of the way.” Taylor walked to an end table, put down the glasses, then returned to stand in front of Janice. “Immediately.”

  “Shh. I’m a dedicated accountant who always has the welfare of clients first and foremost in my mind. You need to be at your one hundred percent best to weigh and measure what I intend to propose for Sleeping Beauty. Therefore...”

  Janice’s eyes widened in shock as Taylor cradled her face in his large hands, lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers.

  Once...

  She stood ramrod stiff, her eyes as wide as saucers.

  Twice...

  A shiver coursed through her, followed by heat, consuming heat. Her lashes drifted down.

  Then Taylor captured her mouth in a searing kiss that stole the very breath from her body and caused her heart to race in a wild, uneven tempo.

  Oh, my stars, Janice thought, her bones were dissolving. This kiss was...divine.

  Her hands floated up to rest on Taylor’s shoulders as she savored the feel, the taste, the very essence of the kiss.

  She was woman.

  And, dear heaven, what an unbelievable kiss she was sharing with this magnificent man.

  Man? her mind whispered. No, no, no, this is not a man. This is an accountant.

  Janice’s eyes flew open and she flattened her hands, pushing Taylor away.

  “How dare you?” she said, then took a shuddering breath. “You have a lot of nerve, do you know that?”

  No, Taylor thought, taking a much-needed breath. What he had was a body going up in flames.

  Janice’s lips had been beckoning to him from the first moment he’d seen her. He hadn’t arrived at her door with the intention of kissing her, but now he had kissed her.

  And because of that kiss, he wanted her, desired her beyond reason, ached for her to the point of pain in his aroused body.

  “Well, there we go,” he said, aware that his voice had the gritty quality of sandpaper. “The pass is out of the way so we’ve cleared the decks for a productive dinner meeting.” He smiled. “Shall we go?”

  Janice shot him the fiercest glare she could muster up, marched to the sofa to grab her purse, then headed for the front door.

  “You are not your father’s son,” she said, poking her not-tired nose in the air. “Clem Sinclair is a gentleman.”

  Taylor chuckled and followed Janice out of the house.

  The thick-framed glasses remained forgotten on the end table.

  Chapter Five

  With every mile that Taylor’s sleek sports car covered as he drove away from Janice’s house, the nearly palpable sexual tension within the vehicle increased. It hummed in the air, weaving around Janice and Taylor with invisible, crackling threads.

  Taylor’s hold on the steering wheel tightened to the point that his knuckles were white.

  Janice shifted restlessly in the soft leather bucket seat, and she attempted several times to push glasses, which weren’t there, higher on her nose.

  They slid glances at each other, the remembrance of the kiss shared becoming more vivid, taunting them, as the heat of desire was fanned hotter and hotter within them.

  “Janice...”

  “Taylor...”

  They had spoken in unison, then stopped, waiting for the other to continue.

  Taylor took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.

  “Janice, look,” he said, glancing over at her quickly, then redirecting his attention to the surging traffic. “I know I should apologize for what happened, for kissing you, but I can’t, because I’m not sorry. That’s as honest as I can be.

  “If I could turn back the clock to that moment, I’d do it again...kiss you. If you want to fire me as your accountant, that’s up to you.”

  “I see,” Janice said quietly. “Well, no, I don’t intend to fire you. As for the kiss...I was angry, but that’s not really fair, because I shared that kiss with you, and while I don’t know why it happened, I have to admit that I’m not sorry, either, that it did.”

  “Good,” Taylor said, nodding. “That’s good.” He paused. “Yon don’t know why I kissed you?”

  “No, not really.”

  “You don’t have any idea how...how kissable your lips are?”

  Janice sighed wearily. “It’s been brought to my attention in the past. Was that it, Taylor? I have pretty lips, so what the heck, why not kiss them?”

  “No!” he yelled, causing Janice to jerk around in surprise at his outburst. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to shout at you, but, cripe, that was a tacky thing to say. What do you think I do, walk down the street staring at women’s lips, then kiss the ones that appeal to me?”

  “I guess not,” she said, then laughed suddenly. “That would result in your being in jail, instead of driving toward a restaurant right now.”

  “That’s for sure,” he said, smiling. “I’d definitely be in the clink, or out cold on the sidewalk somewhere because a woman decked me.”

  “I like that scenario even better,” she said, laughing again.

  “Thanks a lot.”

  Taylor looked over at Janice and they exchanged matching smiles before he returned his attention to the traffic. Several minutes went by in what slowly became a comfortable silence.

  “I think,” Janice said finally, “that we’re being quite mature about this. We shared a kiss. It’s over, done, finished. And, of course, it won’t be repeated. We’re back to our proper roles of accountant and client, and we’ll have a business discussion during dinner regarding Sleeping Beauty and—”

  “Hold it,” Taylor interrupted, raising one hand. “Back up here.”

  “To where?”

  “To the part where you said the kiss wouldn’t be repeated. We both enjoyed it, so why wouldn’t we do it again?”

  “Oh, Taylor, come on. So I have pretty lips. Big deal. A multitude of women in this world have pretty lips. A multitude of women, I might add, who are more than willing to go further than just a kiss.

  “I’m not your type, Taylor. You know that as well as I do. In appearance and mind-set, I am not the kind of woman you’re accustomed to associating with.”

  “Oh? How do you know that?”

  “I know,” Janice said, nodding decisively. “Believe me, I know.”

  “You make me sound like a bed-hopping hustler,” he said, his volume rising again.

  “No, you’re a man who moves in the singles scene and who dates women in said singles scene. You play by those rules. I do not. It’s very simple really. We have absolutely nothing in common, don’t operate on the same wavelength. Therefore, we’re not going to share any more kisses. That’s the end of the story.”

  “You’re very quick to label people, Janice. You could be wrong, you know.”

  “But I’m not. Don’t make this more complicated than it should be. It’s getting borderline ridiculous as it is. Our kiss is becoming the most thoroughly discussed kiss in the history of kisses.

  “From now on, view me as a client, not a woman. I’ll view you as an accountant, not a man.” Janice shrugged. “And that, as they say, is that.”

  “Mmm,” Taylor said, frowning.

  Janice was right, he thought. Damn it, he didn’t want her to be right. But, yes, she was right. She wasn’t even close to being his. type.

  “I’ll give some serious thought to what you said,” Taylor said.

  “I’d prefer to hear that you thoroughly agree with me, Taylor.”

  “I’ll keep you posted.”

  Janice rolled her eyes heavenward.

  “So, tell me, Ms. Jenning
s,” Taylor said, striving for a casual tone of voice. “Do you do anything else besides wearing phony glasses to keep men at arm’s length?”

  He was pushing her, and he knew it He was running the risk of making Janice so angry she’d demand he turn the car around and take her home.

  But he wanted to know, needed to know, if Janice’s mode of dress was a calculated maneuver on her part. It was an important piece of the puzzle that had to be put in place so he could understand Janice better, come closer to knowing who she really was.

  Why did it matter that he figure out what was going on in that complicated female mind of hers? Hell, he didn’t know.

  “Well?” he said.

  “The glasses have managed to accomplish a great deal,” she said.

  Not bad, Janice, she told herself. She’d answered Taylor’s question, which was really none of his business in the first place, without telling a boldfaced lie. She had no intention of admitting that she purposely dressed in a less-than-attractive manner.

  That statement would produce more questions, and begin to unravel the layers of her past, exposing all she wished to forget.

  “Just the glasses,” Taylor said thoughtfully.

  “Mmm.”

  Taylor’s silence seemed to suggest he didn’t fully believe her.

  “Here’s the restaurant,” he said, turning into a curving driveway. “Still hungry?”

  “Famished,” she said.

  And more than ready to have this conversation ended once and for all, she thought firmly. She’d stated in no uncertain terms that from here. on out, she and Taylor were client and accountant, strictly business. He was intelligent enough to get the message.

  And her own assignment? Somehow, dear heaven, she had to erase the memory of that kiss shared with Taylor. Forget the taste and feel and pure ecstasy of his lips on hers, and the heated desire that had consumed her. Somehow.

  The restaurant was one of the city’s finest. The tables were arranged to afford maximum privacy for the diners by utilizing tall, folding silk screens with delicate flowers painted on them.

  Janice complimented Taylor on his selection of where they would dine and he gave the credit to his father, saying Clem had recommended the establishment as an excellent place to have a private business discussion.

  They were led to their table by the hostess, who placed large menus on the linen table-cloth and said a waiter would be with them shortly.

  As Taylor was assisting Janice with her chair, a couple in their early sixties appeared at the edge of the screen.

  “Taylor?” the woman said. “Yes, I thought that was you. How are you, dear? And how is Clem? We’ve been on a cruise and have just returned.”

  “Hello, Mildred. Charles,” Taylor said, smiling. “Dad is grumbling about being retired. I guess it’s going to take him a while to adjust to the idle hours.”

  Any second now, Janice thought, Mr. Socially Perfect Sinclair would, of course, introduce her to Mildred and Charles. Any second now.

  And he would make it very clear that Ms. Janice Jennings was a client and that they were about to engage in a business discussion over dinner.

  Oh, yes, he’d make that crystal clear, because heaven forbid that Mildred and Charles would pass the word that Taylor Sinclair was losing his touch, had been seen in the company of a less-than-stunning woman.

  “Mildred, Charles,” Taylor said, from where he stood behind Janice’s chair, “I’d like you to meet Janice Jennings.”

  Janice jerked in her chair as she felt Taylor’s hands settle onto her shoulders.

  “Janice, this is Mildred and Charles Hunt. They’ve been friends of my family for as long as I can remember.”

  And? Janice prompted. Whip it on ‘em, Taylor. Give ’em the spiel about the accountant and client business dinner.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Janice,” Mildred said, smiling.

  “Indeed,” Charles said.

  “I...um...yes, it’s nice to make your acquaintance,” Janice said, producing a small smile.

  That was it? she thought, totally confused. Taylor wasn’t going to explain why he was with her in this exclusive and very romantic environment? What was the matter with him? This didn’t make one bit of sense.

  “Well, we’ll leave you to enjoy yourselves,” Mildred said.

  “I’ll give Clem a call soon,” Charles said, “and see if he wants to get together. I’m surviving retirement. He’ll get the hang of it.”

  Taylor laughed. “Just don’t suggest he take up golf if you value your life.”

  “All right, I’ll keep that in mind,” Charles said, smiling.

  After an exchange of goodbyes, the Hunts disappeared behind the screen. Taylor dropped his hands from Janice’s shoulders, moved around the table and settled onto his chair. He picked up the menu.

  “Well, let’s see what they’re offering us,” he said, looking at Janice. “Is something wrong? Now you’re staring at me as though I have a bug on my chin.”

  “What?” Janice blinked. “Oh, no, nothing is wrong. I just...” She grabbed the menu and gave it her undivided attention. “Hungry, very hungry.”

  Taylor shook his head slightly, then looked at the dinner selections.

  He’d obviously missed something here, he thought. Women. God love ’em, they really were very complicated creatures.

  Men, Janice thought, mentally shaking her head. They were so complex and unpredictable.

  The wine steward appeared at the table and Taylor made a selection.

  During the ongoing interruptions of tasting and approving the wine, ordering their dinners and having crisp salads placed in front of them, Janice and Taylor chatted about the decor of the restaurant, a bestselling novel everyone was raving about but neither had had time to read, and the rapidly approaching summer heat.

  “Do you have a swimming pool at your house?” Taylor said, then took a bite of salad.

  Janice nodded. “I use it a great deal. It’s very refreshing, plus it satisfies my conscience about exercising. I swim a few laps and tell myself I don’t qualify as a couch potato.”

  Taylor chuckled, then popped a cherry tomato into his mouth.

  Janice Jennings in a bathing suit, he mused. Maybe she had gone to one of those novelty shops that sold vintage clothes and purchased an old-fashioned suit with long sleeves and bloomers.

  Or maybe she wore an enormous T-shirt when she swam.

  Or a large pair of cotton pajamas.

  Well, one thing was for sure. Since he liked living, he wasn’t going to ask Janice what style swimsuit she had, or what she did with her hair when in the pool. He’d just sit there and quietly die of curiosity.

  Their dinners arrived piping hot and smelling heavenly. Janice had chosen shrimp scampi, while Taylor was ready to tackle a thick steak. They ate in silence for several minutes.

  “Delicious,” Janice said finally.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Taylor said. “This steak is great, too.” He paused. “Janice, I’m going to ask you a question, and if you’d prefer not to answer it that’s fine. Fair enough?”

  Janice stiffened in her chair. “Yes, I guess so. What...what do you want to know?”

  Damn it, Taylor fumed at himself. Janice had begun to relax, had been chatting, smiling freely and often, and now look at what he’d done. Her expression was guarded, and her beautiful and expressive eyes were radiating a message of wariness.

  But it was too late to erase what he’d said, so he might as well go for it.

  Looking directly at her, he said, “Why do you keep your ownership of Sleeping Beauty a secret?”

  A rush of relief swept through Janice, causing her to smile.

  Thank goodness, she thought. She’d been so afraid that Taylor was going to plow right in and ask her why she downplayed her womanly attributes, her femininity. That topic was taboo, one she had no intention of ever discussing with anyone.

  “It’s very simple, really,” she said with a little
shrug. “Didn’t your father explain it to you?”

  “He said he didn’t know.”

  “Oh.” Janice frowned. “Well, now that I think about it, I guess Clem never asked. He just accepted the arrangement.”

  Taylor smiled. “My father is more polite than I am. I’m definitely asking.”

  Janice took a bite of the fluffy, baked potato on her plate before speaking again.

  “During the first six months that Sleeping Beauty was open,” she said quietly, “I was besieged by salesmen from a multitude of companies. They wanted to wine and dine me, sent me flowers, brought me gifts from their inventories, and on and on.”

  Taylor nodded. “That’s standard operating procedure. It’s part of the perks of starting up what was obviously a-classy store.”

  “I didn’t view it that way, Taylor. Those men were prepared to spend time with me, spare no expense, ooze phony charm and faked interest in every little thing I said.

  “But it wasn’t because I was a nice woman, who was pleasant to be with. It was due to the fact that I had something they wanted...a lucrative, account for their companies.”

  She shook her head.

  “I refused to be manipulated that way, used for others’ benefit I began to tell the salesmen to leave their samples, that I would meet with the owner and get back to them later. Once they understood that I was only the manager, the invitations to go out on the town, the flowers and gifts, stopped cold.”

  “I see,” Taylor said.

  “Do you?” she said, leaning slightly toward him. “I control my life, Taylor. No one, no one, uses me to obtain what they are after for their ultimate goals. I will never again be a helpless marionette, whose strings are pulled by...”

  Janice’s voice trailed off and she sank back in her chair.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I got carried away.” She patted her lips with her napkin, averting her eyes from Taylor’s. “Anyway, that’s the story. I will remain in the role of manager of Sleeping Beauty. It has worked out very well and will continue to do so.”

  The waiter appeared to top up their water glasses, giving Taylor an opportunity to digest Janice’s vehement answer to his question.

  He wasn’t buying it, he thought. Not for a second. He could understand to a point Janice’s aversion to being fawned over by the droves of phony, means-to-an-end salesmen.