Cole’s molars ground against each other as he glared at the caption—Stiletto: Not Your Granny’s Makeup. It was scrawled across the bottom of the ad, in the same shade of red as Sage’s lipstick, as if she’d signed it personally.
The blasted woman knew he’d see it. He’d told her he could see this billboard from his office window.
He felt a nudge at his side, and Loretta handed him a pair of binoculars she’d somehow located in the minutes since everyone had gathered at the window. Her efficiency still amazed him. No wonder his mother, Victor and now Cole gave her insolence a pass.
Peering through the binoculars, Cole zeroed in on the billboard. Magnification only made the damn thing worse.
“Looks like you poked the wrong bear.” Loretta’s gravelly words went into his right ear.
“Stiletto’s owner is not just good-looking, she’s ballsy, too.” Victor snorted in his left ear as Cole stood between them, binoculars still trained on the offensive sign in the distance.
Bring it!
Sage’s taunt and his own rising anger drowned out the voices of his secretary and stepfather. Anger mingled with the respect Cole grudgingly had to give her. This was something he would have done, if his attraction to her hadn’t thrown him for a loop.
He continued to stare at the heavily made-up man on the billboard, silently ridiculing Espresso. The insult was just the kick in the behind he needed to make his next move.
“This meeting is adjourned,” Cole said firmly as he turned away from the window.
His department heads started to file out of the room, still buzzing about the billboard. Cole glanced at Loretta, who was looking at Stiletto’s website on her tablet computer. News of the Valentine’s Day event dominated the page.
He smiled to himself and called out to two of the retreating department heads. “Tate, Barnes, I’ll meet you both in my office in five minutes,” he said. “You too, Vic.”
“What are you up to?” Loretta asked.
“I’ll fill you in when we get to my office,” Cole said.
It was time he showed the bear the consequences of taunting a tiger.
Chapter 6
Sage slowed her run to a walk as the small, modest house came into view.
She had repaired the sagging porch, patched the roof and painted the faded exterior paint, and there was still more renovation to be done. But the wreath made of painted pinecones and blue grosgrain ribbons hanging on the front door gave her home a certain charm.
The sight of the tiny house never failed to make her smile. Only fifteen years of mortgage payments remained before it was all hers. Once she paid it off, she’d never have to worry about being displaced or shuffled between homes again.
Sage swiped at the sweat dripping down her face as she walked up and down the length of her driveway to cool down. The early-morning three-mile run was the price she paid for her junk food habit.
She yanked the iPod earbuds from her ears, and the sound of her sneakers crunching against the driveway’s crumbling asphalt replaced the thumping beat of her workout playlist. Repaving the drive was another one of the items on the endless to-do list she’d amassed since becoming a homeowner last year.
She’d get to them all eventually. Right now her focus was on getting the house’s interior up to par and building up the one thing she owned outright—her company.
Sage grinned. The thought of Stiletto brought to mind the new electronic billboard ad that had starting running yesterday. No doubt Cole Sinclair had seen it by now. Her grin morphed into a snicker as she imagined his reaction.
Damn, she wished she could have been the proverbial fly on the wall.
She stopped midstep as a second thought occurred to her. She’d better be on the lookout. The man would be out to get even. Sage was sure of it. In his shoes, she’d certainly be eager for some payback.
“Boo!”
Startled, Sage nearly jumped out of her sneakers.
A giggle sounded from the hedge she’d planted to replace the dilapidated picket fence separating her and her neighbor’s properties.
Sage sighed and shook her head. So much for being on her guard. “I heard you laughing, so you might as well show yourself,” she called out.
The bushes rustled, and a kid dressed in a fleece robe that covered superhero pajamas emerged. “Did I scare you?”
“Of course not,” Sage said. “You hide in the bushes and shout boo at me every morning. No shock factor.”
The kindergartener’s hopeful face drooped, but a moment later his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Then why’d you jump?”
“I didn’t jump,” Sage fibbed. If the little monster knew he’d actually gotten her this time, there would be no stopping him.
“Yes, you did. I saw you.” He flashed her a triumphant snaggletoothed grin. “Got any Skittles?”
Sage reached for the zipper on the pocket of her jacket to pull out the packet of candy she put there every morning before she set out on her run.
“Kenny!” A voice bellowed over the hedge. “Kenny Hinton if you sneaked away from the breakfast table to pester our neighbor again, you’re going to be in big trouble, Mister. Big trouble.”
The front door of the house next door slammed.
“Uh-oh.” The boy looked over his shoulder and then back at Sage.
Yanking the candy from her pocket, she tossed it to him. Kenny caught it and quickly hid it behind his back.
“I’m not bothering her, promise,” the boy said moments later.
Evie Hinton peered over the hedge at her wayward son, two mugs of coffee in her hand. “March yourself right back into the house and finish your cereal. Don’t get up from the table until you’ve eaten every bite.”
The petite redhead passed one of the steaming mugs over the shrubbery to Sage as they both watched the little boy trudge back into his own yard and into the house. “Jeez, it’s like living the movie Groundhog Day. Same thing every morning,” Evie said.
“He’s not bothering me.” Sage wrapped both hands around the mug to warm them.
“You say that every morning, too.”
It was true. She didn’t consider herself much of a kid person, but Kenny had been the first person to welcome her to the neighborhood. Both he and his morning visits had grown on Sage. They made the child in her who had been shuffled between homes feel at home.
“And the two of you aren’t fooling anyone, you know.” Evie sipped her coffee. “I’m going to send you the dental bills when all that candy you slip him rots his teeth.”
“What teeth? He’s barely got any.”
Evie laughed. “You got me there. Seems like the tooth fairy stops by our house every week.”
Sage took a sip of coffee. She closed her eyes, briefly absorbing its warmth and caffeine. The notes of chocolate and coconut in her neighbor’s coffee beans made everyday mornings feel like an occasion.
“Oh, do you think you’ll be able to help me out with his birthday party in a few weeks?” Evie asked. “Kenneth will be on the road, and when it comes to kids’ parties, most of the other parents tend to dump and run.”
“Dump and run?” Sage wasn’t familiar with the term.
“Dump their brats off and run like hell.”
Sage laughed and readily agreed to help supervise the pizza party. Evie was always doing things for her, and she rarely got an opportunity to reciprocate.
“Kenneth due back tonight?” Evie’s truck driver husband had been hauling a load of appliances to Miami.
The redhead shook her head. “Tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll be busy with your order tonight.”
Sage had discovered she lived next door to a crafter extraordinaire shortly after moving in. Evie had stopped by to welcome her to the neighborhood, bearing a handmade door wreath
fashioned from twigs, burlap and artificial sunflowers.
The wreath was stunning, as were the others the stay-at-home mom fashioned and hung on both their doors every month.
Evie had insisted her craft projects were just a hobby. However, as the idea for Stiletto’s first-ever event began to take shape, Sage knew she wanted her neighbor to make the centerpieces that would adorn the tables at the Valentine’s Day morning affair.
“Keep in mind, I’m not complaining. Certainly not about the check,” Evie said. “I’m still thrilled you even asked me.”
It had been a good decision, Sage thought. Her neighbor had suggested adding a chocolate candy buffet, so in addition to making the centerpieces, Evie was also handcrafting chocolates shaped like lipsticks, compacts and stiletto pumps.
“I’m the one who’s thrilled. Our guests will be, too, when they see those centerpieces and gorge themselves on your chocolates.” Sage drained the last of her coffee and stared almost mournfully into the bottom of her mug.
“Why don’t you come inside for a refill?” Evie asked. “I’ve got a batch of cooling chocolates earmarked for Stiletto. They’ll be ready to sample soon.”
Sage was tempted and not just by the offer of more coffee and chocolate. It was still early, and she enjoyed chatting with Evie. They’d become friends over the months, and the Hinton home was one of the few places she allowed herself to relax. She opened her mouth to accept the invitation, but then remembered the salvo she’d fired at Cole Sinclair.
Kenny wasn’t the only one who’d be lying in wait for her. She’d have to keep her guard up for the foreseeable future.
“Not today.” Sage handed the empty mug back to her neighbor. “I’m going in to work early. I want to make extra sure everything goes smoothly.”
Evie smiled over her mug. “That’s probably a good idea.” Her eyes brightened. “I saw the billboard.”
Sage had told her friend what she was planning a few mornings ago. Unlike Amelia, Evie didn’t try to warn her off teaching the big, bad millionaire a lesson. Instead, she’d practically doubled over laughing and wished her luck.
“I didn’t know you drove all the way downtown to look at it,” Sage said. “Well, what did you think?”
Evie shook her head. “I thought it was even more hilarious than the mock-up of the ad you showed me the other morning, but I didn’t go downtown. It was on the news.”
“The news?”
“Yeah, I was watching the story on it until Kenny caught my back turned and escaped the breakfast table.” Evie tapped one of the now-empty mugs against her forehead. “Oh, no,” she groaned. “Tell me I didn’t send my kindergartener into a kitchen filled with cooling candy?”
Sage winced. “You did.”
“Kenny!” Evie shouted as she sprinted through her yard toward her house.
A small figure came to the Hinton’s door in response, and Sage could see from her driveway that his face was covered in chocolate.
“Oh, Kenny.” Evie said.
Sage turned to her own house, leaving her exasperated friend to her charge. It was time for her to get dressed and get to work. She had her own baby to keep a watchful eye on while trying to anticipate Cole Sinclair’s next move.
* * *
An hour later, Sage sat at her desk reviewing the list of RSVPs from social media beauty influencers across the country.
It was a task Amelia had assigned to another member of the Stiletto staff and personally overseen, but this billboard thing had Sage jumpy. She continued to scroll through the names, excited to see it read like a who’s who of beauty bloggers and YouTube makeup gurus—all with huge followings.
The phone rang, and Sage jerked so hard she nearly fell off her office chair. She’d gone from jumpy to downright paranoid.
“For goodness’ sake, Cole Sinclair isn’t the boogeyman,” she muttered aloud. “The only person waiting to ambush you is Kenny.” And she wouldn’t let the kid get the drop on her again.
The office phone stopped ringing, but immediately started up again. Sage was the only one there. With the exception of the security guard stationed in the foyer of the factory-turned-office-building, she was probably the only person around. It would be at least a half hour before Stiletto’s staff and the workers for the various other businesses filed into work.
Sage debated letting it go to voice mail so Amelia could deal with whoever it was later. However, she saw the word international flash across the caller ID screen and curiosity drove her to answer.
A heavily-accented male voice greeted her. “Buon giorno. Sage Matthews, per favore.”
“You’re speaking to her.”
“Hold for Signora Bertelli.”
Her grip on the phone tightened. Bertelli? As in the Italian designer?
Slow down. Sage snorted. As if Signora Bertelli would ever call her. It was either wishful thinking on her part or some kind of prank.
Any doubts about the caller’s identity were cleared up the moment a woman’s voice came over the line. Sage recognized it instantly from a documentary feature film on the designer she’d watched dozens of times on DVD.
“Ms. Matthews, this is Marie Bertelli,” she said. The clipped tones of Boston’s North End permeated her words as she apologized for the early hour. “I told my assistant to try anyway. Like most successful businesswomen, I suspected your workday began early.”
Sage’s hand began to tremble, and she clutched the phone with both hands. She’d never been starstruck or intimidated by anyone. Her motto being that everyone, including celebrities, put their underwear on the same way—one leg at a time.
Yet, she couldn’t help the feeling of total awe that washed over her at receiving a call from someone whose work, especially her business acumen, she’d admired for years.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Bertelli?” Sage asked. Despite her excitement, her voice never lost its carefully honed cool.
“I read an article about you and your company in the international edition of America Today a few weeks ago,” she said. “I was intrigued, so I asked my sisters to bring me a selection of your lipsticks when they came to visit.”
An Italian-American born and raised in Boston, Bertelli had earned her undergraduate degree in fashion design from the Fashion Institute of Technology and an MBA from the prestigious Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania.
The oldest daughter of an African-American mother and Italian father, she had relocated to Milan to work for the fashion house founded by her paternal grandparents.
“I loved the lipsticks,” Bertelli said. “Especially the deep vampy purple one. I’ve had it on all day and received nothing but compliments. Darn it. I left the tube in my purse, and the name escapes me.”
“One-Night Stand.” Sage supplied and made a mental note to have Amelia ship an entire case of the shade to her first thing this morning.
“Well, Ms. Matthews, it’s definitely made a Stiletto fan out of me,” she said. “Speaking of which, I had another reason for contacting you. I want to personally extend an invitation to you to attend the Bertelli runway show this month during Fashion Week here in Milan.”
Sage froze as the invitation sunk in and then pressed her lips together to keep from screaming an excited yes in the woman’s ear. She exhaled slowly in an effort to quell her excitement.
“Thank you, but I’ll have to check my February calendar,” Sage began, knowing full well she’d do whatever was necessary to make this trip happen.
“Of course,” Bertelli said. “My secretary will be in touch. I really hope you can attend.”
The two women spent a few moments exchanging pleasantries before ending the call. Sage was returning the cordless phone to its base when she heard the front door to Stiletto’s main entrance open.
“Amelia,” she called
out from her desk, knowing the young woman was always the first of her employees to arrive. Her assistant would be ecstatic when she heard.
Sage opened her mouth to call out again just as the last person she expected to see filled the doorway of her office.
Cole Sinclair.
She blinked, her mouth still hanging open, and then Sage snapped it shut before she started to drool. He looked different today. His expensive designer suit was replaced with casual attire, the effect coaxing her long-dormant hormones out of retirement.
Sage ignored how his height left scant inches between the top of his head and the door frame, and the way his jeans hugged the muscles of his lean thighs. Then she convinced herself his sweater, which appeared to be milled from the softest cashmere, didn’t tempt her to make a pillow out of his broad chest.
Cole wore a leather bomber jacket in a shade of deep olive that was more stylish than the classic black, yet didn’t detract from its bad-boy appeal.
Sage licked her suddenly dry lips. He looked good.
“No. It’s not Amelia,” he said, the melodic baritone threatening to lure her into a trance. An almost imperceptible spark flared in his dark-eyed gaze. It said without words that the blasted man knew she’d been admiring the view.
Straightening in her chair, Sage fixed her face with her most intimidating glare. “What are you doing here?”
“Good morning to you, too.” He rested a shoulder against the doorjamb, and for the first time she noticed he hadn’t come empty-handed. He held a green-and-white box in one hand. Its aroma wafted from the doorway, smelling as good as he looked.
“How’d you get past the security guard?” The question was nearly drowned out by the racket coming from her rumbling stomach. Sage narrowed her eyes. “You bribe him?”
A hint of a smile lifted the corners of mouth as he nodded. “It cost me two Krispy Kreme doughnuts.” He inclined his head toward the box. “The rest are for you.”
Moonlight Kisses Page 5