Nailed Read Free

this dinner opportunity with you. Did you notice how quickly your campaign hit the target?”
    “Yes,” she said slowly, her stomach tightening. Please, don’t let him say that—
    “I bought all the options.”
    Oh, God, he’d said it.
    “All of them?”
    “That’s right.”
    The superb taste of the chateaubriand soured in her mouth. She put down her fork and stared at him.
    “What are you going to do with five hundred bottles of nail polish?”
    The option rewards had basically been choices of nail polish. The lower-cost options included a single bottle of polish, the middle level included packages of the basic shades of the collection, and the high-level rewards were sets of the whole collection, which included the special top coats. Altogether, that would be about five hundred bottles.
    Her heart sank. She’d been so happy that so many people would be trying her nail polish and hopefully love it and want to come back for more. She’d seen this as a way to grow her clientele. But because of what Kane had done, she’d reached only one client, and he didn’t even care about the polish. He had just used this as an opportunity to trap her into seeing him again. Altogether the campaign had raised twelve thousand dollars, including this dinner, and after expenses—including the huge outreach to bloggers as she’d intended—she would be left with enough to buy more supplies and get a kick-ass Web site set up, and do some promotion, but without that base of clients …
    He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll build a special room for them. I can have you come and organize them for me.”
    She quirked her eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”
    “So how many nail polishes do you have?” he asked.
    She shifted in her seat. “In stock, you mean?”
    “No, I mean personally.”
    Oh, God, she didn’t want to reveal her quirky obsessiveness. “Um … I have a few.”
    His grin broadened. “Come on. Tell me.”
    She pursed her lips. “Well … about … uh … fourteen hundred.”
    He chuckled.
    “Why are you laughing?”
    “Well, for someone who is tight for cash, that’s a lot of money tied up. Each bottle is what … twenty-five dollars?”
    Her eyes widened. “Are you kidding? Sure, a bottle of Louboutin goes for fifty dollars.” She’d seen the stylish bottle online and drooled over the facet-shaped bottle that looked like a jewel and the tall slender cap, like one of the iconic stiletto heels from the designer’s line of shoes. “Or Dior for thirty to forty dollars. Azature, which is infused with a crushed diamond, is twenty-five, but I only have one of those.” Her one indulgence. “Most of what I have are two-dollar brands from the drugstore. Like Sinful Colors. They’re really nice,” she defended. She didn’t mention that she did have several from the boutique where she worked, but with her store discount they weren’t too pricey.
    “Even at two dollars a bottle, that’s close to three grand.”
    She leaned back in her chair, her back stiff. “Sure, but I don’t have many shoes.”
    His eyes glittered and he laughed again, a deep, delightful sound. “What does that have to do with anything?”
    “Well, I’m just saying. A lot of women buy lots of shoes. But I don’t. And shoes are thirty or forty dollars a pair.”
    “Sweetheart, I have no idea where you shop, but the last pair of shoes I bought for a woman was over a thousand dollars.”
    She crossed her arms. “I think you just made my point.”
    She pushed aside her plate, her meal only half eaten. Under the covered silver platter on the side table, more food was being kept warm.
    “Look, I don’t want to argue about nail polish or shoes, or why we’re here,” she said. “I have to work tomorrow so I’d like to go home.”
    “There’s still dessert.”
    “I’m full.”
    “Then stay for coffee.”
    “I—”
    But he glanced at his gold Rolex watch and she sighed.
    “Fine.”
    He picked up his napkin and wiped