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effort into the restoration of McBride Media, but even she knew that wasn’t the whole story.
    When had she become afraid of mess? And fuss? And life?
    Booth’s text still lit up her screen, but Camryn flipped off the phone and tossed it aside. The hour’s worth of work she’d brought home wasn’t going to get done by itself.
    For the first time in a long time, instead of pride welling in her chest at her determination, all she could muster was disappointment.

Chapter Three
    “If I had legs like that, I sure as hell wouldn’t hide them behind a skirt that hung below the knee.”
    Camryn wasn’t sure if she should be offended or charmed by the frank assessment, so she simply watched Sinclair with a mixture of shock and awe as he dived back into her closet. “Sinclair.” She summoned up her “address the board” voice. “I’m the CFO of a major company. I don’t need to dress like a runway model.”
    “You don’t need to dress like a school principal, either,” Sinclair shot back from the depths of her closet.
    “There is nothing in that closet that screams schoolmarm. Everything is classy, elegant, and timeless. Besides, people won’t respect me if I’m dressed flashy.”
    Camryn thought she heard the distinct notes of a loud snort before Sinclair’s tone changed with an abrupt shriek. “Oo la la!” He hollered from the back of her closet, emerging with two pairs of heels in his hands. “Now this is what I’m talking about. These are beautiful.”
    Camryn couldn’t hold back the smile. She did love her shoes. They were the one indulgence she allowed herself in a sea of black, gray, and navy suits. “They’re definitely works of art.”
    “How many pairs of these do you have?”
    “A few.” Camryn mumbled the response as she glanced down at her phone, then looked up again. She normally saved the red-soled beauties for special occasions—large meetings, business dinners, and significant events out and about—and avoided the expensive display during her normal workdays.
    One carefully arched eyebrow rose as Sinclair dangled the two pairs from the tips of each hand. “Define a few.”
    “Ten. Maybe fifteen.”
    “Well, which is it?”
    “Twenty.”
    “Oh, girl. We have some work to do.”
    “Work?” Camryn coughed to clear the squeak that gripped her vocal cords. “What work?”
    “These shoes are works of art, but you’re the main attraction. We’re going to use these as a base and build your look for the conference around them.”
    “I don’t need a new look.”
    The lone eyebrow rose again. “Yes, you do.”
    “I’m speaking to a group of professionals who work for the Financial Journal . Not a bunch of readers of the latest gossip rag.”
    “You’re our keynote in Hawaii and you’ll also be featured on several web videos that I’m including as part of the conference events. I’m also posting them online in the FJ ’s business leaders section of the website.”
    “None of those things require me to dress like a fashion plate. Now, I appreciate your visit but I have to get to work.”
    “This is work. You and your sisters have put blood, sweat, and tears into making McBride Media one of the golden jewels of the New York ad community. It’s time to look the part.”
    While the urge to keep debating with him was strong, Camryn couldn’t resist probing underneath his words. “I’ve always thought women have to work harder in business. Need to show they’re as competent. I spend much of my time with financial types who are evaluating whether or not I’ve made a strong proposal in exchange for their money.”
    “And I’m sure you do it well.” His hands fell to his sides, the shoes dangling. “But your wardrobe shouldn’t be restrictive or the real you won’t shine through.”
    “The real me knows businessmen like black.”
    “And the real you also does more than live in a boardroom.” Sinclair lifted one of her shoes once more, turning it over to point out the