Barbara McCauley – The Ashtons: Paige, Grant & Trace: The Highest Bidder / Savour the Seduction / Name Your Price (страница 13)

“I see that.” He fluttered the sketch of Frankie’s felt hat. “Now I’m sorry I canceled that contract.”

“I happen to have another one right here.” Without missing a beat, she flipped a piece of paper in front of him and produced a pen. “All you have to do is sign.”

She had no idea what she was asking him to do. Their attraction was palpable, and not acting on it would take every ounce of control he wasn’t sure he had.

“I…I can’t.”

She leaned close enough to tease him with that dainty, flowery scent. The same aroma that lingered on the silk bra that he’d dropped into his suitcase when he left Auberge.

“Can’t?” she asked, holding his gaze with a look so rich with promise and possibilities that it damn near knocked the wind out of him. “I seem to recall you don’t know what that word means.”

Her smile was pure victory as she handed him a pen.

He could do this.

After Matt gave his keys to the Ritz-Carlton valet, he rounded the back end of his Ferrari to meet Paige, as another valet opened her door.

He repeated his silent mantra, the one he’d started during their two-hour morning meeting about the VoiceBox launch event.

He could do this. He could work on a project with a woman he was wildly attracted to and not seduce her. He could get the benefit of her ideas and business acumen—which was formidable—and he could walk away without having to get the view from on top of her.

He wasn’t a teenager crazed by lust-starved hormones.

He made it around the car just in time to see that slinky dress slide up her thighs as she maneuvered out of the low sports car. A demon of an early erection threatened.

Not a teenager? Okay. Then he was an adult crazed by lust-starved hormones. But he was also the born competitor. He’d just think of this as one major competition. The brain vs. the body.

Good money was on the…oh, hell.

She gave him a sunny smile. “The Ritz, eh? You’re not thinking about checking out their function rooms are you?”

“Not a chance. You won me over this morning.” He led her into the lobby toward his favorite luncheon spot, The Terrace. “The event is going to be held on Halloween at Ashton Winery Estate,” he assured her. “Your ideas are too good to pass up.”

At least, that was the reason he gave himself for signing the contract. Flimsy, but he’d hold on to it.

They were seated at his favorite table on the brick courtyard of The Terrace, secluded among the flowers and trees, and serenaded by the cascade of a giant fountain.

“Walker introduced me to this place,” Matt told her after they’d listened to the waiter describe an array of Mediterranean-themed specials. “We used to come here for Sunday brunch when we were in college.”

Her eyebrow shot up in disbelief. “Pretty swanky place for a couple of Berkeley students.”

“Trust me, we hit the not-so-swanky places the night before.” He dropped a linen napkin on his lap. “That was the great thing about Walker. You’d never know his background. He was always really down to earth. But after a week of midterms and all-nighters, he was the first to pull out his wallet and say, ‘Matty boy, we need some decent chow.’”

She laughed at his dead-on impression of the serious Walker Ashton.

“And we’d come here and eat like, well, like starving Berkeley students on a trust fund. And he’d always pay.” He shook his head in amazement. “Before Walker, I’d never even heard of the Ritz-Carlton.”

Paige took a sip of water and regarded him closely. “You didn’t talk much about your childhood the other night. Where are your parents?”

Good question, he thought wryly. Where are my parents? “My dad is MIA and has been for as long as I can remember.”

She frowned at the idea or the acronym, he didn’t know which.

“He left when I was a child and never made too much of an effort to keep in touch.” He took a sip of water, making a conscious decision to barrel on with information he shared with few people. “And my mom…well, she’s finally settled into a real home for the first time in her life and she seems to be getting her act together.” Seems being the operative word. “I help her out a lot. She’s better when she doesn’t have to hold down a job.”

This was business, he reminded himself. No need to delve into the gross dysfunctionality of his tiny family. But he could tell by her interested look the subject wasn’t going to die.

“What do you mean ‘settled into a real home’?”

“One without wheels.”

Her frown deepened with genuine confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Of course not. She’d probably never seen a doublewide trailer park home in her whole life. “Forget about it,” he said, sweeping open his menu. “I recommend the monkfish. The seafood is unmatched here.”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, another question poised on her pretty lips, but then her attention shifted over his shoulder and her expression changed to one of surprise.

He turned to see Walker Ashton headed directly toward them.

“Well, speak of the devil.” Matt stood and set his napkin on the table to shake Walker’s hand. “I say your name and you appear.” Matt frowned. “Or you’re following us.”

“Hey, Matt.” Walker returned the shake, then his dark gaze moved to his cousin. He leaned over and kissed Paige on the cheek. “Seems impossible to pry you two apart lately.”

Was that disapproval or accusation in Walker’s voice? Matt pointed to one of the empty chairs at the table. “Grab a seat. We haven’t even ordered yet.”

“For a minute.” The chair scraped over the brick floor as Walker pulled it out. “I have a lunch meeting with a new client and then I’m picking up Tamra at two to fly back to South Dakota.” He turned to face Paige. “How’s the event planning going?”

The pointed question elicited the slightest flush on her cheeks. “Great. We’ve got a theme, decor, entertainment, a guest list and an invitation design all completed this morning.”

“So,” Walker looked from one to the other. “Why are you still meeting?”

“Budget,” Matt said without thinking.

“Time line,” Paige said at the same time, then cleared her throat and ignored Walker’s snort of laughter at the contradiction. “Matt was just telling me how you two used to frequent the brunches here in college.”

Walker’s grin was slow as his gaze slid to Matt. “Then I guess I should be glad he’s bringing you here instead of some of our less respectable hangouts in Oakland.”

“Maybe you’ll take me to one of those, too, Matt.” Her smile was anything but innocent. “I’m always interested in seeing what less than respectable looks like.”

Her meaning was not lost on him and by the burn in Walker’s stare, it wasn’t lost on him, either.

She wasn’t doing such a bang-up job of keeping this pure business, he thought. The morning meeting had been filled with longer-than-businesslike glances and a definite sense of play and not work in her quick comebacks.

And she’d looked damn near triumphant when he called the Marketing Department to tell Tessa he’d hired an outside consultant to do the event.

Suddenly Paige pushed her chair back and stood. “Excuse me for a moment, please.”

They both stood up as she left the table, their similar heights bringing the two men face-to-face.

“I thought you were doing a good deed.” Walker’s voice had no humor.

Matt rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he considered a response. “I’m taking a business associate to lunch to discuss an event we’re planning. I fail to see how that’s a bad deed.”

Walker’s thick native-American brows knotted and his dark eyes narrowed. “When you bid on her, Matt, you said, ‘I’m only doing a good deed.’ You felt sorry for her or something.”

“That’s true.” He felt…something. Not sorry, but this wasn’t the right time to explain that. “Then I hired her to manage an event. Something she happens to be very good at. Is that a problem?”

“It could be.” Walker was far too familiar with Matt’s track record for him to easily buy that excuse. Matt had even confided that he had no intention of ever getting serious with a woman again after his divorce; he’d been very clear about his “sex without strings” personal philosophy.

“I don’t intend for it to go beyond the boardroom, Walker,” he added, lowering his voice and holding his friend’s slightly hostile gaze. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m not in the least bit worried about you.” Walker glanced in the direction where Paige had gone. “I’m worried about my little cousin. She does her best to be tough but…”

“But what?”

“She’s got a soft heart.”

And soft lips. And soft hair. “I can tell,” Matt admitted.

“And she’s shy.”

Shy? Could Walker—or the other Ashtons—not know the same Paige he did? She was definitely not shy. Quiet, thoughtful and intelligent, but not shy. “She’s not timid, Walker. She knows how to get what she wants.”

“That’s just a front,” Walker insisted. “She tries to be as in control as her sister Megan, and as shrewd as their mother. But she’s tender, not tough. She’s…she’s not…”

“She’s not what?”