The Ashtons: Paige, Grant & Trace. Roxanne St. ClaireЧитать онлайн книгу.
He never divorced his first wife.”
“Yes, I read about that.”
“We’re a mess,” she said with an apologetic laugh, flicking the leaf into the air. “Look up dysfunctional and you’ll see the Ashton Family Album in the dictionary.”
He shook his head. “Like I said, no different from other families, just on a grander scale. Maybe your visit would be more comfortable—and effective—if you have company. Less like an investigation and more like a social call. I’d love to go with you.”
“Why would you do that?”
He leaned closer. “So I can get my wish.”
Her heart tumbled right off that tightrope she’d just mentioned and splattered in her tummy. “Okay, tell me. What did you wish for?”
He dipped his head so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of his skin. “I can’t tell you. Then it might not come true.”
“Can’t again, huh?” She pulled back enough to give him a teasing grin. “You’re starting to sound like a broken record.”
Megan looked up from her desk with a mock scowl, held her wrist in the air, and tapped one manicured fingernail on the face of her watch.
“The meeting at Symphonics ran late,” Paige explained as she breezed in. “Anything earth-shattering happen while I was gone?”
“You tell me,” Megan said pointedly. “You’re the one who spent, oh, eight hours with one client.”
Eight lovely hours. Paige dropped into the chair across from Megan’s desk and managed not to purr with sheer delight. “We had a lot to cover.”
“Such as?”
“Seating arrangements, invitations, decorations, audio-visual, guest list.” And some wish making.
“Uh-huh.” Megan flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder and leaned her elbows on the desk. “And what else?”
“Time line, budget, music—”
“Did he kiss you?”
Paige let her jaw drop in an effort to look suitably indignant. “Of course not.”
“Did you kiss him?”
“Megan! I don’t make a habit of kissing clients.”
“I did.” Megan winked. “Just once, though.”
Hopefully, that signaled a change in subject. “Did you and Simon find the perfect crib in Calistoga yesterday?”
“He’s really gorgeous.”
The statement threw her. “Your husband? Yes, he’s a god.”
“No, I mean, yes, he is a god. But I’m not talking about Simon, sweetie, and you know it.” Megan leaned back and rubbed her belly as she regarded her sister. “Matt Camberlane qualifies as irresistible.”
“I can resist.” Yeah, right. She’d really resisted him in his room at Auberge. She practically stripped before he’d gotten the door closed. And left half her underwear as a souvenir.
“I’ve heard he’s a real player, too, since his divorce.”
“His divorce?” Her heart plummeted in disappointment. A player? She could believe that. But he’d never mentioned a previous marriage. “He didn’t tell me he was divorced.”
“Why would he? I thought you were just doing budgets, invitations and seating arrangements.” Megan’s voice held just enough of a tease to take the sting out of the accusation.
“We were. And I swear there was no lip contact today.” True enough. Today there hadn’t been. “Just a handshake as we made plans for tomorrow.”
Megan’s eyebrows shot up. “Another meeting?”
“Can you spare me?” Paige asked. “I really want to go up to Louret.”
“So you said at breakfast yesterday. And do your plans include taking Matt Camberlane to Louret?”
Paige nodded, moving her gaze to the bay window behind Megan’s desk and making a point of studying the late afternoon shadows on the estate grounds.
“Why?” Without looking, she could feel Megan’s stare burning her. “What does that have to do with the Halloween product launch party we’re doing for Symphonics?”
“Well…” Paige plucked at an imaginary thread on her dress. “Nothing.”
Their gazes finally met as Megan waited for an explanation.
“He offered to come with me. To make it comfortable, more social and less like a showdown. I can take him to the tasting room and just chat with Jillian.”
“No, you can’t.”
More disappointment. “Megan, we don’t have any events scheduled for tomorrow. I don’t need to be here.”
“Louret’s tasting room is closed on Tuesdays.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay. Jillian usually spends her days off at The Vines, so I’ll just visit with her and Mercedes, if she’s around.”
“Anna Sheridan is staying there,” Megan said, referring to the woman who’d assumed custody of baby Jack, the result of their father’s last fling.
Jack’s mother had died shortly after giving birth, but her sister, Anna, had been welcomed into the home of Caroline and Lucas Sheppard. That act alone proved to Paige that Caroline, Spencer Ashton’s second wife, had plenty of class.
“I’d really like to meet the little guy,” Paige admitted. “Jillian told me he’s cute as a button.”
Megan rubbed her tummy. “I saw a picture of him. He’s divine. Makes me want a boy.”
“As if it matters. With you and Simon as parents, he or she will be dazzling, smart and the control freak from hell.”
Megan laughed. “I’ve been better lately, don’t you think?”
“Yep. Raging morning sickness is the first thing to slow you down in your life.”
“It’s not just that. I want to concentrate on Simon. I’m letting you manage the whole Symphonics thing, aren’t I?”
“Well, Matt has his hands all over it, too.”
“Just so he doesn’t have his hands all over you, little sister.”
Heat coursed through her at the thought.
“Or has he already?” There was no tease in Megan’s accusation this time.
Paige said nothing, avoiding her sister’s probing gaze.
“You slept with him?” Megan asked, shocked.
“No!” That, at least was the truth. The hands-all-over-her part, well. He had done that. And would again, if Paige had her way. “I did not sleep with him.”
The only sound was the ticking brass clock on Megan’s desk.
“Yet,” Paige added quietly.
Megan searched her face with a plea in her eyes. “Paige, don’t do anything stupid.”
A burst of anger propelled her from the chair. “Why is it when anyone else in this family falls into lust, it’s fine. With baby Paige, it’s stupid. I’m twenty-two, Meg. I’m not a virgin.” Paige folded her arms and looked down at Megan. “The guy melts my bones. I want him.”
Megan sighed as the echoes of Paige’s admission hung in the room. “I’d be a hypocrite if I told you I don’t know how good it feels to want someone who melts your bones. I still feel it every time Simon looks at me.”
“I