The Ashtons: Paige, Grant & Trace. Roxanne St. ClaireЧитать онлайн книгу.
a flirt,” she responded, trying to ignore the tightening low in her tummy at his words and tone. “And I’m not.”
He slid a water glass to the left and closed his hand over hers, never taking his gaze off her. “That’s what I like about you, Paige Ashton.”
It was easy to believe him and very hard to ignore her body’s response.
Several hours passed as they sampled nouvelle servings of foie gras, red pepper crostini and sautéed moulard, complimented by a bottle of extraordinary Louret wine. By the time they’d finished sharing a champagne gellée dessert, Matt knew one thing for sure about Paige Ashton—besides the fact that she wasn’t a flirt:
He wanted her.
He liked her quiet spirit, her keen intelligence and the way her lower lip sort of trembled when he captured, and purposely held, her gaze. He liked her elegant table manners, her smooth ability to keep a conversation going, her enticing little cleavage when she leaned forward.
Yep. He wanted her.
“Let’s go for a ride,” he suggested as they stepped into the moon-washed patio, nearly the last of the customers to leave.
She flattened the portfolio against her chest again like thin leather armor. “Thank you, but I really have to get back to the estate.”
“It’s Saturday night, Paige.” He took her arm possessively and slid it into his elbow. “The stars are out, the moon is—” he squinted into the sky “—half-full and I have less than three thousand miles on a brand new sports car. You could be the first girl to ride in it.”
“But not the last,” she said quickly.
He feigned a wounded look. “You think I’m a cad.”
“A cad? Do people use that word anymore?”
He laughed as they reached his car. “You tell me. You’re a smart girl.”
“Smart enough to say thank you for the lovely dinner and your business. What time is our meeting on Monday?”
He considered how simple it would be to turn her in his arms, ease her against the side door of his Ferrari and pull her delicious little body into his.
The thought had its effect on him, so he did precisely the opposite and stepped away from her. No making out in a parking lot for this lady. Seducing Paige would take longer, and the place had to be perfect.
“I’ll clear my schedule for you on Monday,” he offered politely. “What time can you be in San Mateo?”
“Ten o’clock.”
“Ten it is. We’ll go up to San Francisco and have lunch afterward.”
She laughed softly. “How can you think of lunch after all that fantastic food?”
“You make me hungry,” he admitted with a teasing smile.
Her eyes darkened just enough to communicate that she got his meaning. “Matt…” She stepped back. “I don’t mix business and pleasure.”
“Then tear up that contract,” he joked.
She smiled and clutched the binder. “Not a chance. We’re going to have fun with this event. Everyone in costumes, fantastic music—”
“Costumes?” He choked a little. “I hadn’t thought of costumes.”
“It’s Halloween,” she countered. “Of course there’ll be costumes. I need to know all the details of the new product—the VoiceBox, is it? I’ll need to start thinking of a theme for the event.”
“Music. That’s the only theme I’m interested in.”
“Perfect. Come as your favorite musician. Who’s yours?”
“Sinatra.” He didn’t even hesitate. “I’m his numberone fan.”
That won him the sweetest smile. “Then you’ll come as Old Blue Eyes himself.”
He laughed at the thought. “Just don’t make me sing.”
“But you could play. I heard you last night. You’re very good.”
“Hardly. But I like the idea of musician costumes. The product is a computer karaoke, so we could have a lot of fun with that.”
“Great. I’ll work on it for Monday morning.”
He suddenly hated the idea of Sunday stretching out before him without her. “I’m staying at Auberge du Soleil, in Napa,” he said. “Let’s get together tomorrow and work on it then.”
Her eyes narrowed just enough to let him know she was thinking about it. “Another business meeting?”
“Call it whatever you want, Paige.” He couldn’t resist sliding his hands up her arms, over her narrow shoulders, letting her hair tickle his skin. He held her delicate face between his hands, his focus dropping to that lower lip he wanted so much to taste. “I happen to think business and pleasure is a great mix.”
One kiss. That was all he wanted. One quick, warm, good-night kiss.
As he leaned toward her, he felt her tense up, but as soon as their lips touched, she relaxed. He tilted his head slightly, tasting a whisper of sweet sorbet that clung to her lips.
No. One kiss was not going to be enough.
But it was all he would take now. “Tomorrow?” he asked, keeping his mouth just a breath from hers. “We’ll have a picnic in the olive grove at Auberge.”
Her little sigh of resignation warmed his lips and he fought back a grin. There was nothing Matt loved more than winning. “One stipulation, however,” he added.
She gave him a questioning look.
“Leave that binder at home. This won’t be work, I promise.”
As Paige tiptoed down the main stairs of the estate the next morning, she heard a few familiar family voices in the dining room, and caught a whiff of Irena Hunter’s incomparable eggs Benedict floating from the cavernous kitchen.
She slipped past the butler’s pantry and eyed the pot of fresh-brewed coffee tucked into the corner. After last night’s meal, coffee was all she wanted. And after a sleepless night of reliving one breathless kiss and imagining many more, she needed the caffeine.
“I didn’t hear you come in last night, honey.”
Paige winced at the sound of her mother’s voice coming from the dining room. She almost asked, “Since when did you listen for me?” but swallowed the retort. Lilah Ashton may not have been the model for motherhood, but in her own way she cared about her children.
Filling her cup, Paige simply called out a morning greeting.
“What time did you get in?” Walker’s question was pointed and direct, the way he always was.
Taking a deep breath and a sip of strong, black coffee, she made her way through the hallway into the dining area. As always the table was set with fine china, crystal and snow-white linens. For just a minute Paige longed to curl up at a cozy kitchen table, drink coffee from a chipped mug and skim the Sunday paper like normal people.
But they weren’t normal. They were Ashtons.
The thought made her smile, as she took her usual seat.
“What are you smiling about?” Tamra looked remarkably relaxed for a woman who, just three months earlier, had been rather overwhelmed by all that was Ashton when Walker had brought her home from the reservation. He’d gone to find his long-lost mother and had unexpectedly found the love of his life, as well.
Paige widened her smile for Tamra, happy that she and Walker, having built their own world away from the estate, had decided to stay for the whole weekend after the fund-raiser.
Tamra’s