The Highest Bidder

  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 double-wide 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?"

  "She's not your type."

  Now that was debatable. "I know what you're trying to say," Matt assured his friend. "You can trust me." Walker put his hand on Matt's shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze. They went too far back, had too much history and friendship, for either one to doubt the truth of Matt's promise.

  "I know that, Matty boy. I know that." Walker cocked his head toward Paige's empty chair. "Tell her I had to run."

  When Walker disappeared into the dining room of The Terrace, Matt caught a glimpse of Paige approaching the table. Her slender hips swayed a bit with each step, her breasts moved just enough to make his mouth water.

  She moistened her lips ever so slightly and kept her gaze locked on him.

  Matt knew women. And he knew for a fact that this one most definitely had something on her mind other than a time line or a budget.

  But he'd made his promise. To himself. And, more important, to his friend.

  * * *

  Five

  « ^ »

  Paige had to give him credit. Matt was doing everything humanly possible to keep their interaction strictly business. Or at least not personal.

  And hadn't she planned to do the same thing on their first date just a few nights ago? She'd failed miserably … and he would, too.

  For one thing, their "meeting" had started at ten, then continued on through a two-hour lunch, and showed no sign of ending now that they were strolling through Ghirardelli Square like a couple of tourists.

  Like a couple. Period.

  It was unspoken that they didn't want the "meeting" to end. He'd suggested they drive over to the square after lunch to soak in the incredible autumn California day, and she hadn't argued. The sun warmed the golden brick pavement of the sprawling park, and their easy conversation and comfortable silences warmed her heart. Nothing intimate, nothing personal. But not exactly business, either.

  "I haven't been here for years," Paige said as they passed the historic chocolate factory. "I forgot how quaint and inviting this place is."

  "It's touristy," he noted. "But there's a reason the tourists like it."

  They entered a tree-lined plaza, pausing at a storefront to admire the hand-blown glass in the window.

  "We can't leave the square without making a wish," Matt said suddenly, taking her hand. "Let's visit Andrea."

  Her fingers curled around his much stronger ones. Oh, yes. This was feeling more like a date and less like a meeting every minute. "Andrea?"

  "The mermaid of the fountain." He tugged her toward the massive sculpture of two mermaids nursing their babies and surrounded by a pool of sun-drenched water. "Gotta make a wish."

  He dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a handful of change. "Pick a lucky one," he told her.

  She plucked a shiny penny from the group, and he took another. As they approached the gray slate steps that surrounded the pool, he dipped his head close to her.

  "Andrea listens, you know. So be sure you wish for something good."

  She grinned and flipped the penny toward the water. "I know what I want." I wish Matt would kiss me. It hit with a tiny splash.

  "Wow. You sure do know
what you want," Matt noted. "I generally have to think about it for a minute."

  "This wish didn't take any thought at all," she said, squinting in the sun as she looked up at him. "I know exactly what I want."

  "You know what they say."

  "What do they say?"

  "Be careful what you wish for." With that, he arced his penny in a perfect curve shot.

  The water rippled as his coin drifted to meet the coppery cluster at the bottom.

  "What did you wish for?" she asked.

  He gave her a lopsided grin that made her insides ripple just like the pool. "You tell me first," he said.

  "Doesn't that mean my wish won't come true?"

  He considered that as they found an empty bench tucked under the branches of a gnarly shade tree, the leaves already beginning to take on the golden hue of October. "I'm not sure how strict Andrea is about revealing your wishes," he said as they sat.

  "Then I don't want to risk it," Paige laughed. "I really want this wish to come true."

  He crossed his long legs and draped an arm across the back of the bench. Not exactly touching her but not strictly professional, either.

  "Why don't I guess?" he suggested. "Then technically you really haven't told me."

  She smiled, feeling coy and flirtatious. Not a sensation Paige Ashton was used to, but one that sure sent a few lovely tingles through her. "Okay. You get three guesses."

  He laughed. "Oh, there are rules, now. Hmm. Okay. Let me guess." He studied the fountain in front of them, then said, "You wished for a flawlessly executed, well-attended, completely successful launch party for VoiceBox."

  She just stared at him. Was he that unromantic? "I don't have to wish for that. I'll make that happen without the help of any mermaids or wishes."

  "Touché." He thought for a moment. "I know. You covered all your bases. You wished for happiness and a lifetime of contentment."

  She shook her head. "I wouldn't want to strain Andrea's powers with anything that monumental. My wish was simple. And it was nothing I could control. Someone else has to make it happen."

  "You want all your family problems to go away."

  Oh, God. That's what she should have wished for, she thought guiltily. He wasn't even thinking about a kiss, and she shouldn't have wasted her penny on something so frivolous when there were real problems in her life.

  She managed to nod. "Yes, that's it. My family."

  "Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

  That he could do? "Not unless you want to step into a beehive of distrust, accusation, blackmail and infidelity."

  "That sounds like my family," he said with a quick laugh. "On a much smaller scale and without the blackmail, of course."

  Something twisted in her heart at the lack of judgment in his tone. "I guess everyone has their skeletons," she admitted.

  "Yeah, in the closet. Your family has them on the front page of the business section and weekly tabloids."

  Wasn't that the ugly truth? "Are you sure you still want to hold your event at the Winery?"

  "I most certainly do," he assured her. "And my offer of help stands. Not that I can do anything to relieve the situation other than listen and offer sympathy."

  A sigh escaped her lips when he said that. "You better watch it, Matt," she warned. "That's pretty sensitive talk for a tough, competitive entrepreneur like you."

  He winked at her. "Just trying to make your wish come true."

  Then kiss me.

  For a dizzying second, he looked as though he might. His lips were parted, the pupils dilated against his steel-gray eyes. Then he looked back at the fountain.

  "I don't think there's much you can do as far as my family is concerned," she said quickly. "I'm planning to go up to Louret Vineyards tomorrow. It's time for another visit with my half sisters and another attempt at fence mending."

  "Want some company?"

  She leaned back and gave him a surprised look. "You want to go up to Louret? With me?"

  "Sure. I can take a day off tomorrow, and I'd love to take a drive up there. I've heard Louret's a magnificent vineyard."

  "The vineyard is breathtaking, but the family…"

  "Not so breathtaking?"

  She smiled at the way he tried to make her comfortable with a decidedly uncomfortable subject. "My half siblings are very, very angry at my father, as you can imagine, and, by association, at my brother and sister and cousins and me. My father virtually abandoned those children when he married my mother."

  "I'd heard that from Walker."

  "They think I'm taking his side."

  "Are you?"

  She shook her head vehemently. "I told you the other night, I don't take sides. I walk a tightrope right down the middle."

  "That's a dangerous place, Paige," he said, his fingers grazing her shoulders. "If you fall, you can get hurt."

  Her lips curled in a rueful smile. "I have great balance."

  "What do you hope to accomplish tomorrow?"

  She shrugged, liking that his fingers had settled on her shoulder. Wanting to fold into his substantial body for a reassuring hug. "I just want to visit. To show them that, well, we're family. We have our differences, but we should stick together."

  "What kind of differences?"

  "My father's will, for one thing."

  "Walker told me they are contesting it."

  "They might." She picked up a leaf that had fallen on the bench and studied it. "And they have a fairly compelling reason to do that. As you've no doubt read in those papers and tabloids, my father's marriage to their mother was … not legal. 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 Symphonies 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 Symphonies?"

  "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."