by S. M. West
But this isn’t real.
That’s why I grabbed my phone and reread emails for no reason other than to keep myself busy. I needed to be so engrossed in something else that I wouldn’t have to look at her, talk to her.
“Let’s talk about Donovan, since he’s going to be here tonight.”
This woman.
Headlong into any situation is her way even when the topic is uncomfortable. It works for me. I’m more than fine with direct. Let’s clear the air and clarify a few things.
“The two of you were pretty chummy for only having had one date.”
“He kept in touch while in Europe. He sent letters and postcards. And he called when he came back to Canada.” She shrugs, her expression blank. “And even though I was seeing someone else at the time, my first really serious relationship, we stayed in contact for a while.”
“Only one date. Must have been some date. Did you sleep with him?”
She narrows her eyes, her look implying I’m skating on thin ice. “No, I didn’t. I don’t put out on a first date.”
I’m content with her response. Fuck no, relieved to hear Donovan Wilkes didn’t get her into bed.
“What about on the second?” I’m joking and give her a cocky grin to make sure she’s aware.
“Contrary to any assumptions you’ve made or what you think of me, I don’t sleep around.” She sits up straighter, not a hint of a smile in sight. “I don’t sleep with guys on a second, or third date for that matter, not that I owe you an explanation.”
“I wasn’t asking for one and you don’t owe me anything. But for what it’s worth,” I take her hand in mine, “I’m glad you didn’t sleep with him.”
Our arrival at the dinner causes quite a stir, which is no surprise to me. Paige is the first woman I’ve ever brought to one of these despite the incessant badgering of Nan and the nosy inquiries of board members.
While the dinner is a business affair, since we’re all connected by Rothwell Enterprises, not much business is discussed with significant others present. Tonight’s dinner is one of two times annually where we gather some of our most senior executives and the board for a night of entertainment.
“Zachary. Paige.” Nan glides over to us, beaming at the woman on my arm. “It’s so lovely to see you again, my dear. That dress is simply exquisite, dare I say you’re going to outshine Rosa.”
“Nice to see you, too.” Paige smiles, then follows with a confused frown. “Thank you, but sorry, who’s Rosa?”
“Rosa Drake. She’s the wife of Anton Drake, a member of the board, and she’s also—”
“One of the most beautiful women in the world,” Paige finishes my sentence, although it isn’t what I was going to say.
“I wouldn’t say that.” Nan pats Paige’s hand and adjusts her position so she’s standing beside my date. “She is a model and beautiful, that’s for sure. As a matter of fact, she’s over there in the Versace.”
Always discreet, Nan tips her chin in the direction of the Argentine model, and Paige’s mouth gapes open. Quickly catching herself, she snaps it shut—but that does nothing for her widening eyes, now double their size and glued to Rosa.
“What are we looking at?” Morgan, my wayward cousin, joins us.
“Darling, here you are.” Grandmother pulls Morgan closer. “I want to introduce you to Paige Hayes, Zachary’s date.”
“Zach has a date?” Morgan pokes, her amber eyes glittering with the promise of causing trouble. “I definitely want to meet the woman brave enough to come into the bear cave with the grumpiest bear of them all.”
Morgan laughs, Nan tsks, and Paige looks bewildered as I drag my cousin over to me and peck her on the cheek. “Stop, Paige will believe every word you say.”
“Oh, we can’t have that. Would it scare her off?”
“Doubt it. Paige doesn’t scare easily.” I press my hand into my date’s lower back in reassurance.
“No, I don’t. I’ve already seen Zach’s grumpy side.” She hooks a thumb in my direction. “And I’m still here. Not sure what that says about me.”
“Paige, this is my cousin and all-around troublemaker, Morgan Rothwell.”
“Hi, Paige.” They shake hands. “I’m joking about some of it and if you’ve seen his not-so-nice side, then you know what I’m talking about.”
“Okay, that’s enough. Let me take you around.” I look to Paige, ready to whisk her away.
“No, let me do it.” Morgan wedges herself between us. “Before Zach bores you to death,” she mock-whispers as if not wanting me to hear when that’s exactly her point.
“Morgan,” Nan chides, and I laugh, used to my cousin’s antics.
I’m not in the least bit perturbed at the thought of Paige alone with my cousin. She’ll like Morgan. My younger cousin considers herself the black sheep of the family when neither Nan nor I think of her that way. But she is different.
As the only child of my uncle Bernard and without a mother for most of her life—she died in a tragic skiing accident—Morgan wanders the globe looking for something I fear she may never find.
Once the younger ladies leave, Nan and I talk a bit of shop before agreeing to split up and work the room. Every so often, I drop in on Paige, usually in conversation with someone, to make sure she’s okay.
We have dinner and afterward, we mingle some more. I feel like I haven’t spent a lot of time with my date and surprisingly, or maybe not, she hasn’t sought me out. We sat next to each other at dinner and while we were able to chat a bit, we spent most of our time occupied by the guests on our other side.
“How do you think the evening is going?” Nan moves in the second Humphrey Jones excuses himself for another drink.
“Good. Humph and I are going golfing. I plan to get him to back the marketing campaign.”
“Excellent. And Paige? How do you think she’s doing?” She scans the crowd, stopping at the same time I spot her.
“You tell me.”
“She’s a natural. This may be new to her, but you’d never know it. Did you see her talking to Cormac?”
“Yes.”
“She had the old man blushing and actually letting her lead the conversation.” She shakes her head as if still disbelieving what she saw with her own eyes.
“She is something.” My throat tightens at the admission and Nan’s perceptive gaze searches my expression for some sign.
Her hope is painted all over her face. She is likely hoping for Paige to be the one I’ll settle down with. Isn’t that what I want her to think? She needs to believe Paige and I are the real deal.
“Look at her now with Bettina—aren’t you worried?” I’m deliberately prodding as Bettina van der Jagt is a tough, old biddy and a thorn in Nan’s side.
“I’m not,” she says confidently. “Paige has it under control, I’m sure. Look, Bettina’s laughing. When’s the last time you saw that? I can’t say I recall. I think it was the Ice Age.”
She’s dead serious and I belt out a laugh, surprising us both. Not too long after, we go our separate ways. While talking to the chairman of the board, I catch sight of Paige coming from the direction of the ladies’ room when Donovan makes his umpteenth move, cornering her.
All night, she has steered clear of him even when he’s obviously been trying to get her alone. With every attempt, she’s dodged him, either leaving the group when he joins or inviting someone else into the circle so as not to be alone with him. I contemplated uninviting him tonight. He doesn’t have a seat on the board, or any real reason to be here other than his connection to most of the people in the room. This kind of event is just as much about being seen as it is about business.
Donovan now has her alone and I’m deep in conversation with Cormac Wilkes, the chairman of our board and Donovan’s father. Unfortunately, while Cormac is a valued member and a good man, he can be a bit of a blowhard.
And right now, he’s regaling me with a story about fishing in the Bahamas and how he caught a tiger s
hark. I’ve heard the story a hundred times if I’ve heard it once. Funnily enough, every time the fish gets bigger and deadlier.
Luckily, Cormac’s wife joins us and I expertly excuse myself, making a beeline for Paige. I slip my hand in hers and Donovan pauses mid-speech, arching a brow.
“Hi, Zach. Did you know Paige’s uncle owns Hayes Construction?”
I didn’t, but I should. Instead of letting on that’s the case, I nod. “If you’ll excuse us, we’re leaving. Good night.”
We leave before he can get in another word and once far enough away from him, Paige says, “Are we leaving? I’m beat and my feet…but you didn’t have to be rude.”
“That wasn’t rude. Why were you avoiding him all night?”
Her gaze widens as she stares up at me and I weave us through the crowd, stopping once or twice to briefly say good night before we’re finally free of the room.
“Were you watching me?”
I nod, send a text to my driver, and lead her outside to the front of the building. “Answer the question.”
“I wasn’t avoiding him. It’s more that he’s built me up to be something that I’m not. As if things would have been dramatically different between us if he hadn’t left for Europe. Who knows if we’d have lasted past another date? I get the feeling he thinks we’d be married or something.”
We slip into the car and she sighs, sinking into the seat and kicking off her heels.
“From what I can see, he knows exactly what you are and he’d be an idiot not to wonder what if.”
“I think you mean that as a compliment, but it sounds like an insult.”
“Not an insult. Never. By the way,” I pause deliberately making sure I have her undivided attention, “Donovan is married.”
Her eyes widen and she tilts her head to one side but remains speechless.
Getting to the heart of things, I ask, “Does that bother you?”
“Why would it bother me? I’m only wondering why he never mentioned his wife. Was she there tonight?”
Sighing although somehow not fully relieved, I shake my head. “No. Cece and Donovan are rarely seen together. Theirs is a marriage of convenience. She’s a remarkable woman and it’s a shame she’s saddled with his philandering ass but she made her bed.” I run my hand through my hair, long past ready to drop the topic of Donovan Wilkes. “Do you want something to drink?” I point to the liquor, sparkling and still water, and sodas lined up along the bar.
“I’m good, thanks. I’m just glad to get those things off.” Her eyes flick to the floor where her shoes sit discarded. “I love those babies, but right now my dogs are barking.”
“What?” I tilt my head to the side and study her.
“My feet,” she giggles.
“Oh. If you’re not too tired, would you tell me how you became a project manager?” I need to know more about her. More than someone like Donovan does.
“I kinda fell into it. I was in between jobs and my uncle John—that reminds me, you didn’t know he owns Hayes Construction, did you?” I shake my head no and she smiles. “That’s what I thought. Anyway, he asked me to help him. His usual PM had just packed up her life and moved to Vietnam.”
“Seriously?”
She nods and a slow, easy grin claims her lips.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“Nothing, really. I’m just remembering the frantic phone call from my uncle. Almost every other word out of his mouth was fuck. I’d never seen him so lost and out of control.”
“Well, if your clients are left hanging, it’s bad for business.”
“Yes. He was in a bind, and at first he’d asked my mom, but she was up to her eyeballs with her own clients.”
“What does your mother do?”
“She’s an interior designer and runs her own business. She suggested John call me. I’d helped her once or twice and I had experience running small-scale projects.”
The car stops and I peer out the window to see we’re already at her home. The ride was way too fast. Paige snatches her shoes, leaving them off, and opens the car door before my driver can get there.
“Wait,” I say after her. “You’re barefoot.”
She smiles, looking at me like I’m silly for having stated the obvious. “Yep. These babies aren’t getting back on my aching puppies tonight.”
Still not fully getting the correlation between dogs and feet, I shake my head. “The ground is filthy, and you could step on something and cut your foot.”
She releases a pfft and turns from me. “I’ll be fine. Good night, Zach. I had a good time.”
“Wait.” I step out of the car after her and before she can say anything further, she’s in my arms, pressed against my chest, legs hooked over my arm.
“Put me down, Zach. I’ll be fine. The door is right there.”
“Don’t care. Barefoot in the dark isn’t smart.”
“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes and tightens her arm around my shoulder and her other hand rests flat against my chest.
She tries to wriggle from my hold when we reach her front door. “You need to put me down so I can open the door.”
“Roger.” My driver appears from behind us. “Give him your key,” I say to Paige.
With a huff and another eye roll, she hands him the key. He opens the door and returns the key before discreetly disappearing.
“This is all very silly.” She releases an exasperated sigh.
“What’s silly is you with no shoes on.” I shift my weight and her hand tightens around me. “Did you have a good time tonight?”
“Yes.” Her eyes light up.
“I’m glad. I did, too.”
“Thank you for the beautiful dress. I had more fun than I thought I would.”
Her admission ignites the yearning embers deep within me. I tilt my head to hers and my mouth melds to her plump lips.
My intention is to make it quick and hard, not wanting to tempt myself more than I already am. But when her hand lands on my jaw, fingers curling gently into my skin, all intentions are lost.
My tongue sweeps the seam of her lips and she opens on a moan. But it’s short-lived. Paige pulls back, blushing and breathless, eyes narrowed on me.
“What are you doing?” She’s irritated.
“What does it look like I’m doing? Kissing you.” I flash her a wicked smile, my tongue darting out to wet my lips.
She tastes like sugar—so sweet—and I’m ravenous to taste her again.
“You know what I mean. There’s no one here to put a show on for. You’re not my...”
“Your what?”
“You know what I mean. Why are you playing dumb and infuriating?”
“Hmm, infuriating?” I gently place her feet on the ground. “We’re supposed to be together. I’m practicing. We’ve got to make it look as real as possible.”
“You can cut it out. When it’s just us, it’s just us. No need for a charade.”
“Who said it was a charade?” I tuck my hands into my pant pockets and rock back on my heels, needing to keep my hands to myself.
“What am I to you, Paige?”
She tilts her head to the side, her long hair falling in waves. “You’re…” She looks away, nibbling on her bottom lip. Again.
“You don’t know, do you? And boyfriend doesn’t work.” I step in front of her, forcing her to look at me. “Think of me as your madly devoted Zachary.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Madly devoted Zach.”
Ten
Paige
“Holy shit, girl, I would switch sides for you. I never considered myself a vagina lover in the sexual sense but for you…”
“Who is this?” My voice comes out a croak, having just woken up.
“Pippa.”
“Hey, Pip. What are you talking about?” Brushing my hair from my face, I roll onto my back, squinting at the vibrant morning sun flooding through the crack in the curtains.
“I woke up to fin
d this fucking fantastic pic of you in that dress.” She’s gushing, and I search my memory for an inkling of what she’s talking about. “I mean, you told me about the dress, but Paige, you in the dress. Dynamite! I bet Mr. Rothwell couldn’t keep his hands off you.”
Then it dawns on me. When I got home, before taking off the dress last night, I snapped a picture and sent it to Pippa. I laugh and stretch.
“Aww, thanks, babe. It is a spectacular dress.” I glance to the red heap of silken fabric on my bedroom floor where I’d carelessly left it in my delirious desire to sleep. Thank goodness for dry cleaners. “Can we talk later?”
“Why are you ditching me?” Offended, her voice slides into a husky whisper. “Oh! Is Zach in bed with you?”
“No, he isn’t.”
“Argh. Why not? And if not, then why are you trying to get rid of me?”
“How much coffee have you had? You’re going a mile a minute and trying to keep up with you is hurting my head.”
Clutching my head, I groan and push into sitting, my legs now dangling over the side of the bed.
“I’m tired and you woke me up. I don’t care that it’s eight in the morning, I don’t have to work until two this afternoon. This morning is mine to sleep in.”
The thought of working on Saturday sucks. I don’t do it often but with my job, weekends are easier for some of my clients.
Today I’ve got an appointment with the Bergmans, newlyweds planning for their custom-built home. I’m walking them through three design boards for their kitchen. It’s the last room for them to decide on before we move to the upstairs.
Mom’s their interior decorator and I’ve only recently joined the team. My mother asked me to keep things moving while she’s away over the coming months.
I’m loving the project, so far, and creating the design boards is the best part. I always think of it as getting paid to put together Pinterest boards. This afternoon’s appointment should be fun although Mom has mentioned that the Bergmans can be indecisive.
“You can sleep when you’re dead. Talk.” Pippa yanks me from thoughts of how to lead the Bergmans to a swift decision.
