by Kwan, Coleen
“And with him on board as an investor, I’d get a much smoother ride through the approval stage.” Owen nodded before he remembered the look on Heidi’s face. He glanced at her in the rear of the car. “So what’s the catch, Heidi? What isn’t your dad telling me?”
She gave him a wry smile. “Go on, Dad. Tell him what you did without asking first.”
Jim squirmed in his seat. “Uh, you understand I only had one meeting with the big kahuna, so I had to make a snap decision. I invited him to spend a weekend down here. At your place. Next weekend.”
Owen gaped at his partner before he returned his attention to his driving with some difficulty. “You invited Gordon Asquith to spend next weekend at my house.” He sucked in a breath. “Holy crap. Why next weekend? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I wanted to visit you first and check everything was okay. And next weekend was the only time Asquith could come.” Jim paused, his face growing ruddy. “Er, and next weekend Heidi and I are going to Perth for my sister’s birthday.”
Owen clenched the steering wheel. “What the frag? You invite this big shot to spend the weekend with me while you and Heidi run off to Perth? That’s bull— That’s dingo’s kidneys!”
“What was I supposed to do?” Jim made vague soothing motions with his hands. “I had one chance to nab him, and I risked it.” Sighing, he said over his shoulder to Heidi, “Looks like we’ll have to cancel our trip.”
“Sure, Dad—”
“No, you won’t,” Owen interrupted. “You took me by surprise, that’s all. Jeez, you think I’m so hopeless I can’t entertain one investor on my own?” Of course he could do it. Jim thought he could do it, and he couldn’t disappoint Jim.
“No, of course not.” Jim laughed uncomfortably. “Although it won’t be easy spending a whole weekend with this Asquith bloke. He’s a bit, uh, demanding.”
“What does he expect here? Elephants draped in gold and a hundred dancing girls?”
Jim pulled at his lower lip. “I’m not sure…”
The doubt in Jim’s voice made Owen tense. Dampness pricked the back of his neck. Hell, they had a lot riding on this upcoming weekend, and Jim was doing nothing to quell his uneasiness.
“He’s one of those rich toffs,” Jim explained. “Like the kind who live around your neighborhood.” They were almost back at the Kerrigan place, and he waved at the sprawling estates on either side of the road. “He’s persnickety, know what I mean? You can’t just chuck a steak on the barbecue for him, it has to be filet mignon from a fancy restaurant.”
Owen grimaced. Great. This Gordon Asquith sounded like Councilor Lethbridge, and look how that visit had bombed. But he couldn’t tell Jim about that. He’d just have to make sure this time he didn’t screw up.
“But I’m sure he’ll approve of this mansion of yours,” Jim continued as they passed through the wrought iron gates guarding the entrance to the Kerrigan home. “It’s very impressive.”
Jim was just being polite, Owen felt. His down-to-earth partner and friend would never choose to live in such a lavish place. He was comfortable with his nice-but-not-spectacular ranch-style house in Sydney’s western suburbs, and wouldn’t swap it for anything. Owen was the one restless for something different.
“It’s still strange to think you used to live here when your dad was the caretaker,” Heidi said from the rear seat. “Doesn’t it feel peculiar being the owner now?”
“I’m not the owner. I’m just renting.”
“You know what I mean. You used to live in staff quarters and clean the pool. Now you’re putting your feet up in the big house, and you can have the rowdiest pool parties you want.”
“I leave the rowdy pool parties to Natasha.”
He hadn’t even swum in the pool yet. Every time he thought of it, an excuse came to mind. Almost as if subconsciously he still didn’t believe he had a right to that pool. Which was rubbish, because he’d earned that right a dozen times over.
He was still thinking about the pool when they entered the house and met Paige walking down the hallway. She greeted them with a brief smile.
“You look like you could do with a rest. I’m setting out lunch in the conservatory, and there are drinks in there already.”
In beige pants and a pink shirt, her hair twisted into a neat bun, she was pristine and refined, her attitude efficient and slightly remote. Owen’s pulse quickened at the sight of her. Ever since he’d turned down her offer for fast and dirty sex, his body went into turmoil whenever she was around. But Paige didn’t seem to suffer the same reaction, or if she did, she hid it very well. Even when she’d thanked him for the window screens, she’d been all cool politeness. She’d withdrawn behind her mask, and he only had himself to blame, but damn how that mask stung him.
“Thanks.” He nodded at her, conscious of the gulf separating them. “I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all. Just cold meats and salads.” Her expression was as bland as oatmeal. “Go right in.” She gestured toward the corridor leading to the conservatory.
“Uh, I should probably change first.” Heidi plucked at her messy jeans.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Paige tut-tutted. “You shouldn’t have let Owen drag you through the bush.”
Heidi turned red. “No, it’s my fault.”
“What’s the fuss about?” Jim said to his daughter, looking flummoxed. “You look fine to me. Why do you need to change your clothes just to have cold meat and salad?”
Owen saw Heidi darting a glance at Paige, comparing herself, and irritation spiked in his stomach. He didn’t know who got under his skin the most—Paige for looking great and drawing attention to Heidi’s appearance, or Heidi for measuring herself against Paige and becoming self-conscious.
“Yeah, you look fine to me. You don’t need to change.” He cupped Heidi’s elbow, intent on steering her toward the conservatory. “There’s a bathroom near the pool where you can wash up.”
Heidi beamed and squeezed his arm. “Okay.”
Holding her close, he guided her away from Paige. The two women were getting to him, but maybe he was only irritated with himself.
…
Was that catty of me? The question stung Paige as she stalked back to the kitchen. She’d only been sympathizing with Heidi over the state of her clothes, but Owen had reacted as if she’d bared her claws at his precious friend.
Paige snapped open the refrigerator and began hauling out condiments. The bottles rattled as she yanked them out. God, why was she so worked up about nothing? Since yesterday she’d been the perfect housekeeper looking after Owen’s weekend guests. She’d made up beds, fetched fresh towels, filled vases with flowers, ordered dinners, made breakfasts. Since her rocky beginning, her housekeeping had improved. There was now a regular cleaning service, the dry-cleaning was delivered on time, the pantry was stocked, and she could poach an egg to perfection. Owen couldn’t fault her work.
Why would she want to be catty toward Heidi, anyway? She had no reason to be jealous of the woman.
Oh yeah? a dissenting voice at the back of her head jeered. If she wasn’t threatened by Heidi, then why had the sight of Owen holding her protectively made Paige’s stomach cramp? Maybe she regarded Owen as hers, and Heidi threatened that notion. No, no, it couldn’t be that. It just couldn’t.
But when she carried the tray of condiments to the conservatory and saw Owen and Heidi chatting, her nerves corkscrewed even tighter. They looked so easy and comfortable with each other, she thought.
They were standing near the ferns. Owen had just said something, and Heidi was grinning at him. Had he been telling her about the time he’d kissed a spoiled teenager among the ferns? The condiments on Paige’s tray clattered, and she had a sudden urge to turn and flee. Instead she moved to the bar counter where she’d already laid out the cold cuts and salad.
“Oh, let me help you,” Heidi exclaimed, and before Paige could protest, the woman darted across and lifte
d a few bottles from the tray. “I feel so guilty letting you do all the work.” She smiled guilelessly at Paige.
“Don’t be—I’m the housekeeper.” Her reply came out terser than she’d intended.
Heidi’s smile grew uncertain. “I’m not used to having a housekeeper.”
Why did she have to be so bloody nice? And why did she have to be so perfect for Owen? Yup, no point denying it. Heidi was the ideal match for Owen. She was natural and unassuming and so darn pleasant. She was also his partner’s daughter, and she and Owen must have known each other for years. Heidi was everything Paige wasn’t, and that had to mean something to Owen.
Though she wasn’t looking his way, she sensed him approaching, and her lungs constricted. Every nerve in her body seemed attuned to him, reacting to his presence, his voice, his scent, despite her will. It exasperated her the way he’d crawled under her skin. So what if he’d turned her down a few days ago? It didn’t matter if he wasn’t into casual sex. She wasn’t either, but at the time it had seemed like a good idea. The simmering tension between them was getting out of hand; relieving the stress had felt imperative. But though his rejection had riled her at first, secretly she’d been relieved. She and Owen might have the hots for each other, but the history they shared was too complicated and difficult. Enjoying each other’s bodies wouldn’t be a simple case of lust slaked.
“Do you like bologna sausage?” Owen’s voice murmured just behind her ear.
Paige’s heart leaped into her throat. Spinning around, she found herself staring straight into his deep green eyes. Just two days ago those eyes had seared her with his desire; that mouth had branded her, had fed her hunger. Trapped by his gaze, she wondered how much of her roiling emotion she betrayed. Oh, wouldn’t that tickle him, to know she longed for his touch, still.
“I love bologna sausage.” Heidi laughed. “You know that.”
Paige averted her gaze from Owen. Damn, he hadn’t been talking to her at all.
“Here,” he said to Heidi. “Let me make you a bologna sausage sandwich.”
As Heidi leaned against the counter, grinning at Owen, Paige slowly fisted and unfisted her hands. Why did Heidi looked so pleased? It was just a stupid sandwich. And why didn’t she do something about those blackjacks? She looked like a scarecrow.
Uh-oh, now that was a catty thought.
She had to get out of here. Owen and Heidi were bringing out the worst in her.
…
Monday morning the poached eggs were done to perfection—firm on the outside, warm and runny on the inside. The toast was crisp, the orange juice sweet, the coffee just right, but Owen had little appetite. After picking at his meal, he carried the remains back to the kitchen. He had a chore to complete.
Paige sat at the kitchen table writing out a list. She glanced up in surprise. “Anything the matter with your breakfast?” She looked pointedly at his half-finished plate.
“No, it was fine. You know your way around a poached egg these days.” He set the tray down next to the sink. “We need to talk.”
Instantly her expression grew cagey. “Is it about the weekend? Did I do something wrong?”
Several things about the past weekend had rankled him, but something else had lurked beneath the irritations, something he didn’t care to examine too closely because he suspected he wouldn’t like what he found.
“It’s Heidi, isn’t it?” Her chin was up, her expression defensive. He realized she’d taken his silence as confirmation she’d done something wrong. “I did try to be friendly to her.”
And Heidi had tried, too, but like denim jeans and country clubs, the two women just didn’t gel. He shook his head. “It’s not about last weekend. I need to talk about this coming weekend.”
She frowned. “Is Heidi coming back?”
If he didn’t know any better, he’d suspect she was jealous, but that made no sense. “Someone else is coming. Someone much more important. You know who Gordon Asquith is, don’t you?”
“Gordon Asquith? He’s coming here for the weekend?” She seemed genuinely impressed. “Wow. He is a big deal.”
Owen gave her a brief outline of the circumstances surrounding the visit. “Asquith’s personal assistant will email me with the exact details, but basically he’s arriving here Saturday morning and departing Sunday, so he’ll only be staying twenty-four hours, but it’s important we get everything right.”
“Yes, he’s an eccentric character. Intimidating, too.”
“You know him?”
“When I was working in Sydney, I organized a party where he was the guest of honor. Everyone bent over backward making sure everything was perfect for him.”
Owen expelled a whistle as his spirits rose. “That’s great. You’ll be able to give me the inside skinny on the man.” The weekend ahead had loomed like a root canal appointment, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Paige would be his secret weapon, funneling him inside knowledge on his important guest.
But why did she have to be secret at all? Why did she have to hide behind the scenes when she was so good to look at?
He breathed in deep as his sudden idea took hold of him. Was it stupid or an inspired brain wave? Would she even go for it?
“I’m not sure I like that look on your face.” Paige tapped a pencil against her chin. “What scheme are you hatching?”
He moved closer, his instinct to grasp her by the arms, but at the last moment he came to his senses and pulled up short. “How about this for a scheme? You act as my hostess for the weekend. You know what this Asquith guy is like. You can help me avoid all the pitfalls. Plus, you can do this schmoozing stuff in your sleep—just look at how you handled that councilor. You’d be invaluable to me, Paige.” He reached for her hands, but remembered himself and spread his arms wide. “What do you say?”
“Well…” She chewed on the pencil for a few seconds. “I suppose I could do it.”
Just in time he stopped himself sweeping her into his arms. “Thanks. I really appreciate that.”
Shrugging, she went back to her list, as if he’d merely asked her to pick up an extra bunch of grapes. He pulled out the chair next to her and sat down.
“There’s something else I need to ask you,” he said.
“Yes?” she asked warily.
“There’s a lot riding on this weekend visit. I don’t want anything to go wrong. So I need you to give me some coaching beforehand.”
“Coaching in what?”
Couldn’t she figure that out herself? He waved impatiently. “Etiquette, manners, social conventions, that sort of bullshit.”
Her gray eyes glimmered. “Well, for a start, don’t call it bullshit.”
“It’s bullshit to me, but I have to learn it.” He breathed out deeply. “Come on, Paige. Do I need to spell it out for you? I’m not a blue blood. I don’t move in the circles you do. I’m rough and gruff, and I’m comfortable with that, but just for this one weekend, I need to be someone different. I need to be the kind of guy you’d go out with.”
He stopped short. Shit, where the hell had that come from? He plowed on, “I need to be slick and polished. I need to sell myself to this Gordon Asquith.”
A frown had settled on her forehead. “I don’t know…”
Her dubious air had him scratching his chin. “That bad, huh?” When her eyebrows rose in query, he drawled, “You don’t think I could become slick and polished.”
“No—”
“Then what?” He leaned forward. “I know what it is. Deep down, you don’t want me to succeed. You want me to stay where I belong, isn’t it?”
“That’s not true.”
The pencil shook in her hand, and it struck him that she was more upset than she let on. As she glanced away, he caught a glimpse of her troubled expression, and his indignation drained away. He reached for her hand and covered it with his, instinct taking over.
“What is it?”
She looked down at his hand, so large and dark, enveloping hers. He
felt her fingers twitch; for a second he thought she was going to twine them through his, but then she slipped her hand away and tucked it under the table.
“I’d be happy to give you some tips.”
The vulnerability was gone, swept under her composed mask. He stared at her, searching for that unexpected chink in her armor, knowing he wouldn’t find it. Paige was an expert at disguising her feelings.
“Thanks.” He nodded, still mystified by her. “I’ll pay you extra for your troubles. What’s the going rate for a PR consultation?”
She dismissed his question with a wave of her hand. “That’s not necessary.”
Great. Another social blunder.
He took a breath. “I thought we could take a trip to Sydney sometime this week and get myself some suitable clothes.”
Her gloom disappeared as her face lit up. “Oh, a makeover!”
“No, just something more spiffy than my usual gear.”
She didn’t appear to be listening to him. “Those nerdy shirts of yours have been driving me crazy. I know just the place to take you. Oh, and shoes! You need proper shoes.”
Proper shoes? His shoes were just fine, thank you very much. But he could see it was no use protesting. Besides, he’d asked for her advice, so he’d best take it. She looked enthused by the idea of buying him new clothes, and the more he thought about it, the more he warmed to the idea. He loathed shopping, but he’d be with Paige for an entire day. That was a bonus.
“Are you free this Thursday?” he asked.
Maybe if they spent time together doing something she enjoyed, it would ease the strain between them. He didn’t know what he wanted them to become; he only knew the current situation was grinding on his nerves. In Sydney, they wouldn’t be housekeeper and employer. They’d be equals. They could have fun. Maybe he’d take her out to lunch at Bondi Icebergs and they could talk.
“Sure.” She paused. “Actually, I was going to Sydney this Thursday anyway. I have a lunch date.”
