Can't Buy Me Love Page 10

  Blake stood in that circle of decorative marble wondering why in the world his wife had picked today to come to lunch with him. Not that he minded. It just seemed so…wife-y. He had forgotten to ask her about her dress at the ball. What with Devin’s unexpected return and such, the fact that she said she had made her dress had completely slipped his mind. He made a mental note to ask her about it over lunch.

  Now everyone was talking about the hip new designer Madeline Simone. There was some talent he’d love to get his hands on. “Mr. Caldwell, you have a call on line three.”

  Blake turned to the lone receptionist who sat behind a black lacquered desk.

  “Thank you, Beverly. I’ll take it down here, if you don’t mind.” Blake’s heels clicked and echoed as he crossed to the reception desk. From above came a scraping sound that grated at the ache in his already pounding head. Seconds later the antique sewing machine, displayed on the upper floor crashed onto the marble, missing Blake by inches.

  “Blake!”

  The voice was no more than a shrill screech, but still he recognized it as belonging to Paige. He stood utterly dumfounded still holding the unanswered phone as she raced down the stairs to his side.

  “Are you all right?” Her hands flitted like tiny butterflies over his arms, his chest, his face.

  “I’m fine,” he answered automatically. He handed the phone back to the shocked receptionist.

  “I’ll get rid of them.” Beverly punched the flashing button with a shaky finger.

  “Are you sure?” Paige asked. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m sure.” He grasped her hands in his own, but he was sure of only one thing: if she didn’t stop touching him with that feather-light concern he would embarrass them both. Damn this attraction. He didn’t want to be attracted to her; he wasn’t attracted to her. She was his wife, for crissakes! It was shock. Left-over adrenaline from a brush with death.

  “What’s all the commotion about?” Devin leaned over the second story railing like several other of the desk-bound employees of Caldwell Clothing.

  “The antique sewing machine fell,” Blake explained without preamble.

  “You could have been—you were almost killed!”

  “But I wasn’t.” Blake turned his attention to his employees. “It’s okay now. Go back to work. Beverly, get the janitor down here. Tell him to salvage what he can.” His eyes scanned the scattered gears and other bits of the once working and sentimentally valued piece of machinery. It was the machine that started Caldwell, and he hoped its demise was not an omen.

  He released Paige’s hands and started for the stairs. “And get that call back on the line. I’ll take it in my office.”

  “But, Blake, you were almost killed.” Paige’s voice broke, and Blake looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since the accident, for the first time since he met her gaze on the dance floor right before he kis—

  “What’s the matter, Paige?” Even as he asked those incredible turquoise eyes filled with tears.

  “You were almost killed.” Her voice was a whisper.

  Against his better judgment Blake pulled her close to his side, trying without knowing exactly how to ease the worry and comfort her fears.

  He didn’t know why she was so upset. It was his life that had almost been rudely ended. And now with his aunt’s surprise codicil, if something happened to him while they were married, she would receive his inheritance.

  All 176.3 million.

  ****

  Even after dinner, Paige couldn’t erase the events of the afternoon from her mind. Blake had taken his brush with death in stride while she was still shaking at the thought of unyielding iron meeting supple human flesh. Blake.

  The thought of divorcing him was bad enough, but the thought of him dying was...well, unthinkable. It had nothing to do with his inheritance and everything to do with the man himself.

  She had grown accustomed to seeing his face every morning over breakfast and each night at dinner. She liked going into the bathroom after he had showered and smelling the spice of his aftershave on the steam that floated about like a heated fog. She liked...him. Not just a crush on a handsome playboy, a brilliant businessman and a talented designer, but him.

  “What have we here?”

  Paige started at the sound of Devin’s voice. Since Dancy had already retired for the night Paige had yet to lock her door, and she had been so absorbed in her thoughts of Blake, that she hadn’t heard Devin enter her bedroom and come up behind her—close behind her.

  “What are you doing in here?” Paige futilely used her hands to cover her drawing. “Don’t you know how to knock?”

  “Very pretty.” Devin leaned over her shoulder and traced a finger down the design she tried to hide. “Your friend Madeline is very pretty, too.”

  “When did you meet Maddie?”

  “I didn’t say I met her. I simply said that she was pretty. One of a kind wouldn’t you say? Like the dress you sold Cherry Holiday?”

  “You were here?” Paige felt the blood drain from her face. She didn’t want Devin to know about her designs or the dress she had sold Cherry, not before she had a chance to explain to Blake. With the accident so fresh in her mind, sitting down to a normal lunch and spilling all her secrets didn’t seem appropriate.

  “No one knows about my designs, Devin.”

  “So I gathered,” he drawled.

  “Not even Blake.”

  “We all have secrets, Paige.”

  “I’d like to keep mine.”

  He smiled then, that patented showing of teeth. “Don’t worry, Paige, I’ll guard your secret as if my brother’s life depended on it.”

  ****

  “Here’s that information on Indian silk you wanted.”

  Blake looked up at his brother as Devin tossed the file onto his desk. The file was thicker than Blake had anticipated.

  He picked it up and scanned its contents. The information was more detailed, the figures more in-depth and in general, the effort surprised him. When he had appointed Devin head of the buying department, he really hadn’t expected this much work from his brother. Not that he wasn’t capable. Devin was born with the Caldwell eye for color and feel for texture, he just never felt the urge to put it to use. It wasn’t his style. Blake was certain that if the two of them could ever put aside their differences and learn to work together, they could make Caldwell invincible. Aunt Virginia had known it too, but in reality, the possibility of the brothers reconciling was nothing more than wishful thinking.

  “I’ll let you know what I decide about the buying expedition.” Blake returned the file to his desk.

  Devin continued to hover.

  “Is there something else you needed?”

  His brother took a deep breath as if weighing his words. Something he was not known for. Blake was immediately wary.

  “How long have you known Paige?” Devin asked finally.

  “Why?”

  Devin shrugged. “I overheard her talking with her friend Madeline the other day.”

  “And?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t have mentioned it, but...Paige told her friend she needed the money.”

  All the air left Blake’s body as if he had taken a jab to the gut from a man twice his size. He had known Paige had married him for the money he had promised her, but it irritated to hear someone else say it....someone else to know it.

  “Then yesterday,” Devin continued. “Paige was on the second floor when the sewing machine almost pulverized you.”

  When Blake didn’t immediately reply, Devin continued. “I thought you might like to know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Well, I wasn’t sure how long you’ve known her, or where you met her, or how much you even knew about her. Sometimes people lose all of their priorities when a fortune is involved.”

  Blake leaned forward in his chair and braced his elbows on his desk. “Are you saying that Paige pushed the sewing machin
e to the first floor in hopes of killing me?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You implied it.”

  Devin shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

  “I appreciate your concern, Devin, but I don’t think it’s necessary. First of all there’s no way Paige could have dragged an iron sewing machine across the hall and to the landing by herself; it was simply too heavy. And secondly Noah ran a background check on her before we were married.”

  “Did it tell you that she’s an amateur designer?”

  Blake faltered.

  “And that she designed the dress she wore when she married you? Perhaps you should dig a little deeper.” Devin raised one dark brow, then turned on his heel and left.

  Blake’s reasoning went into overdrive. Paige had designed that creation of lace? That would explain how she could afford such a dress on a temporary secretary’s salary. Could the salvation of Caldwell Clothing be as close as the woman who now shared his home?

  He punched the button on his intercom phone. “Catherine, get Noah Anderson on the phone, please.”

  Blake leaned back in his chair and waited for his secretary to put the call through, the plan forming, then crystallizing in his mind. He would have Noah rehire the PI who had done the pre-wedding investigation of Paige. With a little more time, he should be able find out all Blake needed to know about his temporary wife, perhaps even before Paige’s birthday bash in three days. Then, and only then, would Blake make his move.

  Chapter Nine

  Blake watched the screen closely as the previous year’s queen crowned the young blonde haired woman. The emcee handed her a large bouquet of creamy white roses as tears of joy streamed down her face.

  The Miss Illinois Pageant.

  Blake pressed the pause button to freeze the picture.

  The woman before him looked so different than Page that had he not known for a fact they were identical twins…

  He supposed they looked somewhat alike, but whereas Lydia was perfectly made up, tawny hair highlighted, and aqua eyes fringed with mascara, he had never seen Paige in makeup. Even at the opera benefit. Despite their differences—or maybe because of them—he found Paige more intriguing. How was that for strange?

  “Paige designed that dress? My Paige?”

  Noah handed him the thin manila envelope. “It’s all in here. Or at least what the investigator could find in three days.”

  He accepted the packet of information without taking his eyes off the magnificent dress. “Did he find out where she went to school?”

  “She didn’t.”

  Blake pointed to the screen. “You mean she designed that dress, mixed those colors and has never been trained?”

  Noah nodded. “She spent a lot of time in Africa. That’s natural talent right there. Looks like you married the jackpot.”

  Blake stared at the TV screen, at the dress and the young woman captured there.

  “So when are you going to offer her the job?”

  “Tonight.”

  “At the party?”

  Blake stood and checked his watch. “I’d forgotten about the party.”

  “You could turn it into a nice birthday surprise.”

  “I already have her a nice birthday surprise.”

  “That’s right. Her sister’s flying in for the festivities.”

  “And the fashion show. That’s it! I’ll announce Paige’s recruitment into the Caldwell designing office at the fashion show tomorrow.”

  “Announce? Shouldn’t you ask her first?”

  Blake shrugged. “With talent like she has, why would she turn me down?”

  ****

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Paige,” Maddie soothed. “You agreed to a trim. It’s only a couple of inches to get the dead ends off. It’s not like we’re asking you to go with a whole new hair style.” She winked at the young girl who stood behind Paige, brandishing sheers and boasting an eager expression.

  Maddie had been trying to talk Paige into a make-over for years, but Paige had resisted. What difference did it make how her hair looked when she constantly wore it in a ponytail for convenience sake? But now that she was stateside… Like a snowball rolling down hill, Maddie’s enthusiasm had grown the longer they stayed in the salon.

  Paige pushed the barber’s chair around so she could face her new-found adversaries—her former best friend and an eager-beaver cosmetician with multi-colored, spiked hair. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, Maddie. This is a terrific birthday present, but I really do not want my hair cut.”

  “Don’t you want to look spectacular for your party tonight?”

  Paige chose to ignore that. Maddie was only trying to change the subject. Yes, Paige did want to look good for the party. Once, just once, she wanted Blake to notice her as more than just the means to a fortune. She wanted him to notice her as a woman—perhaps even as a wife, however temporary. If this stylist cut her hair, he would notice her as the only woman at the party whose Mohawk matched her manicure.

  Maddie stepped forward and grasped Paige’s cheeks in a firm hand, turning her head from side to side.

  “Just a couple of inches,” she murmured in a distracted tone.

  “I didn’t complain about the manicure, or the pedicure or the mud facial,” Paige protested in a voice warbled by her friend’s grasp. “I promised I would let you give me a cosmetic make-over. Surely that’s enough to transform even me.”

  “What about frosting? Or maybe some highlights.” Maddie released Paige and half-turned toward the stylist.

  “Well...” She tilted her head, her glitter hairspray sparkling under the florescent lighting. “Everyone could use a little color.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  Paige grabbed Maddie by the collar and pulled her close. “Have you looked at her hair? Really looked at it? It’s seven different colors. Seven! I counted them. She looks like the unfortunate offspring of Edward Scissorhands and Rainbow Brite. And you want me to let her cut my hair. Are you crazy?”

  “It’ll be fun.” Maddie disengaged Paige’s fingers from her shirt and straightened.

  Rainbow Scissorhands was looking at Paige, or rather at her hair, with a gleam that made Paige nervous. “Sun glitzing.” The one word was profound, uttered so that it sounded like the answer to world peace rather than a possible hairstyle. “Definitely sun glitzing.”

  “I don’t want my hair colored.”

  “And we can raise the ends so they barely touch her shoulders.”

  “I don’t want my hair cut.”

  Maddie tapped her fingers against her chin, a thoughtful gesture. “That’s a marvelous idea. With a shorter length, her hair will be more of an accent to her eyes. Her eyes are her best feature, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, yes, her eyes are beautiful. And with her tan, they just sparkle. What color dress did you say she was wearing tonight?”

  “Red,” Maddie said.

  “Pink,” Paige countered.

  “I thought you were going to wear the red dress.”

  “I hate the red dress. I have always hated the red dress and I will always hate the red dress. It’s one of my worst designs.”

  Maddie turned to the hair stylist and shrugged. “You know how temperamental these artists can be.” Then she turned her attention back to Paige. “But red is such a good color on you.”

  Paige clenched her teeth. “I don’t care what color you paint my nails or how short you cut my hair, but I am absolutely, positively not wearing the red dress.”

  Maddie smiled, and Paige realized that somewhere in this conversation she had made a mistake. “Have it your way, Paige. Wear the pink dress.” She reached out and turned the chair around. “Six inches off the bottom should do the trick, don’t you think?”

  Paige resisted the urge to scream as Rainbow Scissorhands descended on her, shears poised and ready.

  ****

  Music played softly in the background. Tables of
food were laid out, ready and waiting. Guests were chatting and sipping champagne. And Lydia Parker, one half of Paige’s birthday surprise, milled among the other guests. The only thing missing was the guest of honor.

  Blake glanced around the room and wondered what was keeping his wayward wife. Maddie had called earlier, mysteriously informing him that Paige might be “a little late” and would meet him at the club. She had hung up before he could question her further.

  A “little late” was an understatement, Blake thought as he once again consulted his watch. Paige was exactly forty-five minutes late for her own party, and the guests were beginning to cast inquiring glances at both him and the door.

  Noah sidled up beside him. “Where is she?”

  Blake shrugged. “I don’t know.” He checked his watch again, though only seconds had passed since the last time. “I’m beginning to get wor—”

  The room fell quiet. Really, really quiet. Blake turned away from Noah and like every other person in the room focused his attention on the door.

  A woman—a beautiful woman—hovered on the threshold. Her dress captured his designer’s attention first. It was a two-piece ensemble that shimmered with each breath she took and hugged every contour of her body. The top was cut along the lines of a man’s vest, though it was designed to shape itself to the curves of a feminine form. The bottom was merely a skimpy excuse for a skirt that ended well above her knees. All in all, it left a great deal to the imagination, for it would take nothing for a man to run his hands down that short skirt and then back up again underneath the thin silk. Her skin was tanned to a golden brown, and her hair a glorious mane of dark blond with streaks of gold and platinum. It brushed the tops of her shoulders in a motion akin to a caress and made Blake want to do the same. Her face was expertly made-up, subtle and classy, and her eyes were...