Can't Buy Me Love Read online

  “Paige,” he breathed and started toward her.

  Had she looked like this at breakfast? He hadn’t noticed. He had been too absorbed in the morning paper. Too absorbed in his own problems and thoughts to see her metamorphosis. And what a change it was. No, she had definitely not looked like that this morning.

  There were no changes in the perfection of her bone structure. No changes in the slimness of her form. No changes in the radiance of her smile. Could a couple strokes of eye shadow and blusher and a few inches trimmed off her hair make such a difference? Or had she been this beautiful all along and he and the rest of the world had just been too obtuse to see it?

  “Happy birthday, darling,” he whispered. His gaze locked with hers and as everyone looked on, he bent his head and briefly touched his lips to hers. He lifted his head and was lost. He couldn’t help himself. He lowered his mouth again.

  Her lips were warm and yielding beneath his, everything he had remembered them to be—and more. He wanted to kiss her longer, harder, deeper until he drowned not only in the depths of her eyes but in the vortex of her kiss. And he wanted to take her with him.

  Somehow he managed to raise his head before he embarrassed them both. Her breath came in small gasps like his own, and her eyes mirrored his desires.

  As the crowd of friends and associates behind him cheered, Blake dragged his gaze away from Paige’s bottomless turquoise eyes and centered it on the hand he held in his own. Her nails were long now, manicured and painted the same pink-on-fire as her dress, as her lips.

  Without a word, he led her into the room and onto the dance floor. The crowd of friends was lost on him as he held her in his arms.

  “You look very beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled, her lips glistening, beckoning.

  “I was beginning to get worried about you.”

  Why was he talking about trivial matters when he could be kissing her? No, he should be asking her about her designs. But then why should they talk when they could be doing other things, when he could be kissing her. Why were his thoughts going in circles?

  “You look very beautiful tonight.”

  “You’ve said that.”

  God, he was rambling. He needed to get a hold of himself. He needed a drink. He needed to put some distance between them. “Have I told you that I have a wonderful surprise for your birthday?”

  Her eyes lighted like those of a child at Christmas.

  “Three wonderful surprises, in fact.” It was both a torture and a relief to relinquish his hold on her. Without another word he led her off the dance floor and toward the blonde haired woman waiting by the glass and mahogany wet bar.

  ****

  “Lydia!”

  Paige was torn between happiness and resentment. When she had arrived, she had felt all the eyes turn in her direction. At that moment she knew the joy of being a woman and the power of being beautiful. Lydia was the one person who could take all of that away.

  Paige had lived her life in Lydia’s shadow, never quite measuring up to her beauty queen sister. She couldn’t expect tonight to be any different. Even with her make-over, she would never be able to compete with Lydia’s self-confidence and poise—much needed traits in the demanding field of modeling. Still, Paige was happy to see her sister.

  Lydia returned her hug, then held her by the shoulders. “Look at you,” she said, her eyes sparkling, the sapphire shade of her dress turning them more blue than green. “I hardly recognized you. You just look radiant. Are you pregnant?”

  Paige tried not to choke. Her sister knew nothing of the contract between Paige and Blake. “Uhum, no.”

  “Marriage certainly agrees with you. But how could it not, since you’ve married the most handsome man West of the Mississippi?” Lydia turned her flirtatious eyes to Blake.

  And so it begins, Paige thought to herself.

  She couldn’t really blame Lydia for the power her sister welded over the male species. The younger daughter of Joan and Stephen Parker with her bedroom eyes and sexy voice naturally attracted men.

  “I don’t think I did poorly myself.” Blake slipped a possessive arm around Paige’s waist.

  She tried not to blush her surprise as he gazed down at her as if she were the beauty queen and not Lydia. It was an act, all for show. One more episode to add to the long string of charades that had everyone believing they were truly married. Still, her heart beat faster when his fingers grazed the small of her back.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Lydia.” She wished her voice didn’t sound quite so breathless, quite so out of control. “But I can’t believe you traveled all this way for my birthday. The last time I talked to Mom she said your schedule was booked solid.”

  Lydia’s cheeks dimpled. “That’s the beauty of it. I am here on business. I’ll be on the runway tomorrow wearing the latest styles from Caldwell.”

  “You will?” Paige chanced a look at Blake. “That’s wonderful.”

  “Though I have to say I’d much rather—”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Paige saw Blake shake his head. Lydia’s words died a sudden death.

  “You’d much rather what?” Paige asked.

  “I’d much rather...be basking on the beach in Tahiti.” She laughed, but Paige was not fooled. Something was up.

  She turned toward her husband. “Blake...?”

  “You almost let me forget your second surprise.”

  She started to remind him that he’d said three surprises, but before she could utter a word, he handed her a long flat jewelry case.

  “For me?” Paige whispered.

  “For you,” he mockingly whispered in return.

  The guests seemed to know that the time was at hand. The party noise hushed and the snap of the hinged box seemed to echo throughout the room. That sound was followed by her own gasp.

  Nestled on the bed of black velvet was a stunning diamond bracelet. Paige had never even seen anything so beautiful, never mind actually owning such an exquisite piece of jeweled craftsmanship. With hesitant fingers, she touched the filigree gold and sparkling gems.

  “Let me help you.” Blake’s fingers were sure and warm as he laid the bracelet against her wrist and fastened the clasp.

  “Oh, Blake. It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She raised herself on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

  A good-natured cheer erupted from the crowd along with an off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday To You,” but Paige was too busy kissing Blake to give it much thought.

  She could taste the laughter in his kiss, the quirk of joy on his lips, but she didn’t know if the pleasure came from her delight over his gift or the fact that he had once again made a convincing show at married life.

  When she pulled away, he stared down at her for just a fraction longer than necessary, then turned and formally greeted his guests.

  One by one Chicago’s elite filed by to see the bracelet and wish Paige a happy birthday. The entire procedure took less than thirty minutes, but to Paige it was the long awaited event of a lifetime. She was told how pretty she looked, beautiful, radiant. Happy birthday. Gorgeous, wonderful. Where’d you get your dress? Happy birthday. Beautiful.

  “Ooohh, isn’t this fun and exciting. It makes me want to dance.” Lydia hooked her arm through Blake’s and cast an expectant glance at him through the sheer curtain of her glorious blonde hair.

  Typical Lydia. Typical smile. Typical look. But Blake wasn’t looking at Lydia; he was looking at her.

  “Noah, dance with Lydia.”

  Paige tried to hide her surprise as Blake untangled himself from her sister’s hold and led her out onto the dance floor.

  ****

  Finally. He had Paige back in his arms.

  Blake felt drunk and stone-cold sober at the same time. The scent of her hair was intoxicating while the feel of her body pressed against his had furnished him a rock-hard reality.

  He wanted to take this beautiful creature he had married home, peel off
that pink dress and make love to her forever. He would capture her breath in his mouth, kiss a trail down the suntanned column of her throat, caress—

  “I think it’s my turn to dance with the birthday girl.”

  Bill Holiday tapped him on the shoulder and interrupted a perfectly wonderful fantasy.

  Blake reluctantly relinquished his hold on Paige and watched her glide away, then he left the dance floor and snagged a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter. In a single sure gulp, he downed the contents. He was on fire. He looked down into the empty champagne glass and wished he had another. But he needed more than bubbling wine to extinguish the blaze Paige had kindled. He needed her.

  “Ridiculous,” he muttered. It was ridiculous for him to even think such a thing and even more ridiculous for him to believe it was true. How could he want her? She was his wife.

  Noah appeared at his side and handed Blake a shot of neat whiskey. “You look like you could use this.”

  Blake took the whiskey and downed it in one swallow.

  The tears that watered his eyes had barely subsided when Noah spoke. “When this ordeal started, I was worried about Paige. I thought I had tossed her in over her head when I urged her to marry you. I must tell you, my friend, that you don’t look so good, while Paige looks…”

  “Remarkable,” Blake finished, watching as a new partner claimed her attention. She tilted her head back and laughed. Her lips were parted and glossy, and once again Blake wanted to feel them moving beneath his own.

  “It’s amazing how far a little Estee Lauder will go,” Noah said.

  Blake gapped at his friend. Somehow he managed to keep his chin from dropping to the floor. Couldn’t Noah see it? Paige’s beauty didn’t come from the makeup, or her new haircut or even the sexy little dress she wore. Her beauty came from something more, something deeper. It came from within, and Blake realized it had been there all along. The look in Noah’s eyes said he had seen it, too. Blake had just taken longer to realize the truth for what it was.

  He returned his gaze to his wife. She hadn’t sat out even one dance. Her skin was flushed, and her eyes twinkled like gems set into the mask of a goddess. And that’s what she looked like in that dress, a modern-day goddess.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Blake.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he replied, never taking his gaze off his wife.

  “I mean, don’t do anything stupid. You haven’t worn that look on your face since we were in the third grade, and Cindy Lou Ferill transferred to our school.”

  “Cindy who?”

  “You and Paige have a contract.”

  “Then draw up a counter offer, Anderson. Have it faxed to my office at home. I’ll pick it up on the way to the bedroom.” Blake thrust the empty whiskey glass into Noah’s hands and started toward Paige and the handsome man she danced with.

  “Blake, you don’t know the magnitude of what you’re doing.”

  “Yes, I do.” He knew exactly what he was doing. He was going over there and reclaim his wife. Then he was going to take her home and make love to her until either it, or she, killed him.

  Chapter Ten

  The house was quiet and dark when Blake pulled his Mercedes into the drive and parked it in front of the steps. There was no need to put it into the garage; he would drive it to work in the morning. One night under the stars couldn’t do that much harm, and there was no need to disturb Anthony. Or maybe there was.

  He had told the staff to take an early night. Now he wished he hadn’t. It was simply too intimate to come home like this with a woman. And not just any woman, with Paige. He had shared many experiences with many women in his thirty-six years, but none so intimate as sharing a house, sharing breakfast each morning, having her toothbrush hang beside his day after day as Paige’s would for the next year. He tried to bring the contract to mind as she climbed the stairs beside him and together they turned in the direction of their suite.

  He had thought of nothing else but holding her in his arms since he had seen her in the embrace of another more handsome, younger man. A man without the lines of worry and responsibility etched around his eyes. A man without tiny threads of gray forming at his temples. But in the time it had taken to excuse themselves from the party and then drive to the estate, Blake’s jealousy had time to cool. Now he wondered at the wisdom of his decision. He still wanted to make love to Paige. God, how he wanted to make her his own. But making love to her now might be the downfall of all he was trying so hard to build. They had paper between them, more than a marriage license.

  Blake paused at Paige’s door. She looked sleepy and content as she gazed up at him with those dangerous sea-colored eyes. She looked so natural with her strappy pink shoes hooked on the fingers of one hand. It would be all too easy to lean down and capture her mouth with his own, then to push his way into that yellow and white room and make love to her until the sun went down tomorrow.

  He dragged his gaze away from hers. He couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t do that to himself. In a few short months this chapter of his life would be closed and the both of them would join the statistics of the divorced.

  “Good night, Paige,” he whispered gruffly. He turned and hurried to his room before he could change his mind.

  He thought of Paige standing before her bedroom door where he had left her, her lips parted in invitation. He needed a shower. A cold shower, he amended. A very, very cold shower.

  ****

  Paige watched Blake walk away and she bit her tongue to keep from calling him back. With a small sigh she entered her bedroom and quietly closed the door.

  All in all the evening had been wonderful. No, more than wonderful; it had been a success. She felt exhilarated, desirable, and even beautiful—especially from the look she had seen in Blake’s eyes. He wanted her. That’s why he rushed away from her just now. The thought made her feel powerfully feminine. He wanted her. Not her sister or her best friend. But her. Tonight she, Paige Parker, had been the belle of the ball.

  She unfastened the first couple of buttons of the vest and started for the bathroom. She had been so caught up in the swirling tide of her new confidence, she had almost forgotten to take off her makeup the way the cosmetician had instructed. Cleansing, toning, moisturizing. Three steps in three separate bottles conveniently marked with bright red numbers to waylay any confusion. She smiled and for the first time in her life, she felt as if she truly did belong in the ranks of the visually attractive.

  Paige didn’t hear the pounding water until she was already in the bathroom. The lack of steam confused her for Blake normally took scalding showers. She didn’t realize that the water had stopped until the glass door opened and Blake—in all his naked glory—reached for a towel.

  She was frozen to the spot as he turned toward her, surprise and something else lighting the gold sparks in his hazel eyes.

  “Uh...I’m sorry,” she stammered, her eyes glued to his naked form.

  She should leave. She should turn around and give Blake some privacy, but she couldn’t. Her legs wouldn’t move on their own, and her brain refused to issue the command to retreat.

  “Did you need something?” Blake stepped from the shower and started to dry himself. His hands trembled as they ran the terrycloth over the damp skin of his legs.

  You. Paige’s mouth grew dry. “I...I...” What had she come in here to do? “I was going to wash my face, but I can come back later.”

  “There’s no need. I’m almost done. Go right ahead.”

  Paige forced her legs to carry her to the sink. If Blake could pretend like they had these sort of...encounters on a regular basis, then she could to. Or—her heart sank—maybe she had been wrong and he hadn’t wanted her.

  The door to his suite opened, and Paige busied herself turning on the water and adjusting the taps. Just a few more seconds, and he would be gone. The temptation would be removed from reach, and only then could she call herself seven kinds of a coward for not ma
king the first move to see if that had been desire in his eyes of just a cruel illusion of light.

  “I can’t do this,” Blake said. His voice sounded strained and close.

  “Can’t do what?” Why wouldn’t he go away?

  “I can’t fool myself into believing that I’m comfortable sitting across from you each morning at breakfast. I can’t pretend that it feels normal having you underfoot when I’m trying to shower, and I can’t forget that every night when I go to bed that you’re in the very next room.”

  A cruel illusion of light. Paige tried to armor-plate her heart, but the barbs of his discontent pierced her futile efforts.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, wishing instead that she could throw hurtful words back at him. Tell him to get a divorce, or simply to deal with the realities of his situation.

  “You’re sorry? I’m going crazy with wanting you and all you can say is that you’re sorry?”

  Paige met his gaze in the mirror. “Wanting me?”

  “My brain knows that there’s a contract between us, but there are other parts of me that don’t have such legal hang-ups.”

  She turned and her gaze followed the tenting of the towel he had wrapped around his waist. “Oh.” She felt a surge of sweet pleasure. He did want her.

  “Paige.”

  Her eyes met his.

  “How would you feel about a breach of contract?”

  She smiled, feeling the power of her new-found confidence return. “As some very intelligent person once said, ‘Contracts were made to be broken.’”

  In the span of a heartbeat she was in his arms. The droplets of water that clung to the curling strands of his chest hair wet the front of her dress and chilled her fevered skin. Instantly her nipples were hard and pressing against the confining fabric as urgently as he pressed against her.

  His lips fell upon hers without preamble. But what more was there to say? The desire he kindled inside her could not be expressed by a passionate phrase whispered in a lover’s embrace. What she felt for him was sacred and silent. It could only be shown, not told.