Can't Buy Me Love Page 13

  “I wouldn’t have offered you the job if I wasn’t serious.”

  “What about you, Blake? You want a drink?”

  “You never offered me anything.”

  “I offered you a drink,” Devin said.

  Paige turned to Devin. “And I think I will take that drink now. Thank you.”

  “I wanted to surprise you.” Blake followed her into the study where Devin poured her a glass of wine.

  “Well, I wasn’t nearly as surprised as everyone else is going to be tomorrow when you tell them you were mistaken.”

  “Mistaken? About what?”

  Devin raised his glass in toast. “Here’s to my brother’s thrifty nature. I’ve never before seen a man save two million dollars in such a unique way.”

  “That I would go to work for you,” she said her voice rising in impatience. Then she rounded on Devin. “And you need to learn to keep a secret.”

  “What makes you think I told?”

  Paige glared at him.

  “I never promised to keep it to myself. I said I would guard your secret as if my brother’s life depended on it. That’s not the same thing, and in the view of the importance of Caldwell Clothing to his life, I felt he needed to know.”

  “The decision wasn’t yours to make.”

  Blake stepped between them. “Paige, perhaps we should finish this conversation upstairs.”

  “There’s no conversation to be finished. I decline.”

  “You can’t decline.” He reached out to touch her, but she moved out of his reach.

  “But I can.”

  “Why?” What was the matter with her? She should be thrilled at the opportunity he was giving her. “I thought you would jump at the chance to be a professional designer.”

  She frowned. “Whatever gave you that idea?

  “It’s the chance of a lifetime. Why wouldn’t you want this?”

  She shook her head. “All I have ever wanted to do was take care of the Zumbai Tribe.”

  “But I’ve seen your designs. They’re incredible.”

  Devin refilled his glass and settled himself down on to the couch.

  Blake shot his brother an exasperated look. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. Go right ahead.” He waved one hand in a dismissive gesture.

  “Out. Now.” Blake pointed his finger toward the door.

  “All right. All right.” Devin rose to his feet and sauntered out of the room.

  Blake turned his attention back to his wife. “I need you, Paige. If I don’t hire a designer soon, I’ll have to design part of the line myself, and frankly I don’t have the time or your talent.” Blake could hear the desperation in his voice but he didn’t care. He needed her. In more ways than one. He wanted her in his design room every day and in his bedroom every night.

  “I’m very sorry.” The glittering depths of her turquoise eyes said she wouldn’t back down.

  “What about last night?”

  Her face grew abnormally pale; his first indication that he had made a mistake. “Is that all it was to you?”

  “No,” he replied, but she had already moved toward the door. “Where are you going?”

  “Upstairs.”

  “But we’re not finished.”

  “Oh, yes, we are.”

  Her tone was a little under a shout, and Blake realized that they were fighting. She had lain in his arms last night and she was yelling at him today.

  “I don’t want to fight with you, Paige.”

  “You should have thought about that before you told everybody that I would work for you.”

  “Why don’t you want to, dammit?” Adrenalin pumped through his veins, left over energy from their love making last night, the fashion show this afternoon, and now simply being in the same room with her.

  She looked at him for a minute, then turned and left without answering.

  That did it. “Paige!” He followed her out of study and toward the stairs. “Wait. I’m not finished.”

  “I am.”

  “Then you can damn well hear me out.” He dogged her heels as she began the ascent to their suite. “I paid for a wife. And now I want her to come to work for me.”

  “That wasn’t part of our agreement.”

  “Our agreement has changed.”

  “Again? That’s the problem with you. You’re always changing the rules to suit your purposes. We have a contract.”

  “You weren’t so concerned with it last night.”

  “Neither were you.” She reached out to open the door to her room.

  Blake tried to calm his voice, talk about this rationally and logically. “Paige, I have let you do whatever you wanted. Now, I’m only asking for one thing in return. Come to work for me.”

  “I already work for you. I cook your meals every day.”

  “Fine then.” His lips compressed together to keep the shout from escaping. “You want to be the cook? You can be the cook. From now on, you’ll cook what I want when I want it. Do you understand?”

  He gritted his teeth as she nodded her head. “And what would you like tomorrow, sir?”

  “Meat,” he snapped, hating the fact that this conversation had gotten so out of hand, but unable to stop it. “Steak, hamburger, pork chops, veal. You decide, just as long as its meat.”

  ****

  Paige searched through the freezer, pen and paper in hand and added corn on the cob to her list. If she had to go to the grocery store to buy helpless slaughtered animals, she might as well get the other items they needed.

  She had decided during her long sleepless night that she would play the part of the dutiful wife as she had been hired to do and somehow forget the feelings that Blake evoked in her. What other choice did she have? With any luck there would be no repercussions from their shared passion, such as a baby. They hadn’t taken the time to use any protection, and it seemed almost unnecessary after all the blood tests they had before the wedding. She had thought about birth control once during that incredible night, but it was hard to voice her concerns when she had been otherwise, more pleasurably, occupied.

  Now in the light of day, Paige thought about the possibility of having Blake’s baby. A child would certainly form a problem during the divorce. There was nothing concerning offspring in the pre-nuptial agreement, and she knew Blake wasn’t the type to forsake his own blood. His household staff was made up of criminals and vagrants, and if he would support a poodle he hated, he would certainly demand rights where his child was concerned. It would be best for them both if she wasn’t pregnant. Or if she was, she could always hope that by the end of the twelve months she could make him fall head over heels in love with her.

  Now that was some serious wishful thinking,

  She had found a cook book in the pantry and glanced through it as the muffins she mixed up for this morning’s breakfast baked. The book contained recipes—meat-filled recipes—that looked promising, and she would give them a try. But if the old adage was correct and good food was the way to win a man’s love...well, she may be in a world of hurt.

  Paige dug a little bit deeper into the freezer, surprised to find a small package of ham. She thought she had given all the meat in the house to Bruno, but apparently this parcel had escaped her purging.

  She was just about to place the package back on the shelf when the idea struck. She would make Blake a meal he would never forget.

  ****

  When Paige sat his breakfast in front of him, Blake thought perhaps she had given up the kitchen duties and had hired a cook. He looked around, but only his wife and his brother were on the sun porch. He turned his gaze back to the most beautiful omelet in the history of eggs filled with the juiciest, pinkest, tastiest looking ham he had ever seen.

  Paige walked around the table and sat across from him. “Well, don’t just sit there with your mouth open. Eat your breakfast.”

  “What have I done to deserve this?” His gaze shifted between Paige and his plate. He had demanded that she
cook him a meat-filled meal, but he hadn’t expected her to actually comply.

  “Consider it a peace offering.”

  He took a bite and considered the omelet his own little piece of heaven. “You ought to try this, Dev.”

  “No, thanks. I don’t want anything that...heavy.” Devin snatched up one of the warm muffins and smeared it with a liberal amount of butter.

  “It’s terrific. A little on the spicy side, but really good. What kind of ham is this?”

  “I’m not sure. I found it in the freezer this morning.”

  “Get some more of it next time you’re at the store. It has a really unique flavor.”

  Blake took another bite and closed his eyes savoring that flavor. Devin just didn’t know what he was missing. Neither did Paige. They both sat eating muffins and watching him as he devoured the first half of the omelet.

  Thank God for the little things. That he was neither hung over like Devin or a vegetarian like Paige and he was able to enjoy the simple pleasures of life. Or at least he would be, if not for one small, but important, detail.

  Blake swallowed his mouthful and turned a hopeful gaze upon his wife. “Does this mean you’ll come to work at Caldwell?”

  “No.”

  “But what about—”

  She shook her head.

  “Mr. Caldwell, the Mercedes is here,” Anthony called from the entrance to the porch. “I think you’d better come take a look at it.”

  Blake turned to face the chauffeur who never drove him anywhere but crazy.

  It was too soon for his new car to be here. He just ordered it yesterday.

  Then he remembered. It wasn’t his car that was here, but Paige’s. With all the hubbub and accidents, he had forgotten all about ordering her a Mercedes. It was part of the package deal of her employment at Caldwell. After all, he couldn’t have his top designer driving around in an aging Volkswagen, now could he?

  Blake put his fork back on his plate and wiped his mouth on his napkin. “The blue Mercedes I ordered?”

  “Well,” Anthony drawled. “The one you ordered might be blue, but the one they delivered sure ain’t.”

  The car that sat in front of the fountain where the last Mercedes had died was...pink. Incredibly, undeniably, obscenely pink. The color was a second cousin to fuchsia; the bastard child of magenta. It would have been a terrific color—if it had been nail polish.

  “Sign here, Mr. Caldwell.” The middle-aged delivery man held out his clip board as he offered Blake a pen.

  Anthony walked around the car, cautiously nudging the tires. “That’s one pink car.”

  “I’m not signing for that,” Blake replied, ignoring his chauffeur’s comment. That—” he pointed toward the car, “—is not what I ordered.”

  “Says here you did.” The delivery man, Sal, whose name was embroidered just above the pocket of his coveralls, tapped the yellow invoice on his clip board as if it were the supreme law.

  “I don’t care what it says. I ordered a blue Mercedes and that—” he pointed to the car once again, “—is not blue.”

  Anthony leaned down and peered closely at the paint job. “It’s metallic.” His voice was an awed whisper.

  “Says here that I’m supposed to deliver this here car to a Mr. Blake Caldwell. You Blake Caldwell?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sign here, please.”

  “I ordered a blue car,” Blake repeated, his patience slipping. “Blue is not a difficult color.”

  “I don’t paint ‘em, sir. I just deliver ‘em.”

  “Then deliver this one somewhere else. I ordered my wife a blue Mercedes. Not a God-awful pink one.”

  “It’s not God-awful pink,” Anthony interjected. “It’s Razzle Dazzle Rose. My best girl wears this color on her nails.”

  Blake turned back to the delivery man. “I will not let my wife drive around town in a car painted Razzle Dazzle Rose. It ought to be against the law for a car to be that color.”

  “Yeah,” Anthony agreed. “I wouldn’t even steal this car.”

  “It’s for me?” Paige stepped out of the house and toward the monstrosity in pink.

  “Yes,” said the delivery man.

  “No,” Blake countered.

  Sal turned to Blake. “You said it was for your wife. Women like colors like that. Dontcha, honey?”

  Paige hesitated. “It certainly is pink.”

  “Exactly.” Sal nodded as if satisfied with her brilliant observation.

  Blake threw his arms into the air. He would get nowhere with Sal. “Anthony, my breakfast is getting cold. Would you take care of our friend?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Sal looked even more satisfied than before.

  “And the car,” Blake said over his shoulder as he steered Paige back toward the house. “I don’t want to see either of them again.”

  Anthony smiled, and Sal’s expression fell, but Blake’s only concern was the half of ham and cheese omelet he had left on his plate. When he returned to the table, his breakfast was missing.

  “Dancy must have cleaned up while you were talking with the delivery man.”

  “Yes,” Blake said, mourning the omelet. He didn’t have time to eat the remainder anyway. He had spent so long arguing with the delivery man that now if he didn’t hurry he was going to be late.

  “Why did you order me that car?” Paige’s voice followed him to the door.

  “I didn’t order you that car. I ordered you a blue one,” he evaded.

  “Why?”

  “For your birthday?”

  Paige held up the wrist the sported her new diamond bracelet. “I already have a birthday present. And I won’t be bribed into working for Caldwell.”

  Her voice rang in Blake’s ears all the way to his office and to his desk piled high with things that needed to be done—today. He needed to have Catherine book Devin’s flights. In a few days Blake was sending his brother on a three week buying trip to India and Mexico. Caldwell needed new fabric, something different for the spring line. Something that would grab the world of fashion by the ear and say, “Pay attention. We’re on to something here.” And he needed to hire a new designer, someone who could create the style to go with the demanding fabric. He needed to save Caldwell Manufacturing. Just another day at the office.

  Blake was late for his first appointment. It was with a designer who didn’t have a fraction of the talent Paige possessed, who couldn’t help him save the day. Deep down Blake knew that it wasn’t someone of Paige’s abilities that he sought, but Paige herself. He wanted her to work for him, to work by his side as he fought to save the family business. No one else.

  He canceled his last three interviews and spent the time devising a plan that would convince Paige to accept his offer. By the end of the afternoon he was no closer to a solution than when he had started. She was shrewd beneath that benign exterior, and she would neatly see through any tactic he could devise. But dammit, he wasn’t used to people who couldn’t be swayed by money.

  His stomach rumbled. Nervous energy, he thought as he downed an Alka-Seltzer. Nervous energy and worry and a shocking pink Mercedes.

  ****

  Paige glanced at the clock once more, willing Blake to come home just as she wished time to slow. He had said that he might be working late, but still this was a special dinner. She had borrowed Julie’s car and gone to the store, and now thanks to her newly acquired culinary efforts, she had a meat-filled feast laid out for Blake. The ever-faithful cookbook had rendered a recipe for traditional sausage and hamburger lasagna, a dish she was sure that Blake would eat this time. She had to admit, even if she did cook it, the lasagna smelled good. But not good enough for her to actually eat it. Just the thought of eating dead animal flesh.... She shuddered, then heard Blake’s car in the drive.

  “Holmes,” she said as the butler passed the open dining room door on his way to let “Master Blake” in.

  He turned at her summons.

  “Please tell Bla
ke that dinner is ready and waiting.”

  “As you wish, madam,” he replied with his Wisconsin-goes-British accent and continued toward the door.

  Paige had to wait another half an hour before Blake finally appeared at the table, his rich brown hair still damp from his shower. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes slightly glassy as if he had been drinking, but his step was sure, even careful, as if each one was more painful than the last.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Paige asked as he gingerly seated himself, and Dancy began to serve the lasagna and salads.

  “No need to be concerned,” he said with a wan smile. “It’s probably just one of those twenty-four hour bugs. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

  “Do you feel like eating? I made your favorite.”

  He looked at the plate Dancy sat in front of him and back up to Paige. “It looks good,” he said and with a gallant effort picked up his fork.

  Paige ate her salad and watched Blake. His skin was almost green and each bite he swallowed looked harder than the last to tolerate. More than anything else he pushed the food around on his plate.

  “Are you sure you’re all right? You’re not eating.”

  “Neither are you.”

  “Yes, I am. I’m having a salad.”

  “You’re not on one of those lettuce diets, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Then you should eat more than a salad. Why did you make this big pan of lasagna if you weren’t going to eat any?”

  Once again Paige shuddered at the thought of eating the dead cows and pigs that haunted the main course. “I was expecting Devin to be here, otherwise I wouldn’t have made so much.”

  “Yes, well, Devin likes the night life almost as much as he likes money.”

  Just then Dancy came in with the refill pitcher of regular orange pekoe tea that Blake had enjoyed during Sylvia’s reign in the Caldwell’s kitchen.

  “I’m sorry, Blake,” Dancy said in her whiskey-dark voice. “I forgot to leave this for you.” She trailed her fingers over his shoulder then refilled his glass. Over Blake’s head she shot Paige one of her infamously wicked glances. “You don’t look like you feel well, Blake.”

  He moved out of her reach. “It’s just a bug or perhaps something I ate...” He turned his hazel eyes from Dancy back to Paige, then focused them on his own plate where his half-eaten lasagna sat.