Can't Buy Me Love Page 16

  “Yes, but the accident with the car happened before you made your little announcement.”

  “It wasn’t an accident.”

  “Blake, you have no proof that Paige wasn’t telling the truth about the steering going out.”

  “And I have no proof that she wasn’t lying either. Because of the wreck, the steering column was too damaged for the mechanics to tell. And then I insulted her cooking and almost died of poisoned food.”

  “Oh, the perils of marriage.”

  “I’d like to see you laid up with stomach cramps for two days.”

  “Blake, the doctor at the hospital said that it was food poisoning, not the other way around.”

  “No, she tried to kill me. Don’t you see? I’ve been really careful about what I’ve done and said these past couple of weeks and everything was going along just fine. Then Anna comes back and well....Paige may not get me tomorrow or the next day, but it’ll be soon.”

  Noah nodded slowly. “I think you’re being paranoid, but I’ll call Masters tomorrow. I’ll demand to speak with him personally regardless of his health. There’s no need for you to go through this mental anguish however unfounded it may be.”

  “I’m not afraid to die, Noah. I just don’t want to.”

  “I know, but Masters may by the time I get through with him. Are you okay to go home now?”

  Blake nodded. “Yes, I’m fine.” He stood and felt himself swaying as though pushed about by a great wind. “You’ll have to drive me though. I can’t remember where I left my car.”

  ****

  The front porch light was glaring its welcome when Blake staggered up the steps and let himself in. The drive home and the cool night breeze did a lot to help him feel more like himself, though as the pounding started in his head, he wished he was somebody else.

  With the caution of a man who has had too much to drink, Blake quietly closed the door behind him. On his tip-toes, he crept toward the stairs.

  “Blake?”

  He whirled around upsetting one of his aunt’s occasional tables and the Oriental vase that sat upon it. Miraculously he caught the priceless trinket before it could shatter upon the parquet floor.

  “Paige?” He tried to make out her face in the inky darkness of the foyer.

  “Are you okay?”

  “What are you doing down here?”

  “Waiting on you.”

  “In the dark?”

  “Would you rather I turned on the light?”

  “No,” he shouted when he heard her move toward the switch. Just the thought of that glaring chandelier. “I mean, there’s no need. I’m going upstairs.” He turned to do just that when she spoke again from the shadows.

  “You were out late.”

  “Yes,” he nodded, finally able to make out the darkened curvature of the banister.

  “With Anna?”

  Funny, he thought he heard a tremble in her voice.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. I had no right.”

  Suddenly she was there beside him, brushing past him as she rushed to the staircase, filling his senses with her. The satin of her skin, the fragrance of her hair, the warmth of her being. He reached out a hand and stopped her flight.

  “You were worried.”

  “I was not.”

  “Look me in the eye and tell me that.”

  She turned to face him then, staring at him full in the face. Blake’s tortured eyes had adjusted to the dimness of the house, and he could see her as clearly as if thousand watt bulbs were burning all around them. He could see the smoothness of her skin accented by the tiny laugh lines that surrounded those turquoise eyes. Oh, those eyes.

  Blake felt himself slipping into their depths, drowning in the color. The world was spinning, his mind was sober of alcohol, yet drunk on desire and Paige. Tears sparkled on her lashes.

  “Why are you crying?” he whispered not willing to chance using his full voice and break the spell she had over him.

  “I...I was worried. I was afraid you were with Anna. I was afraid that you had a car wreck. Or that you had been mugged. Or—”

  “Shhh.” He pressed the fingers of one hand over her lips. He used his other hand to capture one of hers. He laid it against his chest. “I’m here now. I’m fine.”

  Paige’s hands flitted across his rumpled tie, the pounding of his heart. As if searching for proof he was there and he was okay. Much as in the same way she had the day the sewing machine fell, her hands landing as soft and delicate butterflies against his chest checking to see if he was hurt. The tears in her eyes as she had reminded him that he had almost died. He remembered the concern on her face when she had wrecked his Mercedes. Not concern for a ninety-five thousand dollar vehicle, but concern for him, a flesh and blood man. The words that the nurse and the doctor had said as he had tried to tell them Paige had poisoned him came back. They told him of her worry and of her tears. Paige had even braved driving his aunt’s Cadillac to the hospital to save him.

  It hit him then, like a bolt of lightning sent from the gods. Noah was right. The sewing machine, the Mercedes, the ham. They were all just coincidences. Odd occurrences strung together by an over-stressed imagination to form a murder plot.

  Paige wasn’t trying to kill him, and she never had been. And he had been a fool to think that she had. Paige, Vegetarian Queen and lover of small dogs, was not a murderer. He felt as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Blake laughed.

  “You think it’s funny?” She punched him in the chest. “I’ve been sitting here all night picturing you dead, lying in some ditch on the side of the road. Covered in blood and—”

  He interrupted her with a kiss that left them breathless when he finally lifted his head.

  “I don’t think it’s funny at all. I think it’s serious and sweet. I’m sorry you were worried about me.”

  “You could have called.”

  Lord, she sounded so much like a wife, and Blake realized he liked that. In turn he wanted to be her knight in shining armor who called home when he was going to be late, her Prince Charming who actually ate her terrible veggie casseroles, but most of all he wanted to be her husband. He wanted to come home to her every night and make love to her until they woke every servant in the house.

  “Ah, Paige,” he sighed as he pulled her even closer still. “I could have done so much. But I’m going to start. I’m going to start right now.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers. “Let me make love to you, Paige,” he whispered against her lips.

  His answer came when her arms slipped around his neck, her fingers intertwining in his hair. “What about the contract?”

  “It’s our contract. We can break it if we want.”

  “Do you want?”

  “Very much so.”

  “Then make love to me.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Blake scooped her up into his arms, staggered briefly, then carried her up the stairs and to their suite.

  He laid her on his dark blue bed, liking the contrast of her pale limbs against the navy-colored sheets. But he loved the way she arched against him, became a part of him as he caressed her, aroused her. He loved the way the cried out his name when he entered her. Loved the way she clung to him as she shattered. Loved the way she nestled her head in the crook of his arm and drifted off to sleep.

  He watched her, hair tousled from their passion, dark lashes fanned against her cheeks, long, smooth legs tangled with his own. Yes, he might indeed die by her hand. But what a way to go.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Okay,” Paige muttered to herself. “Here goes nothing.” She slid her clammy palms down the sides of her slacks to stall for time and ease her nervousness.

  How was she supposed to do this? Did she just walk into his office and say, Hi, Blake, last night was special. It made me realize how foolish I’ve been and that I need to tell you that I love you. By the way we’re going to have a baby?

  Sh
e couldn’t say it, at least not like that. She should have told him last night, but she had been too afraid to break the spell that the darkness had spun around them. She could have told him this morning, but when she had awakened in his bed, she had been alone. Now she stood outside his office door wondering how to form the words to tell him the truth. But simple letters grouped together couldn’t express how she had loved him before she had even known him. Couldn’t relay her joy over the child they had created. Couldn’t explain how much she wanted to stay his wife beyond the contracted year.

  So she would keep it simple. Something like, Blake, we have a problem. No, that wouldn’t work either. She didn’t know what she would say, she only knew that it had to be said and then they could get on with their future. Gathering her courage, she pushed through the door that led to Blake’s outer office.

  Blake’s secretary, Catherine, was nowhere to be seen. One less obstacle between Paige and Blake. And the truth. Dear Lord, what was she going to say to him?

  “Well, my friend, I talked to Daniel Masters himself this morning, and I have news that will surely put a smile on your face.”

  Noah’s voice reached Paige before she could knock on the door to the inner office. Why were Noah and Blake discussing Masters? A trail of dread slid down her spine. She took a step back, but still heard what Noah said next.

  “I told him about Paige’s attempts to kill you and how you were afraid for your life. I threatened him with a mental suffering countersuit if he continued to insist on strictly abiding by the terms of your aunt’s will. You’re free to move Paige out of the house at your earliest convenience.”

  Paige stood frozen in place listening to the disembodied voice of her husband’s best friend. They were talking about her as if she was one of America’s Most Wanted rather than a plain girl, daughter of a missionary. From the sound of it, they thought she had deliberately tried to kill Blake. The idea was so absurd it was laughable, but the tone of Noah’s voice held no humor.

  Tears rose in her eyes. Hot tears of an unrequited love. If Blake thought she was trying to kill him, then there was no hope for their marriage. There was no hope that they would raise their child together. There was simply no hope.

  Paige clamped one hand over her mouth, turned on her heel, and fled toward escape, plowing over the missing Catherine who had just entered the office carrying a glass of tomato juice.

  ****

  The buzz of the intercom was like a chain saw cutting through Blake’s skull. His head pounded in the same rhythm as the light that blinked on the phone. He wished it would all just go away, but he knew better. It was only eleven o’clock in the morning and he had a full day of work ahead of him. Then he could go home, to Paige, and....

  “Blake, did you hear what I said?”

  “Hmmm?” Blake dragged his thoughts back to reality and Noah.

  As long as Blake sat still, utterly, completely still, the sawing in his head was reduced to the dull throb of a bass drum. But when he wasn’t moving, thoughts of Paige, naked and loving, in his arms, crying out his name on the wave of ecstasy, danced around him. Now Noah had started talking about her as if she was some common household criminal rather than the woman he loved.

  Yes, he loved her. The truth had been there all along, in the back of his mind just waiting to be discovered. He loved her, plain and simple. He loved the way she walked, the way she pushed her bangs out of her eyes when she was nervous, the way she looked in the mornings, sleep-rumpled and sexy. He loved her, not so plain and simple. From the stubborn set of her chin when she refused to design for Caldwell to her Sweet and Sour Broccoli.

  “Blake?”

  All of this time he had been trying to get out of this marriage, looking forward to the divorce, trying to get in touch with Masters, trying to get away from Paige. But it wasn’t Paige that he was afraid of. He had feared commitment. He had assumed that if he tied himself down he would be hurt and hobbled. He hadn’t realized that love would set him free.

  He had made up excuses, seen only what he wanted to see in order keep his heart as his own. But he had been so wrong. Love was a beautiful thing that couldn’t be contained, and he wanted it. He wanted it with Paige.

  “Hello? Blake?”

  Blake stood. “Call Masters again. Tell him that it won’t be necessary to make any changes in the will. Paige will stay at the house with me.”

  Noah blinked. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “In fact, tell him to give the money to Aunt Virginia’s favorite charity. It’s already given me everything I could possibly need.”

  He met Catherine as she entered the inner office. He took the aspirin from her and washed them down with the tomato juice. He grimaced. “Is this really supposed to be good for a hangover?”

  “Blake, your wife—” Catherine started.

  Blake smiled. “Yes, I know. I’m on my way there right now.”

  “What about your appointments?” she asked as he started to leave.

  He turned with his hand on the knob. “Cancel them. Reschedule them for two weeks from now. No, make that three weeks. I’m taking my wife to the Caribbean. You know,” he said thoughtfully to his gape-mouthed audience. “Her eyes are the exact color of the water off St. Thomas.”

  “But what am I supposed to tell the stock holders? You have a meeting with them in less than an hour.”

  Blake’s grin widened. “Tell them I’ve gone home to propose to my wife.”

  ****

  Blake pulled the Mercedes in beside the fountain, shoved the gearshift into park, and left the engine running.

  The small package from the jewelers’ was tucked inside the jacket of his suit on the left-hand side against his heart. The plane tickets to St. Thomas were tucked away in the opposite pocket. Their flight was in two hours. He had just enough time to get Paige, then race back to the airport before their plane departed and their delayed, though much deserved, honeymoon was underway.

  His whole life had been leading up to this day, this moment. If someone had told him a year ago that today he would be proposing to his wife, he would have laughed. He was smiling now, perhaps even laughing, but it was for entirely different reasons.

  “Paige!” he called, slamming the large black door behind him as he entered the house. “Paige!”

  He bounded up the stairs two at a time.

  “Paige,” he called as he quickly made his way down the hall. She should have heard him by now, but not a sound came from her room. His palms were sweaty as he reached for the doorknob.

  “Paige?”

  She stood with her back to him, but she turned when he called her name. Her suitcase was lying on the bed, open and already half-full of her clothes.

  “They told you,” Blake said feeling his surprise had been totally ruined.

  Noah had probably called ahead so that Paige would have an opportunity to pack. Blake didn’t want to take the time. There were stores in St. Thomas. He and Paige could buy what they needed when they landed on the island. And since he planned on making love to her for three solid weeks, only sunscreen was a definite necessity.

  But Paige turned, and Blake’s happiness crumbled. She was crying.

  “Paige, what’s wrong?” he asked gently. His footsteps fell silent upon the white carpet as he made his way to her side. “If you don’t want to go to St. Thomas we can go somewhere else. How about Hawaii? Or the Bahamas?”

  Paige sniffed loudly and took a step out of his reach. “I’m not going to St. Thomas or Hawaii or the Bahamas. I’m going home, Blake. By myself. I’m leaving you.”

  “What?” The word was quiet, almost whispered.

  “I’m leaving, and you still get to keep your inheritance. What more could a man want?”

  She turned and reaching into the dresser drawer, pulled out a stack of clothing. She packed her case like a robot, automatically dumping the contents then turning for more. The tears trickled down her cheeks like a soft summer rain.

  “A man could
want for his wife to explain herself when she says she’s leaving. That’s what a man could want.” Blake grabbed a stack of clothing and placed it back into the drawer as Paige placed another stack into the suitcase. “Well?”

  “I heard what Noah said. You’re going to ask me to move out anyway. I’m just getting a head start.” Paige wiped away her tears and reached for another stack of clothes.

  “Is that why you’re crying?”

  “I’m not crying.”

  “I don’t want you to leave, Paige. I love you.”

  She hesitated for a micro-second, then resumed her packing. “I understand if you don’t pay me according the terms of our agreement.”

  “I don’t care about the money!”

  “No harm’s been done. You’ll still get your inheritance.”

  “I gave it all to charity.”

  “But I’m taking Bruno with me.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.” He took another pile of clothes from her suitcase.

  “You never wanted him, and I’ll take good care of him.”

  “Fine,” Blake said with a nod of his head. “If you want to leave. You can leave, and you can take the damned dog. But wherever you’re going, I’m going with you.”

  Blake turned to leave with full intentions of packing his own bags and following Paige to the ends of the Earth, when the large red book at the bottom of her suitcase caught his attention. He lifted it out carefully, somehow knowing it was important.

  “Give that back,” Paige snapped, grabbing for the book.

  “What is it?” Blake held it out of her reach.

  Whatever it was, it was special. The dark red leather cover was gold embossed and worn with age and loving hands. The book was heavy and at least six inches thick.

  “None of your business.” She made another swipe at the book. “Give it back.”

  “Why are you hiding it?”

  “I wasn’t hiding it. I was saving—” She stopped. “It’s none of your business.”

  “Saving it for what? Or for whom?”

  She turned almost as red as the book, then tried to shrug it off. “Read it, then. I don’t care.”