Can't Buy Me Love Read online

****

  “Did you know your eyes are the color of the Caribbean Sea and just as dangerous? A man could drown in their depths.”

  Paige laughed and searched her mind for a sophisticated answer, one that sounded like she had heard compliments all her life.

  Blake tapped her partner on the shoulder and saved her the trouble of a witty response.

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to cut in.” He reached for her with a possessiveness she thoroughly enjoyed.

  Forget it, she told herself. He just doesn’t want you to make a fool out of him again like you did earlier, hanging all over him and nearly melting in a pool at his feet when he kissed you.

  “This dance belongs to me.” Her dance partner gathered her into his arms again.

  “I don’t think so.” Blake reached for her again.

  “Surely you won’t deny me this. You’ve already denied me the privilege of kissing the bride.”

  “Perhaps we should go somewhere and talk.” Blake’s words were frosty with control.

  Her partner smiled, his white teeth gleaming in his bronzed face. “I’ll just finish my dance with your wife.”

  “Now.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever you say, big brother.”

  “Brother?” Paige looked from one man to the other.

  Her partner’s eyes were true brown instead of the hazel green of Blake’s and his nose had more of a hawkish tilt, but all in all their likeness in physical features was so uncanny that she couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it right away. But then after Blake’s scorching kiss, it was a miracle she could remember her own name.

  Her partner took a small bow, then raised her hand to his lips. “Devin Caldwell at your service.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Let me guess. You came home because they closed down the beach in Rio.”

  At Blake’s words, Paige looked up from the muffin she was buttering and glanced to her breakfast companions.

  “I’d been away too long. It was time to come home and get in touch with my roots.” Devin smiled innocently at his brother.

  Blake snorted. “Ran out of money, did you?”

  The younger man placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me, brother. Do you think me so callous and crude that all I care about is money?”

  “Yes.”

  To Paige’s surprise, Devin’s smile deepened, turned wicked. “So how much did the old bat leave me?”

  Blake glanced to Paige, then turned his gaze back to his brother. “A million.”

  She had to hand it to Devin. Somehow he managed to keep the smile on his face even if it was a bit strained now. Deserving or not, with an inheritance as large as Blake would receive, one million dollars was a pittance.

  “I don’t suppose I should expect more than that.”

  “No,” Blake agreed. “She didn’t have to leave you anything.”

  Devin’s brown eyes darkened until they were almost black, but he said nothing.

  Paige looked from him to Blake whose expression softened. Compassion was one of the many traits she admired in her temporary husband. It showed in his work, in his interest in his employees, in his regard for his eclectic household staff. And it showed now in his concern for his prodigal brother.

  “A couple of good investments and you’ll be set for life.”

  Devin shook his head before Blake could even finish. His smile turned cryptic. “No, bro, that’s not the way I operate. Bad investments and fast women are more my style these days.”

  “They’ve always been more your style. Why, Devin? Why waste your life on booze and women?”

  Devin raised a dark brow. “My, aren’t we the saint all of the sudden?”

  “I’m a married man now.” Blake’s voice held the hard edge of warning.

  “Yes.” Devin’s sharp gaze scraped over Paige. She knew he compared her to the other, more beautiful women that had paraded in and out of Blake’s life in years past. She saw the skepticism in his expression, as if he didn’t believe in the marriage any more than she and Blake did. But the worst of it all, Paige herself knew that she didn’t measure up, and she never would.

  “Wonders never cease.” Devin picked up his muffin and his tone and turned back to his brother. “I guess I’ll just take the money and run, as they say.”

  To Paige’s amazement, Blake flushed as his fancy education deserted him when he needed it to tell his brother the truth. “You haven’t been informed of the terms of the will?”

  Devin’s jaw tightened, but otherwise he showed no outward signs that he didn’t like the way the conversation had progressed. Paige knew that once all was told, he would like it even less. “Your marriage and Aunt Virginia’s death reached me through the rags, not through an attorney.”

  Blake sat silent for a moment. “By the terms of the will, you have to work at Caldwell for twelve months before you will inherit.”

  Devin was the poster child of self-control. He sat for a moment his gaze boring into his brother’s as if the simple act could change what had been long done, then he threw back his head and laughed.

  “Leave it to Aunt Gin to get what she wanted in the end. She told me she would. I just never thought she’d actually do it.”

  “You’re not upset?” Paige asked.

  Devin turned his sparkling brown eyes to her. “Sweetheart, I’m mad as hell, but there’s nothing I can do about it. We all have our crosses to bear.” He turned his attention to Blake. “But if she was willing to make me work, just what did she make you do?”

  Blake’s gaze flickered to Paige, an action she hoped Devin had missed. No such luck.

  “So it’s true. She made you marry for your money.”

  “It’s not what you think,” Paige and Blake said simultaneously.

  “Oh, it’s exactly what I think. The old bat hit upon our worst fears—commitment and work—and then she played them in her favor.”

  “She may have,” Blake acquiesced. “But Paige and I have a business deal. We’ve taken great pains to make our marriage look real in the eyes of society. I’d appreciate you keeping the knowledge to yourself. Not even the household staff realizes that our marriage isn’t real.”

  Devin looked at the heavy band of gold that encircled Paige’s finger, then to the identical one Blake wore. “It doesn’t get any more real than this. So how did Dancy take the news of your marriage of love?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “That bad, huh?” His tone was flippant, but Paige could tell his mind was working on other possibilities concerning his inheritance. His need for money flared in his eyes as easily and clearly as his temper. “I suppose our dearly departed auntie also forbade you to help me in any way if I didn’t accept her terms.”

  Blake nodded. “She took it personally when you didn’t return from the Riviera all those years ago.”

  “I was busy.”

  “Yes, I recall,” Blake returned dryly. “What was her name?”

  “Darla, I think. Maybe Darlene.” Devin shook his head. “It’s been too long ago for me to remember.”

  “You can’t remember the name of the woman who cost you your inheritance?” Paige couldn’t believe her ears.

  Devin simply flashed that same white upon bronze smile she was sure had dazzled and frazzled women of every nationality. “Oh, I’ll get my inheritance, all right.” He turned his attention back to his brother. “So just when do I start at the sweatshop?”

  ****

  Paige tucked her book under one arm and Bruno under the other, then started down the stairs. Another day, another afternoon by the pool tanning her reluctant skin and reading her way through the best seller list.

  Bruno turned his enormous brown eyes up to her as she sighed in anticipated boredom.

  “What do you suppose all the other the wives of multi-millionaires do in their spare time, huh?”

  The poodle stared at her, but offered no answer.

  “They probably attend posh teas and play rousing hands of bridge between
their sets of doubles tennis.” She sighed again, remembering the conversation that took place around her, though without her, at the fund raiser the night before. “Well, no, thank you. That isn’t the life for me.” Still, it would have been nice if someone had offered to teach her to play tennis, or even invited her to watch, or go shopping afterwards.

  Stop dreaming. If she ever needed to know the difference between herself and the women Blake usually associated with, last night was the perfect example and a lesson she’d best not soon forget.

  As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the phone rang. Paige set Bruno on the polished hardwood floor and picked up the receiver.

  “Caldwell residence.”

  “Paige?”

  She faltered, not expecting to hear her name coming across the phone lines. “Yes?”

  “This is Cherry Holiday. Do you remember me? We met at the opera benefit last night.”

  Paige was stunned beyond words and didn’t answer. Why would the petite blonde be calling her?

  “Hello? Are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here and yes, I remember you.”

  “Have I called at a bad time?”

  “No, not at all. I—”

  “Good. I just wanted to tell you that you had the most exquisite dress at the party last night, and in a fashion show like that...Well, your dress was just marvelous, and...and...well, I know it’s part of the Caldwell line, but I haven’t seen anything like it in the stores.”

  “I ma—” Paige broke off. She was a millionaire’s wife. A multi-millionaire’s wife. She couldn’t tell Cherry Holiday that she had made the dress herself. It was unheard of in Blake’s social circle. “Uh...a friend designed it.”

  “Of course. A friend from Caldwell.”

  “Of course,” Paige said before she could stop herself.

  “Oh.” The word was small and speculative as it came through the phone. “Well, you see, Bill has a state dinner next week, and that creation you wore last night was just beautiful. Maybe there’s something similar to it in the new line?”

  Paige faltered for the second time since answering the phone. She could make Cherry a dress, but Paige didn’t think it would go over well with Blake if he found out his wife was designing dresses for the very people he was trying to deceive. Cherry’s defense of her the night before rose to the surface in her mind. And this could be the answer to her boredom. Making a dress for Cherry Holiday would certainly take up some of the lay around time that she had found herself an abundance of. Then Blake’s scowl rose to her mind’s eye. Paige pushed it aside. She could do this. Who said Cherry had to know that she made the dress?

  “My friend is very...private, almost reclusive. But I’m having lunch with her tomorrow.” At least that part wasn’t a lie; she had called Maddie for a lunch date, but the rest was pure fabrication. “Give me your measurements, and I’ll see what I can do,” she said in a doubtful tone. She danced a little happy jig careful not to step on Bruno.

  As Cherry rattled off her measurements, Paige jotted down the numbers in the margin of her sketch pad, her mind already altering patterns and selecting colors.

  She hung up the phone and stood for a second, smiling like an idiot.

  “Is everything all right, madam?” Holmes came around the corner and down the hall toward her.

  “Everything is perfect.” She scooped Bruno into her arms and kissed the stunned butler on his wrinkled cheek. “Just perfect.” Then she snatched up her book and floated up the stairs.

  “Shall I have Dancy serve your lunch by the pool?” Holmes called after her.

  “What? Oh. Thanks, but I think I’ll stay in today.” She turned and raced to her room, the butler’s classic “As you wish,” following after her.

  ****

  “Mr. Caldwell wanted me to tell you that he’s home now.”

  Paige looked up from the emerald green silk. Julie, the timid ex-hooker-turned-upstairs maid stood in the doorway surveying the mess with her bashful gaze. Sketches were scattered across the bed and the floor was littered with scraps of green silk and the sparkle of matching, blending, and contrasting sequins.

  Paige stood in the middle of the mess in green, holding the half-finished dress. “He’s home early.” Then she glanced at her watch. With a gasp akin to horror, she faced the shy maid once again. “It’s six-thirty!”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Julie ducked her dark blonde head as if somehow the time was her fault.

  Paige ran to the bed and began scooping up her designs as carefully as the waning time would allow. “I’ve got to get dinner ready. I’ve got to clean up this mess.” She placed her drawings in their usual dresser drawer, then looked with renewed horror at the white carpeted floor liberally scattered with threads and scraps of green. “He can’t find all of this here.” She fell to her knees and began picking up the tiny flecks.

  Julie dropped to the floor beside her. “Mrs. Caldwell,” she said in her soft, almost child-like voice. “I’ll clean up. You go ahead and cook dinner. I would, but I’m not a very good cook...” her voice trailed off, and she ducked her head again.

  “You’d do that for me?”

  Julie raised her gaze to meet Paige’s. “That’s why I’m here. I’m a maid. Cleaning is my job.”

  Paige smiled sheepishly. “I guess I’m just not used to having people around to pick up after me. I’ve always done things for myself.”

  “Is that why you didn’t hire a cook after Sylvia left?”

  Paige stood and dusted off the knees of her jeans. “Yes, I suppose so,” she admitted, then looked down upon herself. “I don’t even have time to change.”

  Julie looked up at Paige, her large brown eyes almost as adoring as Bruno’s. “I think you look just fine. Go on now, and fix your man his dinner.”

  Paige practically ran to the kitchen and started pulling vegetables out of the freezer and preheating the oven. She wouldn’t have time for anything elaborate, just a simple casserole. It was tasty, but best of all it was quick and easy.

  ****

  Blake eyed the pile of yellowish, greenish, creamy-looking goo that Dancy had served him. Once again he was thankful that the tiny maid had seated his wife at the opposite end of the large dining room table. His dinner looked like it could play the starring role in the next alien flick. He wasn’t really supposed to eat this, was he? He looked to Devin and knew their expressions were mirror-images. He needed to say something to Paige about these dinners. Soon.

  “Just what do you call this, Paige?” Devin asked his gaze glued to his plate as if any minute he expected his dinner to do something rash.

  Paige looked up from her own meal, which she was consuming like there was no tomorrow. “It’s spinach, yellow squash, and mushroom casserole.”

  For once she wasn’t watching Blake’s every move, making sure he ate his dinner and drank the vile liquid she called tea. And for once she didn’t ask if he liked the meal.

  What a relief. There was no way he could come up with a creative, yet diplomatic response to this dish.

  Before Blake and Devin had even taken their first bite of the concoction, Paige scraped her plate clean. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some things I need to do.”

  Both men nodded in agreement as she pushed her chair back and left the dining room. It took some effort but Blake managed to drag his gaze from the sway of her hips and the soft curve of her derriere and back to his dinner. What was wrong with him tonight?

  He mentally shook himself, then placed his plate on the floor. Bruno, who loved anything humans ate, trotted over, but turned up his little black nose and walked away. Poor Paige, even the dog wouldn’t eat her cooking.

  “I don’t know about you,” Devin started. “But I think a trip to Ruth’s Chris is in order.”

  “For once, brother, we’re in agreement.”

  ****

  “Oh, Paige, it’s beautiful.” Maddie held up the creation of green silk strewn with varying sea-colored sequins. They stood in the p
arlor after their weekly lunch. “And she just called you right out of the blue and asked you for a dress?”

  “Well, no. She called and wanted to know where I got the dress I wore to the opera fund raiser. I almost told her that I made it, but I recovered in time and told her instead that a friend designed it.”

  “What are you going to tell her when you show her the finished product without a single fitting?”

  “I’ll tell her that I told my friend about her, and she already had a dress that would be perfect for her. Then I’ll ask her if she’d like to see it.”

  “I’ve got to hand it to you, Paige. You’re a brilliant liar.”

  “I’m not a liar; it’s creative conversation.” Paige took the dress from Maddie and held it up in front of her so she could admire it even more.

  “Creative twisting-the-facts-to-suit-your-purpose is more like it.”

  “I was bored.”

  Maddie nodded at the dress. “People eat when they’re bored, they don’t design dresses. You missed your calling.”

  “It is lovely, isn’t it?” Paige’s voice held a happy note of pride. The form-hugging design and artfully sewn sequins were a masterpiece in their own right. The color would complement Cherry Holiday’s golden blonde hair and pale jade eyes. Paige just hoped Cherry liked green.

  “I apologize, dropping by unannounced like this. The maid let me in. Anyway, I wondered if perhaps you had talked to your designer fri—Oh, my! What a beautiful dress.”

  Paige and Maddie both whirled around guiltily.

  “May I see it?” Cherry held her hand out for the garment.

  Paige handed it to her.

  “Oh, it’s lovely.” The sincerity of Cherry’s tone brought a deeper flush of pride to Paige’s cheeks. “I knew you were having lunch with your friend today, but I had no idea it was a trunk sale.” She turned and extended her hand to Maddie. “I’m Cherry Holiday. You must be Paige’s designer friend. It’s so nice to meet you.”

  Maddie shook her head and opened her mouth as if to deny Cherry’s assumption, but Paige kicked her.

  “Ow,” Maddie said instead. “Why’d you—”

  “Yes, Cherry, this is Madeline Sim...Simone.” As she spoke, Paige smiled firmly and pushed the words through her teeth as she glared pointedly at her friend.