One Real Man (Entangled Bliss)(19)

Paige tilted her head to one side as she watched him intently. “Are you going to slink away?”

“Like hell I am. That kind of attitude just makes my heels dig in harder.”

“You want revenge.”

“No, I want a fair go, that’s all.”

She fiddled with the roses again, and he wondered what she was thinking. Did he have a chip on his shoulder? Is that why he was pushing his Bandicoot Creek dream so hard? If he were honest, he’d have to admit that was part of his motivation. He didn’t care about the exclusive club that people like Paige and Lethbridge belonged to, but he’d get some satisfaction from forcing his way in. A base need, but he was human after all.

Paige lifted her gaze to him. “Next time you talk to Mr. Lethbridge, let him lead the conversation. Allow him to feel he’s in control. People like him love nothing better than to talk about themselves.”

“I doubt there’s going to be a next time with him.” He sighed. Lethbridge was a goner. No point trying to woo him back. He’d have to get another contact, and the next opportunity to come his way he couldn’t afford to screw up.

“It gets easier, you know.”

“What does?”

“Selling yourself.”

“I want to sell my ideas, not myself.”

She lifted her shoulders. “But people learn about your ideas through you, and there’s nothing more powerful than a message delivered face-to-face.”

“That’s your job, isn’t it? Public relations, marketing. I never saw much need for it, but maybe this time I do.” He studied her with renewed interest. He’d never really thought about Paige and her job because she’d always looked like someone who didn’t have to work if she didn’t want to. “Tell me about your career. How did you get into it?”

“I earned my marketing and communications degree at university, and after I graduated, I got a job at Focus Marketing. It’s one of the biggest PR and marketing companies around. I did a lot of product launches, media campaigns, brand management.”

“And when you moved to London?”

Pressing her lips together, she returned her attention to the roses. “The PR business there is ten times bigger and so cutthroat.” She hesitated. “I found a job, but, well, I had other things on my mind.”

He understood. She’d been too preoccupied with Seth to concentrate on her career. Now that the dirtbag had left her penniless, and her parents didn’t seem in a position to help her, her career was even more important.

“So will you look up your old contacts at Focus when you’re ready to start your job hunt?” he asked.

She nodded, lifting her chin. “Oh yes. I worked hard for them.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they won’t hold that video against you. After all, you had nothing to do” He paused as her head jerked up and her eyes widened.

“You knew”

He couldn’t tell if that was hurt or embarrassment in her eyes, but he wished like hell he hadn’t caused it. “About the video? Uh, yeah. Heard about it. Haven’t seen it. Don’t intend to, either.” He stood rigid, the back of his neck growing hot, and hoped like hell his gaze stayed pinned on her face.

“Oh.” She breathed in slowly, then went back to the roses. By now the flowers were looking slightly mangled.

A surge of emotion swelled up in him. “Look, who cares about that frigging video? It just shows what a complete arsehole your ex is. You shouldn’t let it get to you so much.”

Her mouth turned down at the corners. Suddenly she wasn’t cool and elegant anymore, but bruised and wounded. “I know I shouldn’t, but sometimes I can’t help it.”

Her fingers crushed a flower petal, releasing the scent of roses. His chest ached with the urge to wrap his arms around her and protect her from the brutal, ugly world. He found himself stepping forward, the desire to hold her intensifying as he caught the telltale moistness in her lashes. Nearing her, he placed his hand over hers, trying to keep his grip soft, reassuring.

Her gaze flew up to clash against his, her eyes overbright, startled. Swallowing, he searched for the right words to convey his feelings but failed, and stared dumbly at her, her daintiness only making him feel clumsier. She’d always had this effect on him. It was black magic and highly annoying.

He could smell her perfume, some light, seductive scent. He slid his fingers over the back of her hand, relishing the fineness of her bones, eager to seek out the little pulse point on her inner wrist. The last time he’d touched her there, her pulse had scurried like a bunny, astonishing him. Now he wanted to see if he was affecting her again, just like she was him.

But before he could find out, she pulled away from his grasp. She flattened her lips, blinked, and the moment was lost. She didn’t look lost or hurt anymore; she was back to being Princess Paige.

“I bought a new vase,” she said briskly, chin up.

He stared at her blankly.

She tapped the vase on the table. “I stopped by Ally’s gift store this afternoon and couldn’t resist this vase.”

“Yeah?” Slowly her words sunk in. “You visited Ally?”

“We had a little chat. I love her store. The roses came from the garden—don’t tell Wilkins.”

He really had to take more fish oil or something to make his brain work faster. Where had that soft, vulnerable version of Paige disappeared to? And now she’d been chatting with Ally? “I’m having a hard time imagining you and Ally together,” he confessed.

She rolled her eyes at him. “I bought a vase from her, that’s all. It’s not like we’re suddenly BFFs.” She repositioned the vase on the table. “I don’t have space for this while I’m painting the cottage, so I thought I’d leave it here in the meantime.”

With a brief nod at him, she left the room, her silk scarf floating over her shoulder, leaving Owen feeling as if he’d been grasping at smoke.



For once she was in a hurry to reach the caretaker’s cottage. It might be plain and barren, but it was away from Owen. As she entered, she caught her reflection in the small mirror hanging in the tiny hallway. Even in the unflattering glare of the naked lightbulb, she knew she looked good. This afternoon she’d dressed up, had her hair done. For the first time in ages she’d felt like her old self—confident, groomed, fortune tilting her way.

She’d even popped into Ally’s gift store and ended up having a surprisingly pleasant chat with Ally. The glass vase took her fancy, so she’d bought it without regard to her bank balance, as she used to do. She’d brought it home, filled it with flowers, and decided it was too nice for the half-finished cottage. So she’d gone to the main house and bumped into that sleazy old neighbor, Mr. Lethbridge.

But he wasn’t the reason she was agitated now. It was all Owen’s fault. When he confessed to knowing about that awful video, she hadn’t known where to look. Even if he was telling the truth about not having seen it, the fact that he knew mortified her beyond reason And when he’d touched her hand again, her heart had surged with such incredible emotion: hope. Hope that he would make good the promise of his actions and kiss her for real this time. Hope, followed by shame at her desperation.

Luckily she’d drawn back and shown him she was still in control. But next time she might not have the mental fortitude.

She glanced at the paint cans in the corner. Why was she spending so much time fixing up the cottage when she should be trying to find a new job in Sydney? She’d been procrastinating, but she couldn’t put it off forever. And the way she’d wanted Owen to kiss her so badly made it more urgent to think about the future. Tonight she would spruce up her CV and use the internet to check out any potential jobs. Then tomorrow she should call her previous boss at Focus Marketing and set up a lunch meeting.

The less time she spent here in Burronga, the better.



Decrepit. Run-down. A dump.

A dozen adjectives milled in Owen’s head as he stood in front of the caretaker’s cottage. The roof and walls looked sound enough, but the building was grim and uninviting. While his father was alive, he’d kept the cottage and its surrounding patch of garden shipshape, but now the place wore an air of gloomy neglect. The faded front door stood ajar. As he stared at it, a faint shriek came from inside.

He barged his way inside, the memories receding. The living room was stripped of all furniture. Paige stood pressed up against one wall, frozen, her expression horrified.

“Paige?” He was at her side in an instant. “What is it?”

She gestured past him with a shaking finger. Glancing around, he could see nothing except a large moth fluttering against the window. “That?” he asked, a little confused. How could a harmless insect scare her that much?

“Yes.” She gulped and made a visible effort to control herself. “It flew out when I lifted a newspaper. I know it’s silly, but I have a fear of moths.”

Owen was about to say something, but the paleness of her complexion shut him up. He moved to the window and gently trapped the moth between his cupped hands. He walked outside to release it before returning to the living room.

“Thanks.” She pulled a self-deprecating face as color returned to her cheeks. “I really should get over my phobia.”