“No trouble at all. Just cold meats and salads.” Her expression was as bland as oatmeal. “Go right in.” She gestured toward the corridor leading to the conservatory.
“Uh, I should probably change first.” Heidi plucked at her messy jeans.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Paige tut-tutted. “You shouldn’t have let Owen drag you through the bush.”
Heidi turned red. “No, it’s my fault.”
“What’s the fuss about?” Jim said to his daughter, looking flummoxed. “You look fine to me. Why do you need to change your clothes just to have cold meat and salad?”
Owen saw Heidi darting a glance at Paige, comparing herself, and irritation spiked in his stomach. He didn’t know who got under his skin the most—Paige for looking great and drawing attention to Heidi’s appearance, or Heidi for measuring herself against Paige and becoming self-conscious.
“Yeah, you look fine to me. You don’t need to change.” He cupped Heidi’s elbow, intent on steering her toward the conservatory. “There’s a bathroom near the pool where you can wash up.”
Heidi beamed and squeezed his arm. “Okay.”
Holding her close, he guided her away from Paige. The two women were getting to him, but maybe he was only irritated with himself.
Was that catty of me? The question stung Paige as she stalked back to the kitchen. She’d only been sympathizing with Heidi over the state of her clothes, but Owen had reacted as if she’d bared her claws at his precious friend.
Paige snapped open the refrigerator and began hauling out condiments. The bottles rattled as she yanked them out. God, why was she so worked up about nothing? Since yesterday she’d been the perfect housekeeper looking after Owen’s weekend guests. She’d made up beds, fetched fresh towels, filled vases with flowers, ordered dinners, made breakfasts. Since her rocky beginning, her housekeeping had improved. There was now a regular cleaning service, the dry-cleaning was delivered on time, the pantry was stocked, and she could poach an egg to perfection. Owen couldn’t fault her work.
Why would she want to be catty toward Heidi, anyway? She had no reason to be jealous of the woman.
Oh yeah? a dissenting voice at the back of her head jeered. If she wasn’t threatened by Heidi, then why had the sight of Owen holding her protectively made Paige’s stomach cramp? Maybe she regarded Owen as hers, and Heidi threatened that notion. No, no, it couldn’t be that. It just couldn’t.
But when she carried the tray of condiments to the conservatory and saw Owen and Heidi chatting, her nerves corkscrewed even tighter. They looked so easy and comfortable with each other, she thought.
They were standing near the ferns. Owen had just said something, and Heidi was grinning at him. Had he been telling her about the time he’d kissed a spoiled teenager among the ferns? The condiments on Paige’s tray clattered, and she had a sudden urge to turn and flee. Instead she moved to the bar counter where she’d already laid out the cold cuts and salad.
“Oh, let me help you,” Heidi exclaimed, and before Paige could protest, the woman darted across and lifted a few bottles from the tray. “I feel so guilty letting you do all the work.” She smiled guilelessly at Paige.
“Don’t be—I’m the housekeeper.” Her reply came out terser than she’d intended.
Heidi’s smile grew uncertain. “I’m not used to having a housekeeper.”
Why did she have to be so bloody nice? And why did she have to be so perfect for Owen? Yup, no point denying it. Heidi was the ideal match for Owen. She was natural and unassuming and so darn pleasant. She was also his partner’s daughter, and she and Owen must have known each other for years. Heidi was everything Paige wasn’t, and that had to mean something to Owen.
Though she wasn’t looking his way, she sensed him approaching, and her lungs constricted. Every nerve in her body seemed attuned to him, reacting to his presence, his voice, his scent, despite her will. It exasperated her the way he’d crawled under her skin. So what if he’d turned her down a few days ago? It didn’t matter if he wasn’t into casual sex. She wasn’t either, but at the time it had seemed like a good idea. The simmering tension between them was getting out of hand; relieving the stress had felt imperative. But though his rejection had riled her at first, secretly she’d been relieved. She and Owen might have the hots for each other, but the history they shared was too complicated and difficult. Enjoying each other’s bodies wouldn’t be a simple case of lust slaked.
“Do you like bologna sausage?” Owen’s voice murmured just behind her ear.
Paige’s heart leaped into her throat. Spinning around, she found herself staring straight into his deep green eyes. Just two days ago those eyes had seared her with his desire; that mouth had branded her, had fed her hunger. Trapped by his gaze, she wondered how much of her roiling emotion she betrayed. Oh, wouldn’t that tickle him, to know she longed for his touch, still.
“I love bologna sausage.” Heidi laughed. “You know that.”
Paige averted her gaze from Owen. Damn, he hadn’t been talking to her at all.
“Here,” he said to Heidi. “Let me make you a bologna sausage sandwich.”
As Heidi leaned against the counter, grinning at Owen, Paige slowly fisted and unfisted her hands. Why did Heidi looked so pleased? It was just a stupid sandwich. And why didn’t she do something about those blackjacks? She looked like a scarecrow.
Uh-oh, now that was a catty thought.
She had to get out of here. Owen and Heidi were bringing out the worst in her.
Monday morning the poached eggs were done to perfection—firm on the outside, warm and runny on the inside. The toast was crisp, the orange juice sweet, the coffee just right, but Owen had little appetite. After picking at his meal, he carried the remains back to the kitchen. He had a chore to complete.
Paige sat at the kitchen table writing out a list. She glanced up in surprise. “Anything the matter with your breakfast?” She looked pointedly at his half-finished plate.
“No, it was fine. You know your way around a poached egg these days.” He set the tray down next to the sink. “We need to talk.”
Instantly her expression grew cagey. “Is it about the weekend? Did I do something wrong?”
Several things about the past weekend had rankled him, but something else had lurked beneath the irritations, something he didn’t care to examine too closely because he suspected he wouldn’t like what he found.
“It’s Heidi, isn’t it?” Her chin was up, her expression defensive. He realized she’d taken his silence as confirmation she’d done something wrong. “I did try to be friendly to her.”
And Heidi had tried, too, but like denim jeans and country clubs, the two women just didn’t gel. He shook his head. “It’s not about last weekend. I need to talk about this coming weekend.”
She frowned. “Is Heidi coming back?”
If he didn’t know any better, he’d suspect she was jealous, but that made no sense. “Someone else is coming. Someone much more important. You know who Gordon Asquith is, don’t you?”
“Gordon Asquith? He’s coming here for the weekend?” She seemed genuinely impressed. “Wow. He is a big deal.”
Owen gave her a brief outline of the circumstances surrounding the visit. “Asquith’s personal assistant will email me with the exact details, but basically he’s arriving here Saturday morning and departing Sunday, so he’ll only be staying twenty-four hours, but it’s important we get everything right.”
“Yes, he’s an eccentric character. Intimidating, too.”
“You know him?”
“When I was working in Sydney, I organized a party where he was the guest of honor. Everyone bent over backward making sure everything was perfect for him.”
Owen expelled a whistle as his spirits rose. “That’s great. You’ll be able to give me the inside skinny on the man.” The weekend ahead had loomed like a root canal appointment, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Paige would be his secret weapon, funneling him inside knowledge on his important guest.
But why did she have to be secret at all? Why did she have to hide behind the scenes when she was so good to look at?
He breathed in deep as his sudden idea took hold of him. Was it stupid or an inspired brain wave? Would she even go for it?
“I’m not sure I like that look on your face.” Paige tapped a pencil against her chin. “What scheme are you hatching?”
He moved closer, his instinct to grasp her by the arms, but at the last moment he came to his senses and pulled up short. “How about this for a scheme? You act as my hostess for the weekend. You know what this Asquith guy is like. You can help me avoid all the pitfalls. Plus, you can do this schmoozing stuff in your sleep—just look at how you handled that councilor. You’d be invaluable to me, Paige.” He reached for her hands, but remembered himself and spread his arms wide. “What do you say?”
“Well” She chewed on the pencil for a few seconds. “I suppose I could do it.”
Just in time he stopped himself sweeping her into his arms. “Thanks. I really appreciate that.”