One Real Man (Entangled Bliss)(26)

Alone with Owen, Paige froze at his thunderous expression.

“How could you let that witch into my house and allow her to insult me at will?”

“I didn’t let her do anything. Aunt Lucinda rides roughshod over everyone.”

“I didn’t hear you telling her off.”

Her temper suddenly rose. How unfair of him to blame her when she’d endured her great-aunt’s barbs, too. “What did you expect me to do? Tell her to shut up and get the hell out of here?”

“Yes.” A vein in his forehead pulsed. “But I guess that’s asking too much. She’s a Kerrigan, and your type stick together, don’t you?”

She wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. How could he get upset over one silly, overbearing, self-important woman? But then it struck her why he was being so unreasonable. If he’d been by himself, Aunt Lucinda’s insults would have flowed off him like water off a duck’s back. But Natasha and Gretel had been present. The two girls must have heard Aunt Lucinda’s disparaging remarks about Owen, and that was the reason for his foul anger.

“Natasha’s too young to remember your early days here,” Paige said in a much softer tone. “She’s sixteen. At that age she’s just living in the moment. She doesn’t care what happened in the past.”

“You think so?” Doubt lurked in his darkened eyes. “I don’t want her to be embarrassed by me. Especially in front of her friends.”

She shrugged. “You’re practically her parent. At this age, she’s bound to be embarrassed by you no matter what.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He rubbed the back of his neck pensively. “It’s been so long since I was a teenager I’ve forgotten what it was like.”

But Owen had never been a typical teenager because of what had happened to his parents. Owen had had to grow up fast; he hadn’t had the luxury of being embarrassed by his parents.

Exhaling a breath, he gave her a rueful nod. “Sorry I lost my temper with you. You didn’t deserve it.”

The surprise of his apology stole all the air from her lungs. Confused, she attempted to hide it by quipping, “Goodness, an apology from you. I should get my phone out and record this event.”

He laughed, shook his head. “Too late. The moment’s passed.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get another opportunity.”

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll get an apology out of you one of these days.”

That was too close to the mark. She twisted her fingers, uncomfortably aware she did owe him an apology, but it wasn’t a case of simply saying she was sorry. What she owed him was far more complex than that.

Owen cleared his throat, breaking the awkward little silence.

“So,” he said, “what the hell is wrong with my shoes?”



Later that afternoon, Paige was busy rearranging crockery in the butler’s pantry when she heard voices in the adjoining kitchen. Natasha and Gretel, probably in search of something to eat. She was about to join them and offer them some snacks when the mention of her name made her halt.

“Paige’d look a lot better if she wore more eyeliner,” Gretel drawled.

“I think she’s quite pretty,” Natasha said.

“Do you think she and your brother are, you know, doing it?”

“What?” Natasha squeaked. “Course not!”

“Oh come on, Tash. They’re in this house all by themselves. I’m pretty sure he’s screwing her.”

Indignation heated Paige’s cheeks. Natasha made some gasping noises. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.”

“You’re such a baby. No wonder the boys call you frigid.”

Silence, then Natasha said in a small voice, “Which boys?”

“Some of them.”

Natasha’s voice grew even smaller. “Some? LikeKane?”

“Kane? That cheapskate loser who goes to public school? Didn’t even realize you knew him.”

“I—I talk to him now and again.”

“So you’re sweet on him?”

“No, course not.”

“I think you are.” Gretel snickered. “His mother works at a beauty salon. You should ask for a discount when you get your legs waxed.”

“II” Natasha stammered.

At the confusion and desperation in the girl’s voice, Paige’s fingernails curled into the flesh of her palms.

“It’s okay,” Gretel said. “I don’t mind if you talk to him. You can even flirt with him, if you want.”

“Flirt with him?”

“Yeah, just pretend flirting, of course.”

“Oh.” Natasha sounded hesitant.

“It wouldn’t mean anything. You need the practice, but, you know, it’s up to you.”

The girls clattered out of the kitchen, leaving Paige scowling. How dare Gretel corrupt Natasha like that? Paige’s first instinct was to march upstairs and confront the girl, but as satisfying as that might be, she had to consider Natasha. Better to wait until she had the teenager on her own.

Her opportunity arrived sooner than expected. By early evening Gretel developed a migraine and had to be picked up by her mother. With Owen at a business meeting, Paige remained in the house to keep Natasha company. The listless teenager appeared grateful when Paige offered to make her a toasted cheese sandwich. As Paige worked in the kitchen, the girl gradually started chatting about her friends. Paige wasn’t surprised that 80 percent of her conversation revolved around Gretel.

“Gretel’s important to you, isn’t she?” Paige commented as she lifted the browned sandwich out of the toaster press.

“I wouldn’t have as many friends if it weren’t for her. Or get invited to so many parties.”

“That’s good.” Paige set the sandwich on a plate and pushed it across the counter to Natasha. “But you don’t want her telling you what to do all the time.”

“What—what do you mean?”

Paige decided to be direct. “I couldn’t help overhearing some of your conversation earlier in the kitchen.”

“Oh.” The poor girl went red to the tips of her ears.

“You were talking about a boy. Kane, was it?”

“Um.” The girl turned even redder.

“I hope you’re not going to use him for flirting practice.”

Natasha tore off a corner of her sandwich and stuffed it into her mouth. “Gretel said it would be just a bit of fun,” she mumbled.

Breathing deep, Paige folded her arms. “Fun? To toy with someone?”

“But—but he’s a loser”

“Is that really your opinion, or are you just parroting Gretel?”

Natasha hung her head.

Paige’s heart ached deep in her chest. She knew exactly what Natasha was going through. Been there, done that. And suffered the consequences. Stretching her arm across the counter, she touched Natasha’s hand.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” she said. “But it sounded as if you and Kane like each other. Don’t mess that up just because you want Gretel’s approval.”

The girl looked up, confused and unhappy. “I just want to fit in. It’s hard sometimes because the popular girls are so together and I’mnot.”

“I know it’s difficult sometimes trying to figure it all out.” Paige hesitated as she struggled to find an answer to the teenager’s dilemma. “But what would Owen think if you did what Gretel suggested?”

Natasha bit her lip. “He wouldn’t like me leading someone on just for the hell of it, that’s for sure.” She heaved a sigh. “You’re right. I can’t be so mean to Kane.”

“No, because someday he might become very important to you.” Shoot, where had that come from? And why couldn’t she get Owen’s face out of her mind?

“I didn’t say he’s important to me!” Natasha spluttered. “He’s still a loser.”

“Why?”

“He just is. I can’t be seen with Kane. But I won’t pretend to flirt with him. I’ll just ignore him.” She gathered up the plate and rose from her barstool. “Thanks, Paige. Mind if I eat this in front of the TV?”

Paige gazed after the teenager. If she could go back in time and advise her sixteen-year-old self about Owen, what would she say, and would it have made any difference?



“Everyone calls him Mr. Asquith,” Paige said. “Nobody uses his first name.”

Owen grinned as he leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. “Jim keeps referring to him as ‘the big kahuna.’ I’ll have to watch myself or I’ll call him that by accident.”

They were sitting in the study while Paige briefed Owen on what to expect from their weekend guest. Owen lounged at the desk, casual in a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up and olive-green cargo pants, one ankle resting on his knee, the inevitable canvas sneakers on his feet. He looked like a construction worker, not the co-owner of a thriving building company. A virile, attractive construction worker, she had to admit, unable to stop peeking at his midriff where his shirt had ridden up to reveal a tantalizing slice of taut muscle.

“He’s forty-eight, born into one of the wealthiest families in the country,” she said, keeping her voice brisk. “The Asquiths originally made their fortune from cattle stations. Now they have a finger in every pie. Mining, manufacturing, construction, even television stations. Gordon’s father built up an enormous empire and passed it to his son.”