“You can’t get rid of them, you know,” he said. “I can still order them online.”
She laughed. The feel of Owen’s arm beneath her hand lightened her mood. “What are you so afraid of? Scared I’ll find shoes you’ll like?”
Mike drained his wineglass, looking self-satisfied. “We signed a new client yesterday. Can’t say who, but it’s a megabuck deal.” Picking up the wine bottle, he motioned toward Paige’s half-empty glass. “Can I top you up?”
“No, thanks.” Paige quickly shook her head. “I’ve had plenty.”
“Don’t tell me you’re on a health kick.” Her former boss refilled his glass to the brim.
“Is there anything wrong with being healthy?”
Mike grunted as he ran his gaze over her. “I gotta be blunt with you. You’ve let yourself go a bit.”
“Let myself go?” She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” He waved his hand. “Your hair, your clothes, your makeup, your nails. You used to be so polished and perfect. You were such a princess. No offense, but now you’re kinda fraying at the edges.”
Paige breathed in and out several times. They were in a dark, clubby restaurant, surrounded by other diners doing business lunches. She peered at her reflection in the smoky mirror on the opposite wall. Was Mike right? Had she let herself go? She couldn’t afford the expensive hair salon treatments anymore or the massages, facials, and pedicures she used to think essential. She hadn’t bought any new clothes or makeup in three months—unthinkable once upon a time. Her shoes were last season, her bag at least a year old. Yes, he was right. She wasn’t polished and perfect anymore, but maybe she didn’t want to be.
She lifted her head. “There’s nothing wrong with my brain. I’m still good at my job.”
“You were good at your job because you were good to look at.”
Her mouth fell open. “What?”
Mike shifted about in his seat. “Come on, Paige. You know the industry. Image is paramount.”
“But I have a degree in marketing—”
“So do hundreds of job applicants. I’m not saying you’re dumb—far from it—but if you want to come back to Focus you’ll have to smarten up. I mean, look at your nails. What have you been doing to them?”
She studied her nails. Sure, they weren’t long and French manicured, but they were neat and pretty enough in pink polish.
Mike leaned his elbows on the table. “Look, I’m trying to help you. I’m giving you some good advice. Even if you don’t want to work for me again, you’ll need to spruce yourself up before you start job interviewing.”
Paige pressed her lips together. “So you’re saying the only reason you hired me in the first place was because of the way I looked?”
“Yeah.” Mike shrugged, unapologetic. “And also because you’re Crystal Kerrigan’s daughter.”
Her heart shrank. “I see,” she forced through a tight throat. “I always suspected that might have been a factor. Thanks for confirming it.”
He gulped down some wine. “Hey, it’s a tough market, and your mother’s name got you a break.”
“I didn’t trade on my looks or my name. I worked damned hard for you.” He couldn’t deny that, she thought indignantly.
“Then you gave it up for that husband of yours.” His gaze dropped to her shirtfront. “And look how that turned out for you.”
Anger surged in a hot tide over her skin. Anger at Seth for being such a rat, anger at herself for being so foolish, anger at her ex-boss for leering at her. But she refused to lose it. This was the kind of dickhead behavior she’d have to cope with if she wanted to relaunch her career. If she couldn’t deal with Mike’s sleazy smirking, then she might as well remain buried in Burronga.
Beneath the tabletop she curled her hands into fists. “Thank you for reminding me, Mike. You’re all class.”
At that he had the grace to look sheepish. “Ah, jeez. I’m sorry, but I had to mention it.”
Had to? For a second she fantasized punching his alcohol-flushed face. Gathering her things, she rose from the table. “Nice seeing you again, but I really need to get going.”
“Um?” Mike stumbled to his feet, almost upsetting his glass. “But we’ve barely been here an hour. I thought you wanted to discuss your career.”
Not with him. He’d only hired her on her looks and connections. He’d never taken her seriously, she now saw. All her hard work and brilliant ideas, he hadn’t appreciated any of that. A woman’s appearance is her best investment. Her mother’s advice echoed through her head. Men appreciate a woman who takes care of her looks.
Yeah? But what if that was all they appreciated about her?
“Another time maybe.” She gave Mike a tight smile before hurrying out of the restaurant as fast as she could.
It started to rain as soon as they hit the freeway leading southwest out of Sydney. Owen flicked on the windshield wipers. The falling rain closed in on them, obscuring the outside world; they were cocooned inside his car, but the atmosphere didn’t feel exactly cozy. Paige sat just a few inches from him, but she’d never seemed more distant. Silent and still, she gazed out the rain-blurred window, though he doubted she saw much.
He blamed her remoteness on her lunch with her former boss. Before that, when they’d been shopping together, the strain between them had thawed. In the shoe shop, she’d talked him into buying several pairs of shoes and even found him some sneakers that were stylish—according to her. They’d had fun together, but then she’d gone off for her lunch appointment, leaving him to eat a burger at a local café. When she returned, all the fun had vanished from her, and she’d been silent ever since the start of their return trip. Not the overstrung silence of the morning journey; this time her silence was sad, depressed even.
“Was your ex-boss no help to you, then?” he asked, tiring of holding his tongue.
Paige lifted her head from the hand she’d been propping it on and aimed her gray gaze at him. “What do you mean?”
Answering a question with a question—she had to be hiding something. He shrugged. “It’s none of my business, but it’s plain your lunch meeting didn’t go too well.”
“Oh, it went well enough.” She tapped her fingers on the armrest. “Not exactly what I planned, but I learned a thing or two.” Her expression grew grimmer.
“Did he?” Did he mention the video? Just in time he bit off the question, though it continued to burn on his tongue.
“Offer me a job?” Paige smoothed a strand of hair away from her forehead. “No, but even if he did, I wouldn’t take it.”
“Why not?”
“The details don’t matter. I don’t need Mike. I have other contacts I’ll approach once this Asquith weekend is over. I’ll get a job where my marketing skills count for something.”
Owen clamped the steering wheel tighter. Now he was sure the ex-boss had said something snide about the video. The idea of some greased-up dick making tacky remarks about her one and only slipup made his blood boil. If he’d been with Paige, he’d have made sure the guy treated her with respect. But one glance at her shuttered face told him she wouldn’t appreciate that. She didn’t need him to fight her battles; she didn’t need him for anything. Well, except for a quick roll in the hay to relieve the stress, but that was all.
She stared ahead, her face a porcelain mask. How could he get her to open up to him? Crap, he was becoming too needy around Paige.
In the drizzling rain they passed the turnoff that led to Jim and Heidi’s house, reminding Owen of what he was—a working-class man despite the fancy new clothes sitting in the back of his car. The smart threads were just a costume for a part he would play on the weekend. They weren’t who he was.
“Owen?” Paige’s voice pulled him out of his dark thoughts. “I’m sorry I was so short with you. I just have a lot on my mind.”
The smile she gave him was brief, tentative, but it sent a shaft through him.
“I understand.” He paused, wanting to steer the conversation away from her ex-boss. “Thanks for helping me with the clothes, by the way.”
“My pleasure.” Her smile widened. “I enjoyed it.”
“I should have picked up something for Natasha. She’ll be annoyed I went shopping in Sydney and didn’t get her anything.”
“You can take her one weekend, make it a nice treat.”
“Yeah, maybe I will.” Once he’d managed to rope Asquith in as an investor and Bandicoot Creek was safely on its way, it would be good to spend more time with his sister.
“Do you think Argyle House is the right school for Natasha?”
He jerked his head at Paige. “Huh?”
“Maybe it’s not the best place for her.”
Baffled, he stared ahead at the road. The wipers swooshed across the glass, while red taillights glowed through the rain ahead of him.
Paige cleared her throat. “It’s just that I think some of the girls may be manipulating her, making her act out of character.”