“She’s not getting into any trouble,” he answered brusquely. “If she were, I’d know about it.”
“I don’t mean that. I’m talking about something more subtle. I get the impression Natasha feels out of her depth at times.”
His neck muscles tensed. “Oh, yeah? Because she doesn’t belong there? Is that what you mean?”
She rolled her eyes. “Can you forget the chip on your shoulder for once?”
“How can I when you’re pointing it out to me?”
“I’m not—” She broke off to suck in an exasperated breath. “For Christ’s sake, Owen. This isn’t about you, it’s about your sister.”
“Who you think doesn’t fit in at Argyle House. Not stuck-up enough, I suppose. Doesn’t have well-connected family.”
Paige glared at him. “No, instead she has an infuriating, pigheaded brother who takes offense at the slightest remark.”
He blinked at her. “Now that’s not nice.”
“You’re not nice,” she huffed. “I’m taking an interest in your sister, and all you do is jump to unflattering conclusions.”
He frowned at the wet road for several moments, uncomfortably aware she was right. Mostly.
“Why are you interested in Natasha, anyway?” he asked.
“Because she’s nice and” She let out a tiny sigh. “Because she reminds me of myself at that age.”
“You? You and Natasha are”—he shook his head—“are galaxies apart.”
“No,” she murmured, “we’re not all that different.”
She seemed to be speaking more to herself than him. He couldn’t understand the strange mood she was in this afternoon. Maybe visiting Sydney and her former manager had made her realize how far she’d fallen, reduced to a humble housekeeper for her former pool boy. But how could she compare her sixteen-year-old self to Natasha? His sister was eager to please, a little bit goofy, even, whereas Paige had been the ultimate ice princess. No, it didn’t make sense. Maybe the truth was she felt sorry for Natasha. Maybe Natasha had confided in her about being teased at school over him—her uncouth brother. He went hot with irritation at the thought. Hotter still at Paige’s solution. He wasn’t going to let his sister change schools just because she was embarrassed by him.
“You don’t have to worry, and neither does Natasha,” he said tersely. “When I land this Asquith guy, nobody will be embarrassed by me.”
She twisted her neck to stare at him. “Were you even listening to me?”
“I’ve been listening to you all day, and I promise not to wear my old sneakers again.”
“You’re not listening to the most important stuff of all!” Suddenly her face was flooded with color, her eyes electric. “Dammit, Owen, I’m more than just a fashionista!”
The fierce heat in her expression had him easing off the accelerator. He shouldn’t have treated her genuine concern for Natasha so flippantly, he realized. “I’m sorry. I guess I am oversensitive about my humble roots.”
“Huh. And I guess the pope’s a Catholic.”
Her eyes were still sparking. Damn, even when she was mad she was gorgeous. “Can we get back to Natasha? I don’t want to pull her out of Argyle House. She’s getting a first-class education, and she seems settled there. I’ll talk to her about her friends. It’s Gretel you’re worried about, isn’t it?”
Paige nodded. “You have no idea how much influence a girl like her can have on her friends. It happened to me” She bit her lip. “Astrid Sherwood was my Gretel.”
Owen waited for her to continue, sensing she was revealing something long hidden.
“She and the others used to come over,” Paige added. “Don’t you remember her around the pool?”
“Not much.” The only girl he’d ever had eyes for was Paige. Her friends had just been part of the background.
“Astrid would challenge me to, you know, parade in front of you,” she said slowly, almost reluctantly. “I didn’t dare refuse because she was the queen bee, and I was desperate to stay in her circle.”
He frowned as an unwelcome thought hit him. “You kissed me just because Astrid dared you to?”
“Oh God no! Astrid would have ridiculed me for that.” She lifted her gaze to him. “No, kissing you was all my idea.”
“Yeah?” Hell, why were they stuck on a freeway where he couldn’t use this opportunity to pull her into his arms and show her how great that idea was? But she had already looked away.
“I’ve made mistakes in my past,” she continued hurriedly. “And I hate seeing Natasha repeat them. I didn’t have anyone to advise me, but Natasha has you. You’ll talk to her, won’t you? A proper talk.”
Her concern for his sister touched him more than he cared to admit. In their teenage years he’d gotten Paige all wrong. Her ice princess act had been just that—an act to cover up a mountain of insecurities, just like his moodiness had been a cover for his self-doubts. If they both hadn’t been so screwed up, maybe things might have been different.
“I promise,” he said.
“Good.” Nodding, she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
There was much more about those teenage years he wanted to quiz her about, but the shutters were back on her face. She was a puzzle, all right, but as he admired her classic profile, he got the feeling he was one step closer to solving the mystery that was Paige Kerrigan.
Chapter Ten
Owen stood on the terrace as Gordon Asquith’s helicopter slowly descended toward the lawn. He wriggled his toes in his new shoes, which were a bit too tight. At least he didn’t have to wear a suit; according to Paige, this weekend was about casual country elegance, so here he was in slim-fit beige cotton trousers, a two-tone gingham shirt, and a little ball of nerves in his gut. He wasn’t anxious about meeting this Asquith guy, but he had a lot riding on this weekend.
As the helicopter rotors whipped the air, Paige, standing next to him, pressed her palms to her hair. In her white crossover top and navy-blue pants she looked spotless, capable, and confident, like she entertained billionaires every weekend.
“How do I look?” he asked.
Her lips edged up briefly. “You look great.”
Some of the tension in him eased. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to dress up to her standards once in a while just to get her approval.
Paige was still gazing at him. “Ready?” she said.
She was on his team; together they could knock this weekend out of the ballpark. He nodded. “Let’s go get this.”
They made their way across the lawn toward the helicopter where several people were disembarking. A tall, well-groomed man with iron-gray hair strode toward them.
“Got the right place, have I?” he addressed Owen. “Gordon Asquith.” His voice was loud and booming; his manner oozed confidence.
“Owen Bellamy. Welcome to my home, Mr. Asquith.” They shook hands. Asquith’s grip was crushing, but after years of construction work Owen could more than match him. After a moment the billionaire gave a slight nod that told Owen his handshake had passed inspection. Right. So the score was even so far.
He introduced Paige, and they exchanged a few pleasantries. From the helicopter a bald man in a dark suit approached them, wheeling two huge suitcases, while the pilot brought up the rear with another suitcase and a set of golf clubs.
“My butler.” Asquith waved his hand at the bald man. “You were told about Cranston, weren’t you? He travels with me everywhere.”
Owen blinked. He’d been prepared for the mountain of luggage, but a traveling butler? Really?
“Of course,” Paige responded smoothly, not giving a hint that the butler was a surprise to her, too. “Why don’t we go inside and I can show you to your rooms?”
As they returned to the house, Owen could only admire Paige’s finesse. She had already prepared the master suite for Asquith, but now they’d have to scramble to find something suitable for the butler.
Back at the house, Asquith nodded his approval in the impressive entrance hall and reception rooms. They were temporarily alone as Paige had led the butler and the luggage upstairs. Owen went through the mental list of safe conversational topics he’d made after spending several nights reading up on Gordon Asquith’s interests.
“Congratulations on your horse winning the Blue Diamond Stakes,” Owen said.
“Thanks. Are you into horse racing, too?”
Apart from a yearly bet on the Melbourne Cup—like virtually everyone else in Australia—Owen had no interest in racing. “I don’t have much time,” he hedged, “but it sounds fascinating.”
“My family’s been racing horses for generations.” Asquith launched into a detailed history of his horses. After a few minutes of Asquith’s monologue, Owen felt his attention wandering, but luckily the other man didn’t seem to need much input from him.
Paige returned just as Asquith was winding up his speech. “This is prime equestrian country around here,” he said to Owen. “Do you go riding much?”
In Owen’s opinion, horses were skittish animals, and he’d never had any desire to ride one. “No,” he replied. Silence swelled around his stark negative.