She dusted her hands and left the room, not even brave enough to wish him good-night.
Chapter Eleven
Owen watched the taillights of the taxi slowly disappear into the darkness. He’d stood on the porch like a bouncer while Cranston and the driver loaded the luggage and Asquith flounced into the backseat, never acknowledging Owen.
When the quiet of the night once more descended, he went back inside. As he shut the door, the house seemed bigger and emptier than ever before. He collected a brush and pan from the kitchen and took care of the broken glass in the den. He cleaned up the mess left after dinner, then went upstairs to strip the beds made up for Asquith and his butler. All signs of his visitors had to be removed, and he didn’t want Paige doing it.
The thought of Paige made his heart pound. The memory of those sleazy comments spewing out of Asquith, the supposed crème de la crème of society, triggered a fresh spurt of aggression. When the jerk had grabbed her wrist, it had cost all his willpower and then some to stop himself from knocking out the bastard. Taking a punch from the guy had been a relief because it had given him an excuse to hit back.
His business deal was deader than a dodo, but all he could think about was Paige and how shocked she’d been. In the face of Asquith’s smut, she’d put on a brave front. Now, as he stood in his big, silent house, he just wanted to see her again.
He strode out of the house before he could stop himself. This was insane, he told himself as he loped across the damp lawn. It was late. She must have gone to bed. He was the last person she wanted to see at this hour. But still he kept going, and when he rounded the rhododendron bushes and saw the light glowing in the cottage, anticipation pinched at his gut.
Sucking in a deep breath, he knocked gently on the door. “Paige? It’s Owen.”
A muffled sound came from inside. The bolt rattled as it slid back. The door opened a few inches, and Paige’s face, pale and free of makeup, appeared in the crack.
“Is—is something the matter?” Her expression was composed, but the redness tingeing her eyelids gave her away.
“I want to talk to you.” About what, he had no idea, but he had to get inside. “Can I come in?”
A look of confusion passed over her before she nodded and opened the door wider. “Yes, sure.”
He hadn’t been inside her cottage since the day he’d helped her with the painting. The dingy little sitting room had been transformed into a bright, cheerful space. There were sunny yellow walls, gleaming white trim, wickerwork furniture with pink and yellow cushions. The screens he’d ordered fitted snugly over the windows. The tiny kitchen was done up in yellow and white, too, nothing too chintzy, just breezy and welcoming.
“Wow, this is amazing.” For the first time he realized how much effort she’d spent on the cottage even though she’d known she wouldn’t be there for long.
He glanced back at Paige and noticed she’d showered. A thick robe enveloped her, and her damp blond hair clung to her cheeks. She must have rushed back here and jumped into the shower.
“Asquith’s gone,” he said abruptly. “He won’t be coming back.”
Her chin wobbled. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. “I—I’m sorry.”
He stared at her. “Why?”
“I ruined your deal.” She lifted her eyes to him, and the pain in them sliced through him. “All because of my stupid mistake.”
Dazed, he shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that scumbag sleazed all over you.” He flexed his hands, feeling helpless. “I’m sorry I didn’t lay him out instead of just slapping him.”
“So you’re not mad at me for torpedoing your deal?”
“Mad at you?” His mind went blank with astonishment. “No, course not.”
She hugged the robe closer to her. “Are you sure? Asquith isn’t someone you want for an enemy. He’s vindictive, and he has a memory like an elephant. He won’t forget in a hurry.”
He looked down at her slim bare feet. They looked pale and cold, and he thought about rubbing them. The idea set a buzz through his bloodstream.
“It’s too late now.”
“Oh, no.” She sank into the couch, still nibbling at her lower lip. “I know how much your project means to youyou know, for Jim and Heidi.”
He sat next to her on the narrow couch. All day he’d been walking on eggshells, but now for the first time he could breathe properly.
“Jim and Heidi will be disappointed, but they’ll understand when they learn the details.”
“Oh.” Her head whipped up. “You’re going to tell them everything?”
“Not everything, no,” he said quickly. “Just the gist of events.”
She frowned, her fingers worrying at her lower lip. “It’s ridiculous of me to care after so many people already know about the video.”
“You know what? I’m glad about that video.”
Her cheeks reddened. “Typical male. You’ve watched the video, haven’t you, even though you denied it.”
He held up his hands. “Why would I when I’ve already seen the real deal?”
Fierce eyes like lightning bolts narrowed at him. “Then why are you glad?”
“Because for once you let your hair down. You weren’t the frosty princess. You danced, you sang, you showed off your incredible body.” He grinned at her. “I only wish”
Her elegantly arched eyebrows drew together. “What?”
He breathed in, his heart filling with her presence. It was midnight, and he was sitting with the one woman who’d plagued his sanity all these years. She’d snubbed him, lured him, hurt him, kissed him, betrayed him, helped him, and there was no one on the planet he’d rather be with. She was both his ruin and his salvation. He was in love with her. Had been ever since he was sixteen, but that had been a raw, immature feeling, not this rich, all-encompassing emotion that excited and scared him at the same time.
He swallowed hard. “I only wish it could have been me you danced naked for.” Lifting a finger, he smoothed a strand of hair clinging to her cheek, his hand not quite steady.
Her eyes became blank pools of gray. “Owen” Her voice was a husky whisper filled with longing. “I wish it had been you, too.”
It took a few moments for her words to sink in. He sucked in a breath, and then another one, aware that everything was teetering on a knife-edge. He fought the hunger to gather her in his arms and lose himself in her kiss The stakes were so much higher now. He hated bringing up her ex-husband, but he had to.
Instead of wrapping his arm around her waist like he wanted, he settled his hand on her shoulder. “Why did you marry Seth? Were you in love with him?”
She swallowed and lowered her eyes, and for a second he thought she might shrug off his hand, but she didn’t. “All my life my mother drummed into me how important it was to choose the right husband. She’d been dumped a few times before she met my father, you see. She always told me to pick someone” Her face screwed up, self-deprecating. “Someone I could manage. Like my dad, I suppose. He stays in the background and pays the bills. So when I met Seth, he seemed ideal. He never minded me organizing our lives, he never had a wandering eye for other women, he had a good job. So when Seth got a transfer to London and wanted me to go with him, I said we had to make things official between us first.”
Owen couldn’t help snorting. “He didn’t propose? Wasn’t that a warning signal?”
Paige shrugged. “I didn’t care because all I could think about was the wedding. You know, I was just ten when my friends and I started planning our weddings. I had all these years of fantasies, and my mother was so caught up in it, too, and it became a whirlwind I couldn’t stop. I was so busy planning the perfect wedding I never stopped to consider if the groom was the right man for me.” She twisted the belt of her robe, her expression growing sad. “You asked if I was in love with Seth. Well, I don’t know what it is to be truly in love with someone, but I’m sure I never felt that for Seth.”
His heart thudded, heavy and painful, in his chest. Words spun through his head, none of them making any sense. Dammit, why wasn’t he better at talking? All he could do was squeeze her shoulder.
“I’ve always dated men like Seth,” she said. “Men I thought were ‘safe.’” She hesitated, winding the belt tighter around her fingers. “You—you were the only man who didn’t feel safe.”
He gaped at her. “Me? But” He shook his head in bewilderment. “But I would never have forced you tothat’s ridiculous.”
“Oh, no, of course you wouldn’t have forced me.” She inhaled quickly. “I—you wouldn’t have had to force me because I was so keen to let you do whatever you wanted with me.” A slow flush moved up her neck and cheeks. “All those years ago, each time you kissed me, I went to pieces. I wanted you so, so badly, and that terrified me, that feeling of losing control, of being sucked into you like a whirlpool. Every time you touched me I lost a bit more of myself, and yet I couldn’t help going back for more. I was so frightened because—because I knew if we kept on kissing we’d end up in bed together.” She halted, her breathing unsteady, her face bright pink.