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“Sounds like you’ve done well for yourself,” Brandon said.
“I’ve worked hard.”
“How long have you worked with Hannah’s Hope?”
“Since February.”
“You’re friends with Ana Rodriguez and Emma Worth?”
“No, I met Ana through a business contact. I coordinated a wedding for a friend of hers. She was impressed, and when she was looking for someone to plan the gala she remembered me. Emma I don’t know well at all.”
“How much do you know about Hannah’s Hope?”
“Other than what they do for the community, and the information I need for the gala, not much. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” he said, and gestured to Billie, who was taking an order a few booths down. Several more booths and tables had filled with customers since they sat down. “So, what do you do for fun?”
Hadn’t they already covered this? “I don’t really have time for fun.”
“What do you do on your days off?”
“I don’t take days off.”
His brow rose. “Are you telling me you work seven days a week?”
“Typically, yes.” She lifted her glass and realized she’d already sipped her way to the bottom. She hadn’t meant to drink it so fast.
“Everyone needs a day off now and then,” he said.
“It’s not as if I don’t ever take a day off. It’s just that my business is at a crucial stage right now. The Hannah’s Hope gala could make or break my career.”
That seemed to surprise him. “It’s that important?”
“Absolutely. With Ana’s fiancé, Ward Miller, involved, and his name behind the organization, there will be music executives and Hollywood people attending. That’s exactly the clientele I need to target in order to expand my company.”
“I didn’t realize it would be that big of a deal,” he said, looking like the idea made him a little nervous.
“Don’t worry. You’ll do fine. I’ll have you so well prepared, no one will ever guess you’ve never been in the public eye.”
Billie appeared and set two more drinks in front of them.
“Thanks, Billie,” Brandon said.
When had he ordered these? “You said one drink,” she reminded him, glancing at the time on her phone. She’d already been away from the office longer than she should have.
“You’re not enjoying my company?” he asked.
No, she was definitely enjoying it. For some reason, she felt comfortable talking to Brandon. Maybe because he really listened. She even liked the nervous, fidgety feeling she got when he studied her with those ocean-blue eyes. Even though it was wrong in more ways than she cared to consider. But a girl could fantasize, couldn’t she? She could imagine how it would feel to be close to him. Even if it could never happen.
She had a plan. Her life was mapped out and there just wasn’t a place for a man like Brandon. Although it sure would be fun to squeeze him in for a night or two. But everything inside of her was saying that would be a bad idea.
“I didn’t say that,” she said. “I just have a lot of work to do.”
“What would happen if you didn’t work tonight?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Would your business crumble? Would the world come to an end?”
Now he was being ridiculous. “Of course not.”
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his much larger one, fixing his gaze on her.
Oh, boy.
The look in his eyes, the warmth of his rough palm was doing funny things to her insides. To her head. How long had it been since a man’s touch made her feel this way?
Way too long.
“Don’t go back to work,” he said, his eyes so warm and earnest she melted on the spot. “Spend the rest of the evening with me.”
Three
Brandon knew he had her.
When he touched Paige’s hand he could see her resolve draining away. Although he wasn’t sure why he was so intent on getting her to hang around when it was clear that he wasn’t going to get any information out of her in regard to the inner workings of Hannah’s Hope. So why not cut her loose right now?
Because maybe what he’d told her about being lonely wasn’t an exaggeration. He hadn’t had a whole lot of female companionship lately. Hell, he hadn’t so much as looked at a woman since he caught Ashleigh with his now ex-foreman going at it in the stable two days before their wedding last winter.
But he liked Paige. She wasn’t what he’d expected when he first saw her, prim and proper behind her desk in her designer clothes. She was no trust-fund girl. It sounded as if she worked damned hard to be successful. And the fact that she would agree to go out for a drink with a man who was, as far as she knew, poor and uneducated, said a lot about her character. The fancy labels were for her clients, to give the appearance of professionalism, not because she was a snob. And he couldn’t deny that was a refreshing change from women like his ex who spent thousands on their wardrobe for no other reason than to impress their friends. Or simply because they had money to burn. In his fiancée’s case, his money.
Paige even reminded him of himself in a way. Isolated and obsessed with work. After the breakup he’d spent the majority of his time holed up at the ranch, seeing to the day-to-day operations. It was a rare occasion that he made it into town for any reason. Even a beer at the local brewery on a Friday night. He’d shut himself off from the world. And lately he’d been so obsessed with discrediting Rafe Cameron, he hadn’t thought of much else. Only now, after meeting Paige, did he feel the desire for companionship.
But he had to be very careful where and with whom he let himself be seen. He couldn’t risk being recognized and blowing his cover, not when he’d already invested more than four months in his plan. Especially if he planned to blow everything wide open at the gala—although at this point, there was nothing to blow open.
It seemed as if Paige was far enough removed from the people at Hannah’s Hope, and from the rest of the world in general, that there was no threat of exposure when he was with her. And no one was bound to recognize him in this bar. No one he knew as Brandon Worth would be caught dead in a place like this. Personally, he preferred it over the Vista del Mar Beach and Tennis Club where his father and men like him drank eighty-year-old scotch and compared portfolios. Although after fifteen years he doubted anyone would recognize him. Just like he preferred being at the ranch, in the mountains, instead of cooped up in an office. He hadn’t been built for the rat race. A trait he could only assume he’d inherited from his mother.
Paige sat across from him, gnawing the gloss from her full bottom lip, but she didn’t move her hand. Maybe she liked the way it felt wrapped in his. He did. In fact, if he had his way, they would be doing a lot more than just holding hands. Maybe it was finally time to end his self-imposed celibacy.
“I guess it wouldn’t kill me to take one night off,” she finally said. “But I do have to work in the morning so I can’t be out too late.”
“I’ll have you home before my truck turns into a pumpkin, I promise.”
“And just so we’re clear,” she said, easing her hand out from under his, “this is not a date. We can be friends, but nothing more.”
“Friends it is,” he said. The kind with benefits, maybe.
She relaxed back in her seat and took another sip of her wine. The bar was filling up. Soon people would be out on the dance floor, and at seven the band would start playing. And date or not, he had every intention of asking Paige to dance. A few more drinks and he was pretty sure he could persuade her into it. He could tell by her body language that the wine was already relaxing her.
She gazed up at him through the fringe of her lashes. Her eyes were quite extraordinary. Back in her office he could have sworn they were blue, but in this light they looked almost purple.
“You’re staring at me,” Paige said.
He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “I’m trying to figure out what color your eyes are.”
“It depends on my mood. Sometimes they’re blue, sometimes they’re violet.”
“What mood are you in when they’re violet?”
“Happy. Relaxed.”
He wondered what color they were when she was aroused, and if he would be lucky enough to find out.
“We’ve talked about me ever since we sat down. Why don’t you tell me about you,” she said, then added, “And don’t say there isn’t much to tell. Everyone has a story.”
He couldn’t tell her his. Not the full version, anyway. But he knew the fewer lies he told, the fewer he had to remember, so it was best to stick as close to the truth as possible while still keeping up the charade.
“I’m originally from California,” he said. “Not too far from here, in fact. My father lives pretty close by.”
“Do you visit him?”
“Not in a long time. Suffice it to say we don’t see eye to eye. About a lot of things.”
“You said your mom died when you were young.”
“Accidental overdose,” he said. It had never been officially ruled a suicide, but only because she hadn’t left a note. Anyone who knew Denise Worth knew she’d been miserable enough to take her own life. No thanks to his father and his extramarital affairs. Though Brandon had only been fourteen, her death had been the last straw, the final wedge in a relationship that had always been volatile in the best of circumstances. After her death, he and his father barely spoke. His mother had always favored Brandon, and his sister, Emma, had been daddy’s little princess. And still was, as far as he knew.
“Do you have siblings?” Paige asked.
“A sister. But I haven’t seen her in fifteen years.” Not since the day he’d headed off to boarding school on the east coast. Although from what he’d heard, she’d married recently and was pregnant with her first child. He would be an uncle, but in title only. He doubted he would ever see the child.
“Fifteen years is a long time not to talk to a sister.”
“It’s complicated.”
“It must be, because it’s hard to imagine that someone as personable, as nice, as you, could hold a grudge for so long.”
He grinned. “You barely know me. Maybe I’m only pretending to be nice.”
She considered that for a second, then shook her head. “No.
You’re forgetting, I’m an image consultant. I’m pretty adept at reading people. The way you handled saleslady sunshine earlier, that’s impossible to fake. You’re good with people. A nice guy.”
Maybe too nice. Definitely too trusting. Ashleigh had taught him that, and it had been a bitter pill to swallow. But she was the last person he wanted to think about right now.
“So I guess you kinda like me,” he said, grinning. “Since I’m such a nice guy.”
“Maybe I don’t like nice guys,” she said draining her second glass. “Maybe I prefer men who are bad for me.”
The wine must have been going to her head. She was starting to get flirtatious.
He leaned forward, locking his eyes on hers. “I’ll have you know, I can be very bad.”
Maybe it was his imagination, but he could swear the color of her eyes deepened. And he had the feeling this was about to get interesting.
“Why is it that a beautiful woman like you doesn’t have a boyfriend?”
“Who says I don’t?”
“If you did, you wouldn’t have been planning to work on a Friday night. And you sure as hell wouldn’t be here with me.”
“I’m focusing on my career. I don’t have time for a relationship.”
Exactly the type of woman he needed right now. One who wouldn’t want or expect a commitment. Paige was becoming more appealing by the minute. Most women came after him all pistons firing, talons out.
This was a refreshing change of pace. A woman who didn’t have time for him. Of course, if she knew about the millions in his trust fund, she might make time.
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” she asked.
He grinned. “Who says I don’t?”
“If you did, you wouldn’t be here with me.”
Touché. “Until late last year I had a fiancée.”
The teasing expression slipped from her face. “It didn’t work out?”
“If ‘didn’t work out’ is a polite way of saying that she cheated on me with the ranch foreman.”
She winced and shook her head. “I don’t understand people who cheat on their significant others. If you aren’t happy with someone, why not just leave?”
Ashleigh had a couple million reasons to stick around. And according to her, she’d never been “happy” with him, or had any intention of being faithful. All she cared about was the money. Or so she had spat at him when he kicked her to the curb. But she’d sure had him snowed. She’d managed to convince him that he was the love of her life.
“Are you speaking from personal experience?” he asked.
“No, but my mom had boyfriends who couldn’t seem to keep it in their pants. Of course, being with someone like my mom couldn’t have been a picnic.”
“Why is that?”
She hesitated, then said, “My mom was an alcoholic. She started drinking the day my dad died, and didn’t stop until she drank herself to death.”
“That must have been rough.”
“She was weak and pathetic.”
And obviously Paige resented the hell out of her for it, and he was guessing she would do anything to not be like her. To be successful and self-sufficient. Not the type of woman who used a man for his money. Not that he was in the market for a relationship.
Maybe it was time he lightened the mood a little. He gestured to Billie for another round, and since there happened to be a slow song playing, he slid out of the booth and held out his hand. “Dance with me.”
