One Real Man (Entangled Bliss) ) (5 page)

“Hey, I heard about you and Seth.” Astrid’s ice-pick drawl dragged Paige from her memories. “Too bad, hmm?”

Astrid’s sympathy was about as genuine as the Tooth Fairy. Paige lifted her shoulders and replied with a noncommittal grimace. No way was she going to discuss her failed marriage with her best frenemy.

“You should count yourself lucky to be rid of him.” Astrid circled her manicured finger around the top of the can of Red Bull. Her eyes glinted. “Very lucky, lucky, lucky…”

A cold spasm gripped Paige low in the gut. Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched a carton of milk. There was no mistaking what Astrid was alluding to. She’d seen the video, and no doubt spread the word. All the people Paige knew in Burronga had probably seen it. Watched it and snickered and judged her.

The catlike smile on Astrid’s face made her feel so small. Made her feel sixteen again, anxious to be accepted by Astrid’s group, willing to do anything to get the queen bee’s stamp of approval. “Why can’t you be more like Astrid Sherwood?” her mother had sighed on numerous occasions. “Now there’s a girl who knows how to make the most of herself.” So she’d tried really hard to emulate Astrid, to be liked by Astrid, and all it had gotten her was this—a supercilious gibe in the middle of a supermarket.

Paige stood there, frozen and helpless in her humiliation, like a worm trapped beneath Astrid’s ballet flat, waiting to be squashed.

Lifting a languid hand, Astrid smoothed her immaculate hair. “Well, so you’re back home, filling up on”—she peered at the groceries—“Pepsi and cheddar cheese and—good lord, is that bologna sausage? Eww.” She made a face. “Eric’s builders are always eating bologna sausage sandwiches. Do you have a hot, buff builder at your place? Wouldn’t be surprised…”

As she tittered, an image of Owen flashed into Paige’s brain. Hot, buff builder—yes, he was that, all right. Before she could help it, a prickling flush swept across her cheeks, making Astrid crow louder.

“You are a naughty possum! Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I won’t breathe a word about you and your builder and your bologna sausage.” She waved a farewell, her diamond ring sparkling, and sauntered off.

Paige fumed silently and helplessly as she watched Astrid flip out her mobile phone. In five minutes, all of Astrid’s friends would know whom she’d bumped into. Damn her. But there was nothing Paige could do, since hurling a carton of milk at Astrid’s immaculate head was probably against the law. No, she’d have to suck it up, buttercup.

Chapter Four

Paige glanced around the kitchen. Everything was ready for the party. The food from Carlotta’s Bistro had been delivered, and all the chafing dishes were set up in the dining room. In the last fifteen minutes, guests had been arriving and gathering in the formal living room with Owen.

As the chatter filtered down the hallway, Paige drummed her fingernails on the kitchen counter. Soon, she’d have to enter that living room with a tray of champagne flutes and face everyone for the first time. She didn’t like to admit it, but she was nervous about tonight, about appearing as Owen’s housekeeper in front of Nate and Ally and the rest of their friends. They had no reason to feel kindly toward her. In the past Paige wouldn’t have cared whether casual acquaintances liked her or not, but after her run-in with Astrid yesterday, she was fresh out of chutzpah.

And how would Owen treat her in front of his friends? He wasn’t a cruel man, but he might not be able to resist a dig or two at her expense. She couldn’t let him get to her. Which was why, after preparing the dining room, she had dashed back to her cottage and made herself more presentable. Her sleek black trousers, figure-hugging crossover top, and black high heels were too elegant for a housekeeper, and her upswept hairdo and diamond earrings were probably going too far, but she needed the boost to her confidence. She wanted to look on top of the situation, not conquered by it.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor before Owen entered the kitchen. He stopped short. “Oh.” He stared at her chic appearance. “What happened to you?”

“I changed.” She tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ears. “I feel more comfortable like this.”

“Comfortable? You’re better dressed than all the guests, including me.”

She examined his chinos and plaid shirt. Hmm, he’d gotten the colors and textures right, but he plainly hadn’t put much thought into his clothes, and once again he was wearing those disreputable canvas sneakers. If Owen bothered to get some stylish threads, he’d look more like the successful company executive he was, and less like a…well, a builder… Not that there was anything wrong with looking like a builder, and Owen did the construction worker look very well. The shirt stretched tight across his well-built shoulders, highlighting the broadness of his chest, and the chinos hugged snugly to his narrow hips and long legs. And there was a rugged appeal to his rough hair and stubbled chin…

Paige caught her breath. She was ogling Owen. Right in front of him, too. How awkward. She gestured nonchalantly. “I was tired of looking like a frump these past few days.”

“You weren’t a frump. You looked just fine.” A line appeared between his eyes. “Now you look like Princess Paige again.”

“Really?” She smiled. Being Princess Paige was good; that was what she wanted, despite Owen’s disapproval.

“You’re the housekeeper now. Remember?”

“How can I forget when you remind me all the time?”

He continued to frown at her. “Have you got the champagne ready? Nate and Ally should be here any minute. I want everyone with a glass before they arrive.”

“Everything’s set.” She gestured to the two trays of crystal champagne flutes on the counter before walking to the refrigerator and extracting two magnums of champagne. “Do you want to do the honors?”

He wrestled with the bottle, eventually opening it with brute force. “I usually drink beer,” he said as he handed it to her and reached for the second magnum. “I’m not used to opening champagne bottles.”

He wasn’t telling Paige anything new, but there was something…endearing about watching Owen manhandle the expensive French champagne. They filled the glasses and each lifted a tray.

“Okay there?” Owen asked as the glasses on her tray clinked together.

“Sure.” She nodded, firming her grip on the tray. It wasn’t the weight concerning her, but the crowd in the other room. They were waiting for her, it felt. She followed Owen down the hall, falling behind as he entered the living room.

Guests gathered around him, each taking a glass. “There’s more champagne coming,” he said before twisting his head toward him. “Paige?”

Sucking in her stomach muscles, she moved into the room, shoulders back, spine straight, tray held perfectly still in her hands. It seemed every head in the room swiveled in her direction as the hubbub died down for a few seconds.

Owen was looking at her, his face expressionless. “This is Paige, my housekeeper,” Owen said to everyone.

Someone at the back of the room coughed. Paige glanced around, bracing herself against recognition. None of these people seemed familiar, but there was no way of knowing if she’d inadvertently snubbed any of them, and maybe they just resented her because of who she was. The bones of her fingers ached as she gripped the tray tighter.

“Hello, Paige.” A red-haired woman in tight purple jeans stepped up and lifted a champagne flute from the tray. “You remember me—I’m Tyler?”

Paige’s heart sank a little. Tyler was the jewelry maker whom her mother had treated shabbily, commissioning a necklace from her and then reneging on the arrangement. Paige had offered Tyler some compensation, but the fiery redhead had refused and stormed off. She wouldn’t be too friendly toward the Kerrigan family again.

“Hello,” Paige replied, maintaining her calm facade while she waited for a scornful glare at the very least.

But Tyler gave her a friendly nod and pointed to the tall, casually dressed man next to her. “This is my husband, Luke Maguire.”

The name plus the obvious pride in Tyler’s voice prompted Paige’s memory, and she recalled that Luke Maguire was a famous author who’d even more famously walked away from his agent and a lucrative publishing deal because of artistic differences. He and Tyler made a good match. The author eyed Paige curiously as he, too, took a glass of champagne before other guests moved forward for their flutes. Paige had to endure a barrage of inquisitive stares, but just as the silent interrogation began to wear on her nerves, Owen told everyone to pipe down as Nate and Ally had pulled up outside the house.

The room fell silent, and a moment later the doorbell rang. Owen disappeared to open the door, and seconds later footsteps sounded in the hallway. When Nate and Ally appeared at the doorway, the entire room erupted. “Surprise!”

Nate started. Flabbergasted, he swung to Ally, who grinned broadly at him. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” His face melted and he folded her into a bear hug as the guests surged forward.

While everyone was wishing Nate well, Paige surreptitiously moved to the back of the room, still clutching her tray. She was the odd one out. She didn’t belong here. Her childhood home was now turned over to Owen and his friends, people who in the past had never come to this house as invited guests. People who weren’t rich like her parents, people more like most of Burronga. Everyone here was outside her social circle. Like Tyler, looking so bright and effervescent with her husband. Tyler was friends with Ally, she recalled, and the two were partners in Ally’s gift store. And over there was Ally’s sister, Jess, who had made the floral arrangements for Paige’s wedding. God, she didn’t need a reminder of
that
.

And here was Owen with Nate and Ally walking up to her. “Paige? Do we have champagne for Nate and Ally?”

Paige lifted the forgotten tray, her face feeling tight as the three approached her. With the memories of her wedding still choking her, she couldn’t think of anything to say.

Nate nodded at her, his expression speculative. “Hello, Paige.”

“Hello.” She tensed, waiting for him to mention Seth. Surely he would; they were cousins. Nate had helped Seth settle in Sydney, had gotten him started in stockbroking. Heavens, Nate had even persuaded Seth not to marry his first fiancée, Ally, who was standing between Nate and Owen. And then Nate had ended up falling in love with Ally, which must have caused him a few difficulties. Hopefully Ally hadn’t made it easy for him.

Paige turned reluctantly to Ally. This was an awkward situation, meeting her ex-husband’s ex-fiancée. Did that make them members of the same group? The group of Seth-haters? Only, Paige doubted she’d have much in common with her. Ally had curly brown hair framing a fresh-scrubbed face. Like Nate, she wore denim jeans and a plain shirt, her only jewelry the wedding band and diamond on her left hand. She looked like an ad for wholesome country living, and suddenly Paige felt horribly overdressed in her swanky black clothes.

“Hello, Ally,” she said, keeping her tone cool so she wouldn’t start squirming.

Nate immediately put his arm around Ally’s waist, pulling her closer as if to protect her. Paige compressed her lips. Did he think she was such a cold snob his wife needed safeguarding?

Ally grinned faintly. “Hi, Paige.” She seemed friendly enough.

Nate gazed at Paige. “We’re sorry to hear about you and Seth splitting up.”

Uh-oh, here we go
. To show him and everyone else her divorce hadn’t broken her down, Paige lifted her shoulders and said, “We all learn from our mistakes.”

Oh, the mistakes she’d made to end up here serving champagne to strangers in her own home. She caught Owen’s intense gaze fixed on her, as if he could read her thoughts.

Ally cleared her throat. “Well, you look nice tonight.”

Paige kept her lips thinned, searching Ally’s words for a hint of sarcasm but not finding any. “I like to maintain my standards.”

Ally gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, it’s nice of Owen to host Nate’s party. We’re putting this beautiful house to shame.” She gestured at the walls covered in timber paneling and silk fabric and the chandeliers above them.

Owen snorted. “Course not. This is who we are, and we wanted a casual get-together, not some fancy affair where we’re too uncomfortable to enjoy ourselves.” He shot another pointed glance at Paige’s elegant attire.

Already sensitized by the awkward situation, Paige felt the blood thumping in her head. Did Owen expect her to be so humiliated by her change in fortunes that she’d dissolve into a bundle of meekness? She might have made plenty of mistakes, but she hadn’t fallen that far.

She unceremoniously plunked the tray on a nearby table and aimed a frosty glare at him. “This is your house now. You can be as casual as you like. But in my opinion, elegance is never out of place.” Without pausing, she flounced out of the room, wondering if she’d just erred yet again.

…

Owen’s temples pounded as he watched Paige sweep out of the room like an indignant snow queen. It didn’t help that she looked gorgeous from behind, with her upswept hair revealing the long, smooth column of her neck. The urge to caress her silky nape crashed headlong into his desire to growl at her. How could she rile him and tempt him so much simultaneously?

Behind him, Nate spoke up. “Mate, that was a bit rough, don’t you think?”

Owen turned to Ally. “And you? Do you think the same?”

Ally shrugged and lifted her hands placatingly. “It must be a difficult situation for her.”

“I’m not responsible for that.”

Cocking her head, Ally smiled gently. “Aren’t you?”

His friends didn’t get it. Paige had purposely dressed up, to show him that even though she was now the servant and he the master, in reality their roles would never be reversed. As if to say, “Don’t get too full of yourself. Just because you’re the legal tenant in my house doesn’t mean you belong here.”

Damn her and her superior ways. And damn how fine she looked in that black outfit. She had no business being snotty
and
sexy at the same time.

Ally picked up two glasses of champagne and handed one to Nate. “Many happy returns, darling.”

Owen tried to set aside his silent frustration as Ally and Nate exchanged loving kisses. Ally was such a sweetheart, Owen mused. He got why Nate was so crazy for her. In fact, Ally was just the type of girl Owen usually went for—sporty, down-to-earth, natural. No caked-on makeup or flashy clothing, no attitude. So why couldn’t he stop obsessing about the creamy deliciousness of Paige’s neck?

Nate squeezed his wife around the waist. “I’ve got to hand it to you. I never suspected a thing.”

“Well, I had to repay you for my surprise wedding!” She smiled happily at him.

“I thought we were just picking up Owen and heading out for a quiet dinner at the Red Possum with a few people.”

Sighing, Owen rubbed his aching temples. “We should have done that instead. Then I wouldn’t have to feel out of place here just because I’m not dressed to impress.”

Ally shook her head at him. “Why rent this place if you don’t feel comfortable in it?”

Owen studied his canvas sneakers, unable to answer Ally’s perfectly reasonable question.

“He’ll get comfortable soon enough,” Nate answered for him.

Ally still looked doubtful. “It’s a big house for just one person.”

“My sister will be spending some of her weekends here,” Owen said.

“Plus you need a place like this for impressing investors and businesspeople.” Nate waved his champagne glass around. “You’ll be doing a lot of entertaining if you want your Bandicoot Creek to succeed.”

Owen couldn’t suppress a grimace. He already felt like a fraud holding a casual get-together for a few friends. How would he handle a crowd of rich, influential strangers all carrying a born-to-rule mentality? He’d feel like a phony, but he’d do it, if that was the only way to bring his dream to fruition.

“You should ask Paige for a few tips on entertaining.” Ally flashed an impish grin at him.

He stared at her. “Gee, and I always thought you were a sweetheart.”

“She’s a sweetheart with a surprising kick from time to time,” Nate said, grinning, too. “I take it you won’t be asking Paige for tips on socializing?”

“I’d rather have my chest waxed.”

Nate chortled. “I’d like to see that. You could use a bit of manscaping.”

“Manscaping! What the hell? I don’t have dirty fingernails or hairs sprouting from my nostrils.” He glanced at Ally. “Well, do I?”

She just grinned at him. “Don’t worry,” Nate answered. “Everyone knows you’re a bloke’s bloke, no doubt about it.”