Roxanne St. Claire - The Ashtons - Paige, Grant & Trace

He laughed. “Oh, there are rules, now. Hmm. Okay. Let me guess.” He studied the fountain in front of them, then said, “You wished for a flawlessly executed, well-attended, completely successful launch party for VoiceBox.”

She just stared at him. Was he that unromantic? “I don’t have to wish for that. I’ll make that happen without the help of any mermaids or wishes.”

“Touché.” He thought for a moment. “I know. You covered all your bases. You wished for happiness and a lifetime of contentment.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to strain Andrea’s powers with anything that monumental. My wish was simple. And it was nothing I could control. Someone else has to make it happen.”

“You want all your family problems to go away.”

Oh, God. That’s what she should have wished for, she thought guiltily. He wasn’t even thinking about a kiss, and she shouldn’t have wasted her penny on something so frivolous when there were real problems in her life.

She managed to nod. “Yes, that’s it. My family.”

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

That he could do? “Not unless you want to step into a beehive of distrust, accusation, blackmail and infidelity.”

“That sounds like my family,” he said with a quick laugh. “On a much smaller scale and without the blackmail, of course.”

Something twisted in her heart at the lack of judgment in his tone. “I guess everyone has their skeletons,” she admitted.

“Yeah, in the closet. Your family has them on the front page of the business section and weekly tabloids.”

Wasn’t that the ugly truth? “Are you sure you still want to hold your event at the Winery?”

“I most certainly do,” he assured her. “And my offer of help stands. Not that I can do anything to relieve the situation other than listen and offer sympathy.”

A sigh escaped her lips when he said that. “You better watch it, Matt,” she warned. “That’s pretty sensitive talk for a tough, competitive entrepreneur like you.”

He winked at her. “Just trying to make your wish come true.”

Then kiss me.

For a dizzying second, he looked as though he might. His lips were parted, the pupils dilated against his steel-gray eyes. Then he looked back at the fountain.

“I don’t think there’s much you can do as far as my family is concerned,” she said quickly. “I’m planning to go up to Louret Vineyards tomorrow. It’s time for another visit with my half sisters and another attempt at fence mending.”

“Want some company?”

She leaned back and gave him a surprised look. “You want to go up to Louret? With me?”

“Sure. I can take a day off tomorrow, and I’d love to take a drive up there. I’ve heard Louret’s a magnificent vineyard.”

“The vineyard is breathtaking, but the family…”

“Not so breathtaking?”

She smiled at the way he tried to make her comfortable with a decidedly uncomfortable subject. “My half siblings are very, very angry at my father, as you can imagine, and, by association, at my brother and sister and cousins and me. My father virtually abandoned those children when he married my mother.”

“I’d heard that from Walker.”

“They think I’m taking his side.”

“Are you?”

She shook her head vehemently. “I told you the other night, I don’t take sides. I walk a tightrope right down the middle.”

“That’s a dangerous place, Paige,” he said, his fingers grazing her shoulders. “If you fall, you can get hurt.”

Her lips curled in a rueful smile. “I have great balance.”

“What do you hope to accomplish tomorrow?”

She shrugged, liking that his fingers had settled on her shoulder. Wanting to fold into his substantial body for a reassuring hug. “I just want to visit. To show them that, well, we’re family. We have our differences, but we should stick together.”

“What kind of differences?”

“My father’s will, for one thing.”

“Walker told me they are contesting it.”

“They might.” She picked up a leaf that had fallen on the bench and studied it. “And they have a fairly compelling reason to do that. As you’ve no doubt read in those papers and tabloids, my father’s marriage to their mother was…not legal. He never divorced his first wife.”

“Yes, I read about that.”

“We’re a mess,” she said with an apologetic laugh, flicking the leaf into the air. “Look up dysfunctional and you’ll see the Ashton Family Album in the dictionary.”

He shook his head. “Like I said, no different from other families, just on a grander scale. Maybe your visit would be more comfortable—and effective—if you have company. Less like an investigation and more like a social call. I’d love to go with you.”

“Why would you do that?”

He leaned closer. “So I can get my wish.”

Her heart tumbled right off that tightrope she’d just mentioned and splattered in her tummy. “Okay, tell me. What did you wish for?”

He dipped his head so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of his skin. “I can’t tell you. Then it might not come true.”

“ Can’t again, huh?” She pulled back enough to give him a teasing grin. “You’re starting to sound like a broken record.”

Megan looked up from her desk with a mock scowl, held her wrist in the air, and tapped one manicured fingernail on the face of her watch.

“The meeting at Symphonics ran late,” Paige explained as she breezed in. “Anything earth-shattering happen while I was gone?”

“You tell me,” Megan said pointedly. “You’re the one who spent, oh, eight hours with one client.”

Eight lovely hours. Paige dropped into the chair across from Megan’s desk and managed not to purr with sheer delight. “We had a lot to cover.”

“Such as?”

“Seating arrangements, invitations, decorations, audio-visual, guest list.” And some wish making.

“Uh-huh.” Megan flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder and leaned her elbows on the desk. “And what else?”

“Time line, budget, music—”

“Did he kiss you?”

Paige let her jaw drop in an effort to look suitably indignant. “Of course not.”

“Did you kiss him?”

“Megan! I don’t make a habit of kissing clients.”

“I did.” Megan winked. “Just once, though.”

Hopefully, that signaled a change in subject. “Did you and Simon find the perfect crib in Calistoga yesterday?”

“He’s really gorgeous.”

The statement threw her. “Your husband? Yes, he’s a god.”

“No, I mean, yes, he is a god. But I’m not talking about Simon, sweetie, and you know it.” Megan leaned back and rubbed her belly as she regarded her sister. “Matt Camberlane qualifies as irresistible.”

“I can resist.” Yeah, right. She’d really resisted him in his room at Auberge. She practically stripped before he’d gotten the door closed. And left half her underwear as a souvenir.

“I’ve heard he’s a real player, too, since his divorce.”

“His divorce?” Her heart plummeted in disappointment. A player? She could believe that. But he’d never mentioned a previous marriage. “He didn’t tell me he was divorced.”

“Why would he? I thought you were just doing budgets, invitations and seating arrangements.” Megan’s voice held just enough of a tease to take the sting out of the accusation.

“We were. And I swear there was no lip contact today.” True enough. Today there hadn’t been. “Just a handshake as we made plans for tomorrow.”

Megan’s eyebrows shot up. “Another meeting?”

“Can you spare me?” Paige asked. “I really want to go up to Louret.”