Laura Wright - The Ashtons - Paige, Grant & Trace - The Highest Bidder / Savour the Seduction / Name Your Price

He was not stuttering. Was he?

He slammed a hand over the papers. “Not so fast, Miss Paige Ashton.”

She looked up questioningly, a teasing smile at the corner of her lips. “Yes, Matt?”

“I like those ideas.”

“I knew you would.” She shrugged. “But they’re mine. They come with the Ashton Estate Winery locale and my event-planning skills.” She tugged at the papers under his hand. “Evidently, you respect me too much to get a chance to see them executed.”

He couldn’t hold back the laugh. “You’re muscling again.”

Her smile widened, but she kept her attention on the papers, trying to sort them neatly.

“I keep forgetting you’re an Ashton.”

That earned him a quick look. “And we’re fairly adept at getting what we want.”

“I see that.” He fluttered the sketch of Frankie’s felt hat. “Now I’m sorry I canceled that contract.”

“I happen to have another one right here.” Without missing a beat, she flipped a piece of paper in front of him and produced a pen. “All you have to do is sign.”

She had no idea what she was asking him to do. Their attraction was palpable, and not acting on it would take every ounce of control he wasn’t sure he had.

“I…I can’t.”

She leaned close enough to tease him with that dainty, flowery scent. The same aroma that lingered on the silk bra that he’d dropped into his suitcase when he left Auberge.

“Can’t?” she asked, holding his gaze with a look so rich with promise and possibilities that it damn near knocked the wind out of him. “I seem to recall you don’t know what that word means.”

Her smile was pure victory as she handed him a pen.

He could do this.

After Matt gave his keys to the Ritz-Carlton valet, he rounded the back end of his Ferrari to meet Paige, as another valet opened her door.

He repeated his silent mantra, the one he’d started during their two-hour morning meeting about the VoiceBox launch event.

He could do this. He could work on a project with a woman he was wildly attracted to and not seduce her. He could get the benefit of her ideas and business acumen—which was formidable—and he could walk away without having to get the view from on top of her.

He wasn’t a teenager crazed by lust-starved hormones.

He made it around the car just in time to see that slinky dress slide up her thighs as she maneuvered out of the low sports car. A demon of an early erection threatened.

Not a teenager? Okay. Then he was an adult crazed by lust-starved hormones. But he was also the born competitor. He’d just think of this as one major competition. The brain vs. the body.

Good money was on the…oh, hell.

She gave him a sunny smile. “The Ritz, eh? You’re not thinking about checking out their function rooms are you?”

“Not a chance. You won me over this morning.” He led her into the lobby toward his favorite luncheon spot, The Terrace. “The event is going to be held on Halloween at Ashton Winery Estate,” he assured her. “Your ideas are too good to pass up.”

At least, that was the reason he gave himself for signing the contract. Flimsy, but he’d hold on to it.

They were seated at his favorite table on the brick courtyard of The Terrace, secluded among the flowers and trees, and serenaded by the cascade of a giant fountain.

“Walker introduced me to this place,” Matt told her after they’d listened to the waiter describe an array of Mediterranean-themed specials. “We used to come here for Sunday brunch when we were in college.”

Her eyebrow shot up in disbelief. “Pretty swanky place for a couple of Berkeley students.”

“Trust me, we hit the not-so-swanky places the night before.” He dropped a linen napkin on his lap. “That was the great thing about Walker. You’d never know his background. He was always really down to earth. But after a week of midterms and all-nighters, he was the first to pull out his wallet and say, ‘Matty boy, we need some decent chow.’”

She laughed at his dead-on impression of the serious Walker Ashton.

“And we’d come here and eat like, well, like starving Berkeley students on a trust fund. And he’d always pay.” He shook his head in amazement. “Before Walker, I’d never even heard of the Ritz-Carlton.”

Paige took a sip of water and regarded him closely. “You didn’t talk much about your childhood the other night. Where are your parents?”

Good question, he thought wryly. Where are my parents? “My dad is MIA and has been for as long as I can remember.”

She frowned at the idea or the acronym, he didn’t know which.

“He left when I was a child and never made too much of an effort to keep in touch.” He took a sip of water, making a conscious decision to barrel on with information he shared with few people. “And my mom…well, she’s finally settled into a real home for the first time in her life and she seems to be getting her act together.” Seems being the operative word. “I help her out a lot. She’s better when she doesn’t have to hold down a job.”

This was business, he reminded himself. No need to delve into the gross dysfunctionality of his tiny family. But he could tell by her interested look the subject wasn’t going to die.

“What do you mean ‘settled into a real home’?”

“One without wheels.”

Her frown deepened with genuine confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Of course not. She’d probably never seen a doublewide trailer park home in her whole life. “Forget about it,” he said, sweeping open his menu. “I recommend the monkfish. The seafood is unmatched here.”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, another question poised on her pretty lips, but then her attention shifted over his shoulder and her expression changed to one of surprise.

He turned to see Walker Ashton headed directly toward them.

“Well, speak of the devil.” Matt stood and set his napkin on the table to shake Walker’s hand. “I say your name and you appear.” Matt frowned. “Or you’re following us.”

“Hey, Matt.” Walker returned the shake, then his dark gaze moved to his cousin. He leaned over and kissed Paige on the cheek. “Seems impossible to pry you two apart lately.”

Was that disapproval or accusation in Walker’s voice? Matt pointed to one of the empty chairs at the table. “Grab a seat. We haven’t even ordered yet.”

“For a minute.” The chair scraped over the brick floor as Walker pulled it out. “I have a lunch meeting with a new client and then I’m picking up Tamra at two to fly back to South Dakota.” He turned to face Paige. “How’s the event planning going?”

The pointed question elicited the slightest flush on her cheeks. “Great. We’ve got a theme, decor, entertainment, a guest list and an invitation design all completed this morning.”

“So,” Walker looked from one to the other. “Why are you still meeting?”

“Budget,” Matt said without thinking.

“Time line,” Paige said at the same time, then cleared her throat and ignored Walker’s snort of laughter at the contradiction. “Matt was just telling me how you two used to frequent the brunches here in college.”

Walker’s grin was slow as his gaze slid to Matt. “Then I guess I should be glad he’s bringing you here instead of some of our less respectable hangouts in Oakland.”

“Maybe you’ll take me to one of those, too, Matt.” Her smile was anything but innocent. “I’m always interested in seeing what less than respectable looks like.”

Her meaning was not lost on him and by the burn in Walker’s stare, it wasn’t lost on him, either.

She wasn’t doing such a bang-up job of keeping this pure business, he thought. The morning meeting had been filled with longer-than-businesslike glances and a definite sense of play and not work in her quick comebacks.