The Ashtons: Paige, Grant & Trace

And hadn’t she planned to do the same thing on their first date just a few nights ago? She’d failed miserably…and he would, too.

For one thing, their “meeting” had started at ten, then continued on through a two-hour lunch, and showed no sign of ending now that they were strolling through Ghirardelli Square like a couple of tourists.

Like a couple. Period.

It was unspoken that they didn’t want the “meeting” to end. He’d suggested they drive over to the square after lunch to soak in the incredible autumn California day, and she hadn’t argued. The sun warmed the golden brick pavement of the sprawling park, and their easy conversation and comfortable silences warmed her heart. Nothing intimate, nothing personal. But not exactly business, either.

“I haven’t been here for years,” Paige said as they passed the historic chocolate factory. “I forgot how quaint and inviting this place is.”

“It’s touristy,” he noted. “But there’s a reason the tourists like it.”

They entered a tree-lined plaza, pausing at a storefront to admire the hand-blown glass in the window.

“We can’t leave the square without making a wish,” Matt said suddenly, taking her hand. “Let’s visit Andrea.”

Her fingers curled around his much stronger ones. Oh, yes. This was feeling more like a date and less like a meeting every minute. “Andrea?”

“The mermaid of the fountain.” He tugged her toward the massive sculpture of two mermaids nursing their babies and surrounded by a pool of sun-drenched water. “Gotta make a wish.”

He dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a handful of change. “Pick a lucky one,” he told her.

She plucked a shiny penny from the group, and he took another. As they approached the gray slate steps that surrounded the pool, he dipped his head close to her.

“Andrea listens, you know. So be sure you wish for something good.”

She grinned and flipped the penny toward the water. “I know what I want.” I wish Matt would kiss me. It hit with a tiny splash.

“Wow. You sure do know what you want,” Matt noted. “I generally have to think about it for a minute.”

“This wish didn’t take any thought at all,” she said, squinting in the sun as she looked up at him. “I know exactly what I want.”

“You know what they say.”

“What do they say?”

“Be careful what you wish for.” With that, he arced his penny in a perfect curve shot.

The water rippled as his coin drifted to meet the coppery cluster at the bottom.

“What did you wish for?” she asked.

He gave her a lopsided grin that made her insides ripple just like the pool. “You tell me first,” he said.

“Doesn’t that mean my wish won’t come true?”

He considered that as they found an empty bench tucked under the branches of a gnarly shade tree, the leaves already beginning to take on the golden hue of October. “I’m not sure how strict Andrea is about revealing your wishes,” he said as they sat.

“Then I don’t want to risk it,” Paige laughed. “I really want this wish to come true.”

He crossed his long legs and draped an arm across the back of the bench. Not exactly touching her but not strictly professional, either.

“Why don’t I guess?” he suggested. “Then technically you really haven’t told me.”

She smiled, feeling coy and flirtatious. Not a sensation Paige Ashton was used to, but one that sure sent a few lovely tingles through her. “Okay. You get three guesses.”

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.”

“So you said at breakfast yesterday. And do your plans include taking Matt Camberlane to Louret?”

Paige nodded, moving her gaze to the bay window behind Megan’s desk and making a point of studying the late afternoon shadows on the estate grounds.

“Why?” Without looking, she could feel Megan’s stare burning her. “What does that have to do with the Halloween product launch party we’re doing for Symphonics?”

“Well…” Paige plucked at an imaginary thread on her dress. “Nothing.”

Their gazes finally met as Megan waited for an explanation.

“He offered to come with me. To make it comfortable, more social and less like a showdown. I can take him to the tasting room and just chat with Jillian.”

“No, you can’t.”

More disappointment. “Megan, we don’t have any events scheduled for tomorrow. I don’t need to be here.”

“Louret’s tasting room is closed on Tuesdays.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay. Jillian usually spends her days off at The Vines, so I’ll just visit with her and Mercedes, if she’s around.”

“Anna Sheridan is staying there,” Megan said, referring to the woman who’d assumed custody of baby Jack, the result of their father’s last fling.

Jack’s mother had died shortly after giving birth, but her sister, Anna, had been welcomed into the home of Caroline and Lucas Sheppard. That act alone proved to Paige that Caroline, Spencer Ashton’s second wife, had plenty of class.

“I’d really like to meet the little guy,” Paige admitted. “Jillian told me he’s cute as a button.”

Megan rubbed her tummy. “I saw a picture of him. He’s divine. Makes me want a boy.”

“As if it matters. With you and Simon as parents, he or she will be dazzling, smart and the control freak from hell.”

Megan laughed. “I’ve been better lately, don’t you think?”

“Yep. Raging morning sickness is the first thing to slow you down in your life.”

“It’s not just that. I want to concentrate on Simon. I’m letting you manage the whole Symphonics thing, aren’t I?”

“Well, Matt has his hands all over it, too.”

“Just so he doesn’t have his hands all over you, little sister.”

Heat coursed through her at the thought.

“Or has he already?” There was no tease in Megan’s accusation this time.

Paige said nothing, avoiding her sister’s probing gaze.

“You slept with him?” Megan asked, shocked.

“No!” That, at least was the truth. The hands-all-over-her part, well. He had done that. And would again, if Paige had her way. “I did not sleep with him.”

The only sound was the ticking brass clock on Megan’s desk.

“Yet,” Paige added quietly.

Megan searched her face with a plea in her eyes. “Paige, don’t do anything stupid.”

A burst of anger propelled her from the chair. “Why is it when anyone else in this family falls into lust, it’s fine. With baby Paige, it’s stupid. I’m twenty-two, Meg. I’m not a virgin.” Paige folded her arms and looked down at Megan. “The guy melts my bones. I want him.”

Megan sighed as the echoes of Paige’s admission hung in the room. “I’d be a hypocrite if I told you I don’t know how good it feels to want someone who melts your bones. I still feel it every time Simon looks at me.”

“I can feel it when the two of you are in the same room.”

“Yeah,” she said wistfully. “It’s nice, this love stuff. But, Paige, I don’t think Matt Camberlane has ‘love stuff’ in mind. Walker told me he was burned by his wife and is definitely committed to not being committed, if you get my drift.”

Great. Now Megan and Walker were discussing her love life. Or sex life, as the case may be. “Listen, I don’t want love, or even a commitment, Meg.” A sly smile lifted Paige’s lips. “I just want that bone-melting business again.”

“Again?”

“Well, things got a little heated on Sunday. But…we stopped.” He stopped. But some things couldn’t be shared. Even with a sister.

“Just be careful, sweetie. I don’t want you to end up with a broken heart.”

With a sudden rush of affection, Paige came around the desk, dipping down to hug Megan. “I won’t,” she promised. “And you know what? This ‘love stuff’ sure agrees with you.”

“Nah.” Megan smiled ruefully. “I’m still a control freak, Paige. And if anybody hurts my little sister, I’ll…I’ll—”

“Sic Simon on him?”

“And Walker and Trace,” she promised.

“I’ll be fine,” Paige assured her. “And you’re okay with my being gone tomorrow?”

Megan nodded. “Things are under control in the Event Planning Department. You see what you can do with the family problems.”

“I will.”

“And don’t let your bones melt too easily, Paige.”

Paige just laughed. Too late for that. She was a puddle.

Chapter Six

In the late-morning light, the twenty-something-thousand-square-foot mansion of Ashton Estate Wineries looked gilded by the sun. The dark cream-colored stone took on a tawny, golden tinge that reminded Matt of the honey-toned streaks in Paige Ashton’s hair.

With a quick shake of his head, Matt erased the thought and parked in the circular drive.

He’d done a magnificent job of staying on the phone for the whole hour and fifteen minutes it took him to drive up from San Mateo. He’d participated in a product development conference call, listened to his CFO wax eloquent about VoiceBox preorders, and convinced the president of one of the world’s largest retailers to rearrange four thousand stores to prominently feature the product before Christmas.

He’d worked. He refused to buckle under the temptation to slide Ol’ Blue Eyes into the CD player and let his mind wander…and reconsider just why he’d made this unorthodox offer in the first place.

He’d already decided, and there was nothing he hated more than second guessing a decision.

He’d decided to accompany Paige to visit her half siblings for one simple reason: to up the ante. To raise the stakes. What good was a little body vs. brain challenge if it was too easy? If he was really going to win a battle with his libido, then he had to immerse himself in her world and torture his senses with proximity.

Then he could walk away after the VoiceBox launch party, shake her hand and say, “Great working with you, Paige.” And wouldn’t that be something?

Yeah. Something stupid.

But it wasn’t stupid to prove to himself that he could indeed have a platonic relationship with a woman who charged him sexually. Especially when he sensed the same electrical impulses arced through her body, too.

He could do it. He’d promised Walker, and he’d promised himself. He could work with her and even develop a friendship with her, but he wouldn’t risk seeing those tears again. Regardless of how she managed to lean a little too close, and hold their eye contact a little too long.

Before he could open the driver’s door, Paige emerged from the shadow of the overhang that ran along the east wing of the estate. As she stepped into the sunshine, he just gave in and admired her. She wore pale yellow from top to toe—reminding him of sweet creamery butter that could, with one warm touch, melt in his hands.

A line from one of his favorite songs flashed in Matt’s head. Something about only you beneath the moon…and under the sun.

With a quick wave she indicated for him to stay in the car as she approached, but he climbed out and took another appreciative glance at the way her silk trousers hugged her narrow hips, and still another glimpse at the tempting curves under the designer sweater.

“Morning, sunshine.” He dug his hands into his pockets to keep from embracing her.

“Hi, Matt.” Her smile was as blinding as the California rays that warmed them. “All ready to do your good deed for the day?”

He slipped his arm around her shoulder. He couldn’t help it. It was natural. Casual. Impossible. “If that’s how you want to classify this trip. I’ve never been to Louret Vineyards, so I’m looking forward to the tour and tasting.”

She dipped out of his grasp gracefully and let him open the passenger door for her. “But you won’t today, I’m afraid.”

“No?”

“The tasting room’s closed on Tuesdays, so the visit is purely social.” She slid into the car and gave him another radiant smile. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Not if she beamed at him like that all day. “No problem. I’m looking forward to meeting this side of the family.”

“I just hope everyone behaves.”

He picked up that thread of conversation as he climbed in and started the car. “They are expecting you, correct?”

“I spoke with Jillian, my half sister, last night. She runs the tasting room—she’s a wine genius. But today is like a Sunday to her, when the tasting room is closed. However, she promised she’d be spending the day with her stepdaughter, Rachel, at The Vines and welcomed the visit.”

“The Vines. That’s the house, correct?”

“Yes. It’s a short drive from the winery. We’ll just stay at the house, if you don’t mind. If we go over to the winery, we’re sure to run into Cole. He manages the vineyard. And Eli would be there—he’s head winemaker.”

“Not willing to face them yet?”

A whisper of a sigh escaped her lips. “Jillian has been the most levelheaded during all of this, the one, I think, who shares my goal to somehow bring this horrible chapter in our lives to a close. So I’d rather meet with a like mind.”

“And what about Mercedes, her older sister?” He’d read enough in the papers to know the recently wed and newly pregnant Mercedes harbored no deep love for the father who abandoned her.

“Well, it’s hard to say.” She placed her handbag on the floor of the car and repositioned herself in the deep bucket seat. “We might see Mercedes. And Caroline Sheppard, their mother. But I can’t make any promises about how warmly they will treat us.”

“Will Jillian tell them you’re coming up?”

She nodded. “Yes, she said she’d grease the skids.”

“Surely none of them hold you accountable for what your father did while he was alive.” He glanced at the endless rolling hills of the Ashton Estate, over the acres of recently harvested vineyards famous for producing a fortune in sparkling wines. Spencer Ashton had built a magnificent showpiece out of the Lattimer property he’d won in his divorce from Caroline, and Matt had no doubt her children were bitter about that especially when the vineyard and estate had been given back to him by Caroline’s grandfather. But could they blame the offspring from his next marriage?

“Not accountable, no,” she agreed. “But the rivalry they feel is real, and, as I told you, not entirely unjustified. And they are furious—especially Eli and Cole—that my father left them out of his will. And, of course, once they learned that their parents’ marriage was not really legal, since my father hadn’t divorced his first wife in Nebraska, then the very future of the Ashton Estate became part of the issue.”

“Are they pursuing the legality of the ownership of the estate, too?”

“Not at the moment. They are concentrating on the will. But if it can’t be overturned, then who knows what could happen?” She shook her head with a rueful smile. “Like I said, dysfunctional is our middle name. Don’t forget we’re in the middle of a murder investigation, too.”

“Any news? Real news, I mean, not what they repeat in the local media every chance they get.”

She looked skyward in mock disgust of the media. “As far as suspects, no. Grant, another of my half siblings, was held for questioning, but he had an alibi.”

Walker had told him very little about Grant. “He’s from your father’s first marriage, in Nebraska?”

“Yes, Grant and Grace are Dad’s twins by Sally Barnett, who died before my parents were married. I don’t have a clue where Grace is, but Grant arrived in California almost a year ago, in January, after he’d discovered that his father was Spencer Ashton.”

“According to the papers, he was cleared by Anna…Sheridan, is it? Who is somehow related to your father’s…latest child?” A wry smile tipped Matt’s lips as he glanced across the console at Paige. “You better fill me in so I don’t accidentally offend anyone.”

She laughed. “I doubt they offend easily, but of course I’ll tell you. Anna Sheridan is the sister of Alyssa Sheridan, who was my father’s last, uh, mistress. Alyssa died shortly after their baby was born, about two years ago. Anna is raising Jack and is staying at The Vines to escape the media glare.”

“And she was Grant’s alibi?”

“Yes, Anna was with Grant the night of the murder, so he was cleared by the police. And now, as you know, they are focusing on the blackmail leads.” Her voice dropped a bit. “But getting nowhere.”

“Do you have any personal theories about what happened?”

She shook her head. “You know, a lot of people hated my father. Within my family and outside of it. I mean, I loved him and tried to see him in the best possible light, but even that wasn’t easy at times.”