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

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.

And she’d looked damn near triumphant when he called the Marketing Department to tell Tessa he’d hired an outside consultant to do the event.

Suddenly Paige pushed her chair back and stood. “Excuse me for a moment, please.”

They both stood up as she left the table, their similar heights bringing the two men face-to-face.

“I thought you were doing a good deed.” Walker’s voice had no humor.

Matt rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he considered a response. “I’m taking a business associate to lunch to discuss an event we’re planning. I fail to see how that’s a bad deed.”

Walker’s thick native-American brows knotted and his dark eyes narrowed. “When you bid on her, Matt, you said, ‘I’m only doing a good deed.’ You felt sorry for her or something.”

“That’s true.” He felt…something. Not sorry, but this wasn’t the right time to explain that. “Then I hired her to manage an event. Something she happens to be very good at. Is that a problem?”

“It could be.” Walker was far too familiar with Matt’s track record for him to easily buy that excuse. Matt had even confided that he had no intention of ever getting serious with a woman again after his divorce; he’d been very clear about his “sex without strings” personal philosophy.

“I don’t intend for it to go beyond the boardroom, Walker,” he added, lowering his voice and holding his friend’s slightly hostile gaze. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m not in the least bit worried about you.” Walker glanced in the direction where Paige had gone. “I’m worried about my little cousin. She does her best to be tough but…”

“But what?”

“She’s got a soft heart.”

And soft lips. And soft hair. “I can tell,” Matt admitted.

“And she’s shy.”

Shy? Could Walker—or the other Ashtons—not know the same Paige he did? She was definitely not shy. Quiet, thoughtful and intelligent, but not shy. “She’s not timid, Walker. She knows how to get what she wants.”

“That’s just a front,” Walker insisted. “She tries to be as in control as her sister Megan, and as shrewd as their mother. But she’s tender, not tough. She’s…she’s not…”

“She’s not what?”

“She’s not your type.”

Now that was debatable. “I know what you’re trying to say,” Matt assured his friend. “You can trust me.”

Walker put his hand on Matt’s shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze. They went too far back, had too much history and friendship, for either one to doubt the truth of Matt’s promise.

“I know that, Matty boy. I know that.” Walker cocked his head toward Paige’s empty chair. “Tell her I had to run.”

When Walker disappeared into the dining room of The Terrace, Matt caught a glimpse of Paige approaching the table. Her slender hips swayed a bit with each step, her breasts moved just enough to make his mouth water.

She moistened her lips ever so slightly and kept her gaze locked on him.