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

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.”

He heard the pain that caught in her throat. “You’re doing the right thing to try and mend the fences, Paige. There’s nothing you can do about the past, but plenty you can do about the future.”

She smiled gratefully at the words. “I’m just one voice. And the youngest, at that,” she laughed quickly. “Unless you count little Jack. I doubt he gets a vote.”

“Will Jack be at the house today?”

She shrugged. “I hope so. I’ve wanted to meet him for a long time. Of course, I’m not sure how I’ll feel about a child who is…my brother.”

He gave her a surprised look. “Why’s that? I’m sure you’d be a terrific big sister.”

She didn’t answer for a moment as she gazed out the window. “I don’t know. He’ll be…a constant reminder of my father’s inability to…”

Matt’s chest tightened at her words. Spencer Ashton was another man who couldn’t win the body vs. brain challenge. “To control himself?” he finished for her.

“That’s one diplomatic way of putting it.”