Can't Buy Me Love (9 page)

It takes a strong woman to tame a stubborn man. And a smart man to admit when he
’s wrong. May you realize both.

My best for the year and the years thereafter,

Aunt Virginia.

“
Damn her.” Blake crumpled the letter into a tight fist, somehow resisting the urge to hurl it across the foyer. “I suppose this is what she meant by stipulations.”

“
What does it mean?”

He laughed and the harsh sound echoed bitterly.
“She’s a master puppeteer. A fiddler, if you will. Calling all the shots.”

“
Blake, you’re mixing metaphors and really not making much sense.”

“
I’ll tell you what it means. It means she manipulated me so expertly that she knew I would marry outside my social circle. Hell, she knew I would marry. And she made sure that I would not screw this up. The whole of my inheritance depends on it.”

“
The whole? That’s millions of dollars. We agreed upon—”

Blake snorted.
“Our agreement doesn’t matter. According to this, if we divorce before our contracted year is over, you’ll receive half of everything.”

“
Half?”

“
Half.”

“
I don’t want it.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “Talk to Noah. Or Masters or whomever you must, but I don’t want this.”

Oh, the irony of it all.
She was willing to settle for a measly two million when she could have a great deal more, and he was not willing to settle for less than all of his inheritance. He had worked so hard for it. He deserved it.

Blake almost laughed.
Almost.

“
Oh but, Paige, that’s not even the best part. If I die, you’ll inherit it all.”

Chapter Eight

“
Have you heard from Cherry yet?” Maddie asked Paige as they sat in the room pretentiously referred to as the parlor.

The state dinner had been held the night before, and Paige wasn
’t sure which one of them was more excited over the prospect of the dress’s success, her or Maddie.

“
No.” Paige tried to keep the disappointment from her voice. “I really didn’t expect her to call. It’s not like we’re friends or anything. I just helped her find a dress, that’s all.”

“
That’s all?” Maddie rose to her feet. “That was the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. That she’s ever seen.”

She shrugged. She wasn’t sure why it was so important to her that Cherry be happy with the dress. Paige had never been one for fashions and the latest trends. She’d always been more concerned with clean drinking water and safe roads and huts. But if she were being honest—and she never would admit it out loud—there was a part of her that was jealous of Lydia, who flitted about concerned with hair care products and whether or not something made her hips look big, instead of taking the entire weight of an endangered African tribe on her shoulders and worrying about them incessantly. So all Paige could do was pretend that she didn’t care one way or the other about the dress or anything else that seemed frivolous.

“Have you ever considered staying in America?”

Paige snapped to attention, “What?”

“Just hear me out. What if you stayed here and used the money to start your own fashion line?”

Paige shook her head. “No way.”

“At least think about it.”

“I couldn’t.” Paige sighed. “Aside from the fact that I would not be able to spend that money on anything other than the Zumbais, do you have any idea how hard it is to leg up in the design world?”

“Seems to me you already have all you need.”

“That dress was beautiful but—you’re not talking about talent are you?”

Maddie shook her head.

“There is no way I would use the Caldwell name for that.”

“You are being way too noble about this.”

“I may be, but I’m not going to
let this experience change who I am.”

“
I never thought this marriage was a good idea.” Maddie sat, while Paige tried to ignore those all-seeing green eyes. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

“
No.”

“
You’re falling fast. I told you this would happen.” She shook her head, her bright red hair shimmering.

“
I simply admire him.” Paige wondered who she was really trying to convince. She didn’t have a lot of time to consider it before Cherry Holiday swept into the room with a dramatic flourish of her arm. “You’ll have to excuse me for dropping by unannounced—again—but I was just in the neighborhood and couldn’t wait to tell you the wonderful news. Oh, Madeline! I’m so glad you’re here. I looked
fabulous
in that dress. When I can I have another?”

****

Paige was certain that the secretary who sat behind the desk guarding Blake’s office was hired for her typing skills. The woman was sturdy, slightly overweight, and looked somewhat like a bulldog strategically placed to defend both the office and the man who occupied it.

The secretary looked up as Paige entered the outer office.
“May I help—Mrs. Caldwell. How good it is to finally meet you. Have a seat. I’ll ring Blake.”

She punched a button on the intercom phone, but her words were soft, and Paige couldn
’t hear what she said.

Paige sat in the proffered chair and glanced around the tastefully decorated office. The pearl gray and deep navy blue color scheme was just soft enough to make her relax, while the chairs were just hard enough to keep her on edge.
She expected no less from Blake’s office. It had been purposefully designed so that people without an appointment—people like her—would know they were expected to wait. She was certain as Blake’s wife, she would have a shorter wait than most, though she would have preferred more time to think of exactly what to say to him.
Blake, I’m falling hopelessly in love with you and by the way, on the sly I’ve been designing dresses for your friends
just didn’t sound appropriate.

She shifted uncomfort
ably in her hard backed chair, as the office door opened. Blake stepped out looking more handsome than usual even with the dark frown of concentration that marred his brow.

“
Darling,” he greeted with a dutiful smile. “I didn’t expect to see you today. What’s the occasion?” He helped her to her feet and bent to kiss her cheek.

Although Paige knew the caress was for the secretary’s watchful eyes, she still felt the brush of his lips clear down to her toes. Somehow, despite the tingling of her nerves and the feeling of his lips on her skin—regardless of how chaste—she managed to smile.

“
Oh, the usual.” She fluttered one hand in the air and tried to sound like a millionaire’s wife. “Bruno needed to go to the groomer, and I had to take my car to the shop and have the brakes repaired. I thought that since I was in town, I would stop by and see if you had time for lunch.”
That’s the way to do it. Stall for time.

“
Isn’t that sweet,” the secretary said. “Blake, you have one more appointment and then you’re free until one-thirty.”

Blake looked at his watch then back to Paige.
As usual he didn’t meet her eyes. “Give me half an hour, and we’ll go.”

Paige smiled, thankful for the reprieve.
“That’ll be fine.”

“
Take a look around. I’ll catch up with you when I’m free.” He bent his head again and this time his lips met hers. The effect was rattling, but all too soon his touch was gone.

With her knees knocking together, Paige watched Blake re-enter his office, then she escaped into the corridor.

She needed time. Time to think about what she was going to say to him. Time to sort through her feelings. Time to re-learn how to breathe.

She opened the first door she came to and entered.

The large room was partitioned into several open cubicles. Easels, drafting boards, and pencils reigned. The design offices.

Paige forgot she was supposed to be composing the words to tell Blake the truth and simply explored.
There were no prison guard types carrying whips and color charts, glaring over the shoulder of any of the designers. The atmosphere was free and easy and...creative.

Each designer had been assigned his or her own work space and had been allowed to create a personal ambiance in their own semi-private cubicle.
Some had plants. Others had stuffed animals, model ships, even pictures of loved ones.

All in all it looked like a relaxed place to work, but Paige couldn’t imagine sitting there day after day staring at the three walls of a cubicle and tryin
g to grasp design ideas from thin air. The thought seemed even more torturous than the temp work she had been doing before marrying Blake. No…as much as it
seemed
like designing dresses would be the dream job of a lifetime, she knew in her heart of hearts that Africa was where she really needed to be.

****

Blake came out of the conference room on the first floor of the office building with the young man he had just interviewed. Frustration weighed heavily on his shoulders like the weight of the world upon Atlas. His time to find that brilliant, elusive designer Caldwell so desperately needed was slipping away at a terrible speed.

“
When can I expect to hear from you?”

“
I’ll be in touch.” Blake hoped the cliché was enough to deter the man’s ego.

“
Super. I’m really going to enjoy working here, Mr. Caldwell.” He enthusiastically pumped Blake’s hand. “Quite a place you’ve got here.”

“
Yes, it is.” Blake reclaimed his hand, then herded the young designer to the main exit.

Just a few more minutes and he could escape for lunch. With his wife. He never thought he would relish the idea of escaping or having a wife to escape with, but he did. And it had nothing to do with the fact that whatever he was served would be normal and have meat in it.

“Thank you again,” the applicant gushed.

Don’t call us, we’ll call you. “We’ll be in touch when we make our decision.” Damn but he had more important things to do other than interview candidates. Maybe that’s something he’d give to Devin. When the younger Caldwell set his mind to something he was terrifically successful. Now if Blake could get him to set his mind to the survival of Caldwell Clothing then they’d both be set.

Blake watched the cocky designer pass through the double doors of the exit and turned back to the reception desk. “Beverly, could you page my wife please?”

“Right away
, Mr. Caldwell.”

Blake nodded, then waited patiently for Paige. Even if he said so himself, the
Caldwell office building was quite a place. A wide, though gently curved staircase led to the upper floor and gave the false impression of a mansion rather than an office building. To further the deception, the reception area was lit with a chandelier that hung from the cathedral ceiling and the gray-white marble floor beneath his feet was inlaid with black diamond shapes that patterned a spindly star with a circle at its enter. It was all Virginia Caldwell design and bore the stamp of her stern elegance.

Blake stood in that circle of decorative marble
wondering why in the world his wife had picked today to come to lunch with him. Not that he minded. It just seemed so…wife-y. He had forgotten to ask her about her dress at the ball. What with Devin’s unexpected return and such, the fact that she said she had made her dress had completely slipped his mind. He made a mental note to ask her about it over lunch.

Now everyone was talking about the hip new
designer Madeline Simone. There was some talent he’d love to get his hands on. “Mr. Caldwell, you have a call on line three.”

Blake turned to the lone receptionist who sat behind a black lacquered desk.

“Thank you, Beverly. I’ll take it down here, if you don’t mind.” Blake’s heels clicked and echoed as he crossed to the reception desk. From above came a scraping sound that grated at the ache in his already pounding head. Seconds later the antique sewing machine, displayed on the upper floor crashed onto the marble, missing Blake by inches.

“
Blake!”

The voice was no more than a shrill screech, but still he recognized it as belonging to Paige.
He stood utterly dumfounded still holding the unanswered phone as she raced down the stairs to his side.

“
Are you all right?” Her hands flitted like tiny butterflies over his arms, his chest, his face.

“
I’m fine,” he answered automatically. He handed the phone back to the shocked receptionist.

“
I’ll get rid of them.” Beverly punched the flashing button with a shaky finger.

“
Are you sure?” Paige asked. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“
I’m sure.” He grasped her hands in his own, but he was sure of only one thing: if she didn’t stop touching him with that feather-light concern he would embarrass them both. Damn this attraction. He didn’t want to be attracted to her; he
wasn’t
attracted to her. She was his wife, for crissakes! It was shock. Left-over adrenaline from a brush with death.

“
What’s all the commotion about?” Devin leaned over the second story railing like several other of the desk-bound employees of Caldwell Clothing.

“
The antique sewing machine fell,” Blake explained without preamble.

“
You could have been—you were almost
killed
!”

“
But I wasn’t.” Blake turned his attention to his employees. “It’s okay now. Go back to work. Beverly, get the janitor down here. Tell him to salvage what he can.” His eyes scanned the scattered gears and other bits of the once working and sentimentally valued piece of machinery. It was the machine that started Caldwell, and he hoped its demise was not an omen.

He released Paige
’s hands and started for the stairs. “And get that call back on the line. I’ll take it in my office.”

“
But, Blake, you were almost killed.” Paige’s voice broke, and Blake looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since the accident, for the first time since he met her gaze on the dance floor right before he kis—

“
What’s the matter, Paige?” Even as he asked those incredible turquoise eyes filled with tears.

“
You were almost killed.” Her voice was a whisper.

Against his better judgment Blake pulled her close to his side, trying without knowing exactly how to ease the worry and comfort her fears.