Paige could feel her heart slowing until each beat was like the pounding of a gong, echoing and reverberating through her body. It wasn’t fair, she thought. The only change in his face—the only sign that he might be startled—was the slight lift of one dark eyebrow. But then, she thought, Austin Weaver had always been a poker player at heart…
His photographs didn’t do him justice, she thought. It wasn’t a matter of looks, though indeed the chiseled lines of his face were far more handsome in person than on paper, his dark hair softer-looking, his eyes almost silvery instead of the chilly gray they sometimes appeared in pictures.
What was missing from the photographs was the force of his personality. No camera could begin to capture the magnetic field which seemed to surround him. At a glance, it was apparent that this man not only possessed power, but that he wielded it easily and without hesitation.
It was no wonder the super was practically drooling, Paige thought. Power, money, and good looks all wrapped up in a package and practically delivered to her doorstep…she must have taken one glance and gone straight into vamp mode.
Not that it appeared to be doing her any good. Without turning his head to look at the super, Austin said, “Thank you for bringing us up, Ms. Cade.”
“Oh, call me Tricia.” The super laid a hand on the sleeve of his leather coat. “It’ll be so much more comfortable if you feel you can call on a friend for help.”
More comfortable for whom? Paige wanted to ask.
“Now I must show you through the apartment,” Tricia coaxed. “Every place has a few eccentricities, you know. Not that there’s anything wrong, because we’re very careful about maintenance here at Aspen Towers. But I’d be shirking my duties if I didn’t show you around.”
Paige wanted to applaud. Not only had the super neatly circumvented Austin’s attempt to get rid of her, but she’d provided Paige with a line of retreat, as well. The moment the two of them were out of sight, Paige decided, she’d burn a path to the kitchen, jam the flowers into a drinking glass, and get the heck away from Aspen Towers and Austin Weaver….
Coward, she told herself. Running away would only create questions that she didn’t want to answer. It would be far better to stay and act casual. As though this sort of encounter happened every day.
Though of course, she reflected, she could always say—and honestly, too—that with her work done there had been no reason to stay longer.
The child dropped her parka in the precise center of the hallway and started toward Paige.
Austin said, “I don’t see a coat hook on the floor, Jennifer.”
She grinned at him. “But it’s all new, so I don’t know where it goes.”
“Perhaps you should try looking behind that door.” He pointed. Then, without checking to see whether she obeyed, he followed the super down the hall.
Jennifer picked up her parka and opened the closet door. “There aren’t any hooks my size,” she complained and turned to Paige with wide-eyed helplessness.
Unable to resist the appeal in those big brown eyes, Paige took the parka. The soft fur trim tickled her hands as she hung it up. “This is a very pretty coat.”
“It’s new. I didn’t need a thick coat in Atlanta.”
“I suppose not.”
“I don’t like it here. It’s cold.”
“Yes,” Paige said. “It is definitely cold at times. But there are good things about Denver, as well. The mountains, for one, and the wildflowers in the spring—”
“We had a mountain in Georgia. Stone Mountain—with faces carved on it.”
“It’s true,” Paige admitted, “that none of the Rocky Mountains have faces carved on them.”
“Told you Atlanta’s better,” Jennifer said, as if there was nothing further to discuss. “What’s your name?”
“Paige,” she said reluctantly.
“You mean like in a book? That’s funny. Are you like a housekeeper?”
“Not exactly. Aren’t you going to go look at the apartment?”
Jennifer wrinkled her nose. “She’d just try to pat my head again.”
Paige tried to smother a smile. “You don’t like Ms. Cade much, do you?”
“She’s sticky.”
And that, Paige thought, was a pretty good description. Tricia Cade had certainly clung to Austin like caramel on an apple. Paige closed the closet door and started for the kitchen. There were still the flowers to deal with, and then she could escape.
Jennifer dropped into step beside her. “If you’re not the housekeeper, who are you?”
“I’m just helping put things in order so you and your father will be comfortable here.” Paige took a heavy glass mug from the cabinet. “Will you hang on to this to keep it from upsetting while I arrange the flowers in it?”
From the doorway came a quiet voice. “There you are,” Austin said.
Paige’s hand slipped and water splashed across the counter. She hadn’t heard him come down the hall, but that was partly explained when she realized that he was alone. She wondered how he’d managed to dislodge Tricia so quickly.
“Go explore, Jennifer,” he said.
“I don’t want to.”
“I don’t recall asking if you wanted to,” Austin said gently. “Your room is just past the front door.”
With her lower lip stuck out and her feet dragging, the child went off. “Not my real room,” she muttered.
Paige put a shaggy mum into place in the mug.
“So it is you,” Austin said.
Puzzled, she shot a look at him. Had he not recognized her immediately? Surely she hadn’t changed so much that he hadn’t known her—though perhaps, since he hadn’t been expecting her to reappear in his life…
And yet, he’d almost sounded as if he had expected to run into her. So it is you, he’d said, as if he was confirming a hunch.
But of course, she thought, both Sabrina and Cassie had talked to him—frequently, in fact—during the weeks they’d been looking for and preparing his apartment. One of them might have mentioned her, and if they’d done so casually, using only her first name—well, it stood to reason that Austin wouldn’t have asked pointed questions about a woman who just happened to be named Paige, any more than she’d rushed to volunteer the facts the moment she’d heard he was in line for a job at Tanner. But of course, he would have wondered, and even been watchful.
“It’s me.” She felt incredibly foolish for not being able to think of anything else to say.
Austin folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the counter. “How have you been?” he asked genially. “And what have you been doing with yourself in the last…let me think, how long has it been, Paige? Six years, I suppose—since our divorce?”
CHAPTER TWO
PAIGE’S voice sounded so taut that Austin wouldn’t have been surprised if it had cracked under the strain. “Seven,” she said. “It’s been almost seven years since the decree was final.”
“Has it really?” Deliberately, he kept his tone lazy. “How time does get away.”
“When