He’dnever forget her look—like a deer in the crosshairs. She’d turned him down,spewing out more excuses than confetti spilling from a party popper. He hadn’theard most of them because he’d been stuck on “no.”
Jesus!Why hadn’t she said anything in Coach’s office? Because he’d run over her withhis big, foul mouth. His heart heaved and sank to his stomach, where itsettled.
Andie.The cute pixie with a feisty side. Now there was someone who fit in the “nicegirl” category. She had a way of smiling that said, “Come on in, sit down, andget comfy.” Warm, inviting. A smile that had made him buy her breakfast at fourin the morning when she’d been hungry and broke. Such a long time ago. Tenyears now? So many changes. Christ, I am one flaming fuckup.
Everyonehad liked the brainy, beautiful-eyed girl; they probably still did. And sheprobably liked everyone. Except him. And no wonder—he’d been an utter ass.
Moresurprising than the fact Paige Anderson was in his head was that he stillremembered her name. Especially since she wasn’t his type. And he’d never sleptwith her.
CHAPTER 7
Do You Know Me
Paige side-eyed Adrian as he drove. He was ignoring herquestion.
“So whatdo you think?” she prodded.
“Aboutwhat?”
Sheclosed her eyes, rolling them under her lids. “About my buying the roofingbusiness? It’s a great opportunity.”
Heturned his head and pulled his sunglasses down. “You really want to know?”
Did shewant to know? She nodded despite her doubts.
“Ithink you’re taking a step down when you should be moving up to a morerespectable business. I can’t imagine telling people my wife’s a roofer,” hescoffed.
“Butit’s a money-maker.”
“Soyou’ve been led to believe. I still have to see the numbers. We’ll talk aboutit later.”
Firmingher resolve, she put the matter aside and pointed to the next block. “Theirhouse is up ahead.”
“Lord,it looks like a group of Benz and BMW owners decided to throw a party,” he snorted,nosing his Porsche Cayenne Turbo into the closest parking spot on the crowdedstreet in Denver’s 7th Avenue Historic District.
Well,that’s kinda what happened. “There’sa dented Chevy pickup,” Paige joked, trying to lighten the mood. She climbed outof the car and waited for him to round the hood as she smoothed her newblue-and-green sleeveless sundress. He didn’t even glance at her. Kinda likethe whole lingerie seduction fiasco. A fresh blush crept over her cheeks.He’d made love to her, though nothing about it had been steamy; theheat-o-meter had more closely resembled tepid dishwater.
“We’renot staying long, right?” he asked. For the fifth time since they’d left thehouse.
Shestifled the urge to grit her teeth. “I have to stay long enough to be polite.Besides,” she waved a hand at the luxury cars, “maybe I’ll pick up a big-moneyclient today. The way the remodels have been dragging, I could use a fatcommission check to tide Anderson Homes over.”
Hegrunted an acknowledgment.
It waslate July, and Marty and Claudia had finally settled into the house she’d soldthem. Paige had never been invited to an open house at one of her projects, andshe was anxious to see how they’d stamped it with their personalities. She’ddebated leaving Adrian behind, and right now she was revisiting that decision.Social gatherings with her people excited him as much as a root canal withoutmedication, and he was an expert at making it clear. But he was only in townfor a few days, and she wanted to spend time with him, try to close this schismbetween them.
Claudia,an athletic strawberry blond with milk-chocolate-colored eyes, greeted themwith hugs and invited them to take a self-guided tour. Adrian declined, headingfor the outside bar instead, so Paige struck out on her own, delighted ateverything she took in. She wound up in the basement rec room, filled withspectators clustered around a pool table, and she squeezed her way past theminto the home office, where she paused in front of built-in shelves. She ran herhands over books and hockey memorabilia. Adding these shelves was a greatcall. Pat on the back to me.
Somethingwas burning a hole in the back of her head. She pivoted and was caught up shortby a pair of bright blue eyes belonging to a very tall man leaning against thedoor frame. A very tall, very striking man. One side of his mouth curled up,and he pushed off and walked toward her, hand extended.
“I oweyou an apology.”
Sheblinked an image of a glorious six-pack from her mind. Unfortunately, it left ablank space. She shook his hand.
“Youalready apologized.”
“So youremember me from Marty’s office? The guy you called ‘shit-for-brains’?”
Howcould I forget? “Yes,I remember you,” she stammered, “but I don’t remember calling you that.”
“Well,technically you didn’t, but the meaning was clear enough. And DU? I’m afraid Iremembered you too late.”
Butyou did finally remember. Shesmiled in spite of herself. “I still owe you breakfast and a ride in the snow.”
“I’mpretty sure the statute of limitations is up.” He grinned.
He tooka pull from a brown beer bottle. A young woman bounced in, all smiles. “BeckettMiller,” she cooed, seeming to startle him. Tall and reed-thin, she hadluscious straight hair that spilled down her back like a dark waterfall. Thick-lashedbrown eyes set in mocha skin fluttered at him. The complete package resembledall those women in all those pictures.
He helda finger up to Paige. “Just a sec.” He turned to the woman and gave her apolite half-smile. “If you don’t mind, I’m having a private conversation with…” he glanced at Paige, and the smile broadened, “my shrink, Dr. Anderson.”
Thegirl’s eyes flew wide. “I’m so sorry.” Crestfallen, she turned away.
Beckettrolled his eyes. “Do you have a napkin or something?” The woman handed him apurple paper plate, and he asked her name. He wrote a message, scrawled hissignature and handed the plate back to her.
“Thankyou,” she gushed, looking from him to Paige, as if Paige had something to dowith the gift of Beckett Miller’s autograph.
“Thatmust happen a lot,” Paige said after
