Paigeblew on the coffee, rippling its surface. “The girl in Minneapolis, is she allright?”
Martytook a gulp. “Physically, as far as I know.”
“So Mr.Miller wasn’t making it up.” Or the bit about the women who …
“Miller’sgot a decent side. Unfortunately, he’s got a wild hair, and now everybody’s payingthe price. He’s a good leader in the locker room, patient with the young guys,and they look up to him. He’ll make a good coach someday—if he can stay out oftrouble. I’d appreciate your keeping this between us.” Marty gave her a nodthat told her the subject was closed.
Shepulled a contract from her leather portfolio. “Your secret’s safe, Marty. Ican’t imagine a reason why Mr. Miller and I would cross paths again.”
.~ * * * ~.
Paige gathered portfolio, phone, and blueprints and exitedher Tacoma. She punched the garage door button with her chin and shouldered herway through the door into her kitchen, then wound a path to her home office,where she dropped everything on her overloaded desk. God, she loved this house.She’d remodeled it and fallen in love with it. Adrian didn’t love it,but that didn’t matter to her as much as it should have. After all, he wasbarely there.
Heroffice faced the large front windows, sparkling with natural light. Katie,phone wedged between shoulder and ear, swiveled in her chair behind anotherdesk and waved, her dark ponytail bobbing.
Paigeshrugged out of her parka and dragged off her fur boots as Katie hung up.
“Thatwas Norm,” Katie announced.
Paigeperked up. “And? Did the electrical inspector come by?”
A sigh.“Yeah. And he failed us again.”
“What?Why? We did everything according to his specs.”
“Iknow. That’s what Norm said, only not as nicely as you. And there’s more. Thisinspector failed the roof.”
“How?He’s an electrical inspector! The roof inspector signed off on it last week.”
Katienodded, her big brown eyes sympathetic behind her red-framed glasses. “I know.Norm pointed that out to him, but he said the roof needs more vents—even thoughit’s to code—and that until he sees them, he’s not passing the electrical.”
“That’stotally jacked up!”
Anothernod. “Yeah, it is. Norm’ll call back and go over all this with you.”
Paige’sphone buzzed, sounding like an angry bee on her desk. She looked at the screenand silenced it. “Adrian,” she mumbled in answer to Katie’s quizzicalexpression.
“Ah.You guys fighting?”
“Wedon’t fight. We’re not together enough to fight. I just … I’m just worn outright now. I need a Red Bull or another cup of coffee and a better attitudewhen I talk to him. Maybe all three.”
Little hadchanged these last few months, except their bond had grown more brittle. Adrianhad been gone more than he’d been home, consumed with a huge project inEngland, and Paige had plenty of time to turn over the same questions:Shouldn’t absence have fueled unbridled passion of the base, animal sort whenhe did come home, leading to locking of doors and shredding of clothing?Did wanting her husband make her a freak? Was she still desirable?
“When’she due back?” asked Katie.
“Uh,Wednesday or Thursday, I think. I’m not sure.” And when he gets back, byGod, his sultry wife will serve him a succulent dinner—and herself—in her mostprovocative lingerie and enflame him to do unspeakable things to her body.
Katiepressed her lips together as if to keep a thought in check. “So how did it go?Did you meet any hot hockey studs?”
Paigesnapped to attention.
Katiewaggled her eyebrows. “Oh, so you did! Who’d you meet?”
Paigebegan sorting through a stack of papers, not really seeing any of it. Only apair of mocking ice-blue eyes. “Um, Beckett Miller.”
“Oh.My. GOD!” Katie shrieked. Paige recoiled. “You didn’t! Did you kiss him? Offerto bear his children? Let me touch you!”
Katiejumped up and grabbed Paige’s hand, breathed out a swoony sigh, then danced in place,giving a convincing performance as a preadolescent.
“Youmet Denver’s most eligible bachelor!” Katie gushed, then ran back to her deskand began rummaging through a drawer.
“I’mnot sure he’s so eligible,” Paige offered. “His social life seems pretty full.”
“Why?Does he have a new girlfriend? He’ll be done with her in a week. Then maybe Ican be his girlfriend.” She whirled, fanning through a 5280magazine, the monthly for Denver’s discerning hip crowd, of which Paige wasdefinitely not a part.
“For aweek.” scoffed Paige. “There’s a good reason they don’t last. The guy is aclass-one a-hole.”
Katieflattened the magazine wide on Paige’s desk and pointed to a glossy full-pagepicture of a striking, tousle-haired man in blue jeans and white T-shirt, casuallyleaning against a huge pine tree, beefy arms folded across his chest. Paigewould have recognized that smile anywhere—the one that could soften thegrumpiest Grinch. Look up “charm” in the dictionary, and there’s hispicture. On the facing page were five words in black bold-faced print: DownHome with Beckett Miller.
“Lookat that face! How can he be an a-hole?” Katie flipped the page before Paigecould reach for it. “And look at that body! He might be the world’s biggestjerk, but who cares? All I care about is taking those off.” She pointedto a black-and-white half-page ad for men’s underwear, featuring Beckett Millerreclining on his side sans the smile and most everything else.
Strandsof light-streaked hair screened one eye. The other had been touched up in blue.They’re a little lighter than that. From his chiseled face, Paige’s eyeswandered over muscular biceps and forearms, a carved chest, and an impossiblysculpted six-pack; here, they lingered. Is that touched up too? Shedarted a quick peek over his flat belly button to a fine dark line that shotbelow low-slung, too-tight briefs. The look on his face was intense,predatory—and sexy. Paige tried not to gawk.
“See?See?” shouted Katie. “Leaves you speechless, right? Have you ever seen anythingso gorgeous and so … male? Testosterone practically drips off the page.”
Paigequickly flipped
