that led to a maze of shoulder-high cubicle walls, giving Paige an occasional glimpse at various techie-types at computers or around small tables having meetings. The Symphonics employees were all as young and hip as the music that blared from various computers and sound systems, most of them wearing the standard Silicon Valley uniform of jeans and slogan-covered T-shirts.
Would Matt be dressed like that? Paige tried to swallow at the thought of seeing him again, refusing to fall back into the doubt and introspection that had kept her awake all night.
She’d made up her mind. She’d thought this thing through. She wasn’t backing down. His response to her was real. And her response to him? Oh, that was very, very real.
Real enough for her to want an explanation for his sudden change in behavior. And real enough for her to want more. That’s what she wanted. Him. In the most primal, physical way.
Around a corner and through another set of doors, they approached a spacious sitting area surrounded by offices instead of cubicles. While Eleanor ambled over to her L-shaped desk, Paige was drawn to the velvety voice of Sinatra coming from the corner office.
Adrenaline and anticipation sluiced through her veins. That had to be Matt’s office. But a feminine chortle of laughter coming from the same place caught Paige off guard.
“The ladies’ room is down that hall to your left,” Eleanor instructed as she riffled through papers, evidently unfazed by the sound of a woman laughing and Frank Sinatra singing in the middle of a Monday morning. “I’ll find that contract by the time you get back.”
The hall was in the opposite direction of the office that beckoned her. Ignoring Eleanor’s instructions, Paige moved forward, getting a glimpse of the corner of his desk, a large window that faced a pond and trees, and part of a leather sofa that lined one wall.
And what was on that leather sofa stopped Paige cold. From her vantage point, all she could see were two long, bare, gorgeous legs finished off by a pair of slinky cream pumps.
The legs uncrossed and crossed again, accompanied by another throaty laugh.
“I can handle anything, and you know that.” One leg slid over the other again, very slowly this time. “Better than anyone.”
“I just need you to handle an event, Tessa.” The baritone of his voice easily overpowered the soft music, but not the sudden rush of blood in Paige’s ears.
“It’ll be no problem, Matty.” Matty? “I’m sure your guests will be happy not to have to stay home and hand out candy to brats all night, anyway. I’ll start researching possible venues this morning.”
Eleanor turned from her desk and slid her gaze pointedly toward the hall. “Down there, Miss Ashton. To the left.”
Was that a warning to run or a reminder that the possible venues no longer included Ashton Estate Winery? Either way, Paige was just seconds and inches away from a most embarrassing encounter. Not only had she defied the fax she’d received at eight that morning and ignored the chilly voice mail message Matt had left her, now she was face-to-face with the competition who’d gotten the job. And by the looks of those flip-flopping legs, the competition who’d get Matt, too.
Turning on her heel, Paige headed toward the ladies’ room with enough speed that Eleanor probably thought she was about to have an accident.
Inside, she put both hands on the counter and stared in the mirror. She hadn’t seen the woman’s face, but did she have to? She’d be tall, blond, svelte, perfect. She had a sexy snicker and legs that could stop traffic.
And now she had Paige’s event and a month of attention from “Matty.”
Damn.
No, Paige told herself, shaking her head at her own image as if she could rattle some sense into it. Had she worked all night last night and driven all the way down to San Francisco just to be outmaneuvered by a pair of legs?
She wrinkled her nose at herself, trying to see past her too-small chin, too-nondescript eyes, her too-mouse-brown hair, and way-too-boyish figure.
Megan said her face was delicate. Her mother said a small chin is a sign of good breeding. Her hairstylist did her best to add a few highlights to that brown. And her figure? She ran her hands over the apricot knit dress she’d carefully selected because it was professional but definitely feminine.
Her figure certainly didn’t seem too boyish to Matt Camberlane when he’d explored it yesterday.
“I’m not giving up,” she whispered to her reflection. “I’m not leaving without finding out what spooked him yesterday.” She’d do what she had to do to get the answers she wanted, and if she managed to pull in the contract in the process, wonderful. Megan would be delighted. “Ashtons don’t give up,” she reminded herself.
The door whooshed open and with one glance at the familiar pumps, Paige knew exactly who’d entered. Okay, not blond. Brunette. But tall, svelte and flawless just the same.
The woman’s ebony eyes danced with mirth, and a confident, secret smile played on her lips.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Twenty-two years under the tutelage of Spencer Ashton had at least taught her that much.
“Hello,” Paige said, turning from the sink. “Do you work here?”
The woman paused on her way into a stall, noticing Paige for the first time. “Yes, I do. I’m Tessa Carpenter. I work in Marketing. And you?”
“I’m Paige Ashton,” she said, holding out her hand. “I have a meeting here this morning.”
Tessa raised a striking, sculpted brow, as though no one could actually have a meeting at Symphonics that she didn’t know about. “With…?”
“Matt Camberlane.”
That got her attention. The dark eyes widened and dropped in a quick review. “I just left his office,” she announced, then smiled as she stepped toward a stall door. “I think that put him in a better mood than he was in the morning.”
“Oh?” Paige turned to the mirror and unsnapped her handbag. “That’s funny. He was in a great mood all weekend.”
The door froze as Tessa looked at her. “Really.”
Paige dabbed on some shiny lip gloss. “Really.”
“Where did you see him this weekend?”
“A fund-raiser. Dinner. A picnic.” Paige watched Tessa pale ever so slightly. “In fact, we’re having lunch this afternoon.”
“It’s only ten o’clock.” Tessa said slowly. “You’re kind of early for a lunch meeting.”
Paige checked her lips in the mirror. “Yes. I am.” Then she snapped her bag closed and headed toward the door, feeling wickedly elated.
Tessa Carpenter and her endless legs were not going to get her down. She had a mission, a goal. She had no idea how, but she was going to march right into that office and let that electricity zing between them again. She wanted that thrill, that delicious, addictive sensation that wound through her when he kissed her, touched her, liquified her whole
