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“I admit nothing.”
Her stubbornness only seemed to amuse him more, so she looked away from his handsome face (his hair was down today, damn him) before she was tempted to kick him in the shin for the sadistic trick he’d just played on her—even if she could appreciate it now that the initial terror was over. As her eyes dropped, Paige noticed he was holding a Panera Bread bag in one hand, and a small, orange plastic pumpkin with a black handle full of Halloween candy in the other. “What do you have there?” she wanted to know.
He held them both up. “Your ‘treats’.”
She reached for the pumpkin, which he immediately pulled back. “Wrong,” he admonished, giving her the bag instead. “Lunch first.”
He was sadistic and a tyrant, she decided, as she turned and emptied the contents on her desk—a sandwich, salt and vinegar potato chips, and a shortbread cookie shaped like a ghost, with white icing and black eyes. “You’ve been going to Panera Bread a lot.”
“I know. I’m racking up a lot of reward points. The cookie I got you today was free.”
His voice had dropped a little, and when she glanced over her shoulder at him, his expression had gathered some heat.
“Nice costume,” he murmured, looking her up and down. “You look … fantastic.”
“Thanks.”
While it wasn’t discouraged to dress up for Halloween at The Main Event, it wasn’t exactly encouraged, either. But since it was her favorite holiday, Paige always dressed up, usually going all-out. One year she was Princess Leia, complete with fake, side-hair buns—which ended up being almost more trouble than they were worth, when they had to be removed every time she needed to talk on the phone. This year she was dressed as Geena Davis’s character, Dottie, from A League of Their Own, in a light pink Rockford Peaches uniform with a red belt, red baseball cap, and a pair of cheap catcher shin guards worn over red knee-high socks. She’d pulled her hair back and curled the ends, and was wearing dark red lipstick, but the true attention to detail was the smudge of dirt on her face.
She’d also been able to say, “‘There’s no crying in baseball’!” several times to Andrea, who had finally demanded Paige stop.
David looked like he wanted to say—or do—something, but then sighed with regret because he had to return to his studio. He’d left Kim, the assistant he’d hired to replace Ashley, in charge of the studio and even though she was more than capable of handling things in his absence, he didn’t want to leave her alone for too long. “I have to go. The part about my only needing a few minutes of your time really was the truth. I just stopped by to bring you lunch and do this.”
He leaned down to kiss her, careful not to mess with her hair and cap. When he pulled away, it was with reluctance, and she smiled as she wiped at his mouth to get the faint traces of red lipstick off, before walking him to her door.
After watching him leave—because his ass in those jeans absolutely required it—Paige returned to her desk and retrieved her Kindle from her drawer before sitting down. She’d just started reading Wycked Escape again and taken bite number one of the Napa Almond Chicken Salad sandwich, when Andrea appeared in the doorway.
She had supposedly dressed up as Edna Mode, but Paige didn’t really think that cashing in on an uncanny resemblance and sticking a name tag that said ‘Hello, my name is Edna Mode’ on an outfit Andrea normally wore, counted as a real Halloween costume.
Giving her assistant a quick, narrow-eyed look, Paige said with her mouth full, “You’re not forgiven, in case you were wondering.”
Seemingly unconcerned, Andrea pointedly glanced at the almost barren top of Paige’s desk, then at the cluttered floor around it, before pursing her lips in amusement and leaving the office.
Paige glared at the empty doorway for several seconds, sighing. God, she hated Andrea.
Then, pushing aside thoughts of her assistant, Paige took another bite of her sandwich and dove back into the sex scene.
Chapter 32
The Barenaked Ladies opened the concert, which was being held in a fairly small, outdoor venue, and Paige got totally lost in it. Their seats were excellent, only ten rows back in the covered section, so they didn’t have to sit on the sloped lawn. However, despite having seats, it was almost standing room only and David spent most of his time enjoying her childlike enthusiasm as she grooved to the music. The best part by far was watching as she kept up with the band as they sang “One Week”, not missing a single word in the near impossible song.
When the BNL’s hour-long set was over and the lights came up for a brief intermission, David pulled her in for a hug. “Having a good time?”
She hugged him back. “The best.”
“Good.” Then, with a grin, he said, “I’m going to hit the bathroom. Do you need to go?”
“No, but I think I’ll go check out the T-shirts.”
Taking her hand, he walked her over to the souvenir concession area and after she got in line, he leaned down and kissed her temple. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Before you go, tell me which one you want,” she said, pointing to the concert tees on display. “Otherwise, I’m going to buy us matching shirts.”
He could tell by her expression and tone, that her ‘offer’ was non-negotiable and he let himself appreciate it. “I’ll take that in a medium,” he told her, pointing to a heather-gray BNL shirt, with the image of a piece of college-ruled notebook paper and the lyrics to “If I Had A Million Dollars” written on it in ‘check list’ form.
“You got it.”
“Thank you.”
