Wildest Dreams Page 8

Paige relaxed and giggled. “Yes, he’s a real chore to look at.” She paused, her heart sinking. “So, the two of you . . .”

  “What? Oh no!” Jenny shook her head. “He’s not my type.”

  Paige blinked.

  “I know,” Jenny laughed. “But I prefer them tall, dark, and devastatingly emotionally unavailable.”

  Paige laughed. “How’s that working out for you?”

  “Oh, just great.” Jenny’s eyes sparkled with humor. “I’m really enjoying all my Saturday nights alone. Or at least, I would be, if I wasn’t working the dinner shift.”

  “Well, if you ever get a night off, let me know,” Paige offered. “I’m officially in the market for new friends. And a new contractor, and a hair stylist, and take-out place . . .” She paused, then gave a rueful smile. “Pretty much everything.”

  “Well, you have one friend now,” Jenny said, pulling out her phone. “And I’ve got recommendations for the rest. Here, let me give you my number.”

  They traded information, and then Jenny checked the time. “I better get going. Declan has probably ripped up tonight’s menu already, and I’ll need to clean up the mess. See you soon, and welcome!” She said goodbye, and then disappeared into the crowd again.

  Paige turned back to the store, her store, and had to hug herself with the excitement again. Soon, the empty front room would be filled with a few chic racks and browsing shoppers, and her studio space would be a luxurious haven, where women could come and be transformed.

  But first, she had some unpacking to do.

  * * *

  “Guess who I ran into.”

  Declan looked up as Jenny swanned into the restaurant ten minutes behind, which usually wouldn’t have been a problem. Hell, he sometimes showed his face an hour or two late, depending on the waves, or his hangover. But today? His new hostess had just quit, his dishwasher was AWOL, and Declan was up to his elbows in dirty pans. The past few weeks had been crazy, and summer season had only just begun.

  “You better have a good explanation,” he growled from his place at the sink. “And coffee. Coffee would help you keep your job right about now.”

  Jenny just smiled. “Yes, boss.” She waltzed over to the cappuccino machine and set whirring the hi-tech levers that Declan still couldn’t for the life of him figure out. “As I was saying, guess who’s just moved to town?”

  “Unless it’s Mario Batali, I don’t want to know.” Declan scrubbed harder. OK, so he could have had any one of his staff take over dish duty, but he was a perfectionist. How was he supposed to make magic tonight if all the damn pans were still dirty?

  “Nope. Paige Bennett,” Jenny replied casually. “You know, Eliza’s sister? She’s officially a resident now.”

  Declan whipped his head around—and lost his grip on a sudsy dish. It shattered to the ground with a crash.

  Paige had moved to town . . . permanently?

  Jenny let out a peal of laughter. “Oh man, you should take a look at your face right now.”

  “What’s wrong with my face?” Declan demanded, trying to sidestep the wreckage. “Gavin!” he yelled for his busboy. “Clean-up!”

  “I thought this day would never come,” Jenny continued, still smirking. “The great Declan Nash, gooey-eyed over a girl.”

  “I’m not gooey anything!” Declan scowled, trying to look stern. “And you’re a damn menace.”

  “Remind me to swing by Grayson’s game night sometime,” Jenny said. “Because if this is your poker face, then I’ve got it made.”

  Declan opened his mouth to yell some more, but Cal stuck his head through the kitchen doors just in time. “Is that coffee I smell? Perfect timing.”

  “What are you doing here?” Declan asked, still distracted by the news about Paige.

  Not that it mattered. She was still immune to his charms. And off limits. If his buddy here even had an inkling about the thoughts that had been lingering in Declan’s mind . . .

  Well, more like fantasies, really.

  “Hello?” Cal snapped his fingers, and Declan realized he’d spaced out. “We’re supposed to go over the books, remember?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Declan shook his head, trying to dislodge the memory of Paige’s electric smile—and the feel of her lips brushing his cheek in that whisper-soft kiss. “You go get started. I’ll be right out.”

  He felt Jenny’s eyes on him as he grabbed some of last night’s pie and his recipe notebook. “You could make yourself useful and get us those coffees,” he said. She didn’t move. “Please,” he added, and she smiled.

  “Coming right up.”

  Declan headed out to the restaurant, where Cal was set up at the bar with his papers and spreadsheets. “You know you don’t need to run this all by me,” Declan said, collapsing on a stool beside him. “Just tell me, ‘more money,’ ‘less money,’ ‘bloody hell, Declan, stop serving the 90-day aged ribeye.’ ”

  Cal chuckled. “Come on, you need to learn this stuff. What about the future?”

  “I’ll hire someone. You know I don’t care about the cash—as long as there’s enough to pay my way.” Declan shrugged. “I care about the food.”

  “And the fame.”

  “That too,” Declan smiled. “That reminds me, my agent says Rich Crawford is sniffing around. He might be interested in franchising.”

  Cal raised an eyebrow. “How do you feel about that?”

  “It could be a good opportunity,” Declan said. “A new adventure.”

  “Or a new risk.”

  “Same thing.”

  “To you, maybe,” Cal replied.

  “What happened to the great deal-maker I used to know?” Declan shot back, only half-teasing.

  Cal gave a wry grin. “We both know I was never that great. I’m happier now, doing good with the Foundation. And keeping your sorry ass from going broke ordering too much saffron.”

  “I needed it for the risotto!” Declan protested.

  “At five hundred bucks an ounce?” Cal pulled a spreadsheet closer. “Look, I’m not saying cut corners, that’s not what this place is about. But surely the test of a great chef is if he can make basic ingredients taste just as good as expensive ones?”

  Declan snorted. “Don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing. And yes, we can. You’ll be pleased to know I’m serving a country pie tonight. Wild ramps and chanterelles.”

  “Excellent choice.” Cal’s cellphone sounded with a text, and he paused to check the message. His eyes widened. “Poppy went into labor, right in the middle of the town square. Eliza’s driving her to the hospital now.”

  “Mazel tov.” Declan raised his coffee mug. “Cooper must be having a heart attack, poor guy. You think he’s ready to be a father?”

  “I think it’s about nine months too late to ask. They’ll be fine,” Cal said. “He built the crib from scratch already. Last time I saw him, he was starting on the treehouse.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “I should go meet them at the hospital,” Cal said, getting to his feet. “See if they need anything.”

  “I’ll get some meals prepped,” Declan agreed. “They won’t have a minute to think for, what, the next eighteen years?”

  “Parenthood.” Cal nodded with a disconcerting twinkle in his eye. “Nothing like it.” He checked his phone again and frowned. “I feel bad, we’re leaving Paige in the lurch.”

  Declan’s head snapped up.

  “She just moved,” Cal continued, gathering up his papers. “And we promised to help her unpack. Well, we’ll make it up to her,” he said with a shrug. “Drinks at the bar, later this week?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Declan tried to tell himself that Paige’s arrival in town had nothing to do with him. He wasn’t arrogant enough to think she’d moved here because of one kiss, a carnival ride, and an excellent lobster roll, but still . . .

  When he stepped back into the kitchen, Jenny was lingering near the door.

  “That’s a sh
ame about Paige,” Jenny said, giving him a meaningful look.

  “Is it?” Declan played dumb.

  “I hate to think of her, hauling all those boxes herself. But what do I know?” Jenny mused. “She’s probably found a nice strong man to help her by now . . .”

  Declan stopped dead at the thought.

  “Of course, you could always drop by yourself. Maybe with some macarons. A little welcome gift.” Jenny casually nudged a tray of freshly constructed treats across the counter. “15 Commercial Street.”

  Declan paused. “It would be the neighborly thing, wouldn’t it?” he said slowly.

  “Mmmhmm.” Jenny smirked. “Just remember to be back by five for dinner service!”

  Declan grabbed a fresh T-shirt from the back of his truck, then hit the road, pondering this unexpected development.

  So, Paige had upped sticks and made a change, huh? She’d been quick to deny it, back on the Ferris wheel, but he’d seen that spark in her eyes when she’d mentioned a store, and with her clear passion for her design work, it made sense, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t surprised by the 180.

  Did this mean she was open to taking more pleasurable risks, too?

  He followed Jenny’s directions and found a narrow storefront right on Commercial Street in the thick of the action. There was no answer at the door, so he headed down the alleyway beside the building, and found himself in a leafy courtyard, stacked haphazardly with boxes and bags.

  “Hello?” he called, through the open French doors.

  “Just a sec!” Paige’s voice came from somewhere inside. “I just need . . . Ow!” There was a sudden exclamation of pain, and Declan followed the sound up a flight of stairs, worried. He found Paige bent double over a pile of boxes, wearing a pair of cut-off shorts and a tank top that hugged sweaty to her curves.

  Declan liked to think he was a gentleman, but he had to fight to tear his eyes away.

  “Everything OK?” he asked.

  Paige spun around with a surprised yelp—and bumped straight into another pile. The top box teetered, and Declan quickly grabbed to steady it.

  “You,” she said, looking adorably breathless. “What are you . . . ? I mean, how . . . ?” Her face changed. “My sister called you?”

  “Close. Cal, and Jenny,” Declan replied. “And if I’d waited another hour, an all-alerts bulletin would have probably gone out.”

  Paige looked flustered. “I’m going to have to get used to this grapevine, aren’t I?”

  “Or get good at sneaking around discreetly.” Declan waggled his eyebrows. “I could teach you a few lessons, if you’d like.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Declan scolded himself. Couldn’t he go five minutes without an innuendo?

  Luckily, Paige didn’t seem to notice, she was too busy tugging her tank top down and smoothing her hair back. “Eliza said there was an emergency. Any word on Poppy’s baby yet?”

  “Still early days.” Declan looked around for the first time, taking in the breezy apartment. “This is a great place.”

  “Small, but perfectly formed.” Paige smiled wider. “And don’t you dare say anything,” she warned him, with an amused glint in her eye.

  “My lips, sealed.” Declan grinned back. “I’m just here to help with the heavy lifting.”

  “Really?” Paige brightened. “Because that would be amazing. I hired movers, but they didn’t stick around. They brought up the bed, and my couch, and left . . . well, the rest of my entire life down in the courtyard.”

  “Point the way.” Declan gestured her ahead of him. “Consider it my ‘welcome’ gift.”

  “You’re a godsend.” Paige skipped downstairs and outside, to where she had her car parked in back. “Everything’s labeled, so just dump it where you need. I’ll unpack later.”

  She grabbed a box and headed back towards the studio. Declan followed suit, but his box wasn’t taped shut properly, and the contents began to slip out. He grabbed a garment just in time and held it up off the dusty ground.

  It was a slinky, silky negligee in midnight blue, with ribbons trailing from the neckline.

  Declan suddenly got a flash of Paige wearing it, with the silk skimming her curves, and the lace trailing temptingly down her body—

  Jesus.

  He got light-headed just at the thought.

  Declan quickly went to stuff it back, but the box was open now, and he saw that it was filled with them: slips, and bras, and lacy panties with tiny, detailed embroidery. He checked the next box, and the next, and found even more of the garments; a fantasy in delicate silks and satin.

  Had he died and gone to heaven?

  “These are your designs?” he asked, finally putting two and two together.

  Paige turned back and saw him holding the negligee. Her mouth dropped open, and her cheeks flushed bright red, but her voice was almost defiant as she answered, “Yes. Anything wrong with that?”

  “I . . . nope. Nothing wrong at all,” Declan said quickly. He was pretty sure his blood pressure had just sky-rocketed off the charts. “They look great.”

  “Thanks.” Paige’s eyes darted warily over him, as if she were waiting for a different reaction, and right away, Declan realized this was a big deal to her, even if she was acting like she couldn’t care less.

  “I mean it,” he said, carefully folding the delicate garment and tucking it back into the box. “Beautiful work. I’ve never seen designs like that before.”

  “And let me guess, you’ve seen a few,” Paige cracked, relaxing now.

  Declan chuckled. “No comment. So this is what the big move is about?” he asked, hoisting three of the boxes at once and following her inside.

  Paige nodded, directing him to set them down in the corner of the studio. “I figured, if not now, then when?”

  “Nervous?” he asked, and she exhaled.

  “Terrified. But in a good way. It’s time I started taking some risks, you know?”

  Declan did know. Because she was standing there, looking like a dream—sweaty clothes, messy hair, and a look on her face that was equal parts excitement and determination.

  The way she’d looked, months ago, right before she kissed him.

  Damn it.

  “Go out with me,” Declan blurted, before he even realized what he was doing. “I mean,” he corrected himself quickly. “Would you like to go out with me?”

  Paige blinked. “On a . . . date?”

  “Yes,” Declan said, pulling himself together enough to flash her a smile. “Dinner, dancing . . . whatever strikes your fancy. What do you say? In the name of taking risks . . .”

  Paige bit her lip, and he could almost see the wheels turning in her brain. He’d never hung on a single word before, but it felt like the whole world rested on that one little reply, and when he saw the answer cross her face a moment before she said it, the relief hit him like an anvil.

  “OK.” Paige slowly smiled at him. “A date.”

  “Tomorrow night?” Declan asked, feeling like the luckiest damn guy in the world. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

  “See you then.”

  8

  Paige spent the next day unpacking her worldly possessions—and freaking out over her impending date.

  A date! With Declan—a man who could win awards for his playboy behavior. Most likely to break your heart. She was looking for a real relationship, not some tawdry fling. Wasn’t this like a moth hurling itself headfirst towards the flame?

  “You make him sound like a gigolo,” Eliza smirked, licking an ice cream cone as she sat on the kitchen counter, while Paige unpacked the china.

  Well, unpacked the china and gossiped.

  “Which has its appeal,” her sister continued, swinging her legs back and forth. “But I promise, he’s not that bad. Cal’s been friends with him for years. He says Declan is always upfront with women and never leads anyone on.”

  Paige nodded, her stomach still doing a wild dance. “He’s honest, I’l
l give him that.”

  “And smokin’ hot,” Eliza added with a grin.

  Paige laughed. “That too. But come on, what am I thinking?”

  “That it’s time for you to have some fun?” Eliza challenged her. “You deserve it, after all those years with drippy Doug. Just don’t get attached, and you’ll have a great time. Cal already warned him there’ll be hell to pay if he breaks your heart.”

  “He did what?” Paige’s head snapped up, aghast. “No! That’s so embarrassing. I’m not some innocent flower.”

  “We know,” Eliza laughed. “He was just pulling the future-brother-in-law routine.”

  “Oh.” Paige relaxed. “Oh,” she repeated, as Eliza’s words sunk in. “Did he—?”

  “Propose? No,” Eliza grinned. “You think that’s something I’d just forget to tell you?”

  “I don’t even know down from up anymore.” Paige focused on unwrapping her prized dish collection from the swathes of bubble wrap. She’d thrown herself into unpacking to distract herself from tonight, and the apartment upstairs was looking finished in record time. She had her bed set up by the front window, made up with crisp white linens, with open clothing railings along one wall displaying her colorful wardrobe. There was cute little bistro table and chairs in the back by the galley kitchen, and with all her favorite vases, and candles, and trinkets decorating the shelves, it already felt like home.

  “There,” she said, stepping back to admire the kitchen shelves. “What do you think? I never put these out when I lived with Doug, I couldn’t risk him smashing something in the sink.”

  “I think it looks great. And you will, too.” Eliza hopped down. “What are you wearing tonight?”

  “I thought maybe something casual,” Paige replied, like she hadn’t been mentally planning it since the moment he invited her out. “I don’t want to get all dressed up and find out he’s taking me off-road racing, or zip-lining. Declan seems like a guy who likes surprises.”

  “I didn’t mean the outfit. I mean underneath.” Eliza gave her a knowing look, and Paige flushed.

  “Stop it!”

  Eliza giggled, sticking out her tongue like they were kids again. “I’ll leave you to it. Remember, be prepared!”