She smiled amicably, but didn’t offer her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
The other woman gave her head a haughty shake, and her long sable hair rippled down her back in a silky cascade. Dark, exotic green eyes that tipped up at the corners scrutinized Paige from head to toe. Full lips, painted the same shocking red as her dress curled into a smug smile. “Ummm, a pleasure,” she purred.
“So, what do you think of the place, pussycat?”
Bridget hooked an arm through Victor’s, pressing so close her breasts quivered and threatened to spill from her low-cut bodice. “Darling, the boutique is absolutely charming!” she gushed, playing the pampered fiancée to the hilt. “The shop is classy and the outfits are more stylish than I’d expected. Why, it would be like having one great big closet full of clothes!”
Under different circumstances, Paige would have found the other woman’s fatuousness amusing, but there was a shrewd intelligence in her eyes that belied her dim-witted, spoiled routine.
Victor caught the hand that had slipped intimately beneath his suit jacket and brought it back into sight. “How long do you think it will hold your attention before you grow bored with it?”
Laughing throatily, she trailed a long, crimson nail along the front of his shirt. “Does it really matter, as long as it keeps me busy during the day while you’re working?”
“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” He sighed and looked back at Paige with a shrug that said he was helpless to resist this woman’s wishes. “I guess we’ll be discussing numbers.”
Paige prayed her surprise didn’t reflect on her face. She honestly hadn’t believed his supposed interest in the boutique would go beyond a preliminary inquiry. And what perplexed her even more was that, so far, neither one of them had glanced at the picture on the wall. Wasn’t that their real purpose for being here?
“All right,” Paige said, playing along with the ruse. She waved a hand toward the pair of tweed chairs and end table that made up a small sitting area next to her desk. “Please, sit down and we’ll discuss my price and terms.”
Victor took one of the chairs, but Bridget strolled to the opposite side of the office from where the portrait hung. She stopped at a bookcase filled with catalogs, specialty books and other business periodicals. Retrieving a thick book of fashion designs, she casually flipped through the pages.
“I’m afraid she doesn’t care for the dealing part of business, and leaves the final decision in my hands,” Carranza said, explaining Bridget’s disinterest.
More likely she wants to case the joint, Paige thought, but feigned indifference. “I understand.”
Opening the button on his suit jacket, he reclined back in his chair. “First, I’d like to ask why you’re selling the boutique.”
The personal question threw her, though she managed to sustain an outward calm. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so blunt.” He smiled his apology. “But what I’d like to know is if the Wild Rose is financially secure.”
“It turns a decent profit. In fact, it’s doing extremely well.” Not sure where this conversation was heading, but wanting to maintain a businesslike air, she offered, “I can have my accountant send you a financial statement if you’d like.”
“If the boutique is solvent, why would you let it go?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard her last remark or was ignoring it for more consequential information. “Is there something we should know about, a reason why you might be, well, unloading the shop…”
Paige was beginning to find this conversation entirely too bizarre, as if Carranza really did have an interest in the boutique, which was ridiculous. These pragmatic questions weren’t what she’d anticipated, and her honest answer to his question-that she was severing all ties to Miami and opting for solitude and simplicity-weren’t t appropriate in this situation.
Think pretentious and pampered, Paige. That’s what they expect from you. “Oh, no, it’s nothing like that,” she said, punctuating her remark with light, frivolous laughter. “The boutique is a responsibility I no longer want. I’m recently widowed, and I’ve been thinking of doing some traveling.” Straight to Connecticut.
“Alone?” His smile was affable, his tone conversational, but there was something in the depths of his gaze that made her feel anxious-as if he was subtly prying for intimate answers that had nothing to do with the sale of the boutique and more to do with the ostentatious woman she was supposed to be.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Bridget watching her, waiting for her response, her fingers stroking the dazzling ruby-and-diamond necklace Paige highly suspected had been smuggled through Carranza’s organization.
Paige’s face warmed, and she hoped they’d both mistake the flush for embarrassment and not the uneasiness it was. “Well, no, not exactly,” she lied.
Bracing his arms on the side of the chair, the suave man steepled his fingers in front of him and regarded her over the tips. “A male companion, then?” he asked curiously.
His audacity astounded her. She knew she was supposed to be accommodating, but she was beginning to feel interrogated, and annoyed. “Mr. Carranza,” she said firmly, attempting to steer their conversation back to business. “I don’t know what my traveling plans have to do with your interest in the boutique…”
He held up a hand and appeared apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I tend to let my curiosity get the best of me at times. You’re a lovely woman, and I just naturally assumed you’d have an escort.”
Belatedly, Paige realized the reason for his casual probing. They’d heard about Josh being her lover and wanted to confirm the report they’d been given.
He shrugged, as if dismissing the entire verbal exchange. “Back to business, then. What are you asking for the boutique?”
She quoted him the price she’d estimated the Wild Rose was worth, and spent the next fifteen minutes discussing her terms for the sale, treating him as she would any other potential buyer. He digested the information she fed him, and asked all the appropriate questions of a prospective investor. During that time Bridget continued her slow perusal of the office, and Liz passed the door with an armload of clothes and glanced surreptitiously inside, offering Paige a measure of comfort and security, though she felt no direct threat from Carranza.
When there was nothing left to discuss but an offer, Carranza stood and rebuttoned his suit jacket. “Before making any final decisions, I’d like to discuss the purchase with my investment broker.”
This couldn’t be the end of his visit, she thought, finding his strategy disconcerting and unnerving. Following his lead, she retrieved a business card from her desk and handed it to him. “Feel free to give me a call if you or your broker have any other questions.”
“Oh, I’m certain you’ll be hearing back from me shortly.” His smile held a deeper connotation than his simple words.
“Darling, would you take a look at this picture!” Bridget exclaimed, capturing their attention.
Paige and Victor turned at the same moment to find the other woman in front of the portrait hanging on the wall, her eyes alight with excitement and intense purpose.
Finally, Paige thought, relief and nervousness colliding.
Victor casually strolled to where Bridget stood. Hands thrust into the front pockets of his slacks, he considered the sensual portrait of Paige wrapped in white fur, her cleavage a perfect setting for the Ivanov necklace. “Umm, the picture is quite exquisite,” he said, with a slow, appreciative grin that made Paige’s skin crawl.