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’ll 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!”
She danced down the stairs before Paige could throw a cushion at her.
Paige exhaled. She was feeling those butterflies in her stomach again, a delicious fizz of excitement, and although her first instinct was to dampen it down, she paused.
Why shouldn’t she enjoy the anticipation? This was her leaping into the unknown, and if the date itself turned out to be a bust, well, at least she would enjoy the “getting ready” part. So, she put on her favorite jazzy music and ran a bath in the old claw-foot tub, pouring half a bottle of lavender bubbles into the water so it felt like she was lying amongst the clouds.
What would Declan have in store for them tonight?
Paige shivered in glee. She couldn’t remember feeling this nervous and excited about her dates back in Boston, probably because she’d been choosing utterly predictable men. They would pick her up and take her to a fashionable restaurant, and they would trade small talk about their families and jobs until the end of the night. A walk to her door, a slow, respectful kiss . . . and then a promise to call to arrange another date. It was pleasant, and predictable, and perfectly polite.
Who knew what delicious plans were forming in that creative brain of his? But Paige knew one thing for sure, she should be ready for anything. Which meant that her sister was right. She needed the perfect outfit—and not just on the outside.
Paige dried off and headed over to her dresser. She always liked to test her designs first, since the only way to experience a garment was to wear it for herself, so the whole antique cabinet was given over to her lingerie. Sensuous purples, seductive black lace . . . Paige trailed her fingertips over the fabrics, trying to decide. It felt almost naughty, imagining herself through Declan’s eyes, but even though she hadn’t decided yet if he’d even catch a glimpse tonight, Paige would know, and that made all the difference.
Peach silk, she decided finally. The light bra with a whisper of lace, and the matching panties, cut high with a bouquet of gold stitching over her hip. Simple, comfortable, but elegant enough to make an impression.
If they even got that far . . .
Paige was expecting Declan to come pick her up, but at seven p.m., she received a mysterious text message.
She checked the address on her phone and found that it was a lighthouse, just up the way from Sweetbriar Cove. Paige felt a fresh flicker of excitement. Was this some kind of scavenger hunt he was sending them on for their date?
And if it was, what kind of prize would be waiting at the end of it?
She grabbed her cardigan and jumped in her car, making the drive out of Provincetown, past the dunes and beach houses, south along the Cape. Here, the landscape was green and lush, with shadowed hollows and quiet ponds hidden in the woods. Her anticipation grew. She’d dressed for all possibilities, in flat, embellished sandals and a pair of wide-legged linen pants with her cute knit tank, but still, who knew what Declan had in store?
She followed her phone’s directions off the main highway and along a bumpy, sandy track through the woods until she emerged on the Eastern shoreline, where the seas were wilder and winds buffered the seagrass and the dunes. There were no other vehicles parked in the lot, but she pulled over and set off on foot towards the lighthouse, which sat placid and whitewashed.
“Hello?” Paige found the door in the side propped open. She stuck her head in and called up into the gloom. “Declan?”
“Up here!”
His reply came, echoing, and Paige exhaled with relief. “For a minute there, I thought this was someone’s elaborate murder ploy,” she said loudly, setting off up the narrow spiral staircase. “Lure women out with mysterious texts to a deserted location.”
Declan’s laughter rumbled down to meet her. “Don’t worry,” he said cheerfully. “Even the murderers are on vacation here.”
Paige rounded the last turn and emerged into what must have been the lantern room, many years ago. Declan was leaning on the railing, looking so casually handsome that for a moment, Paige didn’t even notice the spectacular views.
“Hi,” she said, feeling breathless from her climb.
Because that was the reason she was light-headed—and definitely not the man in front of her, in jeans and a cornflower-blue button-down that looked soft enough to stroke.
“Hey.” Declan greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, giving Paige a breath of his aftershave—something warm and spicy. “You look lovely tonight.”
“Thanks. I’m just glad I wore flat shoes,” she teased. “Otherwise we might have been spending the evening at the ER with a broken ankle.”
He laughed. “Sorry about that, but I figured the views were worth the climb.”
Paige dragged her gaze away from Declan to take in the scene. Inside, the room still had the old iron framework for the lantern and lens, with a safety railing circling the edge. The windows up there were long gone, and instead, the room was open to the elements, which that evening meant a refreshing breeze and a panoramic view of the sinking sun all across the Cape.
“You can see right to Provincetown,” she said, stepping closer to look.
“I figured I better up my game . . . literally,” Declan said, reminding her of their Ferris wheel trip. Paige flushed, recalling how just fifteen minutes sitting beside him on that bench had played havoc with her desire. And now she was about to embark on a whole evening’s adventure with the man?
Oh boy.
Declan sat down with his legs dangling over the edge of the platform, and Paige noticed for the first time that he’d brought a picnic basket and blanket, spread on the dusty floor.
She lowered herself down beside him, careful to keep far back from the edge. Declan smiled at her caution. “Don’t worry, it’s safe up here. Sturdy.” He grabbed the railing and shook it, but the frame quivered and let out a groan.
“Don’t!” Paige yelped, reaching to pull him back.
Declan chuckled. “So I can cross rappelling off our list of date activities?”
“Yes please.” Paige caught her breath—and felt her stomach rumble. She’d figured food would be a big part of any night with Declan, so she hadn’t eaten much that day. She looked to the picnic basket, and Declan must have caught the eagerness on her face, because he grinned and opened the picnic basket, pulling out . . .
A single plate with a small disc of pate and a few tiny crostini.
Paige blinked. If that was their dinner for the night, her light-headedness might get dangerous.
Declan was setting out two plastic flutes, and pouring them champagne, so Paige took a smear of the pate and bit into the crostini. “Mmm,” she said, impressed. “Delicious.”
It was. Deliciously small.
“A little appetizer,” Declan said, handing her a glass of champagne. “This is just the first round.”
“There are going to be more than one?” Paige brightened.
“Oh, you can bet on that.” Declan’s smile turned smoldering, and Paige’s stomach flipped over. “I thought we could try something fun tonight. A game.”
Paige polished off the rest of her crostini in a single bite. “What kind of game?” she asked, trying to keep her cool. The sun was setting over the bay side of the Cape, turning the sky a dusky peach color and backlighting Declan in a golden hue. He looked almost angelic like that—if she ignored the mischief in his smile.
“How about a little truth or dare?” Declan waggled his eyebrows.
“I haven’t played that since I was in high school,” Paige laughed, relaxing.
“It’s the perfect way to get to know somebody.” Declan took a sip of champagne, and Paige tried not to think about all the other “somebodies” he’d played it with. “I’ll even let you go first.”
“Let me guess, you’ll pick the dare every time?”
“Maybe,” Declan said, his eyes sparkling. “Maybe not. The only way to know is to play . . .”
Paige smiled. Declan’s playful mood was infectious. Why not have a little fun?
“OK, then: truth or dare?” she posed, and she watched as Declan pretended to think.
“Let’s start this easy,” he said. “Truth.”
Paige bit her lip, her mind racing for a question. Or at least, one that was safe to ask out loud. “How are you able to just take the night off from the restaurant?” she finally asked. “Everyone I know in the industry says it’s murder on their social life.”
If Declan thought that her question was boring, he didn’t let on. He just leaned back and demolished a slice of pate. “It helps to be the boss,” he replied. “I get to set the rules. Cal would like it if Sage stayed open 24/7, but I never want it to feel like a chore, you know? It’s better to close a couple nights a week and relax, rather than burn out from the grind.”
“That sounds . . . healthy,” Paige said, surprised. “I thought all you temperamental chefs were workaholics,” she teased, and Declan laughed.
“It helps to be working down here, and not in New York or Vegas. I cut my teeth there when I was a younger man,” he explained, “and there’s a ton of talent in those towns. But it can be a pressure cooker, too. Always chasing the next big review, trying to stay on top. Don’t get me wrong, I love me some competition,” he added with a grin, “but I’ve seen some really great guys just crash and burn. I figure a few mornings out surfing, and a few nights having fun aren’t too big a price to pay if it keeps me relaxed enough to stay in the game.”
Paige was impressed. Declan seemed ambitious, but not so much that he was willing to sacrifice everything to get ahead.
“Plus, it helps to be unavailable,” Declan added. “When people call for a reservation, it helps if they can’t get a table for a month. It makes them appreciate me more.”
There it was: the charming arrogance she knew—and was trying not to like. Paige smiled and shook her head. “You’re building my expectations sky-high,” she said. “Whatever you finally cook for me better be the single best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth—”
She stopped, hearing the innuendo the moment the words left her lips. She clapped her hands to her face. “Don’t!” she exclaimed, before Declan could say anything. “Just . . . don’t.”
“What do you mean?” Declan answered, amusement clear in his voice.
Paige peeked over. He was grinning ear to ear, but he didn’t push the issue, and Paige forced herself to exhale, her cheeks burning.
So much for staying cool and casual.
“Now, your turn.” Declan’s smile turned wicked. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” Paige said immediately. She would have to work up her nerve to accepting a dare from this man.
Declan only thought for a moment. “First boy you ever kissed?”
Paige exhaled. That one was easy. “Michael Swann,” she said, remembering. “We were in fifth grade, at a party in someone’s basement, with Savage Garden playing on the stereo.”
Declan laughed. “Mine was Kristy Donalson,” he confided. “We snuck away during math class, but then she told all her friends, and they teased her so much she pretended like it had never happened. I was kind of a dork,” he explained.
Paige tried to imagine it but couldn’t. “So when did you turn into Mr. Romeo?”
“Oh, that came later.” Declan winked. “After I took up track and hit a growth spurt. Then I was blessed with looks and charm, and, well—”
Paige pretended to hit him on the arm, and he broke off, laughing.
“I guess you’re still waiting for the modesty spurt to kick in,” she teased, and he gave a nonchalant shrug.
“The truth is, we moved around so much, it helped to have a silver tongue,” Declan admitted. “I figured out pretty early that if I could walk in and flirt with the hottest girl in the room, then everybody would pay attention. Or try to knock me out,” he grinned. “But most guys, they respect that, so it always broke the ice.”
“You moved around a lot?” Paige asked, curious.
Declan nodded. “My dad wasn’t exactly the stable kind,” he said, glancing away. “He was full of big talk, but follow-through never was his strong point. So, I got used to moving on.” He looked contemplative for a moment, so Paige quickly lightened the mood.
“Well, you definitely picked up a few skills,” she said, teasing. “And you sure like to show them off.”
He laughed. “I don’t believe in hiding your light under a bushel. I mean, take you, for example.” Declan suddenly turned his attention to her. Paige’s laughter caught.
“What about me?”
“You stay under the radar, don’t you?” His gaze turned quizzical, and Paige shifted, suddenly unnerved by the focus. “I’d bet a hundred bucks you’ve never caused a scene in your life.”
“I’m not a drama queen,” Paige protested. “What’s so wrong about that?”
“Nothing,” Declan agreed. “Or maybe . . . you just haven’t wanted anything badly enough.”
“You’re wrong,” Paige said defiantly. “I did make a scene. I kissed you, remember?”
Declan’s lips curled into a smile. “Vividly,” he said, and the low tone of his voice sent shivers curling through Paige’s body.
There was a beat, and for a moment, Paige wondered if he was going to return the favor. Then Declan sat back and started to pack away their things. “Time for round two,” he said, reaching out a hand to help her to her feet. “If you’re up to the challenge.”
“Try me,” Paige said, feeling bolder now. Clearly, Declan thought she was some kind of shrinking violet, used to playing nice. And maybe that had been her usual style, but things were different now. She wasn’t the same Paige who had sat politely through pitch meetings and bad dates. This was the new Paige: entrepreneur, kisser of hot guys. She was ready for anything.
“I might just take you up on that.”