Chapter 31
We're close enough now that I can see the gold studs in her earlobes and her lack of a wedding ring. Her eyes are so dark, they're practically navy blue. She holds my gaze, challenging me to accept her offer.
I can't take her stare for long. My gaze drops to my lap. I'm horrified to see a darker patch at my crotch. Hastily, I fold my hands over the small area of dampness, praying that she doesn't notice.
"Well, Dr. Turner. You would have to come in to the office for that, it is not a decision we make on the spot..."
"I am aware of that, I was hoping you would drop a copy of your card, and my team and yours can fix up an appointment. And drop the 'Dr.', please. Call me Paige like you used to." She says watching my reactions.
It's all so tempting. She is so tempting. I've always been a visual person and now I can't shut off the scene that's running through my mind. I'm on my knees between Paige's spread thighs. Naked. Unbuttoning the tiny, velvet-covered buttons that hold her jacket shut, one by one...
"Katherine?" I force my wandering mind back to the present moment.
"Sorry, Dr. Turner – I mean, Paige. I have to get back to my clients."
"Sure." She says extending her hand for a handshake. Her hand is on my bare arm. Her skin is oddly cool, or perhaps I have a fever.
Her cell phone beeps. She whips it out and consults the screen, then turns back to me. "I've got a meeting now. But let's get together after the show and talk some more. I'll pick you up outside the convention center at five thirty."
"Um..." She strides away into the crowd without waiting for my agreement. I rejoin my curious clients back in the booth, slightly dazed, knowing that it's going to be a very long afternoon.
The exhibits close at five. I spend the next twenty five minutes in the rest room, touching up my make-up, brushing my teeth, re-braiding my hair, and trying to make my pants more presentable using the hand dryer.
I consider begging off meeting Paige. Maybe that would help me to stay rational and in control, to make an objective decision about my future. I don't, though. I have this weird notion that Paige wouldn't want me to.
When Paige pulls up to curb in a vintage Eldorado convertible, my surprise almost wipes out my nervousness. I had imagined her driving a fancy pickup, or maybe a hybrid. She laughs when she sees my astonishment. "I like things with a history. Perhaps because I grew up in Europe, where everything is antique. You never really got to know me back then, did you" She says. She leans over to unlatch the door for me, and I get a quick but clear look down her neckline. It appears that I was correct in my guess. In an instant, I'm sopping again.
"Hungry?" She starts the car and drives away while I'm still fumbling with the seat belt.
"No, not really." I sit back and try to relax. The leather upholstery embraces me in fragrant luxury.
"Me neither. Let's just go to my place." She says focusing on the road.
She doesn't really mean that, I tell myself. Not the way I'm thinking.
"To talk some more about the company?" I asked
I can barely hear her laugh above the roar of the huge V8. "Right. To talk." My whole body hums with excitement; the vibrations of the engine just intensify the sensation.
I expect her to get onto 101 and head down the peninsula, but she surprises me once again, weaving through city streets and up and down hills until she turns into the drive of a two-story Victorian in Pacific Heights. The house is beautifully detailed in green and gold. I reaIe that it more or less matches her suit.
Paige came around to open the passenger side door after getting down, and extends her hand to help me out of the monster vehicle. The skin-to-skin contact sends a bolt of electricity up my spine. Her grip is firm and lasts several seconds longer than strictly necessary. I'm so nervous I'm practically shaking.
"Are you all right, Katherine?" She searches my face, sensing my anxiety.
"Why are you calling me Katherine? You used to call me Kathy or Kat." I said looking straight into her eyes.
"I prefer Katherine now – much more feminine. It has an aura of the past, the glamor and power of the girl I used to know. Don't you agree?"
I don't, but I'm certainly not going to argue with her. I suspect that there aren't too many people willing to disagree with Paige Turner.
The house is cool and dark and smells of lavender. Twilight filters through lace curtains, showing me rooms furnished in the lavishly ornamented style of Victoria's reign. I marvel that Paige Turner, queen of high tech, would surround herself with these relics of a long-past era. I feel like Alice, as if I've stepped through a looking glass and I'm now lost in a world of strange marvels.
