Page 36 of Phillip

The trick led them into a more comfortable conversation, though at times their small talk seemed stilted. Then Mr. Paget leaned back in a high leather chair that resembled a throne more than a piece of executive furniture. “Chitchat aside, you’re here for business.”

“Business,” she agreed, “and charity.”

“Not my forte.” Mr. Paget hummed then steepled his long fingers together. “I was at the golf charity event that Mr. Blackthorne destroyed.”

So much for the meeting moving along in a good direction. “Crashed,” Phillip corrected. “The event wasn’t destroyed, per se.”

Paget cut a harsh, disagreeing glance at Phillip, then softened again as he looked her way. “All right. I don’t have much time left. What is it that you need?”

“We were hoping you might be interested in donating one of your cars to a charity car show.” Ashley didn’t sugarcoat their request. She retrieved the corresponding documents for their pitch. “The Laumet Society and Camp Sunshine—”

“Your nonprofit,” Mr. Paget directed to Phillip.

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded, and she continued. “Together, we’re raising funds for a similar goal. Children. Families.”

“And I’m the closest thing you have to the Hope Diamond of cars that you can get.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

That was a bit grandiose, though Phillip kept that to himself.

Paget’s face tensed with his furrowed eyebrows and terse lips. “I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you,” Ashley said.

That was better than the “no” Phillip was certain they would get. No sooner had Paget given them a noncommittal answer than the silver-haired woman arrived to show them out.

After the heavy door shut behind them, Phillip shielded his eyes from the sun. “How’d you think that went?”

Ashley hurried ahead, and he decided that he liked Ashley’s ability to banter with the crabby old man as much as he liked how the dress swished as she led the way to his car.

Phillip jogged to catch up. “How do you cover that much ground in those shoes?”

“Practice.”

“I bet.” Everything about her was practiced to perfection. He opened her door and helped her inside the low-seated Porsche.

Phillip settled into his place behind the wheel and turned the engine over. It was only then that he realized his stomach was about to growl. “Are you hungry?”

“I need to get to work.”

That wasn’t an answer. “You have to eat.” He shifted into gear and eased away from the Paget house.

Ashley laughed quietly then rattled off her to-do list as though she were committing it to memory when he knew the opposite was true. Everything she’d said had already been written down and memorized. Her running commentary of things to do was nothing more than her fearing a quiet, nonwork moment between them.

After the private tour gone wrong, he couldn’t blame her.

After driving through the center of town, he slowed at an open parking spot.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m parking. We need to eat.”

Ashley sputtered excuses about how she didn’t have time and wasn’t hungry then glanced out the window. “You won’t fit.”

It was like she’d issued a challenge to the parallel-parking gods. “Ha.” Phillip checked his mirrors then grinned. “I’ve heard that before.”

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