Falling For the Billionaire Page 6

  “We’ll need a little more time.”

  “Certainly, Mr. Belmont. I’ll return soon.” Valerie left and stopped at another a table nearby.

  Across from him Paige pressed her lips together as if to suppress a smile or a laugh. “Maybe before I start the bedtime story, we should decide on dinner.”

  Scott chuckled as he reached for his menu. So far this evening was turning out much more enjoyable than he’d expected.

  Dinner orders placed, Scott didn’t hesitate to get back to their previous conversation. “Okay, I’m ready for my nap. Feel free to start talking whenever you’re ready.”

  “Let’s see. My birthday is April fourth. I graduated from Scituate High School and then went to the University of Rhode Island. My granddad, my dad’s father, wanted me to attend a private college like Dartmouth College, which is where my brother, Joe, went. He actually paid for us both to go to college.”

  “Why didn’t you, then?”

  She shrugged, the movement pulling his eyes toward her bare shoulders. “A lot of my friends were going to URI, and it has a good nursing program. After I graduated, I got a job at Rhode Island Hospital and have worked there ever since. I have seven cousins. You already know my great-aunt Bebe. I have three other aunts. Aunt Mary and Aunt Iris are my dad’s sisters. Aunt Tonya is my mom’s sister.”

  Her sentence confirmed what he’d guessed from the little research he’d done on the Internet. Michael Jeremy Foster Jr. was her father. So why was he living in Scituate rather than in Texas with the other Fosters and running Foster Oil?

  “My brother and his wife, Trish, live in Virginia Beach and they recently had a baby girl.” Paige paused for a sip of her water. “I love any kind of chocolate, but my favorite is dark chocolate. Aunt Bebe introduced me to one from Switzerland. It’s to die for. Whenever she goes to Europe, I make her bring me back some. Let’s see, what else.” Paige paused and took a sip of her water. “I love running. Two years in a row my ex-husband and I did the Boston Marathon together. I planned on running it again this year, but I broke my ankle in January. Since then I’ve kept my runs much shorter.”

  Scott’s attention locked on to the word ex-husband. Of all the things she might tell him, he hadn’t expected to learn she’d been married. “How long were you married for?” He assumed it was an acceptable question.

  “Only two years. Benjamin and I divorced three years ago.” Her voice never changed. He didn’t detect a hint of sadness or anger in it. In the past, he’d heard both when people spoke of their divorces. “It was an amicable divorce. Or as amicable as any divorce can be, I guess.”

  “And afterward you adopted your dog?” he asked.

  “Good memory.” She smiled at him. “Yeah, Benjamin is allergic to both cats and dogs so we couldn’t have any pets. I always had either a dog or a dog and cat growing up, so as soon I had my own place again I got Ryder.”

  From what he’d seen so far Paige was smart, funny, and he assumed compassionate since she worked as a nurse. Considering all those things, he wondered what had led to her divorce. Unfortunately, he couldn’t ask, at least not until they knew each other better. Even then many might consider it inappropriate, since they’d only be together for a handful of dates.

  “After the divorce I also took back my maiden name. Honestly, I never liked Benjamin’s. It was too long, and no one could ever pronounce or spell it. Foster is so much easier.”

  “Had a roommate in college with a name like that. After graduation he legally changed his last name to Peterson because he assumed everyone could spell and pronounce it. I don’t say I blame him either.”

  Before Paige could share any other details, their server returned with their dinners. As they sat and enjoyed their meal, their conversation slowed, and he wondered what other surprises she might share with him before the night was out.

  Chapter 5

  Even though she gazed at the view while they waited for the valet to bring around Scott’s car, her thoughts remained fixed on the man standing next to her. Much of the nervousness she’d experienced both in her kitchen and during the car ride had disappeared. Since the moment he picked her up, he’d been not only a perfect gentleman but also humorous and easygoing. He’d picked up on how uncomfortable she was in the beginning and immediately set out to put her at ease. Not everyone was able to do that. And she never expected he’d be one of the few who could.

  Prior to tonight, she’d expected Scott to be more like her cousin Nolan Wakefield. Like all her cousins on the Foster side, Nolan resided in Texas and over the last two or three years he’d become her grandfather’s right-hand man. In fact, in another few years, her grandfather planned to turn the reins of Foster Oil over to Nolan despite her cousin Prescott’s public disapproval.

  Since Nolan lived in Texas, she only saw him when she visited her family there, which wasn’t too often. So she didn’t have a close relationship with him. However, she knew him well enough. While not a bad person, he reminded her of the stereotypical wealthy businessman. He worked long hours, lived in a house far larger than anyone could ever need, and often came across as thinking he was better than everyone else. Sometimes Paige wondered if that explained why he was working on marriage number three despite being only a year older than her.

  From the little Scott had shared, it sounded as if he worked a lot too, and she doubted his place in Manhattan was anything to sneeze at. But he didn’t come across as thinking he was better than her or anyone else. All evening he’d treated her, as well as the staff at the Spiced Pear, as equals. Using the time she’d spent around her dad’s side of the family as a frame of reference, she knew not everyone in Scott’s social circle treated others that way.

  “Here you are, Mr. Belmont.” The valet’s words caught her attention, and she looked away from the shoreline and back at her date.

  Scott tipped the young man before touching her lower back and escorting her toward the vehicle. “The view from the hotel should be almost as good this one.” His voice again rolled over her, causing her insides to do some twists and flips. Something they hadn’t done with any man she’d gone out with since her divorce.

  She’d read a week earlier that before the fireworks the Providence Symphony Orchestra was performing at the Sherbrooke Hotel located on America’s Cup Avenue. She wondered if the performance would take place inside the hotel or in the outside pavilion she’d noticed on the hotel’s website.

  Scott opened her car door before she could reach for the handle. Then he waited until she sat before closing the door and walking around to the to the other side. While she’d seen men do such things in old movies, she’d never had anyone do it for her. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she liked it either. She considered herself a strong, independent, twenty-first-century woman. The type who could take care of herself no matter what obstacles might pop up. She lived alone, and took care of her own yard work, which included mowing the lawn and planting flowers. If something went wrong with her car, she brought it to the garage. She never relied on a man to handle things for her. For some reason, allowing Scott to open and close doors made her feel as if she’d slapped all those women who’d fought so hard for women’s rights across the face.

  “If you’re not interested in the concert, we can do something else before the fireworks. I should’ve asked you ahead of time what kind of music you enjoy.”

  Given the choice she preferred rock as well as the popular hits played on the radio. Every once in while she enjoyed something different. “You won’t find the Providence Symphony in any of my playlists, but I’m looking forward to hearing them again tonight. Last year they performed at WaterFire one weekend. They were amazing.”

  Scott pulled onto the road. “That’s what I’ve heard.”

  She waited for him to say something else. Before dinner, she’d shared a lot about herself. Once dinner arrived their conversation had slowed, but she’d kept waiting for him to share more about himself. So far he’d told her very little. Now seeme
d like a good time for him to hold up his end. When they arrived at The Sherbrooke Hotel, they’d be surrounded by potentially hundreds of people. It wouldn’t be the best setting for getting to know each other. And she wanted to know more than what she’d read last night.

  Thinking about how she’d spent the previous night surfing the Internet for information about Scott once again pricked her conscience. She shouldn’t have done it, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her, and it’d been so easy to find articles, some dating back to his college years.

  “Are we watching the fireworks from the hotel?” The silence in the car only made her think more about how she’d done an Internet search on the poor man. She’d dislike it if someone did the same to her.

  For the first time since leaving, he looked over at her. “If you want, we can. But I planned to watch them from my house. The view from the rooftop is much better.”

  He planned to take her back to his house. I hope he’s not expecting to do anything but watch fireworks tonight. She’d slept with men before meeting her ex-husband, but never on a first date. Paige had no intention of changing her track record tonight, especially considering there was no possibility of a future with Scott. Once he’d fulfilled the dates Aunt Bebe purchased, he’d disappear back to his own world. Their paths would never cross again.

  “You know more about the area than me, so I’ll go with your judgment.” All night the man had been nothing but a gentleman. Her gut told her his behavior wouldn’t change. She’d be safe viewing the fireworks from his house. “If the view is better from your house, let’s go there. I want the best view possible tonight.”

  For the evening’s performance, the orchestra had set up in the outdoor pavilion on the hotel’s property. When they arrived, she could hear the musicians warming up as people settled into whatever empty space they could find. Even from the curb she could see people already filled the chairs placed inside the pavilion, while others relaxed on towels and blankets. Even the benches around the area looked full. Considering how crowded the area already appeared, Paige suspected they’d be standing for the entire performance, something she’d rather not do in her heels. While they looked great, especially with this dress, they were not the most comfortable pair of shoes she owned.

  After handing over his keys to the valet, Scott led her up the steps toward the hotel’s front entrance. Right away a doorman pulled open the glass door. Before they managed to escape into the air-conditioned building, someone called out, “Mr. Belmont.”

  They both stopped and turned. Paige spotted the man with the large camera in his hands, but it took a half second longer for her to connect the voice with the man.

  The camera flashed before she looked away.

  “Mr. Belmont, I’m Linda Webster from the Providence Gazette.” A petite woman appeared next to the cameraman. “Is this the winner from the bachelor auction last month?”

  The reporter turned her gaze as well as her overfriendly smile toward Paige. Heat exploded in her face and shot through her body and she wished for some extra deodorant.

  “Ms. Foster is my date this evening. If you’ll please excuse us, we’re here to enjoy the music.” Scott touched her back, his hand oddly comforting as the reporter continued to smile, putting her unusually perfect bright white teeth on display.

  Undeterred, the reporter spoke again before they got through the door and to safety. “Ms. Foster, is this the first of the four dates you bought at the Helping Hands auction? How is it going so far? What else does Mr. Belmont have planned for the two of you tonight?” The questions came at her in rapid-fire succession.

  Paige did her best imitation of a fish opening and closing her mouth. Should she answer the woman or ignore her? If she answered, what should she say?

  Scott applied more pressure to her back, a clear indication he wanted her to get moving. “We don’t have time for questions tonight. I’m sorry.” Although still polite, his voice contained some bite. “Ignore her and keep walking. It’s okay.” He whispered the words against her ear. His warm breath caused her internal temperature to go up another few degrees, and this time she couldn’t blame the change on embarrassment.

  Paige heard the reporter call out another question, and she feared the woman would follow them inside. She held her breath for a few seconds and waited to hear the reporter’s voice again. It never came.

  In silence, they crossed the open space toward the glass door on the opposite wall, Scott’s hand still on the small of her back. Once they stepped outside again, he escorted her to one of the small tables set up. Each of the five tables was covered with a blue linen tablecloth and placed in the center was a flickering candle surrounded by an arrangement of red and white flowers. Already individuals occupied three of the other tables; in fact, she recognized one of the couples. The former governor and his wife sat with another couple at the table furthest from them.

  Next to her, Scott pulled out a chair. Well, at least my feet aren’t going to suffer.

  “I arranged this when I made our dinner reservations. I expected the area would get crowded tonight.” He took his own seat as he spoke. “Sorry about the scene with the reporter. It didn’t occur to me they’d be here tonight.”

  She’d spent a lot of time thinking about Scott and their evening, but she hadn’t stopped to consider the media. In hindsight, she should’ve. “It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

  It might not be his fault, but he knew better. A big holiday celebration was sure to garner a lot of local media attention. Media attention equaled news teams, and those contained pushy reporters. “It might happen again when we’re together, so I apologize in advance. You don’t have to talk to them no matter how aggressive they get.”

  She’d appeared both shocked and embarrassed when the reporter approached them. He suspected she’d never dealt with the media before tonight. From now on he’d do his best to keep them away from situations where reporters might bother her. Unfortunately, there were no guarantees.

  “Really, it’s okay. The auction was such a big deal, it makes sense the media is still interested in it. And you.”

  If any of the other women he’d dated had ever been put in a position that obviously made them so uncomfortable while with him, they would’ve blamed him for the rest of the night. He not only appreciated that she didn’t blame him, but he liked her more because of it. And although unexpected, he found he liked Paige Foster quite a lot already.

  “How long is the performance tonight?”

  Scott could take a hint. She didn’t want to talk about the run-in out front. “An hour. The fireworks start around ten.”

  From a few tables over the former Rhode Island governor waved at him, catching Scott’s attention. He knew the polite thing would be to go and say hello to him, his wife, and the other couple sitting with him. If he’d been alone, he would’ve walked over and spent a few minutes talking. Doing so tonight either meant leaving Paige alone or asking her to come with him. The first option was rude, and he guessed the second would embarrass her further. So instead he waved back. If the man took offense, oh well.

  “I’m looking forward to them. The last ones I saw were near McCoy stadium four years ago. Or maybe it was five. I’m not positive. The summers always seem to fly by.”

  “You won’t be disappointed tonight.”

  She smiled at him, and for a moment Scott wanted nothing more than to kiss her. Not the friendly kind of kiss he’d given her on stage either. He wanted to cover her mouth with his. Use his lips to learn the feel and shape of hers. When he finished there, he wanted to slip his tongue inside and taste her.

  “I’ll let you know if I agree later.”

  Uncomfortable with where his thoughts had suddenly gone, he cleared his throat and shifted his gaze from her mouth to her eyes.

  “Until then, it’s your turn. I told you a bedtime story during dinner. Now it’s your turn to talk,” Paige said.

  On the positive side she was getting muc
h more comfortable around him. He wished she’d worded her statement differently. Her use of the word bed only created an image of her in his, and he struggled not to let his mind wander further.

  What was wrong with him tonight? Sure, Paige was beautiful, but he spent a lot of time around beautiful women. He never fantasized about them after only knowing them for a few hours. Well, at least not while they still sat across the table from him. Evidently, the several months he’d spent alone and celibate were catching up with him.

  “Fair enough. But I have one more question for you first.” He had more than one. Since she’d already shared a lot about herself, he’d limit himself for now.

  She considered his sentence before shrugging one bare shoulder. “Okay, but I think I told you everything.”

  Hardly. “The night of the auction, I saw you and your aunt from up on the stage. It appeared as if she did the bidding using your arm and auction paddle. Was that my imagination, or did she pull your arm into the air?”

  “You saw us? Darn. You’ve got great eyesight.” Paige shifted her attention to the champagne flute a waiter had delivered. “You didn’t imagine it. We discussed it before the auction started. Aunt Bebe knew I had no plans on bidding. I only went to keep her company. She didn’t agree with my decision and took things into her own hands. Nothing personal, Scott, but I really wish she hadn’t. Unfortunately, she likes to do that.” Paige sounded exasperated, and he wondered how many other times Bebe Fleming had gone against her niece’s wishes.

  “She means well. I know she does, but sometimes it drives me crazy. And believe me if I’d known what her plan was when she invited me along, I would not have gone.” Paige paused her face clouded with concern. “Do you think anyone else noticed what she did? I know the other women at the table may have, but I hope no one else did.”