Riley smiled at the action. "I won't let anything happen to you, Paige."
"Yeah, right. You and I are such good friends."
"You're very important to me right now."
"A means to an end. I figured that out awhile ago. Just get us out of here. I hate underground parking garages."
"Better?" he asked a moment later when they pulled out onto the street.
"Yes," she said, letting out a sigh. "It's been a long night."
"You should go home and get some sleep."
"I need to see my dad, to be there when he wakes up. I shouldn't have even come here, but I didn't want you to talk to Jasmine alone." Paige looked out the window, feeling calmer as Riley drove away from Chinatown, heading toward the Financial District. "It's amazing how quickly the neighborhood changes."
"And how little the neighbors mingle. You live only a few miles from here, yet you never come here."
"How do you know where I live?"
"I have my ways."
"I don't like my privacy being invaded."
"Well, I don't like the fact that my grandmother's dragon is missing. So we're even."
He had her there. "What about you? Where do you live? It seems only fair that I should know as much about you as you know about me."
"I have a condo south of Market," he told her.
"The new 'in' neighborhood according to San Francisco Magazine."
"It's convenient to my work. I don't care much about trends."
"What about your grandmother? Does she live with you?"
"God, no." He uttered a laugh. "She has a house in the Sunset. It's too big for her now that my grandfather is in a rest home, so she's thinking about moving. That's why we cleaned out her attic last week."
"I am sorry about all this," she said, feeling even more guilty now that she knew his grandfather was in a rest home. When I promised you that the dragon would be safe in our care, I was sincere."
He sent her a thoughtful look. "I'd like to believe that."
"You can. I'm a very honest person. I don't lie about anything."
"Everyone lies about something."
She shot him a curious look. "You're really a glass half-empty kind of guy, aren't you?"
He smiled at that. "When it's half empty, it is half empty."
"Or half full, depending on your point of view, and yours seems to be extremely cynical."
"And yours is extremely optimistic. You remind me of my grandmother. She still believes in Santa Claus."
"I liked your grandmother. She's really nice. Nothing like you."
"She'd be the first to agree with you."
"You're close, aren't you?"
"We're all we have left since my grandfather got sick. I try to watch out for her as much as I can. I don't let anyone take advantage of her. Although I may have screwed up in this case."
"You didn't. We'll get the dragon back."
"You can't make that promise. You don't even know where it is."
"Then we'll compensate your grandmother in some other way," Paige said, knowing her mother would probably have a heart attack at the thought of paying for a dragon statue she couldn't sell. But then again, Hathaway's had lost the statue, and Paige doubted the insurance would cover the item since it had been taken out of the store.
Riley concentrated on the traffic, maneuvering across three lanes. His profile was strong and masculine, his hands firm on the wheel, his shoulders broad. He was a beautifully made man, attractive, virile. Good heavens, where had that word come from? A knot in her stomach squeezed tight as she was overwhelmed by an unfamiliar feeling of lust. She had the sudden urge to reach out and trace his jawline, maybe run her fingers through the thick strands of dark hair.
What was she thinking? Her father was fighting for his life. Her family business was going to be under intense scrutiny when the press got wind of the disappearance of the dragon. Her mother would be beside herself. That's what she needed to be thinking about, not how good-looking Riley McAllister was, or how much she wanted to touch him.
She rolled down the window, letting in some fresh, cooling air.
"I can turn on the air conditioner," Riley said.
"This is fine."
He turned the corner and slowed down as Fast Willy's came into view. He pulled over behind her car, leaving the engine running.
Paige put her hand on the door handle, then paused. "What are you going to do now?"
"Follow the trail."
"There isn't a trail. The only evidence the police have is that bracelet. I can't believe we didn't even ask Jasmine about the bracelet," she added, realizing the subject had never come up.
"The bracelet doesn't matter. It led us to her. That's all we needed to get out of it."
"But she didn't tell us anything. I don't see any trail, Riley."
"The trail of the dragon. It came from somewhere. It seems to have some value. Maybe if we know more about it, we can figure out who would want it badly enough to steal it. Surely someone in your family or someone at Hathaway's might have more information about such a piece and its history."
"That someone would be my father. But I think you're overlooking something."
"What?"
"Your family. Where did your grandmother get the dragon?"
"She doesn't know."
"Maybe someone in your family knows," she said, repeating his earlier statement and liking the fact that the Hathaways weren't the only ones under the microscope.
"There's no one else in my family to ask. My grandfather has Alzheimer's. He can't even remember his name."
"No other relatives?"
"Nope. Dead or gone pretty much accounts for all of them."
She thought about that blunt statement. "What about your parents?"
"Dead or gone," he repeated.
She didn't know what to say to that. Riley certainly didn't know how to make polite conversation. "I'm sorry," she said awkwardly.
"It's not your fault. But you're right. We can't overlook anything, in my family or in yours. I'll do some digging. Hell, I'll even pay my grandfather a visit. Maybe he'll have a lucid moment."
"Does that happen often?"
"Almost never."
"That must be difficult for your grandmother."
"She was crazy about him. Still is, even when he doesn't recognize her, which is most days. The hardest times are when he's struggling to remember something, when he has enough awareness to realize it's gone. That's when it gets to me—when I see that look of panic in his eyes, and I can't do anything to stop it." He shook his head. "I hate feeling helpless."
She knew exactly what he meant. She'd felt that way when her sister died, and she'd felt that way all last night. "Thanks for the ride. I guess I'll see you later."
"You can count on that."
* * *
By seven o'clock that night, everyone in San Francisco knew that David Hathaway had been assaulted in Chinatown, that he was fighting for his life, and that a potentially valuable Chinese dragon might have been the motivation for the attack. Riley hit the mute button on the television, irritated with himself for mentioning the dragon to the police detective the night before. Obviously, Tony had not kept that fact to himself. With the press watching the Hathaways every second, it was no wonder the news had leaked out. At least his grandmother's name had not been mentioned. He didn't care if the Hathaway reputation took a hit, but he'd prefer not to have his grandmother in the spotlight.
His phone rang, and he leaned over to pick up the extension, seeing his grandmother's number. "Hello, Grandma."
"Riley, I just saw the news. I feel terrible about what happened to poor Mr. Hathaway. And that my dragon might be the cause of it all is so upsetting."
"We don't know that for sure."
"The reporter who talked to me seemed to think it was the reason."
His gut tightened. "What reporter?"
"Someone from the Herald called. He was very nice. He asked me all, kinds of question
s about the dragon. Of course I could only tell him what they told us, and I didn't even remember all of that."
"I wish you weren't mixed up in this," he grumbled. "Don't talk to anyone else, Grandma. Just let the answering machine pick up the phone. Maybe I should come over there."
"And do what? Babysit me? I'm too old for that, honey. Besides, Patty and Lila are coming over to play cards in a few minutes. I won't be alone."
"What about later tonight?"
"I'm a big girl. I'll lock the doors and windows, and I'll make sure I turn on that security system your grandpa put in a few years ago."
"All right, but be careful."
"Of course I'll be careful, but I don't understand why you sound so concerned."
"I'm concerned because someone may have been willing to kill David Hathaway for your dragon." He heard Nan's small gasp of breath and cursed himself for being so blunt. He should have chosen his words more carefully.
"Well," she said, "I didn't quite see it like that, but I don't think I have to worry. After all, I don't have the dragon anymore."
She had a point, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something.
"I'm beginning to think I wasn't meant to have that dragon, Riley," she added.
"Why would you say that?"
"I've been racking my brain trying to figure out where it came from. It had to have been brought into the house by one of two people, your grandfather or your mother. Now, I usually knew what Ned was up to. He didn't have many secrets. But Mary was full of surprises. I wonder if she didn't pick up that dragon on one of her trips. Maybe ..." Her voice drifted away. "But I don't want to think that."
"That she stole it." The thought had already crossed his mind.
"Your mother isn't a thief."
"My mother doesn't know right from wrong, up from down, red from blue. Her vision of the world was skewed most of the time, even when she wasn't on drugs. You know that."
"If she took the dragon from somewhere, she didn't think it was stealing."
"It doesn't matter," he said, trying not to show his exasperation with Nan's loyalty. After all, she'd extended that same loyalty to him.
"It might matter. Maybe your mother saw us on TV the other day. I've gotten a couple of strange hang-up calls recently."
"Why would she call and hang up?" Riley asked, trying to be logical and practical instead of emotional. "Why wouldn't she just say hello?"
"She might be working up her courage. We had words that last day before she left, and I told her that she couldn't come back unless she said she was sorry. I had no idea I was asking something that was just impossible for her to give."
Riley knew his grandmother still wanted to hear those words, still wanted to believe that her daughter would one day realize how much she'd hurt them all and apologize. Riley had hoped for the same thing for a long, long time. But not now, not after fifteen years.
"She must think about you, Riley. I'm only her mother, but you're her son, her child. I know she thinks about you. I know she wants to see you."
"You don't know anything of the kind," Riley said somewhat harshly. "I'm sorry, Grandma, but the truth is we don't even know if she's alive. And the odds of her calling and hanging up are really long. It's more likely a wrong number, or maybe even Grandpa dialing the phone and forgetting who he's calling. You should have caller ID on your phone; I don't know why you don't. I'll get that added tomorrow."
"Oh, Riley, more security measures? I don't want to feel like I'm living in a prison. You're probably right. It's probably your grandpa. He does have that phone by his bed."
Riley paused as the buzzer for his apartment rang. "Someone is at the door. Call me if you have any problems." He hung up the phone and walked over to the intercom. "Yes?"
"It's Paige. I need to speak to you right away."
He buzzed her in, having a pretty good idea of what she wanted to see him about.
She made it to the second floor in less than a minute and, judging by the flushed red of her cheeks, she'd taken the stairs. He waved her into his apartment.
"Before you—" he began.
"What the hell were you thinking, talking to the press about this?"
"I didn't."
"You must have. They have the whole story. My phone has been ringing off the hook all day. They want to know about the dragon. And our other customers want to know if their priceless artifacts are in danger of disappearing. My mother is livid. This is the last thing we needed, with my father fighting for his life." She finally took a breath.
Riley jumped in. "I didn't call the media, Paige. I mentioned the dragon to the police detective last night. I asked him if they'd found anything in the alley."
"The police told the press?" she asked with a disbelieving frown.
"I'm sure someone has a source in the department. And you said yourself that the Hathaways are always news, aren't they?"
"Yes." She let out a sigh. "I need to sit down."
Riley swept a pile of newspapers off a nearby armchair so she could take a seat. "How did you find me, by the way?"
"Your secretary was very helpful."
"I'll fire her in the morning."
Paige smiled weakly. "I guess I should apologize. I shouldn't have come here. I just had to yell at someone."
"How's your father?"
"No change. It's hard to see him lying so still. My mother is there now, along with a private nurse. My grandfather is planning to stop by tonight. He'll probably just order my father to wake up."
"Does he have that much power?"
"He thinks he does, but my dad tuned out my grandfather years ago. The two of them have never gotten along. I think that's why Dad started traveling so much. It was his escape."
"Do you need an escape, too?" he asked curiously.
"I already made my escape. I moved out of the family house a few years ago. I couldn't breathe there. My grandfather has portraits of all the Hathaway ancestors lining the hallway. Every time I'd walk down that hall, I'd feel like they were looking at me, wondering why I should be the only Hathaway left to carry on the family bloodline. I can't even carry on the name officially, since I'm a girl, which has caused endless turmoil. I think my mother would consider adopting my husband just to give him the Hathaway name."
Riley smiled. "That would be extreme. And I can't see many men willing to give up their name."
"The woman gives up hers. Why shouldn't the man do the same?"
"Because it's very ..."
"Very what?"
"Wrong. Trust me, Paige, if the man you marry is willing to give up his name to take yours, you should run away as fast as possible." He sat down on the sofa across from her, resting his arms on his legs. "Speaking of which, you're engaged, aren't you?"
"Who told you that?"
"My assistant, Carey."
"Then you should fire her."
He grinned. "Are you saying it's not true?"
"You don't see a ring, do you?"
"No, but I thought I saw a jealous boyfriend last night at the hospital."
She shrugged, avoiding his direct gaze. "Martin was just being protective. He wasn't jealous of you. Why would he be? It's not like you and I are together. You don't even like me."
"Did I say that?"
"Didn't you?" she countered, her gaze seeking his.
"I don't think so."
"You said you didn't trust me."
"That's not the same thing."
She tilted her head, giving him a considering look. "It's not just me you don't trust, though, is it? What made you so cynical -- or should I say who?"
"I was just born this way."
"No one is born distrusting. That's not how it happens."
"Why don't you tell me about it over pizza?" He got to his feet and moved toward the phone. "What kind do you like?"
She looked at him in surprise. "I'm not staying for pizza."
"Why not? Aren't you hungry?"
"Well, yes,
but—"
"You can help me with some research while we're waiting for the food," he added, tipping his head toward the laptop computer on the table. "I've found some interesting dragon tales, but nothing that looks like my grandmother's dragon. Maybe you know of some better sites."
"I suppose I could try," she said slowly.
"What do you want on your pizza?"
"Surprise me."
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I don't want to hear any complaints later on."
She gave him a serene smile. "Hathaways never complain."
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, Riley knew that Paige liked black olives, mushrooms, pepperoni, and onions but picked off the bell peppers when no one was looking. Only, he was always looking; she just hadn't caught him at it yet. She'd been too busy surfing through various art sites on the computer.
He liked the way she worked, the way her eyes focused on the screen, sometimes squinting over tiny print. He liked the way she frowned with impatience when the computer worked too slowly or a lead turned into a dead end. But it didn't make her quit. She just worked harder. And she was right; she didn't complain, not about the fact that the only drink he had to offer was beer, or that he had run out of napkins and paper towels and had only toilet paper to offer for dripping cheese and tomato sauce.
She'd probably also noticed the fact that his apartment was decorated in leftovers, as he liked to call the furniture he'd collected from his bachelor friends every time they moved in with a woman or got married. It seemed that along with commitment came interior design. Sooner or later, his friends' furniture showed up at his place while the women filled their joint living space with new stuff.
Well, not for him. He was happy with his big-screen TV, his oversized reclining armchair, his leather couch and his football memorabilia, including a signed jersey from the San Francisco 49ers. No woman was worth losing that for.
"Hello ..."
Paige's voice brought his attention back to her. "What?"
"I've been talking to you for five minutes."
Golden Lies Page 9