Golden Lies (34 page)

"All right. I'll get it for you. Shall I have the security guard stand inside the door?"

"No, you shall not," he said grumpily. "I'm fine. Go. And take your time."

She did as he asked, and he was blessedly alone. Thank goodness. He wasn't used to having anyone around twenty-four hours a day, and even though it hadn't been that long, he was already tired of the constant attendance of nurses. He wanted to go home, to his own room, where he could sort things out.

Reaching for the phone, he dialed Jasmine's number, hoping she was home. She always told him not to call or come by, but he needed to talk to her.

The phone rang three times, then her voice came over the line. "Hello?"

"It's me," he said, relieved that she was there.

"David?" she asked in wonder. "Are you all right?"

"They told me I was assaulted in an alley near your apartment, that I was in a coma for a few days."

"You don't remember?"

"I wish I could." Silence followed his words. "Why did I come to see you?"

"You showed me the dragon."

"The dragon I bought for Elizabeth's birthday?"

"No, David, it was the dragon from my dreams. Someone brought it to your store to have it appraised. You showed it to me. I held it in my hands." Her voice wavered. "I believe now that it was part of that set, the one we read about, the one with the curse on first daughters. And I touched it. I released the curse on my own daughter, on our child."

His brain was still too foggy to follow her reasoning. He knew about the dragon, of course. It was important to Jasmine. "Are you sure the dragon was the same one?"

"Exactly the same. You saw it, too, David. I am so afraid of what will happen next. First, you are almost killed. Now I worry about Alyssa, and what the curse will do to her. You must remember, David. You must remember where you went when you left me. You didn't go back to the store. If you had found the dragon, where would you have gone?"

"I don't know," he said slowly. "I wish I did." He strained to remember, but the effect only brought a throbbing pain to his head.

"There is something else. I told Alyssa that you're her father."

"Why? Why would you do that?" he asked, shocked to the core. They had kept the secret for so many years. It was difficult to believe it was out.

"Your daughter found out about Alyssa."

"Paige? That's not possible."

"It's the truth. I don't know how she did, but she did. I couldn't let Alyssa be blindsided. I had to tell her first."

Paige knew about Alyssa and Jasmine? His heart sank to the bottom of his toes. She must hate him. She hadn't said anything yet, probably because he'd been so badly hurt. But when things were back to normal, she would remember that he'd betrayed her and her mother. And she wouldn't understand. He couldn't bear it if Paige turned on him. She was the only daughter he had. Except Alyssa, of course, but he didn't know her. She didn't know him. It was a choice he'd made a long time ago. There was no turning back now. Unless .. .

"Does Alyssa want to see me?"

"She isn't sure. But you know she will not make trouble for you, and neither will I."

No, the trouble would come from Victoria. No doubt about that.

"I have to go," he said, hearing the nurse outside his room. "I'll call you when I get home." He hung up the phone, almost wishing he could return to the unconscious state he had just left. His daughter and most likely his wife knew about his mistress and his illegitimate child. Maybe he would have been better off dead. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

Someone had wanted him dead.

Who? Did he know? Was that why he couldn't remember? Maybe he didn't want to remember. Maybe he didn't want to know who had attacked him.

Or worse, maybe the person who had attacked him was someone he knew. He wasn't the only one with secrets.

"You're awfully quiet," Paige said as Riley drove them across town.

"Just thinking about everything."

"It makes my mind spin. There seem to be so many secrets."

"Yeah," he said. But he wasn't thinking about secrets; he was thinking about Paige, about the kisses they'd shared before she'd reminded him that they had to leave, that they didn't have time to take those kisses into the bedroom, which was the only place at that moment he wanted to go.

He needed to stop kissing her, stop torturing himself with possibilities that could never be. Paige was a long-term girl; he was a short-term guy. He could have women in his life without making a commitment. In fact, he'd probably get more sex if he stayed single; at least that's what most of his married friends told him.

If Paige wanted a fling, he was her man, but anything longer, forget about it. He didn't carry the commitment gene. He knew that without a doubt. Neither his mother nor his father had been able to handle a relationship or a family. Although ... his grandparents had had a good marriage.

Sure, they'd fought over the years. He'd heard them yelling at each other and driving each other crazy about not filling up the car with' gas or forgetting to buy toilet paper. But they'd also hugged and kissed and laughed together. They'd been best friends as well as lovers. They'd had a special connection, something rare, something most people didn't have. What was the likelihood of him finding such a connection? A million to one.

And the truth was—he didn't have the stomach for those odds. He didn't want to put his heart on the line, make himself vulnerable. He'd lived his childhood like that. The pain was still with him years later. He'd loved his mother and she'd abandoned him. She'd lied so many times, broken so many promises. He sighed, wondering why the memories were coming back now. It was because of Paige. She was breaching the emotional wall he'd built. He would have to be careful, or she'd sneak in when he least expected it. And he couldn't let that happen.

It would all be over soon. They might not find the dragon, but he was confident they would get closer to the truth. The pieces were falling into place. He just had to concentrate on the task at hand and forget about the woman sitting next to him. If only she didn't smell so good. Did she wash her hair with perfume? The scent of sweet wildflowers seemed to fill the car. He pushed the automatic button for the window to let the breeze in, anything to break the intimacy growing between them.

Paige shot him a curious look. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," he said gruffly.

"You're not acting fine. You seem tense. You're angry because we didn't get to finish what we started."

"We were finished," he said shortly.

"Really? I wasn't."

"Well, you don't get everything you want, Paige. I know that's probably a foreign concept for you, but it's the truth. Some things, some people you just can't have, and it doesn't matter what your last name is."

She sent him a curious look. "Jeez, what brought that on?"

He shrugged. "It's just the way it is."

"Are you under the impression that I think I can get anything or anyone I want? Because believe me, that's not the case. In fact, very few people in my life ever do what I want them to do. I've often thought I have absolutely no impact on anyone's choices."

"That's not true."

"Oh, it's true. For example, my mother let me get a cat when I was a little girl. She thought it would keep me company after my sister died. It was a small black-and-white kitten and I adored it, but it refused to sleep on my bed. When I tried to pick it up, it hissed at me."

"You should have gotten a dog."

"The point is I couldn't even make my own cat do what I wanted it to do." She shook a finger at him. "And don't you dare call me poor little rich girl again. You'd feel bad if your pet didn't like you."

"I never had a pet, not one that belonged just to me. There were some animals at one of the communes we lived in. It was actually more of a farm with pigs, chickens, dogs, cats."

"You lived in a commune? Like a cult kind of place?"

"More like a transient, don't-feel-like-being-a-responsible-citizen kind of place."

"What a crazy life that must have been."

"It was. Moving into my grandparents' house was culture shock. They ate dinner every night at six o'clock, not six-fifteen or six-thirty, but six. My grandfather always had the same cocktail before dinner, a Manhattan. And my grandmother used to watch game shows on a small television set in the kitchen as she cleaned up after us. They had so many rules I thought I'd gone to prison."

She smiled at him. "You liked it."

"I liked the structure, the predictability," he admitted. "It was sometimes stifling, and I complained a lot, but deep down it felt good to know what was going to happen from day to day."

"And that's what you liked about being a marine, too?"

"Yes. Plus I got to combine that structure with danger and excitement."

"Do you miss it?"

"Sometimes." He thought about her question far more seriously than she'd probably intended, but then again, he'd been considering the subject a lot lately. "But this is where I'm meant to be."

"Do you like the security business? Or are you doing it out of a sense of responsibility to your grandparents?"

"I like it. There are certainly opportunities for improved security these days."

"So it's going to be a long-term commitment?"

"Did I say that?"

She smiled. "You don't like that word -- commitment."

"Most things don't last. Not jobs, not relationships."

"You're very cynical. And yet you have grandparents who adore each other. They grew together not apart."

"They're the rare exception."

"Maybe," she admitted, her smile dimming. "My parents certainly aren't a shining example of anything."

"Let's go find your sister," he said, as he pulled the car into a parking space.

"Words I never thought I'd hear again," she muttered. "I'm not sure I want you to call Alyssa my sister. We haven't figured out what we are to each other yet."

"You're sisters by blood."

"But we don't know each other. She doesn't trust me. I'm not sure I trust her."

He smiled. "Sounds like every family I've ever known, Paige. At any rate, she called, and we're here, so let's go meet her. The trust issues can wait."

* * *

"The class started a little late," a young Asian woman told Alyssa. "Ben said to tell you to wait for him." She waved her hand toward the gym. "There are chairs along the wall if you want to sit down."

Alyssa walked into the studio and paused just inside the door. Ben and another man faced off in the middle of the room. They were both bare to the waist, dressed in black pants and barefoot. She watched in fascination, every move, every attack, every defense. There was strength, skill, stubbornness, determination, agility, and courage in the way they fought.

Ben had taken martial arts classes for years, but she'd never actually seen him fight, and she hadn't realized he'd become so masterful at the art. She tended to think of him as an intellectual man, not a strong physical being, but it was quite clear now that that impression did not do him justice. She felt her heart speed up at the sight of him.

Today, at this minute, he wasn't a modern-day reporter. He was an ancient warrior, a man of power, a force to be reckoned with, a man who was making her feel really hot and very female. She waved her hand in front of her face and sat down in a nearby chair. The match continued for another five minutes. Ben finally took his opponent down with a spinning kick.

She let out the breath she had been holding as Ben extended his hand to his opponent. He helped him to his feet, then they bowed to each other. The instructor said a few words to both of them, then Ben turned toward her, a soldier returning from battle to the woman left waiting for him. She had to fight back the ridiculous impulse to run into his arms and hold him tight, to make sure he hadn't been hurt.

This wasn't a fantasy. This was reality. Ben was her childhood friend, her pal, not some godlike warrior out of a movie. So why did she feel so anxious and tense around him?

"Hi," he said, his voice deep and husky.

Had he always sounded this sexy? She cleared her throat. "Hi. You said you had some information?"

"Actually, I said we should talk to my uncle."

"Right." She could barely remember what he'd said. "Do you want to put on a shirt or something?"

A small smile played across his lips, and she damned herself for being so obvious.

"Sure, I'll put on a shirt." He walked over to a chair and grabbed a T-shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift gesture. "Better?"

"I don't really care. I thought you might be cold. It's not good to get sweaty and then walk around in the cold air. You'll stiffen up."

"Thanks for the concern."

"There's something else. I called Paige Hathaway and asked her to meet us here. I hope that's all right?"

"That depends on why you called her." His eyes sharpened with curiosity. "I know she's interested in the dragon, but there's more to it than that, isn't there?"