Read Online Golden Lies by Barbara Freethy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Barbara Freethy
Tags: Contemporary
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play pool. Although at our house we refer to the game as billiards." An impulsive smile broke across her face as she said the word. "Or, as Jerry calls it, billiards." She added a British accent and a laugh that broke the tension between them. "My grandfather always refers to it as that."
God, she was beautiful all loosened up again, her long blond hair falling out of its ponytail, her slender body encased in tight-fitting sweats, a pair of running shoes on her feet. Looking like this, he could almost forget she was the princess of San Francisco and way out of his league. He could almost forget that this was business.
She cleared her throat. "You're staring." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I look a mess. My mother would have a fit if she knew I was out in public looking like this."
"I like it."
"You do?" she asked, amazement in her voice. "It's not at all appropriate."
"Who cares about appropriate?"
"I always have to be careful what I wear, because with my luck some photographer desperate for a photo to fill tomorrow's empty slot will snap me in my sweats and suggest that maybe Hathaway's is losing money, and the incident will be blown completely out of proportion."
"Gone a few rounds with the press, have you?"
"More than a few."
"Well, there's no paparazzi here. And I don't have a camera. Although I wish I did, because you don't look anything like the woman I saw earlier today. In fact, since you've been in this room, you've undergone several transformations. You remind me of a lizard I used to have as a kid."
"A lizard? I remind you of a lizard? That's quite a compliment."
He laughed at her look of outrage. "A chameleon. The kind of lizard that changes colors to fit its environment. That's what you do. And it was a compliment. I don't know many women who can be comfortable in the back room of Fast Willy's and the next day go to work in the executive offices of Hathaway's."
She frowned at him. "I still think you could do better than lizard if you're looking to give a compliment. It's no wonder why you had nothing better to do tonight than follow me around. That's what you've been doing, isn't it? I should call the cops."
"I don't think you want to call the police, not with my grandmother's dragon missing."
"I told you before—"
"I know what you told me before. But my instincts tell me something else is going on. Have you spoken to your father since we met earlier?"
"Since you've been following me, you know that I haven't."
"I thought he might have called you."
"He didn't."
"Is that unusual? Not hearing from your father when he has a valuable artifact out of your store?"
"Potentially valuable," she corrected.
"Oh, come on. If it was a fake, it would have been returned to us hours ago."
"There's nothing to worry about, Mr. McAllister."
"Riley," he corrected. "And I am worried, because as I said before -- you're nervous."
"Maybe I'm nervous because you've been following me around." She paused as her cell phone rang. She hesitated, then pulled out of her purse to answer. "Hello."
"Hello?"
Riley watched the color drain from her face. "Wh-what did you say?" she stuttered. "Where? When? Yes, I'll come right away."
"What's wrong?" he asked as she ended the call.
"My father," she said, her eyes dazed, frightened.
"Where is he?"
"He's in the hospital. He was attacked in an alley in Chinatown. He's in critical condition."
Chapter Five
Paige found her mother in the waiting room on the fourth floor of St. Mary's Hospital. Next to Victoria was her closest friend, Joanne Bennett, another well-to-do socialite in her fifties, and Joanne's son, Martin, the object of their earlier discussion. A tall, lean man in his mid-thirties with perfectly styled dark blond hair, Martin was still wearing the charcoal gray Armani suit he'd had on at work earlier that day. While sometimes his never-a-hair-out-of-place demeanor annoyed Paige, right now she found it reassuring. Things couldn't be that bad if
God, she was beautiful all loosened up again, her long blond hair falling out of its ponytail, her slender body encased in tight-fitting sweats, a pair of running shoes on her feet. Looking like this, he could almost forget she was the princess of San Francisco and way out of his league. He could almost forget that this was business.
She cleared her throat. "You're staring." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I look a mess. My mother would have a fit if she knew I was out in public looking like this."
"I like it."
"You do?" she asked, amazement in her voice. "It's not at all appropriate."
"Who cares about appropriate?"
"I always have to be careful what I wear, because with my luck some photographer desperate for a photo to fill tomorrow's empty slot will snap me in my sweats and suggest that maybe Hathaway's is losing money, and the incident will be blown completely out of proportion."
"Gone a few rounds with the press, have you?"
"More than a few."
"Well, there's no paparazzi here. And I don't have a camera. Although I wish I did, because you don't look anything like the woman I saw earlier today. In fact, since you've been in this room, you've undergone several transformations. You remind me of a lizard I used to have as a kid."
"A lizard? I remind you of a lizard? That's quite a compliment."
He laughed at her look of outrage. "A chameleon. The kind of lizard that changes colors to fit its environment. That's what you do. And it was a compliment. I don't know many women who can be comfortable in the back room of Fast Willy's and the next day go to work in the executive offices of Hathaway's."
She frowned at him. "I still think you could do better than lizard if you're looking to give a compliment. It's no wonder why you had nothing better to do tonight than follow me around. That's what you've been doing, isn't it? I should call the cops."
"I don't think you want to call the police, not with my grandmother's dragon missing."
"I told you before—"
"I know what you told me before. But my instincts tell me something else is going on. Have you spoken to your father since we met earlier?"
"Since you've been following me, you know that I haven't."
"I thought he might have called you."
"He didn't."
"Is that unusual? Not hearing from your father when he has a valuable artifact out of your store?"
"Potentially valuable," she corrected.
"Oh, come on. If it was a fake, it would have been returned to us hours ago."
"There's nothing to worry about, Mr. McAllister."
"Riley," he corrected. "And I am worried, because as I said before -- you're nervous."
"Maybe I'm nervous because you've been following me around." She paused as her cell phone rang. She hesitated, then pulled out of her purse to answer. "Hello."
"Hello?"
Riley watched the color drain from her face. "Wh-what did you say?" she stuttered. "Where? When? Yes, I'll come right away."
"What's wrong?" he asked as she ended the call.
"My father," she said, her eyes dazed, frightened.
"Where is he?"
"He's in the hospital. He was attacked in an alley in Chinatown. He's in critical condition."
Chapter Five
Paige found her mother in the waiting room on the fourth floor of St. Mary's Hospital. Next to Victoria was her closest friend, Joanne Bennett, another well-to-do socialite in her fifties, and Joanne's son, Martin, the object of their earlier discussion. A tall, lean man in his mid-thirties with perfectly styled dark blond hair, Martin was still wearing the charcoal gray Armani suit he'd had on at work earlier that day. While sometimes his never-a-hair-out-of-place demeanor annoyed Paige, right now she found it reassuring. Things couldn't be that bad if
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