Golden Lies - Barbara Freethy [121]
"Yeah." Riley took one last look around the bedroom before they turned out the light and walked into the hall. "There's one more place I want to see before we go."
"We can't do the downstairs," she said quickly. "The housekeeper is here, maybe one of the maids. And my father is resting in his bedroom."
"I'm not interested in the downstairs or your father's bedroom. It's time for payback."
"What does that mean?"
"I showed you mine. Now you show me yours."
"Just what exactly are we talking about me showing you?"
"Your bedroom. I want to see where the princess slept for most of her life."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Against Paige's better judgment, she snuck Riley down the stairs and into her old bedroom, which was thankfully at the far end of the hall on the second floor, separated from both of her parents' bedrooms by several guestrooms and two bathrooms. She'd moved down the hall just after her thirteenth birthday in a moment of pure teenage rebellion. Her mother had pouted for a week, but it was one of the few times in her life that her father had actually stuck by her and stood up for her decision, saying she needed more space and privacy.
"This isn't nearly as nice as I thought it would be," Riley said with some disappointment. "Where's the canopy bed and the pink rug?"
"I hate pink," she retorted.
"You must hate every color."
She saw her room through his eyes, cream-colored walls, cream-colored carpet, cream-colored bedspread on the double bed with just a hint of a flower pattern. At least her bed frame, desk, and dresser were a dark wood.
"Where are the teenage rock star posters, the sports trophies, the antique porcelain doll collection?" he asked.
"How did you know I have one of those?"
"Lucky guess." He sat down on the bed, stretching out against her fluffy pillows, and he had the nerve to actually put his feet, shoes included, on the comforter. "You really were raised to be a princess, weren't you?"
"Do you mind getting your feet off the bed?"
"Afraid of a little dirt?"
"Not afraid of it. I just don't feel like cleaning it."
"Don't you have housekeepers for that?"
She crossed her arms and studied him thoughtfully. "This is another test, isn't it? I'm starting to recognize them. I constantly seem to be auditioning for you, but I'm not quite sure what part I'm trying out for."
His eyes darkened. "What part would you like?"
"How about the part where I get to be myself and you stop judging me by all the stereotypical rich girls you've met in your life?"
"I haven't met any rich girls before you."
"Now, that I find hard to believe."
"Why?" he challenged. "Do you think they lived in my neighborhood? That they were in the marines with me? Or maybe you think they work for my security company?"
"If you aren't comparing me to anyone in particular, then why do you have so many critical judgments about me?" He didn't answer, but she could see she'd struck a nerve by the way his jaw tightened. "I know why. It's because you're still trying to convince yourself that this attraction we're both feeling will take you someplace you don't want to go."
"At least you admit you're attracted to me."
"You know I am. And I think we could be good together."
"What makes you think that?"
Sensing he genuinely wanted to know, she decided to tell him, even though she felt as if she'd run into another test. "You need someone like me in your life to make you see the other side of things, to make you believe in the good stuff again."
"And what about you? Do you want someone to drag you down, to mire you in the bad stuff the way I would?"
"Maybe I need someone to hold my feet to the fire, the way you do." She moved closer to the bed and sat down next to him, putting her hand on his very solid chest. "I need someone to challenge me, and you do that."
"Paige," he warned, "don't start something you can't finish."
"Who said I can't finish it?"
"We're in your bedroom at your parents' house. There is no way it's going to happen here."
She almost laughed at the desperation in his voice. "You don't think so, huh? I seem