Golden Lies - Barbara Freethy [14]
He flew down the next hill, loving the wind in his face. His cheeks began to cool, his heart slowed to a more comfortable beat, and his breathing came much easier. This was supposed to be the best part. But in truth, the best part had been those last few seconds before he hit the top, the moments when he wasn't sure he could do it. Now he knew. But he also knew that the good feeling would only last until tomorrow. Then he'd have to find some other hill to climb.
He let out a sigh and began to pedal as he reached a flat area. A quick glance at his watch told him he needed to get back to the office, wrap up a few loose ends, then pick up his grandmother and meet the Hathaways. He had to admit he was curious about the value of his grandmother's dragon. Finding a treasure in a pile of junk seemed too good to be true. But if it wasn't valuable, he doubted the Hathaways and all the other dealers in the country would be so hot to get their hands on it. In this case, his grandmother's dragon might just put a dent in his comfortably cynical approach to life.
* * *
Forty minutes later, Riley strode through the front door of his office and greeted the lobby receptionist with a warm smile, then headed down the hall. His secretary, Carey Miller, sat at a desk in a cubicle next to his office. The distinct smell of nail polish wiped the smile off his face, which was followed by a frown when he saw her bare feet propped up on her desk, little foam pads stuck between her toes.
"I hope I'm not interrupting you," he said sarcastically.
She shrugged. "You're not. How was the bike ride? You must have stopped off at home and taken a shower. You don't smell as bad as you normally do."
"Speaking of smells, do you have to put the paint on here?"
"If you paid me more, I could afford to get a pedicure."
"If you worked harder, you might actually earn more money."
He strode into his office, knowing she'd follow. It took her a few extra minutes, as she walked through the door on her heels, carefully keeping her toes from hitting the carpet. "So, did you accomplish anything besides the perfect shade of red?" he asked her.
"Did you accomplish anything besides a near heart attack?"
"Exercise is good for you. You should try it sometime."
"Please. If I'm going to work out, I prefer to do it in the bedroom." She gave him a mischievous grin. "Don't you remember?"
"I remember throwing out my back."
"That's because you did it wrong. You were on position seven when I was on six. The book said you needed to do it in order."
"Why I ever agreed to try anything in that book, I'll never know." He sat down in the leather chair behind his desk that had served his grandfather so well for so many years.
Carey flopped down in the armchair in front of his desk. "I've got another book now. You'd be surprised at some of the things in there. You should read it."
"I'll wait for the movie." With a pleased smile he surveyed the stack of papers on his desk, the half-filled coffee cup, the afternoon's sports page. His grandfather's office was beginning to feel more like his own, a place where everything was under his control. He picked up a small plastic basketball on his desk and sent it swishing through the hoop mounted on the opposite wall. "Any messages?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle." Carey popped a chunk of gum in her mouth.
"Do you have to do that?"
"It beats smoking. You know I'm trying to quit." Carey hooked her jean-clad leg over one arm of the chair. An ex-stripper, ex-smoker, ex-drinker, and ex-girlfriend, she was now his right-hand man, make that woman. While she hadn't been a particularly good stripper, smoker, drinker, or girlfriend, she was a good assistant, even with the painted toenails.
"What else has been going on around here?" he asked.
"As you requested,