Golden Lies - Barbara Freethy [70]
Riley picked up his napkin and wiped off his mouth.
"It's on your cheek. You didn't get it," she said.
"Maybe you could help."
"Fine." She dipped her napkin into her water glass and leaned across the table to wipe the lipstick off his face. Unfortunately, the move put her into closer contact with his body. Her leg brushed his under the table. Her shoulder collided with his arm, and she became acutely aware of how near his mouth was to hers. It wouldn't take much to lean in just a little bit farther ...
She heard a catch in his breath, and her eyes met his in shocking awareness.
"Do it, Paige," he said huskily. "You know you want to."
"I—I don't know what you're talking about," she lied. She rubbed at his face with brisk ruthlessness, then sat back in her seat. "It's gone now."
"So is half my skin." He put a hand to his cheek. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Nothing is wrong with me."
A gleam entered his eyes. "You're jealous."
"I am not. I've never been jealous in my life."
"You didn't like Brenda."
"She's a pushy redhead, and the two of you made a scene."
He sent her a knowing grin that irritated her more. "You didn't like that she kissed me."
"I couldn't have cared less. You know, I'm not hungry. I think I'll catch a cab and go to the hospital."
"Running away, Paige? I thought Hathaways had more guts than that."
He knew just which buttons to push. She tapped her fingers on the table, considering her options. Why was she acting so crazy? Was she jealous? Was that possible? She certainly wouldn't admit that to him, nor was she going to admit that she had actually wanted to kiss him a moment ago. She needed to calm down, pull herself together, and—as he'd reminded her—act like a Hathaway.
"Fine, I'll stay."
"Good." He paused as the waiter set down his beer and her diet Coke. He raised his glass. "To your father's speedy recovery and to finding the dragon."
She hesitated, but how could she resist that toast? She clinked her glass against his. "Thanks for putting my father first. I know you believe he created this situation."
"I think he had a lot to do with it, yes."
"Guilty until proven innocent."
"Most people are guilty."
"I'm not. And we're on the same side, Riley."
"Maybe for the moment." He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he gave her his full attention. "We don't know yet how this will play out. We don't know what your father's intentions were. But we do know that you are a loyal Hathaway. And at some point you may have to choose between doing what's right and supporting your family."
"That won't happen. My family is as trustworthy and honest as I am."
"I hope that's the case, Paige, I really do. Because if it comes down to your family or mine, who do you think I'm going to pick?"
* * *
Paige was reminded of Riley's words an hour later when she approached the front doors of the hospital. Off to the side of the main entrance were at least two television crews lying in wait. Unfortunately, they spotted her just a second after she spotted them. There was no time to escape.
"Miss Hathaway, how is your father?" a young woman asked as she stuck a microphone in Paige's face, nearly knocking out her teeth.
Paige jumped back, only to trip over a man coming up on the other side of her.
"Is it true that your father was robbed of a valuable piece of art that didn't belong to Hathaway's?" he asked.
"What is Hathaway's doing to recover the piece?"
"Do the police have any leads on your father's assailant?"
"Do you think this was a personal attack? Does your father have any known enemies?"
Paige blinked at the rifle-shot questions. She could barely keep up with them all, and each time she turned her head, there seemed to be another reporter in her face as well as more microphones and cameras. She certainly hoped this wasn't a live shot, because she had the distinct feeling she was coming across as an idiot.
Think, Paige told herself. You're a Hathaway. You can do this.
"My father," she began, drawing immediate silence with the mere sound