Everything made so much more sense—even to some extent the affair that he had had. Deep down in the honest part of herself, she knew she had turned away from him. She'd been overcome with sadness, depression and pain; she just hadn't wanted to feel anything else.
"I don't expect you to forgive me," David said wearily. "I'm too old to start over, to change, to make things better. I'm too damn old."
Now here was one good reason why she had grown to dislike him so. "You're such a quitter, David. Why don't you ever fight for the things you want? Why didn't you fight for your father's attention, for my attention? Why didn't you fight Jasmine so you could see your own daughter? Why do you always give up, take the easy way out?"
"Because I never win, even when I try."
"I don't think you try. You blame yourself the way you expect others to blame you. I think you're the one who feels bad for surviving all the tragedies."
"You've been in therapy too long, Vicky."
"I
have
been in therapy too long," she agreed. "I realize now I wasn't the one who needed it. It was you, always you." She got up from the bed. "Here's the bottom line, David. If you want a divorce, you're going to have to fight like hell to get it. Maybe it's time you found out what you're made of. Maybe it's time you gave me a chance to see if you're worthy of my affection."
He uttered a short, bitter-edged laugh. "Goddamn, Vicky. Do you know how crazy you are? You're saying the only way you'll love me again is if I can beat you, if I can make you divorce me."
"I need an equal, not a doormat. It's your call. Frankly, I don't think you have it in you to do anything more than run back to China and lick your wounds in private. I fully expect things to go on exactly the way they've gone for the last twenty years at least."
"We'll see about that."
"Yes, we will."
"I cannot believe you want to sneak into my parents' house and search the cupboards and closets for a dragon statue," Paige said. "This is your worst idea yet."
"You didn't have a better one," Riley replied as he settled himself more comfortably in the driver's seat of his car. "Mr. Fong told us to look for the connections, and we both agree that your grandfather is one of those links."
That was true, she silently conceded. She'd been thinking about their grandfathers' connections ever since she'd left Mr. Fong's apartment, but she hadn't had time to do anything about it, having spent most of the day helping her mother get her father settled back home. "Did you talk to your grandmother again?" she asked.
"No. Not yet," Riley said.
She stared down the dark shadowy street. Riley had parked several mansions down from the one she'd grown up in, and she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that they were heading into trouble. But they weren't really breaking in anywhere. They were just going to take a look through the family home while her mother and grandmother were out. She checked her watch. It was nearly six. "They should be heading out any minute now."
"If they're as punctual as you say they are."
"They are, trust me. I inherited the on-time gene. But don't forget my father will still be in the house, not to mention his private nurse and a couple of servants. We won't be alone."
"Too bad." He smiled. "So what was it like to grow up with servants. What did they do for you?"
"They kept the house, cooked, that kind of stuff."
"So if you dropped a candy wrapper on the ground, someone was there to rush over and pick it up for you?"
"I wasn't allowed to eat candy. It's bad for you."
"Some bad things are really good," he said with a wicked smile.
And suddenly the quiet in the car grew more intimate. She'd been trying to keep her attraction to Riley at bay, to remind herself that Riley didn't want the things she wanted, like commitment, marriage, family. Maybe she didn't want all that tomorrow or the next day, but eventually she would. What was the point in wasting time in a relationship that wouldn't lead in that direction? She wasn't twenty-one anymore. She was almost thirty.
So why couldn't she listen to her head instead of her heart? When he'd stopped by her apartment an hour earlier, she'd jumped at the chance to join him on this latest escapade, not even asking him what he had in mind until they were in the car. She was crazy.
Crazy in love
.
She'd just have to get over it. Treat it like a bad cold or a case of the flu. She could recover. She'd just have to work at it.
Of course, working at it probably didn't include spending more time with him. Well, she'd start working on it tomorrow. Her weary sigh drew his attention.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
"Just thinking."
"You do that too much." He shifted, putting his right hand along the back of her seat.
"What are you doing?"
"Passing the time."
She scooted to the edge of her seat. "We can't do that here."
"I think we can."
"This car is way too small," she protested, just before his hand crept around the back of her neck and pulled her toward him.
"It's perfect. You're perfect," he muttered.
He sealed the words with a lingering, tender, playful kiss that wasn't really meant to start anything. Just the same she felt her body responding with passion and intensity that went far beyond his intention. He seemed able to light her up without even trying.
Riley must have read her mood, because the kisses suddenly changed, deepened, intensified. Or maybe he was just feeling what she was feeling.
When they broke apart, there were no smiles, no teasing jokes, nothing to ease the tension between them.
"Dammit, Paige."
"What?"
"I shouldn't have done that."
"And you're blaming me."
"Yes, because you're irresistible. Every time I kiss you it's better than the last time. I keep telling myself that can't possibly be true, but it is."
His look of bemusement made her like him even more. "I feel the same way," she confessed. "I keep thinking it will burn itself out."
"We might have to make that happen."
"You mean, get each other out of our systems?"
"It's an idea."
She couldn't help smiling as she shook her head. "Another bad one. You're full of them tonight."
Before he could reply, their attention was drawn to the street where her grandfather's car pulled out of the drive. They could see two people in the back, the driver in the front.
"Looks like it's show time," Riley murmured. "Ready?"
"Yes." Because right now she had a feeling her grandfather's rooms were far less dangerous than this car.
* * *
Alyssa spotted her grandfather through the blinds of the Plum Rose Café. He was seated at the second booth, the newspaper in front of him. it was probably the racing form, she thought. When he wasn't playing mah jong or pai gow he went to the track at Golden Gate Fields and watched the horse races from around the country. She knew this was her best opportunity to speak to him alone. Tomorrow was New Year's Eve and the entire family would gather together for a huge feast of Chinese specialties that her grandmother and a half dozen cousins were working on even now. Of course she hadn't been invited to help prepare the food. Just another slight to make her remember that she didn't quite belong.
She shook the thought from her head. She had more important things to worry about right now than fitting into the family. Since Mr. Fong had suggested the possibility that the connection between the dragons and the box might mimic a connection between the various owners of those three pieces, she couldn't stop thinking about the connection between the three grandfathers. If Riley's grandfather had a dragon, then it made sense that one of the other two men might also have one. But probably not her grandfather. He'd simply worked in the stockroom at Hathaway's. He hadn't been in a position of power.
Still ... there was something about the dragon that bothered her grandparents, and she had to find out what that something was.
"Alyssa?"
She turned her head to see Ben crossing the street. "What are you doing here?" she asked in surprise, feeling her heart skip a beat at the sight of him.
He smiled at her. "Trying to catch up to you. I saw you as I was leaving my friend's apartment." He pointed to a building down the street. "I couldn't believe you were actually making another trip to Chinatown."
"I want to talk to my grandfather. He's in the café."
"I can see that. He's eating alone. Hiding out from the family?"
"Avoiding the New Year's Eve preparations, I'm sure."
"You're going to ask him about the dragon?"
"I thought I might ask him about Wallace Hathaway instead, see if I can find another way into the conversation."
"Want some company?"
"I don't think so. Although he did always like you."
"What's not to like?" Ben asked teasingly. "Wait, forget I asked. You probably have a list somewhere."
"I left it at home."
Ben glanced toward the window of the café. "He's having pie. Looks like dinner is almost over. If you're planning to go, you better do it now."
"All right. Would you wait for me out here? Unless you have other plans or something. You probably do have other plans. I don't know what I'm thinking. Forget I asked."
"You are one crazy woman," Ben told her. "You argue both sides before anyone has a chance to say anything."
"I know. I should have been a lawyer. But I wanted to make money now, not in three years. I couldn't wait any longer to be independent. And I want to get this issue with the dragon resolved so I can go back to my own life." Her words erased the smile from his face, the light from his eyes.
"I'm sure you must be eager to get away from here," he said. "I actually have something to do. I'll see you around."
"Ben, wait."
"What?"
"I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I'm grateful for all the help you've given me, and especially for your friendship, which I don't deserve."
He walked back to her with deliberate, purposeful steps that made her want to step back, but she couldn't move. Because this was Ben, and she suddenly wanted very much to hear what he had to say.
"You deserve everything you want, Alyssa. And I hope you get it all."
"I wish you wouldn't be so nice."
"That's my problem. I'm the nice guy, the one who doesn't get the girl."
"It's not you, it's me," she whispered. "Until I figure out who I am, I don't feel as if I have anything to offer."
"I already know who you are. I've known for a long time. When you figure it out, give me a call." He put his hand under her chin, tipping up her face so he could look into her eyes. "Just don't wait too long."
Before she could reply, he brushed her lips with his, a brief, teasing kiss that made her want more. He was halfway down the street before she got her breath back. Turning toward the café, she forced herself to move, up the steps, through the door, and into the seat across from her grandfather.
"Alyssa," he said with surprise.
"I saw you through the window," she said. "Did you play the races today?" She tipped her head toward the racing form that was marked up with numbers and circles.
"I won a few dollars. I don't bet much, you know that. Your grandmother counts every penny. Do you want something to eat?"
"No, thanks. I actually wanted to talk to you about something."
He grimaced. "Not the dragon, please."
"About your work at Hathaway's."
His gaze dropped to his empty plate. "I worked in the stockroom. Nothing more."
"Did you get to know Wallace Hathaway?"
"He was a big man. I was a small man."
She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't say more. Instead, he picked up his empty coffee cup and waved the waitress over. He remained quiet while his cup was refilled. Even after the waitress left, he still didn't speak.
"Can you tell me anything more about him?" Alyssa prodded. "Or about the fire? I know you stopped working there after the fire."
"I can still see those flames in my mind, jumping up the walls like angry snapping snakes." He shook his head as if to dislodge the memory. "It was the end of everything."
"The end of what?" she asked.
His gaze sharpened. "The end of my job."
She had a feeling that wasn't what he'd been thinking at all.
"Why do you ask these questions -- because of the dragon that your mother can't forget?"
"Partly. But also because I want to know more about the Hathaway family."
His lips formed a tight line. "Do not speak of it, Alyssa."
And just like that she knew that he knew—about David and her mother and herself. She had been brought up not to ask questions, especially of her grandparents, and she had always respected that policy ... until now. There was a need to know burning inside of her.