Garden of Evil, page 4
“I told you,” Piper said, dumping her egg mixture into the skillet. “Grumpy.”
Phoebe sighed and looked down at the newspaper in front of her. She was about to shove the local section aside and go straight for style when a picture right on the fold caught her eye. She picked up the page and unfolded it, laying it out flat on the counter. “I don’t believe it,” she said, staring down at the photo.
“What?” Piper asked.
Phoebe held it up for Piper to see. There, in the middle of the front page, was a full-color picture of a smiling Micah shaking hands with the California governor.
“No way,” Piper said.
Phoebe turned the paper around again and read the caption beneath the photo aloud. “‘Millionaire and well-known philanthropist Micah Grant, shown at last week’s Friends of the State Awards with Governor Stiles, will cut the red ribbon at the opening of the new children’s wing at Mercy Hospital at noon today. Grant raised more than half the donated funds for the state-of-the-art facility.’”
“Wow,” Piper said, impressed. “I guess that’s why you thought you’d seen him before. He’s probably in the news all the time.”
Phoebe barely heard Piper, however. She was too busy devouring the short article that accompanied the photo. “It says he’s donated to many diverse causes, including area halfway houses and shelters,” Phoebe said, growing more and more chagrined with each word she read. “He moved into the area a few years back and started up the Micah Grant Foundation, which works to improve programming for underprivileged kids.”
“Call the police. He must be stopped,” Piper said sarcastically.
“I guess you were right,” Phoebe said, a bit disconcerted. She folded the newspaper up and sighed. “It looks like Paige found a good one.”
“Don’t sound so excited,” Piper said as she folded her omelette in the pan and took it off the stove.
“I am. I’m happy for her,” Phoebe responded, trying to sound convincing. Unfortunately, even though all the facts were for him, Phoebe couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something off about Micah Grant. She just hoped she was wrong . . . for Paige’s sake.
Paige had to concentrate to keep her jaw from falling open in awe when she and Micah walked into the restaurant that evening. Set back in a secluded hill at the top of a deserted one-lane road, the place afforded a breathtaking view of the hills and the bay beyond, magnified by the fact that three of the dining room’s four walls were made of floor-to-ceiling glass. The decor was elegant and understated. Each table was draped with a white linen tablecloth and centered by three white candles of various sizes. Rose petals were strewn on the tabletops, and the atmosphere was hushed—romantic. Even the waiters were speaking in whispered tones as they floated from one table to the next in their sleek tuxedos.
“This is unbelievable,” Paige whispered as Micah removed her silk wrap, exposing her bare shoulders.
“So are you,” Micah said into her ear, sending a chill down her neck.
“What did we say about cheesy lines?” Paige asked, arching her eyebrows and somehow managing to sound totally calm and collected. It was an accomplishment considering how blown away she already was by Micah’s sense of style, sense of romance, sense of everything. He’d picked her up in a black limousine, offering a single perfect lily. When he’d given her his arm to walk her to the car, even Phoebe had been impressed.
“Sorry,” Micah said with a smile. “I forgot. It’s an occupational hazard.”
Before Paige could ask him what, exactly, he meant by that, a slim, distinguished-looking man walked over to them and slipped Paige’s wrap from Micah’s arm. “Your table is ready, Mr. Grant,” he said with a slight bow.
Paige and Micah followed him to a secluded corner table right next to the window wall that looked out over the water. Paige was shaking a bit from vertigo as she sat down, but it passed quickly and she looked out at the world, dumbfounded by the beauty of it all.
“I take it you like the restaurant,” Micah said, handing her a menu.
“It’s okay,” Paige joked, raising one shoulder and prompting a laugh from Micah. Paige grinned back. She was so happy that he had a good sense of humor. There was just no point in dating someone who didn’t. Even if he did look like he’d just stepped off a Paris runway.
“So, why are cheesy lines an occupational hazard?” Paige asked, glancing up from her menu. “Do you date women for a living?”
“Not quite,” Micah said. “I inherited a lot of money from my parents, so I don’t really need to make a living. Instead, I run a charitable foundation for underprivileged kids, and that involves a lot of schmoozing, to say the least. You have to learn exactly what you need to say to certain people to get them to donate.”
“The cause isn’t enough to get people to open their wallets?” Paige asked.
“Unfortunately not, in most cases,” Micah said with a tight smile. “I wish it were. But I do what I can. We run a few orphanages and a halfway house. I try to go around as much as possible and meet the kids. It reminds me of why I’m popping caviar with obnoxious old ladies every night.”
He took a sip of his water and looked down at the menu. Paige could tell he was uncomfortable talking about the money-grubbing part of his job, which just made her like him more. A lot of people would enjoy air-kissing with San Francisco’s elite more than fraternizing with penniless kids.
“What do you do?” Micah asked a few moments later. “It doesn’t involve obnoxious old ladies, does it?”
“Sometimes,” Paige said with a laugh. “I’m a social worker. I work a lot with families of abuse . . . people on welfare . . . I meet some not-so-nice people. But more often I meet the greatest people in the world.”
“Exactly,” Micah said, his face brightening. “See? You get it. I know exactly what you mean.”
They shared a smile and eventually, Paige had to look down at her menu to keep from completely overheating. It was too bad the maître d’ couldn’t open up one of these window walls and help her cool off a bit. At this point, her strapless dress felt more like a wool sweater.
Micah tore his eyes away as well, opened his menu, and quickly looked it over. “So . . . what kind of food does Paige Matthews like?” he asked, taking another sip from his water glass.
“Well, not fish,” she answered. “No crab, no clams, no lobsters. Nothing that ever swam, sat on, or crawled along the bottom of the sea.”
“Duly noted,” Micah said with a smirk, clearly amused by her blunt honesty.
“But I love risotto,” Paige said, happy to see that there were a few different kinds listed on the menu. “And lamb.” She raised her hand apologetically. “I know! They’re too cute to eat, but I try not to think about it.”
“That’s a good policy,” Micah said, closing his menu. “You have to have some guilty pleasures. Like me and science-fiction novels. I can’t help myself.”
Paige sucked in a breath and looked at him skeptically. “Oh, no. I’m out with a sci-fi geek? This could be a deal-breaker,” she deadpanned. “Which kind—Lost in Space or The X-Files?”
“Star Wars, actually,” Micah answered. “The old ones, not the new.”
“Oh well, that’s okay, then,” Paige said, feigning relief. They both laughed, and Paige found herself unable to stop smiling. This is going well. Really, really well.
“So, what do you like to read?” Micah asked, leaning his elbows on the table. “I bet you’re into romance novels.”
“Oh, please,” Paige scoffed, rolling her eyes. “My sister Phoebe reads them like they’re going out of style. Which they already did—decades ago. I’m more into the classics. I love Austen and I’ve been reading a lot of Willa Cather lately.”
“So you are into romance novels,” Micah said, smiling slightly. “Just really old ones.”
“Hey! Those are relevant books,” Paige said. But she couldn’t make herself protest more. After all, the guy was right. But how was she supposed to know that a man like Micah would have a clue what Austen and Cather wrote about? It was usually a safe bet that a guy would let that revelation slide by with a fake nod of understanding, not wanting to say something wrong and reveal that he didn’t know the first thing about literature.
Suddenly, the waiter appeared at their table so silently, he could have been beamed there. “Are you ready to order?” he asked, leaning slightly toward the table.
“Yes. We’ll both have the lamb,” Micah said, handing him their menus. “And . . . Paige, did you choose a risotto?”
“I’ll have the pumpkin,” Paige told the waiter with a smile.
“That sounds good,” Micah said, his blue eyes sparkling. “Bring two, please.”
Paige folded her arms on the table in front of her and looked Micah in the eye, which wasn’t easy. Every time she did it she felt as if she were going to asphyxiate from the butterfly frenzy in her chest. “What’s the deal, Grant? Can’t make up your mind for yourself?” she asked.
“Maybe I just want to know everything about you,” Micah said without a pause. “And that means knowing exactly how the food you love tastes.”
Paige was flattered right down to her toenails, but she tried not to show it. “By that logic are you going to go home, read Sense and Sensibility, slip into a pair of pink flannel pajamas, and listen to a little Kiss?”
Micah smiled a slow, sexy smile and leaned in so close to Paige, she could smell the minty scent of his breath. “If that’s what it takes,” he said, “then that’s what I’ll do.”
Suddenly Paige was engulfed in a wave of dizziness so strong, her eyes clouded over with prickly gray dots. She felt her skin flush with heat and leaned back in her chair, discreetly taking in a long, deep breath. For the past twenty-four hours she’d been marveling at the effects Micah had on her, but this was a whole new level of intense.
“Are you all right?” Micah asked, his dark brows creased with concern.
“I’m fine,” Paige said, taking a sip of water and lifting her hair off the back of her neck. “I think it’s just the height . . . the view . . . you know? It’s a little . . . overwhelming.”
It sounded like a good excuse. It was, in fact, a perfect excuse. And Micah called the maître d’ over and asked if they could be moved away from the window. The man was all too solicitous, and within moments he was leading Paige to a new table in the back of the room.
Paige, while relieved that the excuse had been convincing, couldn’t have been more freaked out as she followed the man to her new table, acutely aware of Micah walking behind her. She was freaked because she knew it hadn’t been vertigo or dizziness that had taken over her. It had been Micah. There was no other explanation for the force of what she had felt.
Paige was falling in love.
Later that night, Micah quietly opened the door of a hulking old mansion in one of the oldest neighborhoods in town. Paige tiptoed as quietly as possible as she stepped over the threshold into the orphanage and she was surprised the moment she took a look around. Somehow she’d been imagining a place like the orphanage in Annie, but this house was more like the one Daddy Warbucks owned than the run-down hole Miss Hannigan ran.
“This is an orphanage?” Paige whispered, taking in the gleaming floors and the colorful art decorating the walls.
“When we’re here we just call it a home,” Micah whispered back. “It makes the kids feel less different.”
They walked through the entryway together, heading for an elevator that blended in with the cream-colored walls.
“Do you bring all your dates here?” Paige asked, walking backward so she could smile up at him.
“Well, you wanted to learn more about my work, and this is my favorite part,” Micah replied, hitting the UP button on the wall.
The elevator doors slid open, and Paige stepped inside. Moments later, she and Micah walked out onto the fifth floor—a long hallway lined with thick carpeting. As they strolled along in silence, Paige noticed that each room was decorated with handmade signs with children’s names on them.
“Did the kids make these?” she asked, gently touching her fingertips to a drawing of a blue whale with the name “Jonah” written above it in gold glitter.
“Yeah, Jonah was pretty psyched about the whole Jonah and the Whale story,” Micah replied with a small smile. “We let them decorate their rooms themselves, too—as much as we can. It’s not like we have an endless budget for each kid, but at least they get to personalize things a bit. Makes it feel more like a home.”
He walked her to the end of the hall and then pressed his finger to his lips before quietly opening the door to the last room. Paige peeked inside and saw four little boys fast asleep on four tiny beds. The shaft of light from the hallway illuminated a cherubic face sticking out from the sheets of the closest bed. Paige watched as Micah’s face softened at the sight of the boy.
“That’s Christopher,” he whispered. “He’s been having trouble sleeping lately, so I just wanted to check on him.”
Paige felt as if her heart were growing inside her chest. She couldn’t believe how much Micah clearly cared about each of these kids. He knew their stories, their sleeping habits. He’d brought a date here so he could check on one of them. Where did this guy come from? she wondered.
“Okay, where’s the catch?” Paige asked once Micah had quietly clicked the door closed.
“Catch?” Micah asked, his brow knitting.
He started down the hall again and pulled out a tiny key when they’d reached the closed glass doors to the veranda at the end of the hall. He unlocked one of the doors and stood aside so that Paige could step out before him. Paige took in a long breath of the fresh night air and leaned her arms onto the railing, looking out at the peaceful street below.
“The catch,” she repeated, smiling lightly as a breeze lifted her hair from her shoulders. “You seem just a little bit too perfect. There has to be something wrong with you.”
Micah laughed and joined her, leaning his arms onto the railing. “There’s something wrong with everyone,” he said. “You just have to decide whether you can see past a person’s flaws.”
“Well, I haven’t found any in you yet,” Paige said, looking into his magnetic eyes.
“Then it should be easy for you to look past them,” Micah said, sliding closer to her.
His arm brushed hers, and that incredible warmth she’d felt earlier in the evening overtook her again. She closed her eyes as the gray cloud shaded her vision. When she opened them again, Micah’s face was millimeters from hers. Paige’s heart seized up in her chest, and all the air rushed out of her.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said quietly. “If that’s okay.”
Paige couldn’t have answered if she’d tried, so instead she closed the distance between them and touched her lips to his. The moment she did, her knees went out from under her, but Micah wrapped his arms around her and kept her from falling. For the first time in her life, Paige knew what people meant by an out-of-body experience. Micah’s kiss made her float—it made her leave herself.
And as far as she was concerned, she didn’t care if she never came back down.
Chapter
5
Piper sat at one of the corner booths at P3 on Monday afternoon with her checkbook, accounting logs, and about a thousand receipts and bills spread out on the surface of the smooth table in front of her. She hated the financial part of her job with a passion, but just couldn’t seem to get up the guts to let it go to some faceless accountant. Still, whenever she sat down to do the books, she found herself considering it all over again. Especially when the splitting headache started to set in. “Ugh! There has to be a better way!” Piper exclaimed to the empty club, pulling her glasses off and tossing them down on the table. She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “Why did I have to be born such a control freak?”
“Need some aspirin, boss?”
Piper jumped at the unexpected sound of Tyrell’s voice. “Yeah, and a defibrillator, thank you very much!!” she said, holding her hand over her heart and glaring up at him. “You scared me into cardiac arrest.”
A boyish smile lit Tyrell’s dark features, and he brought his hands out from behind his back. He placed a glass of water and two tiny pills on the table next to her glasses. Piper felt relieved just looking at the painkillers.
“You’re forgiven,” she said, reaching for the glass. “So . . . where did you come from?” she asked as she popped the aspirin in her mouth.
“I came in the back a few minutes ago,” Tyrell said, pointing over his shoulder. “I’ve been banging around in the kitchen for a while now. You didn’t hear me?”
Piper sighed, pushing her hands into her hair as she stared down at the mess of paper in front of her. “I guess I was just too engrossed by what I was doing.”
“Well, I don’t want to get you off track,” Tyrell said, taking a step back. “I was just going to inventory the cleaning supplies and see if we need anything.”
“Tyrell, hold on a sec,” Piper said before he could slip away. She felt a little twinge of guilt over what she was about to do, but she ignored it. After all, Paige was her sister. It was perfectly normal—even admirable—to look out for her. Tyrell hovered at the opposite end of the table, waiting for her to speak. “Tell me about your friend Micah Grant,” Piper said finally.
Tyrell’s whole face lit up. “That’s right! I was going to ask you if he ever came by yesterday. He’s a great guy.”
“Oh, yeah?” Piper said, raising one eyebrow. “How so?”
“Well . . . you know I didn’t have an easy time of it as a kid—even just a few years back,” Tyrell said. “Micah ran the halfway house where I ended up finally getting clean. He was always there visiting, hanging with us, taking us out to games and stuff. And he didn’t have to do that, you know? He’s got tons of money, but he was always hanging out with us. I think that really helped me turn it around—seeing how much people could care.”
