Conflict of Interest (The McClouds of Mississippi) (22 page)

No reason at all why she should, he silently agreed—except that, no matter how annoyed he was that she’d brought Dylan Smith into his home, he still wasn’t ready for her to leave. It would have been nice to have a chance to spend more time alone with her, now that they wouldn’t be baby-sitting.

He supposed he had pretty much blown any chance of a replay of last night’s spectacular lovemaking.

Those intimate hours had replayed themselves over and over in his mind all day. He had needed to get away for a few hours to put the interlude into perspective. The emotions between them had flared uncomfortably high last night, but he’d convinced himself that there was no reason to be worried that either of them would be hurt. He and Adrienne were hardly inexperienced kids; they both knew the score and were both prepared to say goodbye when the time came to do so.

He just hadn’t realized the time was quite so close.

“Look,” he said, shaking his head in self-disgust, “I know you don’t understand the history between Dylan Smith and me. And I know you like the guy, for some reason I can’t imagine. What I’m trying to say is, I’m not really angry with you for inviting Smith in, even though he should have known better than to accept.”

“How very gracious of you.” The ice dripping from her words made his skin chill.

He had definitely blown his chance for another night of passion.

“Gideon?” Caitlin stood in the kitchen doorway, looking uncertainly from him to Adrienne. “Nathan and I are tired, and we’d like to get home. I’ve got Isabelle’s things packed and she’s waiting in the living room to say goodbye.”

“You’re leaving now?”

She nodded. “I’m sure you’ll be glad to get back to your usual routines without worrying about keeping an eye on Isabelle.”

Since that was exactly the way he
should
feel, he couldn’t imagine why he suddenly felt his scowl deepening. “I’ll come see her off. Adrienne?”

“Yes, I’d like to say goodbye to her.”

Isabelle waited in the living room with Nathan. Her big red suitcase and purple backpack sat by the door, and she held her white owl in one hand. Her expression was grave when she looked at Gideon, and he suspected she was still annoyed with him for being mean, in her opinion, to her friend Dylan.

He swallowed a sigh and knelt in front of her. “I’m sorry I came home grouchy.”

She looked at him through her lashes. “You made Dylan leave.”

“Isabelle, you know Dylan and I aren’t friends. It has nothing to do with you or the way you feel about either of us.”

“You’re making Adrienne leave, too. She said she’s going away tomorrow.”

He shook his head. “Adrienne knows she’s welcome to stay here as long as she likes. But she was only here for a visit—like you were. And now she needs to go home—like you do.”

“Then you’ll be here all by yourself. Won’t you be lonely?”

Gideon was relieved when Nathan answered for him. “Gideon likes living by himself, poppet. It’s easier for him to write his books that way.”

“Sometimes he forgets to eat. Adrienne makes him stop working so he won’t get too hungry.”

It occurred to Gideon only then that his little sister was actually worried about him, even if she was still rather irritated with him. “I won’t forget to eat,” he promised. “When I get hungry, I’ll eat. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”

“But what if you get lonely?”

“Then I’ll pick up the phone and give you a call,” he answered with a smile. “Maybe you can go have ice cream with me sometime. Okay?”

She thought about that a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

And then she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for letting me stay with you, Gideon.”

She still had a unique way of saying his name, he thought with an odd lump in his throat. He was going to miss hearing it.

He stood to one side and watched as Isabelle and Adrienne said their goodbyes with hugs and kisses.

“When will I see you again?” Isabelle asked.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” Adrienne answered evasively. “But I won’t forget you, sweetie. And I’ll always treasure the picture you drew for me.”

Nathan swung Isabelle into his arms. “I’ll call you,” he said to Gideon. “And thanks for helping out with Isabelle.”

Gideon nodded. “I enjoyed it,” he said, and realized that it was the truth, for the most part.

Nathan’s family departed in a final rush of words and noise that made the silence all the more noticeable when the door closed behind them. Pushing his hands into his pockets, Gideon looked at Adrienne, thinking of the other goodbye that faced them.

She was probably more than ready to get back to her real life, especially after today. But, damn it, as much as it galled him to admit it, it wasn’t going to be easy for him to let her go.

Chapter Thirteen

A
s ridiculous as it was to think of a four-year-old as a chaperone, Adrienne was intensely aware of being alone with Gideon. She certainly had no fear of him, not after spending the past week with him, even in his worst moods.

Gideon, she had decided, was like one of those quiet little dogs that growled when they felt threatened. For some reason her friendship with Dylan bothered him enough to make him growl.

Understanding his bad behavior did not, of course, excuse it.

Straightening her shoulders, she adopted a briskly professional manner when she turned back to him. “I’ll need to make some travel arrangements this afternoon—airline reservations, transportation to the airport—”

“I’ll take you to the airport,” he broke in to say.

She nodded. “Thank you. Since I’ll probably need to leave early tomorrow, I suggest we spend the rest of today talking business. I need your decision on several options, and we need to discuss what I should say to your editor when I talk to her next. If you think you’ll need more time for your current book, I’ll arrange for an extension on your deadline so we won’t have any contractual problems.”

He nodded. “Fine. Let’s go to my office and talk business. I’d hate for you to leave feeling like you wasted a trip.”

She certainly didn’t feel as though the time had been wasted, she mused, following him to his office. But she wouldn’t know until later whether it had been a big mistake.

That all depended on how long it took her to get over the foolish infatuation she had developed for this thoroughly exasperating man.

They talked about business for two full hours, Adrienne making copious notes as Gideon efficiently dispensed with the pending matters. She didn’t agree with all his decisions, and she felt it was her job to give her opinions. But in the end his wishes prevailed.

Satisfied that they had accomplished all they could, Adrienne packed away her papers. “I suppose that takes care of everything until after I speak with your editor next week.”

“Everything business related,” he agreed, moving toward her.

She took a half step backward. “I should start packing my—”

Her words faded when his hands fell on her shoulders. “We’ve gotten our business out of the way, but we still have some personal issues we need to discuss.”

She made herself meet his eyes. “What personal issues?”

“Well, for starters, there’s
this.
” He pressed his mouth to hers.

Her hands rested on his chest when he finally lifted his head. “There is that,” she agreed huskily.

“You’re not still mad at me?”

“I was never—” She stopped, then made a face. “Okay, I was annoyed with you earlier. But this is your home and I had no right to invite someone in when I knew you wouldn’t approve. You had every right to be angry.”

“Okay, we’ve both apologized for anything we might have done wrong. Can we put it behind us now?”

She motioned toward the desk and the neat stack of paperwork they had worked on together. “I thought we’d already done that.”

He nodded. “Professionally, of course. I have no doubt we’ll work together as well as we ever did. But I don’t want to spend our last night together talking business or glowering at each other.”

“I don’t want that, either.”

“So how about if we go out? We’ve spent the past week sitting here in the house with Isabelle. We deserve an adult night out, don’t you think?”

Even though she suspected she was just asking for more achingly bittersweet memories, she nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Okay, then.” He stepped back. “I guess I’d better change.”

“Yes, so will I.”

“By the way,” he said as they parted in the hallway outside the office. “I bought an answering machine while I was out. I’ll hook it up before you leave tomorrow.”

“That should make things much easier for people who need to reach you.”

He shrugged. “I suppose. But then, if I’d had it sooner, you wouldn’t have felt the need to come here.”

She smiled at him. “No, I suppose not.”

Clearing his throat, he glanced away. “Let me get my clothes for tonight out of my room, and I’ll change in the bathroom.”

“I guess you’ll be glad to have your own room back—not to mention the rest of your house.”

His expression impossible to read, he turned and walked away without answering.

Adrienne had known, of course, that Gideon could be quite charming when he chose to be. She had seen flashes of that charm during the past few days, but that night he went to great lengths to make sure she had a pleasant time.

They dined at a very nice Italian restaurant, far different from the smoky diner where he’d treated her to breakfast earlier that week. Gideon looked incredibly handsome in a dark suit, a crisp white shirt and a red tie, his longish dark hair neatly brushed away from his face. She had a feeling he didn’t bother to dress up very often, and she was flattered that he’d chosen to do so tonight, for her.

As much as he might pretend to be a socially awkward loner, this was a man who was perfectly comfortable in an upscale restaurant. He might claim to be the wet blanket at parties, but that was only because he chose to be, not because he didn’t know better. Aware now of his family background—that his father had been a successful business leader who had held several local offices before his aborted run for governor—she knew Gideon must have been trained in etiquette from childhood. That training was very much in evidence during their dinner.

She had no doubt that he could handle any situation he might encounter during a book tour or any other promotional opportunity she might convince him to accept.
If
she could convince him, of course.

“Tell me more about your life in New York,” he said over their entrees. “What’s a typical day like for you?”

He was even making small talk. The guy was going all-out.

“I’m in my office by eight so I can work for an hour or so before the phones start ringing at nine. I’m on the phone until noon, I usually have lunch meetings scheduled, and take phone calls again in the afternoons. I leave the office at six, usually have an evening meeting of some sort, then get home by ten and work on paperwork until midnight, at which time I fall facefirst into bed until six the next morning.”

“And on weekends?”

“I do my shopping, read manuscripts and contracts, maybe attend a few professional social functions or an occasional dinner party with friends. On the second Sunday of every month, I have brunch with my father and his latest young bride.”

He skillfully twirled linguine onto a fork. “And you’re happy with this life?”

She shrugged. “I’m not unhappy.”

“Doesn’t sound very exciting.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “And your life is a thrill a minute? Remember, I’ve spent the past week with you, and I know your daily routine. You wake up early, hit the computer, stop to eat when you think about it, do a little housework every afternoon while you work out the next scene and then you write again until you fall asleep—sometimes on the couch in your office.”

He looked disgruntled. “You think you know me so well, do you?”

“Are you saying I’m wrong?”

He filled his mouth with a bite of bread to avoid answering—which, of course, was an answer in itself.

So neither of them were exactly party animals, she mused, stabbing a slice of steamed zucchini. What was wrong with that?

Washing the bread down with a sip of water, he set his glass down before asking, “How many times has your father been married?”

“Four. No, three. I don’t think he and Louisa were ever actually married. Louisa was the young blond who moved in after my mother died,” she added.

“You said you were twelve when you lost your mother?”

She wasn’t surprised that he had remembered; not much escaped Gideon. “Yes.”

“Were your parents still married then?”

“Yes. As far as I know, my father was a faithful, if obsessively workaholic, husband. My mother’s illness was brief, and I think he grieved for her, in his own way, before he started dating Louisa a few months later. In the past sixteen years, none of his other relationships have lasted more than a couple of years. Some people think it’s because no other woman can compare to the memories of my mother.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think no other woman since my mother has been willing to put up with his cool, distant, controlling and completely self-absorbed nature.”

“And this is the man you’ve spent your whole life trying to please?”

“Pretty much.”

He sat in silence for a moment, then shrugged. “Your choice, I guess.”

“Yes. It is.”

Nodding toward their hovering server, he asked, “Would you like some dessert?”

The conversation about her father was over before she could figure out a way to ask a few questions about his relationship with his own father—and his father’s second wife. Questions she had no right to ask, of course, but that had been driving her crazy all day.

Gideon’s house was very quiet when they reentered it later that evening. They had been talking about something inconsequential during the drive home from the restaurant, but they both fell silent when they entered his empty kitchen and spotted a little purple plastic bracelet lying forgotten on the table.