Midnight Rose (6 page)

Kate didn’t miss a beat. “With Professor Plum? Or Colonel Mustard?”

“With Miss Scarlet,” he said over his shoulder. “She’s hot.” She watched him go with a smile of satisfaction. Even this spooky old house wasn’t enough to dampen the joy of breaking down Jude Renaud’s defenses.

“God, Gideon, I thought you’d forgotten about me,” Delilah purred into the phone. “You could’ve spent the night with me when you were in Haileton this week. That’s a mere thirty miles from me. Should I feel rejected?” Gideon sat down on the edge of his bed, telephone receiver caught between ear and shoulder as he tied his running shoes. “Rejected? Never. Believe me, I thought about you. But I was there for a convention.

All work and no play.”

“Ah, well. It’s not just my loss, darling, and you know it.” She paused for effect. “Are you ever going to invite me to see your new home?”

“When things settle down. We’re still adjusting.”

“Say no more,” she said drolly. “Maybe you could sneak me out there. Jude wouldn’t have to know.

We could do one of those dangerous daylight rendezvous we were so adept at when you lived in Massachusetts.”

“I thought you were playing it safe with the daylight.” He stood and removed his watch, laid it on the valet by the bathroom. “It takes an awfully long time to bounce back from the kind of burn you suffered last year.” “Thanks for the reminder, Mr. Self-Righteous. All you have to do is slip on a pair of sunglasses and you’re absolutely mortal again.”

“Sunglasses aren’t perfect protection.” Duly reminded, he grabbed a pair from the dresser and happened to glance at the photograph of Caroline that sat by his change holder. She looked so young in the picture, as she had when they’d first met. Before bitterness had twisted her features, before hatred had rendered her into a stranger to him. He’d known better than to fall in love with a mortal, but he hadn’t had a choice. Even now, just looking at her photograph, a surge of wistfulness caught him unaware and he closed his eyes, wishing away the memories.

“You there, Gid?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I’d like to see you, Delilah.”

“You’d like to, or you need to?”

“Both,” he said flatly, and heard the smile in her husky voice.

“Name the time and place, and I’ll do my best to accommodate you, my love.”

“How about tonight? I’ll come there. We can take in a movie.”

“Why bother? I know what you want.” The desire in her tone wound around him, sinuous and breathtaking in its ability to arouse him. “I want it, too. Not a movie, not a night out on the town. Just you.” “Spoken like a true seductress,” he murmured.

“I was one, once.”

“A courtesan.”

“But of course.”

“And you sucked dry every aristocratic neck you could sink your teeth into.”

“You know me too well,” she said, laughing.

Gideon smiled. “Let me go. I’ll see you tonight. What time?”

“Surprise me,” she whispered. “I’ll be waiting. Balcony doors unlocked.”

“Hmm. Going to make me work for it, huh? I haven’t climbed a fire escape in years.”

“It’ll be worth the effort, I promise. Ciao , darling.” Downstairs, he paused in the living room and listened for the soft, undeniable thrum of blood through human veins. Mentally he searched the house, reaching with his finely honed senses. Betty was alone in the kitchen, heart racing from too much coffee and the thirty extra pounds she carried on her stout frame.

The day maid was doing laundry in the basement utility room; Martha had the day off. He bowed his head, closed his eyes, straining to hear…and then a curious smile curved his lips and he started toward the conservatory.

“No way,” he heard Jude exclaim as he passed through the billiard room and peeked through the doors to the conservatory. The vast, elegant interior was shadowed for once, every drapery drawn. Huddled on the bench, heads together in the paltry glow from the piano lamp, Kate and Jude stared down at the keys.

“Oh, yes, I can,” Kate said staunchly. “Just because it’s called ‘The Minute Waltz’ doesn’t mean it takes sixty seconds to play it.” She cracked her knuckles with finesse. “Not if you’re a pro like I am.” “Fine.” Jude crossed his arms and squinted at her. “I’ll count in my head.” She gave an indelicate snort. “Oh, whatever. That’d totally be cheating. Get a stopwatch and then we’ll talk.” “You’re going to scare off the ghosts,” Gideon said from the doorway. “Especially if you desecrate this noble chamber by pounding out ‘The Minute Waltz’ in forty-five seconds flat.” Kate glanced up, and the instant their gazes locked, Gideon sensed the surge of blood that moved through her veins…and realized he’d inadvertently eavesdropped on her pulse’s reaction to him. He tried not to smile as he withdrew his awareness from the sensuous workings of her body.

“You’re going out?” she asked with practiced casualness.

“I’m going for a run.” He glanced at Jude, who softly fingered the keys without looking back. “How’s it going with Lord of the Flies , J?”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

“You’d think I was torturing him,” Kate said dryly. “He’s done for the afternoon.”

“Good.” Gideon studied the dance of shadows along the right side of her face. Every aspect of her features satisfied him. She was solidly, undeniably beautiful. Not sultry like Delilah, nor earthy, as Caroline had been. No, Kate was…balanced. Whole. And just a single look into her soft brown eyes brought a rush of desire so astounding, he backed up against the doorframe. Don’t ask her. Don’t do it .

“Do you run, Kate?”

“Three times a week like clockwork until I moved out here.”

“Then you’re due. Why don’t you come with me?”

She slanted him a doubtful look. “How far do you go? I’m no marathon runner. Three miles is about the max for me.”

“Three miles will take us around to the back of the estate, and we can cut through and walk home via the rear acreage.” He fought against the cacophony of warning bells in his conscience. Lies, over and over. Everything about him was a lie. Even running. Running cloaked him in normalcy, but he could jog around the earth and never feel exhaustion, or breathlessness, or the salty drizzle of perspiration rolling down the sides of his face.

He presented Kate this latest lie without blinking. Normal men ran to stay in shape. Normal men sweated, ate three square meals comprised of food , got sleepy, weary. He tried to remember what any of it felt like, and couldn’t. Over a century of lies, and they were as much a part of his reality as the blood that sustained him.

Kate had risen from the piano bench and started toward him, a little shy, maybe, and flushed with anticipation. Gideon’s senses embraced her without his control. His pulse thrummed in tandem with hers.

His body stirred and hardened where hers had gone soft and damp.

“I’ll go change,” she said, suffusing the air around her with the fragrance of soap and sensuous female as she moved by him.

He waited until she’d left the room, then crossed to the piano where his son sat with head bowed, gently pressing the keys. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jude said petulantly.

Gideon raised his eyebrows and leaned an elbow on the edge of the instrument. “You like Ms. O’Brien, don’t you?”

“Why does it matter?” He jabbed at middle C and the note rent the air, harsh and brassy. “You obviously do and as usual, that’s all that counts, right?”

“Whoa.” He ducked his head to see his son’s expression. “Is there a problem?”

“I watch the way you talk to her and I see how she looks at you. She likes you or something, and it’s your fault. But I know, Dad, that you’ll hurt her feelings. And then she’ll leave, and we’ll start all over, and I’m sick of it. I like this one. I want something to stay the same for once, so leave her alone.” Gideon waded through his astonishment for a reply and came up empty-handed. It wasn’t until Jude closed the lid and stood that the words came to him.

“I won’t hurt her feelings,” he said simply, because it was all he could promise.

Jude stared back at him with an intensity that both disconcerted and impressed him. “I’d rather have Delilah around here all the time, every day, than for you to make Ms. O’Brien mad enough to leave.” Drawing his thin shoulders back, he swerved around his father and headed through the door, leaving Gideon alone in the conservatory, with only phantom strains of chamber music for a paltry finale.

The soles of their running shoes crunched rhythmically in the gravel as they ran, side by side, in silence.

Kate turned her head to stare at Gideon’s profile and frowned. She’d expected the amiable, breathless exchange of fellow joggers between them, maybe more of that delicious banter she’d come to anticipate from him, but he was quiet, his dark eyes hidden behind a pair of reflective sunglasses.

His gait was brisk, steady, graceful. He didn’t pant or wheeze or make any of the respiratory noises that begged to burst from her own chest. He wasn’t even sweating.

Annoyed, Kate wiped the back of her hand against her damp forehead and dropped back to a defeated walk. It took a few more paces before Gideon seemed to notice she no longer kept up with him. Turning backward, he jogged in place and waited for to her to catch up.

“Tired?” he asked, his expression impassive.

“Confused.” Anger quickened her gait and she strolled right past him, the momentum swinging her arms.

“You invited me to run with you. Did you do it to be polite?”

“I did it because I wanted your company.” He gained on her and fell into step beside her. “I’m sorry.

Jude and I had words after you went up to change. I can’t quit thinking about what he said.” Kate glanced at him, then away, then back again, her brows lowered. “Well? Are you waiting for me to ask what the argument was about?” Gideon sighed, scraped his fingers through his thick, dark hair. “He thinks…” He cleared his throat. “He thinks you like me.” “I do like you,” she said, knowing immediately where the conversation was headed. “Shouldn’t I?”

“He thinks you like me more than you should. Or more than he’s comfortable with,” he quickly added.

“I see.” She lifted her chin and stared at him. “So what was the problem?”

“He says it’s my fault. That I’m encouraging it.” He turned his head to meet her eyes. “He’s right, you know. I am encouraging it.”

Astonished pleasure tightened the muscles in her stomach. “I don’t have a problem with that.”

“But I believe you will, eventually.”

Kate stopped on the shoulder of the road and set her hands on her hips, forcing her breathing to slow, even as her pulse soared off to heights unknown. “Gideon, look. I barely know you. In a very short time I’ve learned that you’re a horticulturist, a widower, that you look good naked, and that you’re extremely private, and obviously for good cause. Whatever holds you back from pursuing a…a romantic relationship is your business. I’m not prying.” He moved closer to her, his expression impossible to read, half-hidden behind the reflective lenses. “You sound like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Do you think everything will stay as sensible and rational as you make it sound if I kiss you?” Her heart jolted into another frenzied dance. She had to tilt her head back to see his face. “I have no way of knowing that unless you kiss me.” Before he could respond, a semi-truck roared by them on the two-lane blacktop, followed by a dusty SUV and a beat later, a dilapidated sedan. Then silence fell again, a disturbing stillness, as though even the early evening breeze had paused to see what would happen next.

Nothing happened. Gideon looked at her; she looked back at him, waiting, and for what? Bemused, Kate made a wide berth around him and began to run again. He could lag behind and ponder the what-ifs. She was going to finish the three miles and get on with her life.

“Cut left at the path,” his voice came suddenly behind her, and she nearly stumbled. How had he caught up with her so quickly and quietly? His approach had been utterly soundless on the pavement.

Panting more from turbulent emotion than exertion, she matched her pace to his and jogged beside him under a canopy of verdant trees, where the woodchip path wound onward into a shadowy hammock. It was dark in the woods, as dark as if dusk had already fallen. A moment later Putnam Creek appeared, a narrow chasm rushing through the damp, shaded terrain.

Kate slowed and stopped at the base of a thick oak, where she rested her hands on her knees, gulping in breaths. Gideon’s gaze burned into her, but she wasn’t about to engage him. She meandered down to the creek’s edge and stared through the dimness at the crystal water flowing gently over mossy stone and leaves.

His presence behind her stung her skin, raised the hair on her arms, as though he radiated electricity and she was too close to the current.

“You’re overheated,” he said, in a soft, insinuating tone that made her want to wobble to the ground in a gelatinous puddle.

She ventured a look at him. “That’s right. Overheated and annoyed.” Gideon shook his head and blew out a slow, steady breath. “You know, for a long, long time I’d forgotten what it feels like to be a teenager, and suddenly it’s all coming back to me. I don’t know what it is about you, but every time I get around you I have thoughts, only they’re not just thoughts because they seem to flow right out of my mouth—without any help from me, I might add. That officially makes them statements, and inappropriate ones. You’re doing a great job with Jude, and God knows I don’t want to run you off. My intentions are honorable. I—” “Gideon.” She took a step toward him, heart fluttering like a trapped moth in her chest. “Take off your sunglasses so I can see your eyes.”

He glanced skyward, studied the shadowy branches overhead for a long, uncertain moment, then carefully slipped the aviators from his face. His gaze was liquid, black as Egyptian ink as it searched hers, then shifted lower, to her lips. He stepped closer to her, and his thumb came up to brush the base of her throat.

“Mosquito,” he explained, his mouth quirking.

“Damn bloodsuckers,” she said huskily. “They’ve always liked me, for some reason.”

“Oh?” He took another step that brought his shoulder nearly against her nose. “That’s funny.”

“Not really. I was the only one in the family that would get eaten alive on camping trips. Of course I had the darkest skin, so I think it must have something to do with melanin.” “Somehow I doubt it.” His lashes dropped, a warning of the provocative thoughts he might be entertaining. “If you’re planning on this being a strictly professional relationship, Ms. O’Brien, you should go back to Sister Oaks right now.” She glanced at his lips. They were made for kissing. Just looking at them made her mouth water. “Are you warning me, Mr. Renaud?” “Not anymore. Now I’m kissing you.”

Kate closed her eyes. His finger hooked beneath her chin, nudged it up, his breath whispering across her lips.

It seemed like an eternity passed before his mouth finally touched hers. When it did, the earth undulated and her hands flew up to grasp the front of his T-shirt. She clung to him, lips parting beneath his, breathing him in as his tongue made a gentle, tentative foray inside her mouth. The air around them crackled with electricity, hot, white, dangerous. A sudden, chaotic mêlée of flapping wings and shrill cries rose from the branches high above their heads, as though the kiss disturbed the very birds in this sacred, hushed place.

Kate was lost. She unfolded against him, her fingers sliding into his hair, caressing its cool, rich thickness as she met the sultry dip of his tongue with her own, and reveled in the murmuring sound that rose in his throat.

His arm slid around her waist, pulled her up tight, heart to heart. Against her, his body felt chiseled from stone, from the lean muscles of his torso to the hard ridge of his erection, burning her belly through the thin layers of their running attire.

In response to his unashamed arousal, her body softened, went wet and aching as her hips strained toward him. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist and squirm closer. He excited her more than any man ever had, and she rubbed against him like a languid cat, craving more.

But Gideon kissed her with oddly restrained hunger; she sensed it in the tightness of his shoulders beneath her hands, and she didn’t want his restraint. She wanted him wild and dizzy and burning up, the way he made her feel with just the slow, languid coupling of their mouths.

Still he withheld his passion, never relinquished control, and when he lifted his head, she knew it was over.