The Shop of Shades and Secrets (Modern Gothic Romance 1) (31 page)

Philly’s Ritz-Carlton hosted Interworks’ dinner celebration, this night before the company was to go public. Gideon pulled smoothly into the valet parking drive and escorted Leslie into the crisply elegant hotel, already counting the minutes until he could leave.

Once inside, he made a trip to the bar for a Scotch, and wine for Leslie, and then remained at her side as she turned on her corporate persona and schmoozed her way through the cluster of people.

She worked the crowd and Gideon watched her, realizing suddenly that this was a lot more boring without Fiona at his side. He used to enjoy these types of functions—still did, sometimes…but he had been spoiled by a fiery, funny, feckless red head who always made him laugh. Even when he was trying to be proper.

Leslie approached to guide him to the head table, where they’d sit during dinner. After the meal, she and her consultants would do their final presentation to the potential investors, schmooze some more, and then they could leave. Looking covertly at his watch, Gideon guessed that he could perhaps make it to Fiona’s by midnight, crawl into her warm bed, and gather that soft, supple body into his arms.

A tiny tremor raced through him. It was wonderful to be in love.

It was ten-thirty, and Gideon couldn’t stop thinking about Fiona. He’d been a good companion this evening, making conversation, complimenting Leslie and her work at the company—which was well-deserved—but now he was getting a bit antsy. He firmed his lips, jutting his chin out, just as Leslie turned to look up at him. He immediately rearranged his features into a more relaxed expression, but he saw the question in her eyes.

“I think I’d like to get some air,” she told him, squeezing his arm.

“All right,” he agreed, nodding to their companions, then looking down at her in surprise. It was very unlike Les to want to leave a situation where she was the center of attention, but she seemed a bit uncomfortable and he thought, in a moment of shame, that perhaps she was annoyed with his lack of attention this evening.

Indeed, once they had stepped outside into the balmy July night, she looked up at him, scrutinizing him with sharp eyes. “Are you all right tonight, Gideon?” she asked, slipping her hand from his arm and stepping back to look directly at him.

An easy smile crossed his face. “Just a bit distracted,” he responded. “I’m sorry if it was noticeable. I hope I didn’t make you feel awkward.”

“No, no. I know you’d rather be elsewhere. Thank you again for coming with me, even though things have changed. I know all of this specific talk about the IPO can become tedious, but it’s going to be well worth it.” A smile curved her red lips, reminding him how attractive he found her…when he wasn’t thinking about a redheaded woman with wildly curling hair. “I’m ready to leave myself—I’ve already made my excuses. All I have to do is say goodnight to Blake, and we can go.”

“Great.” Though it seemed odd she was willing to cut the evening short, he wasn’t about to question her desire to leave early.

Moments later, they were in his Mercedes, gliding silently through the streets of Philadelphia. “I hope you’ll come up for a drink,” Leslie commented idly as they pulled up to the valet parking at her high-rise condo.

Gideon would have refused, but he felt more than a bit guilty about his distraction this evening—it was such an important night for her, and he’d been barely there. And it was early yet. Hardly past ten. “A quick one would be nice.”

Les was unusually silent in the elevator, and Gideon stood with his hands plunged into his pockets, staring at his gleaming black shoes as the car rose to the twenty-third floor, again, feeling the familiarity of the situation. Once inside her spacious condo, Gideon stripped off his tux jacket and loosened the hand-tied bow tie around his neck, stuffing it into one of his pockets.

Leslie was more deliberate: she slipped off her shoes and, tucking them under her arm, took off the one-carat diamond earrings she wore, gathering them into the palm of her hand. “Help yourself,” she said unnecessarily—for Gideon had already made his way to the gleaming glass-topped bar to pour a short whiskey. He made her a drink as well—her usual gin and tonic with an olive garnish.

As he turned back, absorbing the scene in which he was in the midst, realization zipped through him. They moved about with the ease and familiarity of an old married couple—he flinging his clothing on the sofa, she divesting herself of earrings and shoes without a thought for him as a guest. He helped himself to her bar, even going to far as to pour her regular drink. It was a routine. It felt natural…yet it did not. If he hadn’t met Fiona, would he have gone on along with this arrangement until his five-year-plan indicated it was time to get married?

Gideon took a large sip of whiskey, suddenly very uncomfortable. Wordlessly, he handed Leslie her drink, then sank onto a thick leather chair, hanging his hands over his knees.

She took the glass, stirred it with her finger, then took a quick sip and set it on a nearby table. “I’m glad you came up,” she said, looking at him with a sudden intensity. “We need to talk.”

Oh Jesus. Gideon felt his head begin to pound and he took another drink. “Oh?” he replied belatedly, trying to keep an even expression on his face.

She raised her glass to her lips, sipped, and then, frowning, pulled it away. “Are you still seeing that redhead—Fiona? How is it going, Gideon?”

Gideon swallowed. What was she up to? “Things are fine. We’re seeing each other. Occasionally.” Why he felt the need to downplay their relationship wasn’t clear to him in that hazy moment, but perhaps it was merely an attempt to keep Les from feeling bad. “How about you?” The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Of course she wasn’t seeing anyone—or else why would she need him for an escort tonight?

“I need to talk to you about something.”

The look on her face was weary, resigned, and a bit fearful. Leslie van Dorn, woman warrior, fearful? It made him distinctly uncomfortable. “Go ahead.”

“I know this is something you’re not going to want to hear,” she began, looking down at her perfectly manicured fingernails, “but I felt it only right to be perfectly honest. We had an arrangement for years, and…well, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Yes?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Chapter Seventeen

Gideon silently opened the door to Fiona’s room, stepping in with care. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up and want to talk.

Like a wraith, he moved about the room without a sound, slipping his shoes off, unbuttoning his shirt, folding it and his tux trousers over a chair. He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to talk…he just wanted Fiona.

A very heavy sleeper, she lay unmoving in an embryo-like lump under a patchwork quilt in the middle of her bed. The faint scent of some pleasing fragrance hung in the air, and he noticed two candles that had burned low next to her side of the bed.

Gideon slid under the covers, reaching for her,
needing
her. She sensed him, turning in her sleep, and rolled into his arms. Her soft hair amassed under his chin, and he tilted his head to bury his lips and his nose in its warm comfort.

His body, his mind, his emotions—all were numb, stuck, frozen back in that moment at Leslie’s house.

He shouldn’t be here—that one thing was certain…but when he’d left Leslie’s, after downing a second whiskey, he found himself unable to keep away from the one thing he was clear about.

Fiona sighed in her sleep, adjusting her warm body, brushing against the hair on his chest. He held her closer, breathing in her scent, staring into the darkness over her head. Trying not to think.

When he moved to drop a kiss onto her cheek, Fiona sighed and wriggled slightly in his arms. “Gideon?” she murmured, half asleep. “Mmmm.” She moved, shifting against him, brushing her breasts over his chest, and sliding her knee up between his legs.

Gideon pulled back, still holding her, but away so that he wouldn’t be tempted into the web she spun. He swallowed a hard lump, throat convulsing against her head, and closed his eyes.

She rolled toward him, and her hand moved into the hair on his chest, then she smoothed slim fingers over his shoulder as she nuzzled against his throat. His body, numb though it was, began to respond to her touch and he couldn’t still his fingers from brushing over the mounds of hair and across her soft cheek. Fiona arched against him, sighing, still half-asleep, but with a small moan that sent a pang of arousal straight into his belly.

Even as he knew he shouldn’t, he did: he slid his hands to cover her breasts, one thumb brushing over a nipple that tautened beneath it like a flower awakening. He covered her mouth with his, he pulled her hips tightly against him. The moan from the back of her throat was louder this time, and he could see her eyes flutter in the dim light as she tipped her head back to leave her neck bare to him.

With a fierceness that still surprised him, Gideon bent to her, covering her body with his, sliding his fingers into and around the deepest, warmest part of her. He closed his eyes and coaxed from Fiona the deepest, most shattering response he’d ever done with any woman.

And when it was over, he felt, rather than heard, her lips move against him.

I love you, Gideon.

~*~

Fiona hummed as she dumped a cup of fresh blueberries into the bowl, carefully folding the batter over them with a spatula.

“Good morning,” came Gideon’s scratchy voice.

She looked up at him, tossing a coil of hair out of her face, and smiled. “Hello, love. Sleep well?”

“What are you making?”

“Whole wheat blueberry muffins. My specialty…one of them, anyway.” She flashed him a coy smile, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Coffee?”

He grunted an assent as he sank onto a chair at the small breakfast-nook-like table.

She poured him coffee, then returned to her muffin batter—dropping healthy spoonfuls into the battered muffin pan her mother had given her. “How was the party?”

“Boring.”

Fiona flashed him a glance. It wasn’t like him to be so reticent. Maybe he was just tired. She slid the muffin pan into the oven and came over to the table, sliding onto Gideon’s lap and wrapping her arms around his sleep-scented body, burying her face in his neck. His hands moved to caress her back for only a moment before dropping away.

“You know, Gideon,” she murmured into his shoulder, her heart thumping madly at the suggestion she was about to make, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh?”

She pressed a light kiss onto his warm, smooth shoulder and allowed her lips to curve into a smile there. “We’ve been seeing a lot of each other, lately…and….”

He shifted so that she was forced to sit up, away from him. “Fiona, could you get me some sugar?”

“Sugar?” she looked at him in surprise.

“For my coffee?” He stared intently at the cup of sable liquid, not meeting her eyes.

“Sure.” She got up, mentally shaking her head. Gideon always took his coffee black. Ah well, maybe it would be easier to say it when she wasn’t cuddled in his arms. “Anyway, I was thinking…you’ve been staying over so much lately that I thought you might want to…leave a toothbrush here.”

“A toothbrush?” The moment he’d been waiting for for weeks now had finally come…and he would have to say no.

~*~

Fiona banged into the corner of the big oaken desk, and winced and swore, tears springing to her eyes. Her thigh screamed with pain where the edge—though dull and rounded, but lethal nevertheless—met her tender skin.