Chapter 70
She flickered a glance at Gideon as if to measure how she should respond, but replied, "Do you mean Gideon didn't tell you? I only met him once when I ducked in his shop a few months ago."
The older man shook his head, then dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. "Odd man, Valente was. Even odder for a crotchety old b.a.s.t.a.r.d-pardon me, ladies-to do something nice for anyone, let alone someone he didn't know. Everything going okay with the shop?" His blue eyes focused sharply on Fiona, and Gideon held his breath.
Don't mention the light. He couldn't bear for his grandparents to think she was a flake-talking about lit lamps that weren't plugged in. Obviously, it was something that had rattled her-and, odd as she was, probably for good reason...but he wasn't sure his grandfather would understand.
In order to forestall that from happening, he reached over and, resting his hand on top of hers, said, "Speaking of the shop, I'm sure you need to get back and get closed up for the night, hmm, Fiona?"
He ignored the frown directed at him by his grandfather and kept his attention on Fiona. He was ready to get out of there-away from the suggestive looks from the older couple, and away to where he could have Fiona to himself. Lightning zipped through him as he realized exactly how much he wanted to abscond with her...and just what he would do when they did.
Gideon had his way, for, not ten minutes later, he and Fiona were strolling along the street, down the blocks toward Charmed Antiquity. He hadn't spoken a word to her since they'd parted from his grandparents-for suddenly, now that they were alone, he didn't know what to say. He knew what he wanted to do...but not what he wanted to say.
Fiona broke the silence at last. "Your grandparents are wonderful people-and it was so kind of them to invite me to dinner."
"Yes, well, you should know that they had an ulterior motive." He glanced down at her as they pa.s.sed under a streetlight, and saw the delicate planes of her face outlined by the stark light when she looked up at him.
"Well, of course they did, Gideon-it was pretty obvious. They're dying for you to settle down and find happiness just as they have, so they'll take advantage of any possible candidate for you." The smug smile she sent him should have quirked his annoyance, but instead, he grinned at her candor. "Even an oddball like me."
His gaze flickered away. "You're no more odd than Iva, believing in all that New Age stuff," he heard himself say. "You actually think that by rearranging your furniture, you can become wealthy or happy?"
Fiona laughed out loud, delightedly, and another couple pa.s.sing by glanced over at them. The man's gaze lingered a bit too long on her, then slid away as they walked past. "Do I detect a bit of sarcasm, there, Gideon? You'd best be careful-sarcasm could be mistaken for a sense of humor, and I'm sure you wouldn't want that." She laughed again, her bare arm brus.h.i.+ng up against him as they strolled along. Then, to his surprise, she slipped one hand around his bicep, hugging it to her without breaking her stride.
They walked along, their steps matching, thighs brus.h.i.+ng, her thick, wild hair tickling the underside of his chin, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
When she smiled up at him again, the sparkle in her eyes showing even in the half moonlight, Gideon felt an unfamiliar twinge deep inside and he almost stopped right there on the sidewalk. He must have hesitated anyway, for she looked back up, s.h.i.+fting against him as they walked.
"Almost there," he said, just to make sure his voice still worked.
"Yes."
They pa.s.sed a group of young people lined up outside one of the trendy bars, and then, two doors down, was the entrance to Charmed Antiquity.
"Do you need to go in?" he asked as she paused in the little exterior alcove. She peered in one of the windows, cupping her hand around her eyes as if to see better.
"No. Dylan locked the back door when he left, and everything looks fine from here."
At the mention of her shop clerk, Gideon's veins froze and his earlier irritation returned. "Yes. Your a.s.sistant. How could I have forgotten?"
Fiona looked up at him, puzzlement etched over her shadowed features, and nodded. "You met him?"
"No, I didn't meet him-but all the ladies were gus.h.i.+ng on about him."
Fiona grinned, nodding in agreement. "Yes, he does tend to have that effect on the ladies. Well, I'm not complaining-it can't be a bad thing for business, can it?"
She stepped away from the door and turned to walk past him. "My car is parked in the alley around back. I'm really glad you're here to walk me back there since Dylan's gone." She tossed him a warm smile and slipped past, back onto the sidewalk.
Gideon felt outrage bubbling in his veins, but he mutely turned to follow her. So he was an acceptable escort when her boy toy wasn't around, was he? A mere stand-in?
He wondered furiously whether their back-room embraces meant anything in light of the fact that she'd been kissing her a.s.sistant earlier in the evening. His mouth settled into a hard line as he stalked just behind Fiona when she turned into a narrow but well-lit alley between two storefronts. The thought of her pa.s.sionate, pliant, willing responsiveness under another man's mouth infuriated him, driving coherent thoughts from his mind.
The only thing that stayed there, the pinpoint of lucidity in his haze of anger, was the need to remind her of those moments-to mutilate any last trace of Dylan's kiss on her lips, and replace it with his own...and to make her understand that he wanted more from her. And despite her silly "s.e.x complicates things" motto, he was going to get it.
Fiona rounded the sharp corner to the alley that led to the back entrance of her shop, walking as quickly as she could. She felt him behind her, and her skin p.r.i.c.kled with antic.i.p.ation. She thought about how it was going to feel-pressed up against the side of her little VW, sandwiched between it and the hard, muscular frame of Gideon, his mouth on hers and his hands everywhere else.
He was going to kiss her-and if he didn't, she would kiss him-and after that...well, she couldn't make that decision right at this very moment. She was too nervous, too on-edge to think about where this could lead...and whether she wanted to take that step.
"Fiona!" He caught up with her in the middle of the alley, a narrow, brick-walled pa.s.sage just wide enough for a car to pa.s.s through. A glimmer of streetlight cast shadows and shards of light down upon them. At the end of the alley, in the small loading area behind Charmed Antiquity, Fiona could see her VW Beetle gleaming like a sleek lemon drop in the moonlight.
She didn't need to turn, for his hand closed over her arm and tugged her, firmly, around to face him. The intensity in his eyes shocked her, sending a thrill of sensation-and a bit of nervousness-through her belly. "Are you going to kiss me now?" she asked, attempting to cover her momentary jolt. "I was hoping you would."
Gideon stilled as his fingers closed around her arms and he glowered down at her, obviously astonished by her flippancy. His mouth settled into a slas.h.i.+ng black line, shadowed by the uneven light, and the slight movement in the shape of his jaw indicated the control he was having to exert. "Is that what you say to all your boy toys?"
"Boy-?" Fiona choked on her surprise as he reeled her in to him, smothering her abrupt confusion with those hard, persuasive lips. Temptation won out, and she allowed her mouth to mold to his for the briefest of moments before reminding herself that he'd made some off-the-wall accusation, and pulled sharply away.
"What do you mean, boy toy?" she demanded, stepping back as far as his arms would allow. The further away from temptation, the clearer her mind would be.
"Your little smurf, Dylan. And Barnaby Forth. And whoever else you may have stringing along. I don't count myself in that line-up, by the way."
He was angry-that kiss had not been one of uncontrolled pa.s.sion, Fiona realized, but one borne out of fury and frustration. Even so, it left her hot and fluttery-wanting more.
"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped, garnering her indignation-which was difficult in light of the fact that what she wanted mostly to do was step back into his arms. "That's one of the most nonsensical comments I've ever heard you make, and if you really believe that, then you're degrading yourself as well by kissing me."
She yanked out
She considered that briefly, then shook off the intriguing thought and returned to the matter at hand by thumping a forefinger in the center of his well-defined chest. "If I choose to be involved with a man, that's it-it's him and no one else. Unlike yourself, I might add, who seems to be alternating weekends between myself and Leslie van Dorn!"
The reminder of the elegant Leslie piqued her anger even further, and she would have finished ripping him into little man-shreds had he not taken a step toward her. She felt the presence of the brick wall behind her, brus.h.i.+ng it with her fingers, but she did not feel trapped.
"Don't call me Hollis," he said from between clenched teeth just before he descended on her again.
She should have continued to berate him, she should have insisted that he apologize for such a rude comment...she should have stayed in control, walked away...but she didn't. She let go.
Dropping her one-ton leather bag, Fiona slipped her arms up around Gideon, smoothing her fingers down the sides of his warm neck and over the breadth of his wide shoulders, thinking vaguely that it was odd-scary, almost-that she should be so affected by his kisses, and the closeness of his body.
But she didn't care to examine the situation too closely. Instead, she concentrated on him, on the skillful way his mouth moved on hers, and every plane and angle of his body, and that of the wall behind her now, the ridges of brick pressing into her spine.
He must have realized she wasn't going to push away, and Gideon released her arms, planting his hands on either side of her shoulders, pinning her back against the rough wall with his mouth and thighs. Fiona s.h.i.+fted, kissing him back, pus.h.i.+ng her b.r.e.a.s.t.s up into him so that he exhaled long and raggedly as he trailed his lips along her jaw-line.
"Fiona...."
"Ever made love in the back of a VW bug?" she murmured with a husky chuckle that ended in a gasp as he circled his tongue around her ear. "Gideon..." she began, but then forgot what she was going to say as he returned to taste her mouth again. His hands had long since left their anchor on either side of her, and were deftly unb.u.t.toning the back b.u.t.tons of her pantsuit top.
He slipped those long, elegant fingers up under the linen, smoothing them over the satin of her bra, then under it, stretching under it, to hold her nipple-hard b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his hands.
The cooling night air breezed over her hot skin through the open back of her s.h.i.+rt, and the sandpaper roughness of the bricks grazed her bare back, but Fiona was conscious of little other than what his fingers were doing to her body. She was just about to yank his s.h.i.+rt open-d.a.m.n the b.u.t.tons-when there was a crash, followed by a shrill alarm.
Gideon whirled around to look toward the back entrance of the shop. "What the hel-"
"That's my alarm!" Fiona started toward the rear door.
Just then, a figure burst into view from the back of the store, started toward them, then whirled to run in the opposite direction. Gideon was after him in a flash, with Fiona stumbling behind in her high heels.
"Hey! Stop!" she shrieked as Gideon tore along, gaining on the intruder and leaving her far behind.
She hurried after them, d.a.m.ning herself for the little bit of fas.h.i.+on sense she'd chosen to follow this evening, but unwilling to kick off her shoes and run barefooted through a back alley. She saw Gideon disappear around the corner of the opposite end of the alley and sped up her pace. Her foot landed awkwardly on a stone or some odd object, wrenching her ankle enough to bring her to a wincing halt.
She forced herself to hobble along at a much slower pace, realizing belatedly that the cool breeze on her back was due to the fact that the top of her pantsuit was unb.u.t.toned. She angled her hands up behind her, fumbling to connect at least one b.u.t.ton before the whole thing fell off as she rushed to catch up to her date.
When she finally rounded the corner around which he'd disappeared, she nearly ran into him. "What happened?" she exclaimed, breathing heavily, looking around past him. "Did he get away?"
Her hands landed on the center of his chest, and she felt it rising and falling rapidly. Only then, when he didn't reply, did she look up to see a dark stream running down the side of his face, and the hand he had pressed to his head.
"Gideon! What happened?" she cried, pulling his hand away.
"Don't fuss," he muttered, replacing his hand back onto some type of wound. "Let's get back to your shop and see what damage he did." His voice, though weaker than usual, still held the stilted command of a man used to no-nonsense-and dripped with self-disgust.
"He crowned me as I came around the corner-caught me right in the gut, then knocked me against the brick edge there." He had begun the walk back to the shop, and Fiona could do little but walk along with him.
"Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere else?" She wrapped her arm around his waist as though to support him, already feeling guilty that he should have been hurt.
"I said don't fuss," he repeated, but he did not move away from her embrace. In fact, he may have s.h.i.+fted a bit closer to her. "I didn't get a look at the guy at all-did you? Just that he was fairly tall, and average build. Fat lot of good that'll do us."
They had reached the back of the store now, and Fiona saw that the bathroom window next to the back door was shattered where someone had obviously tried to break in. "Good thing Dylan set the alarm," she commented, moving forward to be certain the door hadn't been jimmied. The opening of jagged gla.s.s was much too small for any person to pa.s.s through. Since the alarm had gone off just after the window was broken, the intruder obviously never made it inside the store.
That was also the conclusion of the police officers, who arrived moments later, having been notified by the alarm system. The store was still locked up tightly, and since nothing was taken and the break-in hadn't been successful, the incident would go on file as vandalism and suspected attempt of breaking and entering.
Through the whole conversation with the law, Gideon had leaned propped against the side of Fiona's yellow Beetle, holding a rumpled handkerchief to his head and refusing to allow Fiona to minister to him. "Finish up with this first," he snapped once when she tried to pry it away to look at it.
Apparently he was not the type that liked to be mothered. He did look wan and drawn even in the streetlight, however, and she nodded in agreement when one of the officers suggested he go to the emergency room.
"I'm not going to the ER," he said between clenched teeth after the police left, when she asked him again. "I'm going to take you home to make sure you're all right, and then I'll go home and take care of it myself. Now, come on, let's go."
Fiona looked up at him, her heart swelling. "My brave hero," she said, with exaggerated sentiment, to cover up the intense moment of tenderness she felt. "Thank you Gideon."
His reply was a snort, but she forgave him his rudeness because she knew he must be in pain.
"Why don't I just drive you to your place, and then I'll head home," she suggested, opening the pa.s.senger door of her car. It would be interesting to see how he managed to get all six-foot-plus of himself in the little bucket seat.
She nearly had to shove him into the vehicle, but when he acquiesced with little reluctance, she realized how badly he must feel. "Where do you live?" she asked as she slid behind the steering wheel, picturing a sleek, modern, high-rise condo.
"By the Art Museum, off Ben Franklin." He'd tilted his head back on the headrest of the seat, and his voice came out strained with discomfort and weariness.
"Really? I pictured you as a Rittenhouse Square kind of guy," she commented, mainly to make conversation. But then they fell silent as she maneuvered the Beetle through the streets toward the northwest side of the city.
The seriousness of tonight's events struck her as she was waiting for a light to turn green. Up until now, it had been a foggy realization, overshadowed by the pa.s.sionate kisses shared with Gideon, concern for him, and her factual conversation with the police.
Now, her focus sharpened as she recognized the hard facts: someone had broken into her shop. A random thief-or perhaps one of her guests at the open house today? Maybe someone had noticed one of the few pieces that caused Dylan to positively drool, and decided he didn't want to pay for it? Regardless, it wasn't likely the police would ever find him-particularly since neither she nor Gideon had gotten a good look at him. She s.h.i.+vered. She was just so lucky that she hadn't come back to the shop on her own.
Fiona turned to look at Gideon, whose face was still raised to the ceiling. "Are you sure I can't take you to the ER?" she asked, noticing the lines of pain etched on his face.
"No. Stupidity does not deserve to be catered to." His voice was flat, but he lifted his head. "Follow the Parkway around, and veer to the right in front of the museum. My condo is just to the right."
Moments later, Fiona pulled into the drive outside the garage to his condo. "Private garage," she said, impressed. "Nice."
He let them into the s.p.a.cious home, and Fiona had to readjust her previous a.s.sumptions about his living s.p.a.ce.
It was not the cold, sleek, black-leather-and-chrome decor she'd imagined. Although definitely a bachelor pad, it did, nevertheless, have a warmer feel than she'd antic.i.p.ated, with plump-not sleek-leather sofas, Scandinavian-style wooden furnis.h.i.+ngs, and texture everywhere. A small gas fireplace opened on two sides into the living room and kitchen, and a worn armchair was positioned next to a closed, but very large, wall-to-ceiling, entertainment center. The ugliest afghan she'd ever seen-olive green, chartreuse, and off-white-was folded across the back of the rich navy sofa.
"Nice blanket," she commented, smoothing her hand over its worn comfort. Ugly though it might be, it had been well-used and obviously provided some great measure of solace to its user.
"My mother made it."
The level of emotion in his voice told Fiona that it wasn't just pain from his injury that made it short and flat. She filed the information away for future contemplation and turned her attention from the residence to the man himself.
"Sit down and let me take a look at that. No, better yet, let's go into the bathroom where I can clean you up right there." She didn't wait for him to reply, but started down a hallway that pa.s.sed a staircase, a den, and ended in a s.p.a.cious powder room, knowing that he would follow.
He set his keys and phone next to the sink. Fiona made him take the handkerchief away from his face, and she couldn't help a small gasp when she saw the gash and nasty sc.r.a.pes from the brick wall all along the side of his face. "Wow, he got you really good, hmm?"
Gideon's jaw tightened-she could feel it s.h.i.+ft under her fingers as she gently wiped away the blood and dust from the wound-and he replied, "Yes, he certainly did." She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was angrier with himself than the intruder for doing it to him, and she chose to remain silent.
Instead, she concentrated on ministering to him, and feeling the warmth of his tanned skin, the heavy weight of dark waves, and the slight p.r.i.c.kles of end-of-the-day stubble. It didn't take long to clean it up, but by the time she was finished, all Fiona could think about was picking up where they'd left off in the alley.
Obviously, Gideon was feeling the same way, for when she turned to leave the room, he caught her wrist and pulled her back. "Not so fast," he murmured.
She stood, looking down at him where he sat next to the sink, then s.h.i.+fted to look at their images in the mirror. Gently, almost reverently, holding her gaze with his own in the mirror, he half rose from his seat and brought his lips to hers.
As their mouths touched, lightly, tentatively, she sighed and closed her eyes, allowing the rush of desire to flood her in powerful contrast to the carefulness of their kiss. She felt him lower back to his seat, allowing her to stand over him, hands on his shoulders, bending her face to his as they kissed slowly, thoroughly...as if they had all the time in the world.
And they did, until his cell phone chirped.
Fiona began to pull away, but Gideon grabbed her wrists, and held her in place. "No," was all he said.
It chirped a second and third time, and at that point, Fiona pulled away. "Someone's trying to get in touch with you."
"It's just a text," he murmured. But they both looked down and there it was, lit up on the phone's screen. Fiona didn't mean to pry, but she took in the message at a glance.
Tried to call you. Wanted to confirm the party next week. Had a great time last nite! Lmk.
It was from Leslie.
Fiona extricated herself with deliberate care, and the fact that Gideon allowed her to do so was a measure of how serious the situation was.
She stepped back, pa.s.sed a hand over her face, then let it drop to her side. She saw herself in the mirror-saw the rueful smile pasted on her face, saw the flush of her cheeks and the fullness of her lips-and tried very hard to keep from losing her temper.
"I knew better," she said, turning to walk out of the room. "I knew about her, I knew you were involved...and somehow I let myself forget it. Stupid." She was speaking more to herself than to him, but she didn't care that he heard.
"Fiona...."
She heard him start behind her, but kept walking. "Gideon, I'm not angry-I knew exactly what the situation was, but I let myself forget about it. You are a supernova kisser, you know," she said, turning to look at him as they reached the living room. Her smile turned wry. "You made me forget about my rules and every other precaution that I'm used to taking."