Conflict of Interest (The McClouds of Mississippi) (20 page)

A low growl of response rumbled in his chest. He kissed her again, fiercely this time, and she sensed that her candid words had snapped the last thread of resistance he’d been clinging to. A moment later her bare feet were dangling above the floor, and then he dropped her onto the bed. She locked her arms around his neck, pulling him down with her.

His weight crushed her into the mattress, and it was a delicious feeling. Hard against soft. Curves against angles. Wrapping her legs around his, she shivered with the anticipation of how perfectly they would fit together.

Gideon was such a clever and creative man, she thought happily. This was going to be very interesting….

At the moment he was a very impatient man. His hands weren’t quite steady when they swept over her—and it awed her to think that she could make this strong, controlled man tremble.

She speared her fingers into his perpetually messy dark hair, loving the thick, silky feel of it. Apparently, he hadn’t seen a barber in a while—not that she minded in the least.

His lips moved against the galloping pulse in her throat, making it race even faster. His hands slid to cup her breasts, and her heart threatened to stop beating altogether. She had to remind herself to breathe.

His thumbs rotated, causing her to arch upward into his hands. Her fingers clenched convulsively in his hair. He grunted. “Ouch.”

Laughing softly, breathlessly, she loosened her grip. “Sorry.”

“I’m not.” His mouth covered her smile, his tongue plunging between her lips to mate with his.

Amusement fading in a quick flash of heat, she moved her hands to his bare shoulders. His skin was hot, sleek. Muscles bunched and rippled beneath her palms as he moved over and against her.

She hadn’t expected pretty words or sweet nothings from Gideon, and she didn’t get them. He was a silent lover, but a thorough one. There wasn’t an inch of her body that did not receive his attentions. Her black nightgown proved no obstacle to him; he had it off her almost before she realized it. His jeans quickly joined the swath of black fabric on the floor.

She discovered immediately afterward that Gideon was a
very
well-built man.

He kept protection in his nightstand—a fact she had discovered several days earlier. She hadn’t been snooping, just looking for a safe place to keep her jewelry and contact lenses when she wasn’t wearing them. Her first glimpse of those shiny silver packets had filled her mind with images that had left her hot and bothered for hours.

Her imagination hadn’t come close to reality.

Mindful of the child sleeping across the hall, she bit back a cry of pleasure when he finally joined them together. She couldn’t totally suppress the moan of delight that escaped when he began to move. He covered her mouth with his to smother any more sounds.

Yet at the moment of climax, it was Gideon who lost control, expressing his satisfaction with a deep, hoarse groan. Even as she gave in to her own shivering release, Adrienne was pleased by the sign that Gideon was as affected by their lovemaking as she was.

They recovered in a silence broken only by the sounds of their ragged breathing. Gideon lay on his back. While his arm was beneath her, he wasn’t exactly holding her against him. She sensed that he was already drawing back, gathering the emotions he had let slip earlier and locking them securely away.

Which, she thought, was probably a good idea considering the necessarily temporary nature of their personal relationship. She would be heading back to New York in a day or two—it was well past time for her to do so—and there was no purpose to be served by deluding themselves, even briefly, that there was anything more between them than a passionate attraction. Maybe it felt like more at the moment—maybe it felt like a
lot
more—but that was just her romanticizing things again. Fantasizing about a happy ending that was extremely unlikely.

She rubbed her cheek against Gideon’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty damned good,” he answered without hesitation.

She laughed softly. “Glad to hear it.”

He turned his head to look at her in the watery light that filtered in through the sheer curtains. She could just make out his faint smile. “That’s what I call a full-service literary agency.”

She smiled sweetly back at him and then punched him in the stomach.

Gideon laughed and caught her hand. The sound of his rare laughter made her breath catch.

So it felt a lot like love, she told herself wistfully. That didn’t mean she had to get carried away by the fantasy.

“Sorry,” he said, brushing a soft kiss against her knuckles. “Couldn’t resist.”

Though she knew he was talking about his lame joke, her first thought was that she hadn’t been able to resist him, either.

Still holding her wrist, he turned her hand over and pressed a kiss in her palm. Though she would have sworn that she was completely sated, she felt a renewed flicker of interest spark inside her in response to the feel of his warm lips against the sensitive skin of her palm. When he transferred his attentions to the hollow beneath her ear and then nibbled his way down the line of her jaw to the curve of her shoulder, the spark flared into a small flame. And when he slid a hand slowly down her quivering tummy to ease his fingertips into the nest of curls between her legs, the fire burned even hotter.

He moved against her hip, and she felt the unmistakable evidence that she wasn’t the only one affected by the heat. “Oh, my.”

His mouth was curved into a faint smile when he spoke against her lips. “Problem?”

“I’m just impressed by your stamina.”

He nipped lightly at her lower lip. “You know what they say about writers.”

“What—” She was forced to pause to clear her throat. “What do they say?”

“We keep working on a scene until we get it exactly right.”

If he got it any more right this time, she was likely to explode, she decided, pressing her mouth to his as her arms went around him. But who was she to interfere with the creative process?

Chapter Twelve

G
ideon didn’t stay all night, whether because of Isabelle or for reasons of his own, Adrienne couldn’t have said. He slipped out of bed as soon as he recovered his breath from their second round of lovemaking, donned his jeans and left her with a quick kiss on the cheek.

Though she half expected to lie awake the rest of the night, she fell deeply asleep almost the moment the bedroom door closed behind him. She slept without dreaming, waking to find the morning sun shining brightly through the windows.

A glance at the clock told her it was after eight. Isabelle was probably awake, since she shared her brother’s predilection for early rising. Rolling slowly out of bed, Adrienne nearly stumbled when her feet tangled in the black nightgown lying discarded on the carpet. Glancing at the tumbled bedcovers, she groaned softly and pushed her hair out of her face. What had seemed like a good idea the night before looked different in the full light of day.

She didn’t regret making love with Gideon, exactly. She just wasn’t sure it had been wise to open herself up to heartache if she found she was unable to leave her growing feelings for him behind when she returned to her life in New York.

She took her time showering and dressing. When she finally went into the kitchen, she found Isabelle and Gideon sitting at the table, having breakfast. At least, Isabelle was eating cereal with sliced bananas. Gideon was reading the newspaper and drinking coffee—and from the look of the pot, it wasn’t his first cup.

Pouring the remainder for herself, she carried her mug to the table, her chin held high as she greeted them brightly. Isabelle smiled and mumbled a return greeting around a mouthful of cereal. Gideon grunted and turned to the next page in the sports section.

So much for tender morning-after smiles, she thought wryly. “Aren’t you having breakfast?”

“Not hungry. But help yourself.”

“The cereal’s good this morning,” Isabelle said.

“Is it? Then I’ll have that.”

She fetched a bowl and filled it with cereal, milk and sliced bananas. Taking her seat, she spooned a bite into her mouth, chewed and swallowed, then nodded gravely to Isabelle. “You’re right. The cereal is excellent this morning.”

Gideon looked up from his newspaper. “I realized last night that I’m completely out of ink for my printer. I’m going to make an office supplies run this afternoon. It’s about a forty-five-minute drive to the nearest office supplies warehouse. Will the two of you be okay here while I’m gone?”

He wasn’t inviting them to join him. In fact, he seemed to be making a point to avoid doing so. Apparently, he needed some time to himself this afternoon. Because she knew him well enough by now to understand why, she nodded. “We’ll be fine.”

His gaze held hers a moment, no particular expression discernable in his eyes, and then he looked down at his paper again, the subject apparently settled.

Dipping her spoon into her bowl again, Adrienne wondered if this exasperating man would even remember her after she went away.

Gideon had been gone about an hour when the front doorbell rang. Because she wasn’t expecting anyone, Adrienne glanced through the small window in the front door before turning the knob with a smile. “If it isn’t Officer Smith.”

He flashed his charmingly lazy smile. “’Afternoon, ma’am.”

“Gee, I know you’re going to be terribly disappointed to hear this, but Gideon isn’t here.”

“I know. I saw him driving out of town a while earlier. I figured this was as good a time as any to bring you this.”

This
was a thick manila envelope, which he held out to her with the same rather sheepish expression he’d worn when he had told her about his writing.

“Your book?”

He nodded, swallowing visibly. “You haven’t changed your mind about wanting to read it?”

“Of course not. I’m delighted to read it.” It was the absolute truth. She had become quite fond of Dylan Smith during the past few days, but more than that, she suspected that his book would be good.

And if it was? How would Gideon feel about her representing a man he was in the habit of despising? Would he consider it a conflict of interest, even though it would have absolutely no effect on her work for him?

She would worry about that after she read Dylan’s book and decided whether it was worth representing.

“Come in,” she said, holding the envelope and motioning with her free hand. “I’ll make some coffee. You aren’t on duty, are you?”

“Just went off. But I’d probably best not come in. Gideon—”

“Gideon told me to make myself at home during my visit,” she interrupted firmly. “I’m sure that includes inviting my friends in for coffee. If it makes you feel any better, he’ll be gone for another hour or so, so you won’t have to see him.”

“Something tells me he wouldn’t agree with you about inviting me in. He’s more likely to blow a gasket.” But he entered, anyway, looking around as if checking to make sure Gideon wasn’t lurking somewhere inside.

“Officer Smith!” Isabelle ran toward him with her arms outstretched.

He swung her into the air, making her squeal with delight. “How’s the little princess?”

Her sneakered feet pumping the air, Isabelle giggled. “Princess Isabelle. I like that.”

“So do I.” He lowered her to the floor. “Whatcha’ been up to since yesterday?”

“Adrienne and I went outside and played hopscotch. She’s good. But I’m better.”

Dylan laughed and winked at Adrienne. “Well, you
are
Princess Isabelle.”

Adrienne led him into the kitchen and motioned him into a chair while she put the coffee on. While it brewed, Isabelle entertained them with a song and dance she had learned at school. Leaving Dylan laughing, she dashed into the other room to draw him a picture to take with him when he left.

“That kid’s cute, isn’t she?”

Smiling in response to his indulgent tone, Adrienne opened the cabinet where Gideon kept the sugar and powdered creamer. “I’m crazy about her.”

“Gideon seems rather fond of her, too.”

Hearing the undertone of surprise in his voice, she looked at him over her shoulder. “He is. He’s not one to express his feelings very easily, but he has grown quite close to his little sister during this past week.”

“I’m glad the family has been able to accept the kid,” Dylan said in a low voice. “It couldn’t have been easy for Lenore and Gideon, considering Isabelle’s parents were Lenore’s husband and Gideon’s girlfriend, but it’s a good thing they don’t blame the little girl for her parents—are you okay?”

Adrienne stared dumbly down at the shards of broken mug scattered around her feet. She would have to replace that before she left. It seemed to have leaped out of her hand. “I’m fine. Just clumsy.”

“I didn’t give anything away, did I? I mean, the way everyone gossips in this town, I figured you knew…”

“Gideon’s told me a bit about his family history.” With the exception of a few pertinent details, of course.

Dylan made a sound of self-disgust and shook his head. “I have a habit of opening my mouth and inserting my foot. I didn’t mean to come into Gideon’s kitchen and start gossiping about his family. I was just trying to say that I’m glad that sweet little orphan girl ended up with a family who cares about her, despite the past.”

“So am I.” Having cleaned up her breakage, she set his coffee cup in front of him and settled on the other side of the table with her own. “Tell me more about your book, Dylan. You said you envision it as the first in a series?”

He followed her lead with an eagerness that proved he was grateful for the change of subject.

Within minutes they had moved from his writing to other books they both enjoyed and from that to films and music. Adrienne liked Dylan very much, and she had a healthy feminine appreciation for his cowboy charm, but there was no real chemistry between them at all. It was like having coffee with her favorite male cousin. And even though Dylan flirted with her a bit—a knee-jerk, guy thing, most likely—she sensed that he felt much the same way about her.