Conflict of Interest (The McClouds of Mississippi) (7 page)

Gideon focused on Adrienne again, effectively dismissing the departing officer. “When can you leave?”

The doctor stepped forward then, having discreetly stayed out of the way during Gideon’s terse conversation with Dylan. “She can go as soon as she’s dressed and I’ve talked to her a bit more about the care of her ankle. I’m lending her a pair of crutches she can use for a few days just to make walking more comfortable.”

Gideon glanced at Adrienne. “I’ll go wait with Isabelle while you get dressed.”

“Be sure and let her know I’m fine, even though I’ll be using crutches when I join you. I don’t want her to be worried.”

“I’ll tell her.” Nodding toward the doctor and nurse, he turned and left the room, impatient to get out of this place and back to his own house.

Isabelle was still sitting on the bench with the young clinic employee, this time playing with a tongue depressor. “I saw her tonsils,” she announced proudly to Gideon.

“Congratulations. You seem to be well on your way to becoming a doctor.” He sat on the bench beside his sister and directed a faint smile at her companion. “Thanks for keeping her entertained. I’ll take over now so you can get back to work.”

The brunette nodded. “Okay. ’Bye, Isabelle. You’ve been a very good girl.”

Isabelle flashed her numerous dimples in one of her particularly endearing smiles. “’Bye, Nancy.”

And then she turned to Gideon. “Where’s Miss Corley?”

“She’s getting ready to go home with us.”

“Is her leg okay? She fell and hurt it and Officer Smith carried her to his police car.”

The image of Adrienne being carried in Dylan’s arms almost made Gideon scowl again. He kept his expression bland only because he didn’t want to upset Isabelle. “Adrienne hurt her ankle, and she’ll be wearing a brace until it heals. She’ll walk with crutches for a few days to keep her weight off the injury until it feels better.”

Isabelle looked concerned. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m sure it’s uncomfortable, but she was smiling when I was in there with her.” Mostly at Dylan Smith, he couldn’t help remembering with another ripple of irritation.

Isabelle seemed to be reassured. “I can take care of her when we get to your house,” she offered. “I can bring things to her so she won’t have to walk on her hurt foot.”

“Adrienne will appreciate your help.”

He was startled when Isabelle suddenly climbed onto his lap and rested her head on his chest. “I’m kind of tired,” she murmured with a little sigh.

Awkwardly patting her back, he wasn’t surprised that she was worn-out. She’d had a long, eventful day.

He was beginning to feel rather drained himself.

Chapter Four

H
er swollen and bruised foot propped on a pillow on a footstool in front of her chair, Adrienne sat in Gideon’s den that evening with a cup of hot tea in her hands and a white stuffed owl in her lap. Gideon and Isabelle had been taking care of her, in their unique ways, which explained the tea and the toy.

She still felt like a fool.

Poor Gideon, she thought, listening to the clatter of dishes in the kitchen as he cleared away the remains of the broiled steak and baked potato dinner he had prepared for them. All he seemed to want was to be left alone to write in peace, and now he found himself responsible for his baby sister and his injured agent.

Gideon wandered into the den a few moments later. “You need anything?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you. I was just thinking that I should try calling the airline, see if I can get a flight out early tomorrow. I’ll have to arrange transportation to the airport, of course, since I’m not sure I could make an hour-long drive with my right foot in a brace, but I—”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re in no shape to travel tomorrow. The doctor ordered you to take it easy for a few days and that’s what you’ll do. Stay here and recuperate, and you can go back to New York later in the week. Friday, probably.”

Though she appreciated his generous, if bluntly offered, invitation, especially knowing how badly he wanted his privacy back, she shook her head. “Thank you, but I won’t impose on you any longer. I’m not injured that badly, and I can get assistance boarding the plane.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. “I’m not going to argue with you about this. You’re going to be sore tomorrow, both from the impact in the car and from the fall. There’s no reason for you to leave in that condition—and don’t say again that you don’t want to impose on me. I would tell you if I found your presence bothersome.”

“I should never have shown up on your doorstep without giving you prior notice.”

Her guiltfest only seemed to annoy him further. “You didn’t have a hell of a lot of choice, considering I wouldn’t take your calls or read my mail.”

Now he was making excuses for her. She sighed and shook her head. “I’m really sorry about all of this.”

“If anyone should be apologizing, I should, for making your job so difficult. I haven’t even made time to discuss the business that brought you here. But it would be a waste of time for us to sit here apologizing to each other.”

She smiled ruefully. “I suppose you’re right. And I know how you feel about wasting time.”

The smile he gave her in return was a bit lopsided, but still charming in its own way. For an instant she was taken back to the moment when she had stepped out of the examining room and found Gideon waiting for her with Isabelle curled in his lap. He had looked more than a bit uncomfortable, but his hand had been gentle as he’d patted Isabelle’s back. She had been startled to find herself wondering how it might feel to have his hands on
her.

“You seem to be getting to know me pretty well,” he said.

It took her a beat to realize that he was responding to her last statement and not to her errant thoughts. She cleared her throat. “In some ways, perhaps.”

He sat on the couch, draping his arm over the back. “How’s your tea?”

“It’s very good.” She took a sip of the cooling, interestingly flavored beverage.

“It’s my mother’s favorite herbal blend. She keeps me stocked because she thinks I drink too much caffeine.”

“Do you?”

“Probably.”

“Where’s Isabelle?”

He glanced toward the doorway. “In my office. She wanted to draw pictures.”

“She really is an amazing child. I know she’s only four, but she acts so much older. Her mannerisms, her vocabulary…everything about her.”

“She’s spent almost all her life around adults. Her parents spent nearly every waking moment with her before they died. After that she lived with her maternal great-aunt in California for a few months until her aunt became ill and turned her over to my brother. I believe this preschool program is the first time she’s ever really been around other kids.”

“She’s had a lot of tragedy in her short life, hasn’t she?” Adrienne murmured quietly.

His face expressionless, Gideon nodded. “She’ll have a good home with Nathan and Caitlin. The three of them are crazy about each other. But then, Isabelle has known Nathan all her life, so she’d already bonded with him before she moved here.”

A bit confused, Adrienne frowned. “She hasn’t known you all her life?”

He looked toward the doorway again, so that all she could see of his face was the hard line of his jaw. “My father and I didn’t get along very well even before he dumped my mother and moved to California with his pregnant girlfriend, who he married just before Isabelle’s birth. I hadn’t seen him since he moved. He died in a tourist helicopter crash in Mexico last year.”

The very lack of emotion in his voice made her throat tighten. Though he wouldn’t let it surface, she suspected he still harbored a great deal of emotion about his father—anger, an equal amount of pain and probably a few regrets. Because of her complicated and frequently acrimonious relationship with her own father, she could identify with his mixed emotions. The difference was that she still had some hope of settling things between her father and herself. Gideon’s last chance was gone.

He nodded toward her elevated foot, abruptly changing the subject. “How’s your ankle?”

“Sore,” she admitted, trying not to dwell on the discomfort.

“Need another pain pill? I think it’s time for you to take one now.”

“I’d rather not. They make me woozy.”

“Isn’t it better to be woozy than in pain?”

“It’s not so bad,” she lied, shifting her foot gingerly on the pillow. “I’ll put some more ice on it before I turn in.”

“Maybe now is a good time to discuss the business that brought you here.” He looked as though he would rather undergo a root canal, but she could tell he was trying to feign interest for her sake.

She nodded and began. “I had a long lunch with your editor last week, and she—”

“Miss Corley! I made you a get-well picture.” Waving a sheet of paper in front of her, Isabelle dashed into the room. “I drew a bunch of them before I decided which one I liked best.”

Adrienne made a point of admiring and praising the colorful, imaginative picture of rainbows and flowers and smiling animals that were certainly creative, if a bit hard to identify. The drawing was painstakingly signed with Isabelle’s name. “This is lovely, Isabelle. I’ll treasure it. Thank you.”

Dimpling, Isabelle leaned over the arm of Adrienne’s chair to give her a hug. “Does it make you feel better?”

Adrienne returned the hug with an unexpected rush of affection. “Much better.”

Satisfied, Isabelle turned then to Gideon. “I’m still sort of hungry. Could I have a cookie for dessert?”

He pushed himself off the couch. “How about two cookies and a glass of milk?”

She clapped her hands. “Yummy. Do you want a cookie, Miss Corley? I’ll bring you one so you don’t have to walk.”

“No, thank you, sweetheart. I’m still full from dinner.”

“Okay. See you later.” She skipped out of the room at Gideon’s side.

Adrienne studied the drawing in her hand with a smile. No one had ever drawn a picture for her before. It was such a sweet gesture. She’d been completely honest when she’d told Isabelle that she would treasure this gift.

She had grown very fond of little Isabelle in the twenty-four hours she’d known her. And she was becoming more fascinated by Gideon with each passing hour.

Leaning her head against the back of the chair, she reflected on the awkward situation she had gotten herself into. She was not by nature an impulsive or impractical person. She rarely acted without detailed planning and clearly defined goals. This trip to Honesty definitely qualified as impulsive, even though she had decided to take it several days before her departure. She’d made up her mind in an instant and hadn’t allowed herself to second-guess the decision afterward, even though she had been aware that it wasn’t the most rational business move she’d ever made.

And now, twenty-four hours after her arrival, she’d made absolutely no progress in discussing business with Gideon. To make matters worse, she had injured herself and was proving to be an inconvenience to him. This was what she deserved, she supposed, for losing her patience and her temper and behaving so uncharacteristically.

Because she didn’t want to spend any more time alone with her recriminations, she reached for the crutches beside her chair. There was pain when she lowered her foot from the stool and rose, but she ignored it. Following the doctor’s instructions, she moved her injured foot in a walking motion, though she put little weight on it as she made her way carefully to the kitchen.

Isabelle sat at the table, swinging her feet and talking while she crumbled cookies on a plate. Most of the pieces made it to her mouth, but she seemed more interested in telling Gideon a lengthy and complex tale about her classmates’ playground antics than in eating her dessert.

Gideon leaned against the counter, solemnly munching a cookie and trying to follow Isabelle’s monologue. He looked relieved when Adrienne entered, a bit as if he’d heard the welcome call of a cavalry bugle, she thought with a faint smile. And then he frowned. “What are you doing up? I’d have brought you anything you needed.”

“I was getting restless. I’m not used to sitting still for so long.” She moved toward the cabinet where he stored his drinking glasses. “Since I’m already up, I’d like a glass of water.”

He reached over her shoulder for a glass, brushing against her with the movement. She was keenly aware of the feel of his muscled arm against her shoulder. “Do you want ice?” he asked, his voice a low growl in her ear.

She hadn’t been particularly warm before she’d entered the kitchen. She was now. “Yes, please.”

He looked at her for a moment, and she wondered if the contact between them had affected him, too. Or was he simply reading something in her expression? Before she could decide, he turned to the side-by-side refrigerator and opened the freezer door.

She jumped when the telephone rang. The extension was on the wall right beside her. Busily filling her glass with ice, Gideon glanced her way. “I suppose you think we should answer that.”

“Of course.”

“Would you mind? If it’s a telemarketer, tell him he can—”

She cleared her throat loudly and looked warningly toward his attentive little sister. And then, balancing on her crutches, she reached for the receiver. “McCloud residence.”

She’d half expected to hear his mother on the other end of the line again. Instead it was a man who said, “Is, um, Gideon there? This is his brother, Nathan.”

“Just a moment.” She extended the receiver toward Gideon. “It’s your brother.”

Isabelle’s face brightened. “It’s Nate? Can I say hi?”

“Of course you can,” Gideon assured her, trading Adrienne a glass of water for the phone. “Hang on a minute.”

Adrienne set the water on the table, then carefully lowered herself into a chair to drink it. Just that brief walk from the den had left her foot burning with pain. The doctor had assured her the discomfort would lessen in a few days, especially if she took care of it and eased into the exercises she’d been given, but tonight the pain was intense. Not that she would admit that, of course. She’d caused Gideon enough concern.