Читать книгу Conflict of Interest - GINA WILKINS - Страница 12

Fifteen minutes after they returned to Gideon’s house—just after 9:30 a.m.—Adrienne found herself alone in his kitchen. After telling her he needed to work on a scene while it was still fresh in his mind, he’d closed himself in his office again. He’d looked relieved when she’d assured him she had brought quite a bit of reading with her, since she couldn’t even take a vacation without having her work nearby, and he’d promised to be out to talk business with her as soon as he finished the scene.

She had decided she’d better not hold her breath until he reemerged. Settling at the kitchen table with her laptop computer, her cell phone and a stack of manuscripts, she concentrated on her work as diligently as she assumed Gideon was concentrating on his.

It was rather nice, actually, to work uninterrupted for a change. Vacation time or not, she might actually get quite a lot accomplished on this trip—if only she could convince Gideon to cooperate.

Gideon was aware of Adrienne’s presence in his house. She didn’t make any noise, even though he found himself listening for her on several occasions, but he knew she was there, anyway. The awareness didn’t stop him from working—or even from losing himself in his writing—but each time he surfaced, he thought of Adrienne.

Not such terribly intrusive thoughts to have, he acknowledged, picturing her brown eyes and glossy auburn hair. And then his imagination drifted a bit lower, lingering on her sleek, slender curves. Willowy, he decided. That was the word he would have chosen to describe her.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing having a willowy woman in the next room while he worked. As soon as he finished this scene, he would go talk to her….

It was just after eleven when the kitchen telephone rang, drawing Adrienne out of her work. She glanced up as it rang again. Surely Gideon would answer.

The phone rang again. Shaking her head at his refusal to buy an answering machine if he had no intention of picking up the phone, she pushed herself out of her chair and stalked toward the extension. Someone had to answer. This could be an emergency. “McCloud residence,” she said.

After a momentary pause, a woman spoke. “This is Lenore McCloud, Gideon’s mother. May I ask to whom I’m speaking?”

“I’m Adrienne Corley, Mrs. McCloud. Gideon’s agent from New York.”

“I see. Was my son expecting your visit? He didn’t mention it to me.”

“I’m afraid I popped in unexpectedly,” Adrienne explained. “I had some important business to discuss with him and I, um, had a bit of difficulty reaching him to arrange a meeting.”

His mother’s laugh was wry. “That I believe. Reaching Gideon is an impossible task at times. I wasn’t sure he would answer this call, even though he surely knew I would be checking in with him.”

“I’ll go tell him you’re on the line. He’s in his office.”

“Oh, dear. I hope he doesn’t snap at you.”

“You needn’t worry about my feelings being hurt if he does.” Adrienne thought ruefully of her father. “I’m quite used to that sort of thing.”

“Well…good luck.”

Adrienne thought she might like Gideon’s mother, but then she’d already decided the woman must have the forbearance of a saint to put up with Gideon and to accept her ex-husband’s child so graciously. “Thank you.”

Laying the receiver on the kitchen counter, she walked to Gideon’s office and knocked firmly on the door, knowing a tentative tap would probably never catch his attention. She didn’t wait for an invitation to enter, but opened the door and stuck her head inside. “Gideon, your mother is on the phone.”

He didn’t take his eyes from his computer screen. “Tell her I’ll call her later.”

“No, you won’t, you’ll forget. You really should talk to her now while she’s on the line.”

It was the same rational tone she used with her father when he was acting unreasonably. Sometimes the strategy worked, and sometimes it just ticked him off.

Gideon seemed on the verge of the latter as he glared at her. And then he shook his head, pushed a hand through his hair and muttered, “Sorry. I get surly when my flow of thought is interrupted.”

“No problem. I’m often the same way. Are you taking the call in here?”

He nodded and reached for the phone.

“I’ll hang up the extension in the kitchen,” she said, and let herself out of his office, closing the door behind her.

He wasn’t an entirely hopeless case, she decided as she slipped the receiver quietly into its cradle and returned to her own work. He just needed someone to take him in hand and remind him about the manners his mother had no doubt tried to instill in him. Not that she had any interest in taking on such a project herself, of course.

“She sounds nice.”

Half his attention still focused on the words on his computer screen, Gideon frowned. “Yes, she’s nice. And, no, nothing interesting is going on here. She’s here to discuss business with me—which we’re going to do as soon as I finish this scene I’ve been struggling with for days.”

“Yes, I know you want to get back to work,” his mother said with long-suffering resignation. “I simply wanted to check on things there. Did Isabelle sleep well? Did you have any trouble getting her to school this morning?”

“As far as I know, she slept just fine. And she was only a few minutes late to school, which hardly justified the attitude I got from the old biddy who runs the place. It’s preschool, for crying out loud. What’s the kid going to miss if she’s a few minutes late? Advanced coloring class?”

“Miss Thelma can be a bit…unbending,” Lenore acknowledged. “But she means well, Gideon. She’s an excellent administrator, and you can certainly understand that having her students there on time makes her schedule run more smoothly. Please try to be patient with her until I return, for Isabelle’s sake.”

“When are you coming home?” he asked without making any guarantees about his patience. “How’s Aunt Wanda?”

“Not good, I’m afraid. She went into shock before she was found, and you know her heart is bad. She’s in intensive care now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, and the words were sincere. Though he wasn’t close to his maternal aunt, he knew his mother must be frantic with worry about her only sister. And, though he rarely expressed his feelings, he cared very deeply about his mother. “Do you need me to come there to help you with anything?” he offered a bit awkwardly.

“No, darling, but thank you for offering.” Lenore sounded genuinely touched. “I know you’re busy with your book, and to be honest, the best thing you can do to help me now is to take care of Isabelle. I would hate to have to call Nathan and Caitlin home early from their honeymoon, unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“She’s no trouble at all,” Gideon said, especially with Adrienne here to help out, he silently added. He wondered how much longer he could delay his agent’s return to New York. After all, wasn’t it part of her job to make sure he finished his books in a timely manner?

“I’ll call again tomorrow,” Lenore said. “And answer the telephone, will you? It could be an emergency at Isabelle’s school, you know.”

He grimaced. “I’ll try to listen for it,” he promised without enthusiasm.

He was definitely going to have to buy an answering machine.

He couldn’t have said how much time passed before his work was interrupted again, by yet another knock on the office door. Scowling, he looked around. “What now?”

Adrienne opened the door. “Sorry to interrupt again, but didn’t you say Isabelle gets out of school at two?”

“Yeah. Why?” He glanced at his watch. It was already one-thirty. “Damn. I’m finally close to finishing this scene.”

“Why don’t I go get her? The booster seat is still in my car, and I remember the way.”

Tempted, he glanced from her to the screen again. “You’re sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

“Not at all. Of course, you’d better call the school first and see if it’s okay. I’m a stranger to the staff. We can’t expect them to turn Isabelle over to me without authorization.”

He reached for the phone. Five minutes and a few terse exchanges later, they had their approval. “You’ll have to show your driver’s license and this note,” he said, scrawling something on a sheet of unlined paper. “But you’re authorized.”

She plucked the signed note from his fingers. “I’m on my way. It’s a good thing I brought an umbrella with me.”

Only then did he become aware of the steady drumming rain against the office windows. “How long has it been raining?”

“Almost an hour. According to the radio in your kitchen, we’re in for some downpours this afternoon and early evening.”

“You’ll be okay picking up Isabelle?”

“I’ll be fine. Finish your scene. You and I really need to talk business today. I have to get back to New York tomorrow.”

He nodded. “We’ll talk as soon as you get back.”

She really was being very helpful with Isabelle, he thought after she left, as he stretched a few kinks out of his shoulders. As eager as he was to get back to his normal routines, he rather wished Adrienne could stay as long as Isabelle did. He was sure that was the only reason he was so reluctant to see her return to New York.

Listening to the steady fall of rain outside the office windows, he frowned, wondering if he should have insisted on going after Isabelle himself. He hoped Adrienne wouldn’t have any problems picking her up. And then he reminded himself that Adrienne had a stake in his finishing this book—after all, she didn’t get paid until he did.

He put his hands to the keyboard again and let himself be drawn back into the world that existed solely in his mind.

Emerging from her colorfully decorated classroom with a stream of other students, Isabelle greeted Adrienne with a bright smile. “Hi, Miss Corley. Did you come for me?”

Adrienne returned the smile, pleased that the child seemed happy to see her. “Yes. Your brother is busy writing, so I volunteered.”

Thelma Fitzpatrick, the gruff-voiced, squarely built owner of Miss Thelma’s Preschool and Daycare, hovered nearby with a frown on her irritable-grandmother face. “This is highly unorthodox,” she grumbled. “We are not accustomed to releasing our students to complete strangers.”

Since Adrienne had already provided Gideon’s letter of authorization and her driver’s license, she didn’t know what else it would take to reassure the woman. “I respect your concern for your students, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. I know the McClouds must have the utmost confidence that Isabelle is safe here.”

The woman folded her hands in front of her and eyed Adrienne with lingering suspicion. “I suppose we’ve done all we can, considering that her guardian is off on his honeymoon and her appointed caretaker had to leave town. Though I can’t imagine anyone leaving a small child with Gideon McCloud,” she added in a murmured aside.

Immediately defensive on Gideon’s behalf—after all, he was her client—she smiled coolly. “Actually, I think she’s in very good hands with her brother.”

“Humph.” The other woman was notably unimpressed. “You obviously don’t know him very well.”

“Gideon’s taking good care of me, Miss Thelma,” Isabelle said earnestly, proving she had been playing close attention to the conversation. “He made me spaghetti for dinner last night.”

“Yes, well…” Miss Thelma cleared her throat. “Go with Ms. Corley, Isabelle. I’ll see you in the morning. And don’t forget to bring a stuffed animal for our jungle party.”

“I won’t forget.” Demonstrating that she wasn’t particularly intimidated by the stern-looking woman, Isabelle gave her a big hug before skipping out of the school at Adrienne’s side.

Sheltering the little girl beneath her umbrella, Adrienne ushered her to the car and secured her into the booster seat in the back. Isabelle started babbling about her day the minute Adrienne slid behind the steering wheel. Trying to concentrate on the child’s chatter and negotiate the wet roads at the same time, Adrienne murmured what she hoped were appropriate responses. Isabelle must have been satisfied, since she continued with barely a pause for breath.

Cute kid, Adrienne thought with a faint smile, but the child did love to talk.

A traffic light glowed red ahead of her as she approached the last intersection before leaving the city limits. It changed to green several seconds before she reached it, so she didn’t slow down. The nose of the rental car had just entered the intersection when a blur of red passed in front of her, so close she could almost feel the heat of its exhaust.

She slammed on the brakes, missing a collision by a heartbeat. The lightweight rental car slid on the wet pavement, squealing into a spin that she fought with her heart pounding in her throat. The spin ended with a crunch of metal when the back of the car made jarring contact with a lamppost. Her hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, Adrienne sat for a moment in frozen silence, trying to remember how to breathe again. And then a wail from the back seat got her moving.

She whipped around in her seat. “Isabelle, are you all right?”

Still strapped securely in her safety seat, the little girl was uninjured, though she was obviously frightened. Going limp with relief, Adrienne swallowed hard before saying, “It’s okay, sweetheart. The car’s a little crumpled, but you and I are fine. You don’t hurt anywhere, do you?”

Drawing in a tremulous breath, Isabelle shook her head. “I’m not hurt.”

“Good.” Because the child still appeared to be in need of comfort, Adrienne reached for the door handle. “Hold on just a minute. I’ll come around to you.”

The rain had dwindled to barely more than a mist. Adrienne didn’t bother with an umbrella, figuring that after what they had just been through, a little moisture certainly wouldn’t hurt either of them. No other vehicles were immediately visible when she stepped out of the driver’s door, though she could hear a car engine approaching on the intersecting street. She hoped whoever it was would call for assistance while she comforted Isabelle. She had carelessly left her own cell phone sitting on Gideon’s kitchen table.

Opening the rear passenger door, she reached inside to unbuckle Isabelle, who had stopped sniffling, but still looked shaken. The child wrapped her arms around Adrienne’s neck and buried her face in her throat. “I was scared.”

Adrienne rocked her soothingly, an instinctive movement that somehow seemed appropriate. “So was I, sweetheart.”

Fear was rapidly changing to anger for her. That moron in the red car could have killed them! And he hadn’t even stayed around to see if anyone was hurt.

The vehicle she’d heard approaching stopped at the traffic light, then turned to slide in behind her car. She wouldn’t have to ask anyone to call the police, after all. The police had already arrived, she thought, relieved to see the marked patrol car. She was even more surprised to recognize the officer who exited the vehicle and moved toward her. He was the same man she’d almost bumped into that morning when she and Gideon left the diner.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” he asked her in the rough-edged drawl she remembered from earlier.

“Yes, we’re okay. Just shaken.”

He studied the crumpled rear of the nondescript compact. “What happened? Did you hydroplane?”

Her temper flared again. “Some jerk in a red sports car ran a red light right in front of me! If I hadn’t practically stood on the brakes, I would have slammed right into him.”

The officer’s cool gray eyes narrowed. “A red sports car?”

She nodded, uncertain whether he believed her or not. “He was driving like a maniac—speeding and swerving. He didn’t even slow down to see if we were okay.”

“You didn’t get a look at the license plate, did you?”

“No. Everything happened too quickly.”

“Doesn’t matter. I know who it was. Not much I can do about it without another witness, but you can bet I’ll let him know I heard about this.”

She doubted that would accomplish much, but she supposed she had little recourse. She couldn’t even tell him the make of the vehicle, and he couldn’t go around questioning everyone in town who drove a red sports car, even though he seemed to think he already knew who’d been driving like such a maniac. A repeat offender, apparently.

“You’re both getting wet in this mist. Why don’t we sit in the patrol car while I fill out the accident report and call for a wrecker?”

“You really think a wrecker is necessary?”

“Ma’am, you won’t be driving that car anywhere. The back fender is crumpled all around the rear tire.”

She sighed. Terrific. She hoped her insurance company and the rental car service would be able to work all this out without much trouble. Running a hand over Isabelle’s damp hair, she moved toward the cruiser. “I appreciate your assistance, Officer…?”

“Smith, ma’am. Dylan Smith.” He touched the brim of his hat in a rather charmingly old-fashioned gesture.

“I’m Adrienne Corley.”

“Yes, I know. You’re Gideon McCloud’s agent from New York. Heard all about you from Carla at the diner this morning.” He opened the back passenger door of the patrol car. “Your pretty little friend can sit in the back seat while you and I fill out the accident report in the front.”

“Would you like to sit in the police car, Isabelle?”

The child looked intrigued. “Okay.” She climbed obligingly into the car, leaning over the front seat to study the dashboard and radio.

“I suppose I’ll need my identification and insurance policy number. Would you mind keeping an eye on Isabelle while I get my purse?”

“Not at all, ma’am.”

As Adrienne made her way across the slick pavement toward the crumpled car, she wondered if Dylan Smith deliberately tried to act the stereotype of a drawling Southern cop. She still didn’t know the root of his antagonism toward Gideon, or vice versa, since Gideon hadn’t mentioned the encounter again after leaving the diner, but Officer Smith had been pleasant enough to her. Apparently he didn’t hold her association with Gideon against her.

She had just reached the front of the rental car when her foot came down on an oily pool of rain water. The slick sole of her loafer offered absolutely no traction. Her leg flew out from under her, and she felt herself falling.

All she could do was brace herself for the impact with the hard, wet pavement.

Gideon’s sneakers slapped hard against the floor tiles of the Honesty Medical Clinic. Staff and patients alike moved swiftly out of his path as he charged down the hallway to the emergency examining room. No one dared interfere with his progress.

Sitting on a padded bench in the hallway outside the closed door of the examining room, Isabelle was happily listening to her own heartbeat through a stethoscope as a brightly uniformed young brunette hovered nearby. The child smiled broadly when she spotted her brother. “Hi, Gideon.”

He knelt in front of her, his hand on her knee as he looked for injuries. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “We had a wreck, but nobody got hurt, and then Miss Corley fell down and Officer Smith brought us here, but Miss Corley’s going to be okay and Miss Nancy’s letting me listen through a stefascope.”

“It’s a stethoscope, Isabelle,” the young woman corrected clearly.

“Stethoscope,” the child parroted carefully.

Nancy beamed at Gideon. “She’s so bright. I can’t believe she’s only—”

“Where’s Adrienne?” he broke in, having reassured himself that Isabelle was unharmed.

Nancy’s smile faded a bit in response to his curt interruption. “She’s in there with the doctor. But you can’t—”

Gideon pushed open the examining room door and moved through it, leaving Nancy sputtering behind him as the door swung closed in her face.

Wearing a hospital gown with a thin robe belted over it, Adrienne sat at one end of a paper-covered examining table, her bare feet dangling over the end. Her right foot was strapped into a black brace, her bare toes notably swollen. Two women stood at one side of the room studying a chart; Gideon recognized one as the doctor and assumed the other was a nurse.

It was the uniformed police officer hovering very close to Adrienne’s side, smiling at her and being smiled at in return, who sent Gideon’s blood pressure soaring.

He knew he was glowering when Adrienne looked his way, but she didn’t seem particularly intimidated by his forbidding expression. Her smile turned rueful. “I’m afraid I’ve done something stupid.”

Gideon moved to Adrienne’s side, effectively stepping between her and Dylan Smith. “Are you all right?”

She gestured toward her injured foot. “The good news is that my ankle isn’t broken, only badly sprained. And Isabelle is fine.”

“Yes, I saw her out in the hallway. What happened?”

“Someone ran a red light and almost caused a collision, then took off without stopping. I went into a spin and hit a streetlamp pole.”

“That’s when you hurt your foot?”

Glancing down at her hands, she cleared her throat. “No. I, er, slipped and fell on the wet pavement, landing with my foot twisted beneath me.” She raised her eyes to smile gratefully at Dylan, who had stepped back but still stood nearby. “Officer Smith handled everything beautifully. He called for a wrecker, then brought me straight here without alarming Isabelle. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t come along when he did.”

Something about the way she smiled at the officer made Gideon’s hands itch to curl into fists. He glared at the other man. “Shouldn’t you be out arresting someone for causing an accident and then leaving the scene?”

“I wish I could,” Dylan replied evenly. “Unfortunately, Ms. Corley was the only witness, and she didn’t get a good look at the other vehicle.”

“All I saw was a speeding red sports car,” Adrienne confirmed. “Everything happened too fast for me to get a license plate number or even the make of the car.”

“A red sports car?” Gideon turned to Dylan again. “You’re telling me you don’t know who that was?”

“You and I both know it was probably Kirk Sawyer,” Dylan answered with obviously forced patience. “But he doesn’t drive the only red car in town. Without a license plate number or some identification, my hands are tied.”

Gideon made a sound of disgust. “Figures.”

Dylan’s eyes narrowed in corresponding anger. Adrienne spoke quickly. “Officer Smith has done all he can to help me, Gideon. I’m very grateful to him.”

Dylan faced Adrienne, deliberately turning a shoulder to Gideon. “I’m glad I was able to help, ma’am. You be sure and call me if there’s anything else I can do for you while you’re in town.”

Gideon was disgusted by the way Adrienne seemed to be taken in by the other man’s exaggerated Southern charm. “Thank you, Officer,” she said sweetly.

He nodded and donned the hat he’d been holding. “Take care of that ankle, ma’am.” Turning toward the doorway, he raked Gideon with a cool look. “McCloud,” he muttered in lieu of a more civil leave-taking.

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.