“Thank you. You do have my phone number,” she said matter-of-factly, splitting her glance between the two of them. “You don’t have to come all the way over here again if you find out anything—especially since you’re so busy.”
Gideon smothered a smile as Forth’s face showed that her gentle gibe had found its mark, then his niggling aggravation returned.
“Who’s Gretchen?” he asked, tired of feeling like he was the odd man out. After all,he’dbeen the one kissing her five minutes ago. Until that slick politician decided to barge in.
“Valente mentioned someone named Gretchen in the letter he left for me, and I was wondering who it is. Do you know?”
Wondering why she had asked Forth for help but not him, and curious about the letter, Gideon took a moment to reply. “I don’t recall the name showing up anywhere in the paperwork I’ve handled. But I’ll be happy to double-check it for you.” He wanted to know more, but decided not to pursue the matter at this point. Perhaps after Forth left, Fiona would let him read the letter.
Suddenly, a cat appeared seemingly from nowhere, landing lightly on a table near the main pathway through the cluster of tables and other furnishings, drawing the attention of all three of them.
“Meet Gretchen,” Fiona said, giving them a rueful smile. “She’s the shop cat—and obviously not the Gretchen mentioned in my letter.”
Gideon eyed the cat, and the feline eyed him back. He didn’t have an issue with cats at all, but this one had an uncanny, eerie expression in her green eyes: they seemed to be measuring him as if to determine whether he was worthy of her attention.
Forth, in the tradition of all the baby-kissing, handshaking, pet-greeting politicians, reached over to stroke Gretchen on the head.
She hissed and swiped, then fled the scene, diving under a nearby chest of drawers as Forth gaped at the thin red lines on his hand.
“Well, I guess I’m not gettinghervote,” he joked, then pulled out a handkerchief to dab at the blood.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Fiona said with a grimace. “I’d offer you something for those scratches, Brad, but I have no idea if there’s a first aid kit or anything like that in the store.”
“No worries,” he said. “I’ve got to get on my way anyway. But don’t forget—I’ll be at the town center with my staff early this evening, just talking to whoever walks by. I hope you’ll come and say hi.”
But Fiona, who didn’t seem overly concerned about the wounds her cat had inflicted, had hunkered onto her elbows in an effort to try and entice Gretchen back out. “Good luck,” was all she said, and as far as Gideon was concerned, that was a dismissal for Bradley Forth.
But the other man didn’t seem to get it, and instead, he stood there watching Fiona as he continued to wipe off his hand.
Gideon found himself unable to look away from her shapely rear-end, which was lovingly embraced by her silky skirt as she rested her cheek on the floor to look under the chest. Her thick, sweet-smelling auburn hair spilled over her shoulders and onto the dusty floorboards, and she pushed it out of her face with the palm of her hand. “Come on, Gretchen, honey,” she wheedled. “Come on out. Mr. Forth won’t bother you.”
Gideon felt foolish standing there, watching her crouch on the floor, and he flickered his gaze at the silent Brad Forth. He was annoyed that the other man seemed to have just as much interest in the view of her heart-shaped derrière swathed in a flowing blue and white skirt. The fact that Gideon was the one who’d had his hands on it only a short time ago mollified him only slightly.
Yet it was ridiculous to consider the possibility of Fiona and Brad Forth together—they were even less-suited for each other thanheand Fiona would be. The conservative politician would never make it in the polls with a flighty, ditzy, free spirit like Fiona on his arm.
But whathadthe man meant by “the other night”? Clearly they’d been together…somewhere.
And that bothered Gideon alotmore than it should have, which annoyed him greatly.
“Well,” Fiona said finally, pulling to her feet without tangling in her skirt this time. “I guess Gretchen’s not coming out.”
She brushed off her clothing and sighed, then used two hands to scoop up the mass of hair off her face and neck. As before, she let it spill out over her palms, and the thick curls cascaded enticingly around her face and neck before she let the whole cluster drop back over her shoulders.
Gideon swallowed hard and felt a little too warm—and was even more annoyed. What was wrong with him?
Just then, someone knocked on the window.
“Again?” Fiona muttered, looking at the door. Then her face lit up in a smile and she fairly ran to the entrance to fling the door open. “Ethan! I can’t believe you’re here already. You must have left Chicago before noon!”
She hugged him and smacked a loud kiss on his cheek, then curled the fingers of both hands around his upper bicep and dragged him into the shop. “Well, take a look! What do you think?”
Instead of following her suggestion or answering her question, the man named Ethan looked at Gideon then Forth, then back at Fiona.
“I thought you weren’t open for business yet,” he said in a voice that matched his cool, almost warning look. “And yet here you are, already flooded with—er—customers.”
“Oh, they’re not customers,” she said with a roll of the eyes.
Fighting a sinking feeling that this Ethan was more of a—well,concernwould be the word; certainly notrival—than Bradley Forth, Gideon introduced himself. “My firm handled the estate, and as I happened to be in Wicks Hollow for the day with my grandfather, I thought I’d see how things were going.”
