“What? No purchases?” Arnold lifted a thick black brow as he deigned to accept the handshake. “You didn’t find anything worthwhile up there in the attic?”
“No, no–just some junk up there. You know how Nevio was.” Rudy appeared a little flushed, but he gamely smiled all around the little cluster.
“Oh, but I wish we’d found something to buy,” Viola chimed in as though to ease some building tension. “I’d give anything to get thepersonalattention of that shop clerk for just a few moments.”
Gideon followed her gaze to the man in question and felt himself go cold.
That guy was a shop clerk?Fiona’sshop clerk?
The man looked more like Adonis than a minimum-wage smurf. Christ. And the ladies were hanging all over him, cooing, and listening to his every word.
“He’s the best piece inthisshop, at any rate,” muttered Viola unabashedly. Her husband must have elbowed her, for she shifted away. “Well, he is!”
“Come on Viola, let’s get out of here.” Rudy took his wife’s arm and directed her through the crowd.
As they brushed past Fiona, she looked up to say good-bye, and Iva happened to look toward Gideon.
And the jig was up.
“Gideon!” Iva cried in ingenuous surprise. “Why, I didn’t know you were here. Come on over and say hello to Fiona.”
“Hello, Fiona.” Even to his ears, there was a rich layer of warmth to his voice, and he saw her eyes widen slightly as she returned his greeting.
“What a nice surprise to see you, uh, Gideon.” She actually sounded like she meant it. “Thanks for coming.” She looked at Iva, her eyes narrowing in comprehension. “Wait a minute…you know each other?”
“As it happens, we do. Gideon here is Hollis’s grandson.”
“Iknewyour name sounded familiar to me!” Fiona said with a laugh. “Iva. Iva Bergstrom. Ethan talks about you and the Tuesday Ladies all the time.”
“And I believe I just missed meeting you at Maxine Took’s eightieth birthday party last summer. You’d had to leave early, and Hollis and I had arrived late.”
“That’s right. Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”
“It is indeed. It seems we have much in common besides an affection for Ethan and a place in Wicks Hollow,” Iva replied.
While the two women smiled at each other as if they’d just found their soulmates, Gideon found himself looking at Fiona without trying to be too obvious about it. She’d pulled back just the front of her hair, away from her porcelain face, and the rest of the cinnamon tangle fell in crazy curls around her shoulders. Soft curls. He remembered how soft they were, and he curled his fingers into their palms so he didn’t reach out to touch.
Tonight, Fiona wore a sophisticated ivory pantsuit, sleeveless, with wide-legged pants—a departure from her usual fortune-teller-like garments—and it made her sexy, sleek, and elegant. Huge, jangling, gold earrings and a matching necklace depicting a Celtic design set off the outfit…along with some incredible, musky scent that seemed to head straight for his nose.
Gideon shifted his stance in order to get a stronger nuance of her perfume, and realized Iva was prattling on excitedly about something. “Did you know that?” she was asking him.
“Know what?”
“Fiona reads palms, Gideon—and she was right on when she looked at mine just now.” Iva’s eyes danced and she slipped her hands around Gideon’s upper arm.
His heart sank. He knew Fiona was odd, but this took the cake. “You what?” He couldn’t quite keep the disdain from his voice. There was no way he could eventhinkabout getting involved with her—even though that was pretty much all he’d been doing for the last week.
He’d be a laughing stock. And besides…no one knew better than he how unreliable and irresponsible artsy people could be.
A smirk pulled at the corners of Fiona’s mouth, as if she knew what he was thinking. “My mother does a better job than I do, but I can make my way around a hand if need be.” For some reason, although the words blared innocence, they caused a strange frisson to run across his shoulder. Maybe it was the way the timbre of her voice dipped into duskiness just a little at the end.
“Hollis, let her look at yours,” Iva was insisting.
“Now, Iva—” his grandfather began.
“Hollis?” Fiona asked lightly—then speared Gideon with her eyes. Her face shifted into a feline grin that made his knees go weak. “So that’s it,” she murmured for his ears only, still looking at him with that knowing smile. “Hollis.”
Gideon spoke quickly and a trifle loudly in an effort to save himself. “Iva, I’m sure Fiona needs to attend to her guests.” But then, too late, he saw the trap into which he’d been so expertly led.
