He set his keys and phone next to the sink. Fiona made him take the handkerchief away from his face, and she couldn’t help a small gasp when she saw the gash and nasty scrapes from the brick wall all along the side of his face. “Wow, he got you really good, hmm?”
Gideon’s jaw tightened—she could feel it shift under her fingers as she gently wiped away the blood, grit, and dust from the wound—and he replied, “Yes, he certainly did.” She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was angrier with himself than the would-be intruder for doing it to him, and she chose to remain silent.
Instead, she concentrated on ministering to him, and feeling the warmth of his tanned skin, the heavy weight of dark waves, and the slight prickles of end-of-the-day stubble. It didn’t take long to clean it up, but by the time she was finished, all Fiona could think about was picking up where they’d left off in the alley.
Obviously, Gideon was feeling the same way, for when she turned to leave the room, he caught her wrist and pulled her back. “Not so fast,” he murmured.
She stood, looking down at him where he sat next to the sink, then shifted to look at their images in the mirror. Gently, almost reverently, holding her gaze with his own in the mirror, he half rose from his seat and brought his lips to hers.
As their mouths touched, lightly, tentatively, she sighed and closed her eyes, allowing the rush of desire to flood her in powerful contrast to the carefulness of their kiss. She felt him lower back to his seat, allowing her to stand over him, hands on his shoulders, bending her face to his as they kissed slowly, thoroughly…as if they had all the time in the world.
And they did, until his cell phone chirped.
Fiona began to pull away, but Gideon grabbed her wrists, and held her in place. “No,” was all he said.
It chirped a second and third time, and at that point, Fiona pulled away. “Someone’s trying to get in touch with you.”
“It’s just a text,” he murmured. But they both looked down and there it was, lit up on the phone’s screen. Fiona didn’t mean to pry, but she took in the message at a glance.
Tried to call you. Wanted to confirm the party next week. Had a great time Sat. Lmk.
It was from Rachel. And it was signed with a heart-eyed emoji.
Fiona extricated herself with deliberate care, and the fact that Gideon allowed her to do so was a measure that he understood how serious the situation was.
She stepped back, passed a hand over her face, then let it drop to her side. She saw herself in the mirror—saw the rueful smile pasted on her face, saw the flush of her cheeks and the fullness of her lips—and tried very hard to keep from losing her temper.
“I knew better,” she said, turning to walk out of the powder room. “I knew about her, I knew you were involved…and somehow I let myself forget it. Stupid.” She was speaking more to herself than to him, but she didn’t care that he heard.
“Fiona….”
She heard him start behind her, but kept walking. “Gideon, I’m not angry. I swear it. I knew exactly what the situation was, but I let myself forget about it. You are a supernova kisser, you know,” she said, turning to look at him as they reached the living room. Her smile turned wry. “You made me forget about my rules and every other precaution that I’m used to taking.”
“Fiona, really, this is ridiculous,” he began.
“I’m not sure I follow that line of logic,” she said sharply, taking back the control she’d lost to him twice this evening, “but let me just say one thing to you—again. I don’t sleep around, and I certainly don’t sleep around with men who are also sleeping around. It would have been fun, it would have been nice…but as long as you have Rachel Backley—or whatever her name is—on the short list, then I’m removing myself from it.”
“I told you, Fiona, Rachel is just a friend,” he said, his words taut and flat. He reached to slide an open hand down her bare arm.
She stepped away before he could touch her. Her insides, which had been bubbling with fullness all evening, suddenly felt starved. “But you don’t deny sleeping with her. You have. And you’re still connected. And that’s all I need to know.”
She picked up her heavy leather bag, and miraculously found the mass of keys immediately in its depths. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, and for getting yourself beat up for me. I really do appreciate it…and, truly, you are one incredible kisser.” And just to make sure she had the last word, the last moment in her corner, she pulled his face to hers for a short, thorough kiss. “Good-bye, Gideon. It’s been real.”
Eight
Dammit.
How could he have known that the old bastard had installed an alarm at the worthless shop?
He leaned against a nearby building, resting his forehead against the harsh brick. That had been close—too close. If she or Nath had seen him…it’d be all over.
He looked around to be certain no one had followed—but no one had. He’d slammed Nath into the wall hard enough to stop him in his tracks, and that had given him the chance to get away.
Hehadto find that journal and those bank statements. Desperation crawled up his spine, and he ruthlessly shoved it back.
Not for the first time, he raised his face to the heavens and cursed the old man…then gave a harsh laugh when he realized if therewasa place to go after this life, he had gone down instead of up.
Bastard. Nevio must have known what he was doing, leaving that diary to chance. He must have known how it would make him crazy, wanting to get his hands on that money and fearing those secrets would be made known. The old bastard had hated him anyway—and leaving him a nice chunk of something in his will was just a slap in the face when he knew that the important things—the journal, the statements—were nowhere to be found. He’d know how crazy it would make him.
