For crying out loud, Fi—you spend one night with a man and you’re miserable the next time he’s got to run off and do something that doesn’t include you.
Well,she retorted smartly to herself,I think it’s justified since the so-called problem isanother woman.
At least he’d brought tulips for her.
She shivered—partly because of the chill night air coming in from nearby Lake Michigan, and partly at the thought of her mother’s reprimand—a reprimand that had reverberated in her head since she was ten.
“Don’t get attached to them, don’t rely on them, don’t feel for them,” Claudia Murphy had told her over and over again. “They’re good for a good time, but we don’t need them for anything else. They’ll only take advantage of you.”
Not that Claudia spoke from experience. No, she’d never been the one to tell the men in her life when to come and when to go. It wasn’t that her mother was promiscuous—she didn’t sleep with men indiscriminately. She just didn’t have much use for them other than sex, and to move heavy things around the house. In fact, Claudia was an equal-opportunity lover, as Ethan called it—sleeping with whoever caught her fancy, male or female.
Regardless, Claudia had instilled in Fiona the need to be in control in any situation with a man, and to always call the shots. But nothing her mother had ever told her prepared Fiona for the confusing feelings Gideon Nath created in her.
The problem was, as irritating as he could be, as arrogant and stuffy as he was, she liked him, liked being around him…and, horror of horrors, had begun to actually care about what happened to him.
And that was exactly why, Fiona told herself firmly as she navigated her Beetle onto Violet Way, it was good that Rachel—for who else could it have been?—had called to ask for his help. It served as a reality check for Fiona, and she was going to force herself to remember that getting involved with a man was the last thing she wanted or needed to do.
Fiona spewed a huge puff of air from her mouth and rolled her eyes heavenward. What she really should do was back off from the man for a couple days to catch her breath. There’d been too much, too soon.
Of course, it had only been one night…one glorious, crazy, incredible night. Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe—
Fiona stopped short in front of her shop door, keys dangling in her hand. There was only a faint light in the back of the store. She peered in the window, cupping her hand around it to peer closer.
Sure enough, the store was dark except for the faintest flicker of light shining from the rear of the shop. Hadn’t she turned the front lights on? After the break-in a few weeks ago, she’d always left at least three or four of them on. She really had been distracted when she walked out the back door with Gideon.
A little nervous in spite of herself, Fiona fitted the key into the lock of the door. A prickle skittered up her spine as she opened the door. Now that she had found the skeleton—especiallynow that she had found the skeleton—she slightly nervous about being in there alone, at night.
“I’ll just step in and turn on a few lights,” she said aloud to calm her nervousness. “Right at the front. The tall one right by the door, and the table lamp on the other side.”
The chimes above tinkled faintly in the silence, seeming to echo in her ears long after they stopped. She reached for the lamp next to the door and yanked the chain. Light, welcome light, spilled into the store, casting a golden glow around her at the front door.
Fiona was just reaching for the table lamp on the other side of the entrance when she noticed a metallic glint on the floor by the desk. Frowning, forgetting her apprehension, she stepped into the body of the store and the door tinkled shut behind her.
The glint formed the shape of a circle as she drew closer, and when she stooped to pick it up, Fiona saw that it was a flashlight—its glass face reflecting the light at the front of the store. Her stomach plummeted as she realized that it had not been on the floor by the desk when she and Gideon left that evening.
Just then, something stirred behind her and she shrieked, whirling, just as pain—and then darkness crashed—down upon her.
* * *
“Thanks so much for rescuing me, Gideon,” Rachel said as she slid into the leather seat. She smiled her brilliant smile, displaying perfect teeth and great self-confidence, as she clicked the seat belt buckle into place.
“No problem,” he replied, steering the car out of the parking lot where Rachel’s silver Lexus sat waiting for service. “I wanted to talk to you anyway.”
“Good. Want to grab a bite? I’m starving.” She settled back in the seat, resting her head against the headrest. “I’m so tired.” Her eyes fluttered closed.
“You’ve been running yourself ragged lately since the awards were announced,” he said automatically, then kicked himself for bringing it up. He was supposed to be her escort to the party celebrating the fact that her firm had won the prestigious, sought-afterHottest Midwest Company of the YearfromFortunemagazine. She wasn’t going to be too happy when he backed out of it.
“I know. I thought that I’d be so energized by the award that I’d get through these weeks like a breeze…but maybe I’m just getting old. It’s starting to wear on me.” She turned, opening her eyes to glance at him. “What did you need to talk with me about?”
He swallowed. This really shouldn’t be that difficult. “Rachel, about the…about us. I—”
She sat upright and turned her full attention on him. “Yes?” Was there a bit of concern in her eyes? It was hard to tell when the only illumination was the rhythmic flash as they sped under streetlight after streetlight on I-96.
“I—uh…our arrangement has suited me—both of us, I hope,” he glanced at her. “But I think it’s time we—er—reevaluated things.”
She stared at him for a moment, and he didn’t have to look at her to feel the assessment in her gaze. Then, to his shock, she smiled and gave a little laugh. “So you’ve found someone, have you, Gid?” Her short chuckle was laced with a bit of hardness, and he tensed, closing his fingers tighter around the soft leather steering wheel.
“Well, yes. At least, someone I’d like to…pursue…without feeling like I have other obli—uh, string—interests.” Even as he said the words, corrected himself, he knew he’d blown it.
