The bells above the front door tinkled, and Carl craned his neck to look around the corner. “Speak of the devil. Why don’t you run along—I’ll close up here.”
“Thanks, Carl—you’re a darling.” She stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then turned to greet Gideon, who had a stormy expression on his face.
Grinning up at him, Fiona linked her arm through Gideon’s, drawing him to her for a full-body embrace. She knew he’d seen her kiss Carl, and it gave her the smallest, admittedly immature, thrill to know that it irritated him. To make up for it, she tipped her face up to meet his mouth in a slow, sensual, it’s-you-I’m-involved-with kiss.
“Hello baby,” she said, smiling against his mouth. He feltgood.
His expression softened as he looked down at her. “How was your day?” He smoothed a hand over her mass of thick hair, down her back, rubbing and caressing as he kept her close to his side.
She told him, and showed him the bracelet, which he examined with interest.
“Yes, it’s a good assumption that NV is Valente. It’s not as if those are common initials.” He glanced toward the front of the shop where Carl was doing a poor job of using a feather duster, then back down at Fiona. “Did I hear him tell you to take off? Let’s get out of here…I’m hungry and I missed you today.”
Warmth bubbled through her and she smiled up at him. “I just need to grab my bag.” She slipped out of his embrace and hurried back to get the leather abomination she called a purse.
The night breeze was still warm, and it caressed her face with light coils of hair. She slipped her arm through his, hugging close to his side, as they walked through the alley to where he’d parked his car.
“Why don’t you get a smaller pocketbook,” he suggested as the bag bumped between them. “That thing could be dangerous.”
“I need a big bag to hold all my stuff,” she replied, adjusting the heavy tote on her shoulder. “What do you want to do about dinner? I can make something at Ethan’s cabin, or we can grab a bite somewhere else.”
“Is your brother in town?”
She looked up at him, fluttering her eyelashes. “No. He went back to Chicago this morning.”
“Sold.” His eyes smoldered.
A shiver raced up Fiona’s spine, curling around into a pang in her belly. “Sounds good.” Her voice came out husky. “We don’t have anything exciting to eat at the cabin—we can order pizza, or stop and pick up something to cook.”
To her surprise and pleasure, he said, “Let’s cook. Together.”
By the time they stopped at the little grocery store on the south end of Wicks Lake and got to Ethan’s cabin, it was after nine o’clock.
Gideon helped carry the groceries in, then settled to meet her in the kitchen. He had to hand it to Ethan Murphy—the place was very comfortable, and tastefully furnished.
The cabin—though that was really a misnomer; it was more of a full-fledged house—was enclosed by a thick forest in a clearing on a small hill. He suspected there was access to Wicks Lake down a pathway into the forest, and though it was dark, he could see a few lights twinkling from lakefront homes in the distance.
The great room was furnished with a taupe sectional made of luxurious suede, and a large stone fireplace bisected one tall wall. Evidence of Ethan Murphy’s travels to places like Macchu Picchu, Angkor Wat, and Bangkok hung on the walls in the form of drawings, photographs, and in one case, a woven tapestry.
From the living room, he could see Fiona unpacking groceries and grouping them on the counter in the places they would be used. Then she disappeared into her bedroom to change.
Gideon took off his coat and loosened his tie, laying them neatly over an armchair in the living room. He thought about the casual shirt and jeans, along with the tee and cut-off sweatpants he’d left in the car. And the toothbrush.
He’d put a small bag in his trunk last week, planning to change into them some night when they were together…but somehow, even though they’d been almost inseparable after working hours, he was a little apprehensive about letting her know he’d planned to stay overnight.
Perhaps his uneasiness wasn’t unfounded. After all, on the three occasions he’d spent the night at Ethan Murphy’s cabin (that alone bothered him), when he went into the bathroom in the morning, there was a new, wrapped toothbrush on the counter by the sink—three different times. Fiona didn’t even recycle the ones he’d used previously. Was she just trying to be a good hostess—or was she trying to keep him at arm’s length?
Gideon smiled wryly as he worked the cork out of the bottle of Chenin Blanc. For the first time in his life, he was worried that he might be moving too fast for a woman…rather than the other way around. He knew Fiona was skittish about getting involved on a regular basis with a man…and in the last week, he’d realized the last thing he wanted to do was to scare her off.
At that moment, it struck him. He was falling—hard. And fast.
Oh, man.
She could be…she might just be…the one.
The One.
Still reeling with this unexpected development, he poured two glasses of wine and tried not to panic.
