“Fiona,” she exclaimed aloud, forcing her mind to stop its runaway path. “Don’t be an idiot!”
She knew bloody damned well that Gideon had expected her to be available tonight…as he had for the last two weeks. Declining his assumed invitation gave her a sense of control—control which she’d felt slipping in the last two weeks, especially since she’d been attacked in her own shop.
“Did you say something?” Carl poked his head around the corner from the back room.
“I was just talking to myself,” she told him without a hint of shame.
“So what time is the man coming by?” he asked, sauntering about with his lambswool duster. She wondered if he just carried it around to make him look useful—for he truly hadn’t a clue how to use it—or if it was a ploy to make unsuspecting female clients think he’d be a good partner. She’d seen a calendar once featuring pictures of hot men doing housework—not a bad idea, in fact. Maybe he’d gotten the idea from there.
“He’s not coming by.” Her reply reverberated with satisfaction.
Carl’s bushy brows rose as he looked at her. “Wasn’t that him on the phone?”
Fiona glowered at him, wondering how he’d known. “Yes. But I told him I had plans tonight.”
Carl looked at her with pity in his eyes. “Getting cold feet, huh? Better be careful—I don’t think he’s the type that plays hard to get.”
“What are you talking about?” she flared, her heart bumping nervously. “I don’t have cold feet about anything—and I’m not playing hard to get. I just needed a break.”
He leaned against the desk and looked down at her. “So you lied to him. You don’t have any plans, do you?”
Misery flowed through her. “No. I just needed to—well, to make sure I could still do it.” That she wasn’t relying on Gideon to make herself feel safe, and whole, and happy.
“Still do what?”
Fiona shifted uncomfortably. “Still spend time without him. Not count on him or need to see him…” She pushed her hair out of her eyes, tamping down the anxiety that welled inside her when she thought about being dependent upon someone, especially someone as strong and overwhelming as Gideon.
It would be so easy to relinquish control, to let such a capable man take care of everything. Of her.
Carl reached across the desk and squeezed her hand. “Well, I think you’re playing a little dangerously…but let’s not make a liar out of you. I’ll take you out to dinner and to a movie so at least you can have a clear conscience about that.”
She smiled, a bit shakily, and said, “That would be great. And let’s make it a comedy, all right?”
* * *
“What are you still doing here on a Friday night?”
Gideon lurched in his seat, dropping his feet from the credenza on which they’d been resting as he stared out the window over the river. Spinning in his chair, he turned to face his grandfather.
“I should ask whatyou’redoing here so late. Are things cooling off with you and Iva?”
Gideon Senior strode into the room, pulling a cigar from his pocket. “Ah, Iva had some psychic party she was going to tonight—said she wouldn’t be home until later. Thought I’d catch up on some work I’ve been putting off.”
“Psychic party? You mean you actually let her go to those things?” Gideon rolled his eyes and opened the drawer of his desk to retrieve a cigar.
His grandfather chuckled as he handed the younger man his cigar guillotine. “Don’t be an ass, Gideon. There’s no ‘letting her go’ about it. Iva does what she wants to do—and what do I care?”
“Doesn’t she come back spouting all kinds of nonsense about what the future holds, and tall, dark strangers and lots of money, et cetera, et cetera?” Gideon snipped the end of his cigar with vehemence and leaned forward to light it from his grandfather’s proffered lighter.
“Nothing more unusual than hearing that you’re to get married and have a baby.” Gideon Senior spewed a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “Hope the damn smoke detector doesn’t go off in here.”
Gideon didn’t have the energy to deny the path his grandfather’s thoughts were obviously taking. The truth was, the thought of getting married—someday in the future—had occurred to him once or twice in the last week. And the possibility didn’t unsettle him the way it would have only a few months ago.
But he wondered whether Fiona’s palm-reading that portended this future had actually put the possibility in his mind.
“I take it you’re not going to see your young lady tonight,” his grandfather asked casually.
“No.” Gideon couldn’t help his voice sounding clipped.
