Conflict of Interest

The waitress returned in an amazingly short time with their food. “Is this one of your writer friends, Gideon?” she asked casually as she served them.

“My agent,” he replied, reaching for the salt shaker. “Adrienne Corley, meet Carla Booker.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Booker.”

The older woman chuckled. “You just call me Carla, hon. Everyone does. Are you from up north?”

“New York.”

“Well, isn’t that something?”

“I think Joe Huebner is trying to get your attention over there,” Gideon said. “Probably wants to start on his second pot of coffee.”

Carla grinned. “You’re probably right. Nice to meet you, Miz Corley. Y’all give a holler if you need anything else.”

The platter in front of Gideon was completely filled with a huge omelet oozing with cheese, ham, onions, peppers and mushrooms, a side order of buttered grits and two fat, fluffy-looking biscuits with a bowl of cream gravy. She watched as he dumped salsa on the omelet. “Are you always this undisciplined?”

“When I eat breakfast at home, I usually have cereal or a bagel. But when I eat here, I have what I want.”

Had to be a guy thing, she thought with a slight sigh. She was probably gaining weight just looking at his breakfast. Gideon, on the other hand, was shoveling it in with almost sensual pleasure, and there wasn’t a superfluous ounce anywhere on his extremely fine body.

She speared a chunk of cantaloupe from a bowl of mixed melons and strawberries. “Are you ready to discuss business?”

“Not while I’m eating.” He scooped a bite of grits into his mouth.

Gideon McCloud was definitely a difficult client, even among the group of often demanding, sometimes neurotic and frequently temperamental writers she dealt with on a daily basis. The others were usually eager to hear exciting offers, to grab every chance to advance their careers and increase their recognition. Gideon seemed to want to write in complete anonymity.

Though he had turned down a few early offers he didn’t consider rewarding enough, he didn’t seem to be motivated solely by money, since he’d also shown little interest in several very lucrative propositions. He had approved the release of very little biographical material, had not provided photographs for publicity purposes—even though he certainly had the right look—and had expressed absolutely no enthusiasm for book tours or interviews or even a promotional Web site.

Because she sensed that he was on the verge of a breakthrough with his writing, his lack of cooperation frustrated Adrienne. Her father was becoming impatient with her inability to get Gideon to commit to the newest offers, and he had been hinting that he might have to take this client in hand himself.

But she sensed that she would get nowhere by pushing Gideon before he was ready. She concentrated on her breakfast and directed the conversation away from his work. “We seem to be attracting attention. I suppose your acquaintances are wondering who I am.”

He glanced around briefly—causing several heads to turn abruptly away—and then returned to his food. “They all know who you are by now. Carla’s told them you’re my agent from New York. Now they’re wondering why you’re here. She’ll be back in a bit to try to find out for them.”

“Word travels fast here.”

“You have no idea.”

She watched the other diners with discreet curiosity during the remainder of the meal, intrigued by the contrasts between big-city and small-town dynamics. Here, everyone seemed to know everyone else, and even those who appeared to be strangers tended to exchange “good mornings,” even to strike up conversations as they stood in line to pay at the old-fashioned cash register.

She saw quite a few wide hips encased in stretch fabrics, teased hair in questionable shades of blond, beer bellies sagging over drooping blue jeans, farm equipment caps and camouflage—stereotypes she had expected to find in rural Mississippi. But the rumble of laughter and low drawls of conversation, mingled with the smell of coffee and food, proved to be pleasantly relaxing. Adrienne found herself enjoying the simple meal quite a bit, even without much conversation from her taciturn companion.

Carla stopped by the table with a coffee carafe. “Y’all doing okay?”

Adrienne held out her mug. “Fine, thank you. The food is very good.”

“Well, thank you. Are you here on business with Gideon, Miz Corley?”

“Yes, I am.”

The woman nodded her tightly teased gray head. “I thought you must be. Bet you got some movie or TV offers for him, hmm? I said when I read that last book of his that it would sure make a good movie. I think you need to hire Mel Gibson and Julia Roberts to be in it. Don’t get any of those flash-in-the-pan teenyboppers who show off their belly buttons more than their talent. That would just ruin everything.”

Adrienne couldn’t help being amused, though Gideon was scowling. “Even if one of Gideon’s books is optioned for film, he and I would have little input into casting, Carla. But I would certainly pass your suggestions along.”

“Maybe he could be in one of those cameo spots, like other writers have done. I’ve always told him he’s got the looks for Hollywood, even if he could use some work in the personality department.” She laughed heartily at her own wit as she patted Gideon’s shoulder with a familiarity that Adrienne would bet few others dared to display.

“I’ve told you before I have no secret desire to see myself onscreen, Carla.”

Ignoring Gideon’s grumble, Carla continued to Adrienne, “Maybe Hollywood will put a little more romance in his stories. I told Gideon all those thrills and chills in his last book were fine, but it wouldn’t hurt him to put in a little more sizzle.”

“You do have other customers, Carla. Go tell them all you’ve learned and conjectured about my business.” Gideon’s words were gruff, but Adrienne thought she heard the faintest undertone of affection.

Perhaps Carla heard it, as well. She didn’t seem to take offense, but merely laughed again. Before she moved on, she said, “You have a pleasant visit in Honesty, Miz Corley. Have Gideon show you some of the sights around here before you go back to the big city.”

“Are there any sights around here?” Adrienne couldn’t resist asking when the waitress moved on.

“I suppose that’s in the eye of the beholder.” He glanced at her empty plate. “Are you finished?”

“Yes.” His own plate was also empty, she noted. Amazing.

Attention focused on them again as they made their way across the diner toward the cash register. Because she didn’t want a public scene, and suspected Gideon did not share that qualm, she didn’t argue with him when he pulled out his wallet and gave her a look that dared her to object.

Once again she noted that the greetings he exchanged with those around him could hardly be described as warm or encouraging. Didn’t he have friends around here?

As they stepped out of the diner, they almost collided with a uniformed police officer who was just entering. He smiled apologetically at Adrienne, and she was struck by how attractive he was in a rough, sexy sort of way. Talk about film-star material…

And then he spotted Gideon. His face hardened, and his smile vanished. Gideon stiffened beside her, and she could almost feel the temperature drop by several degrees.

“You always seem to be standing in my way, McCloud,” the officer drawled, a rather dangerous edge to his deep voice.

“You could always leave town and avoid any risk of running into me,” Gideon replied evenly.

Adrienne lifted an eyebrow in response to the blatant antagonism between these two men who seemed to be very close to the same age. “Perhaps we should all step to our right and clear a path,” she said when neither appeared willing to move.

The officer gave her a nod and moved out of the way, sweeping his hand in a polite gesture obviously intended for her. “Ladies first.”

Placing a warning hand on Gideon’s arm—after all, it was her job to look out for him, in a manner of speaking—she smiled and practically towed Gideon outside with her. “Thank you, officer,” she said over her shoulder.

“My pleasure, ma’am.”

Gideon made a sound that might have been a growl, followed by a muttered, “Jerk.”

“Always a delight to see you, too, McCloud,” the other man called after them.

Adrienne felt a ripple of anger run through Gideon’s arm before she dropped her hand. “Old friend?” she asked dryly.

Gideon merely gave her a look and stalked toward her rental car.