Conflict of Interest

Chapter Three

Fifteen minutes after they returned to Gideon’s house—just after 9:30 a.m.—Adrienne found herself alone in his kitchen. After telling her he needed to work on a scene while it was still fresh in his mind, he’d closed himself in his office again. He’d looked relieved when she’d assured him she had brought quite a bit of reading with her, since she couldn’t even take a vacation without having her work nearby, and he’d promised to be out to talk business with her as soon as he finished the scene.

She had decided she’d better not hold her breath until he reemerged. Settling at the kitchen table with her laptop computer, her cell phone and a stack of manuscripts, she concentrated on her work as diligently as she assumed Gideon was concentrating on his.

It was rather nice, actually, to work uninterrupted for a change. Vacation time or not, she might actually get quite a lot accomplished on this trip—if only she could convince Gideon to cooperate.

Gideon was aware of Adrienne’s presence in his house. She didn’t make any noise, even though he found himself listening for her on several occasions, but he knew she was there, anyway. The awareness didn’t stop him from working—or even from losing himself in his writing—but each time he surfaced, he thought of Adrienne.

Not such terribly intrusive thoughts to have, he acknowledged, picturing her brown eyes and glossy auburn hair. And then his imagination drifted a bit lower, lingering on her sleek, slender curves. Willowy, he decided. That was the word he would have chosen to describe her.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing having a willowy woman in the next room while he worked. As soon as he finished this scene, he would go talk to her….

It was just after eleven when the kitchen telephone rang, drawing Adrienne out of her work. She glanced up as it rang again. Surely Gideon would answer.

The phone rang again. Shaking her head at his refusal to buy an answering machine if he had no intention of picking up the phone, she pushed herself out of her chair and stalked toward the extension. Someone had to answer. This could be an emergency. “McCloud residence,” she said.

After a momentary pause, a woman spoke. “This is Lenore McCloud, Gideon’s mother. May I ask to whom I’m speaking?”

“I’m Adrienne Corley, Mrs. McCloud. Gideon’s agent from New York.”

“I see. Was my son expecting your visit? He didn’t mention it to me.”

“I’m afraid I popped in unexpectedly,” Adrienne explained. “I had some important business to discuss with him and I, um, had a bit of difficulty reaching him to arrange a meeting.”

His mother’s laugh was wry. “That I believe. Reaching Gideon is an impossible task at times. I wasn’t sure he would answer this call, even though he surely knew I would be checking in with him.”

“I’ll go tell him you’re on the line. He’s in his office.”

“Oh, dear. I hope he doesn’t snap at you.”

“You needn’t worry about my feelings being hurt if he does.” Adrienne thought ruefully of her father. “I’m quite used to that sort of thing.”

“Well…good luck.”

Adrienne thought she might like Gideon’s mother, but then she’d already decided the woman must have the forbearance of a saint to put up with Gideon and to accept her ex-husband’s child so graciously. “Thank you.”

Laying the receiver on the kitchen counter, she walked to Gideon’s office and knocked firmly on the door, knowing a tentative tap would probably never catch his attention. She didn’t wait for an invitation to enter, but opened the door and stuck her head inside. “Gideon, your mother is on the phone.”

He didn’t take his eyes from his computer screen. “Tell her I’ll call her later.”

“No, you won’t, you’ll forget. You really should talk to her now while she’s on the line.”

It was the same rational tone she used with her father when he was acting unreasonably. Sometimes the strategy worked, and sometimes it just ticked him off.

Gideon seemed on the verge of the latter as he glared at her. And then he shook his head, pushed a hand through his hair and muttered, “Sorry. I get surly when my flow of thought is interrupted.”

“No problem. I’m often the same way. Are you taking the call in here?”

He nodded and reached for the phone.

“I’ll hang up the extension in the kitchen,” she said, and let herself out of his office, closing the door behind her.

He wasn’t an entirely hopeless case, she decided as she slipped the receiver quietly into its cradle and returned to her own work. He just needed someone to take him in hand and remind him about the manners his mother had no doubt tried to instill in him. Not that she had any interest in taking on such a project herself, of course.

“She sounds nice.”

Half his attention still focused on the words on his computer screen, Gideon frowned. “Yes, she’s nice. And, no, nothing interesting is going on here. She’s here to discuss business with me—which we’re going to do as soon as I finish this scene I’ve been struggling with for days.”

“Yes, I know you want to get back to work,” his mother said with long-suffering resignation. “I simply wanted to check on things there. Did Isabelle sleep well? Did you have any trouble getting her to school this morning?”

“As far as I know, she slept just fine. And she was only a few minutes late to school, which hardly justified the attitude I got from the old biddy who runs the place. It’s preschool, for crying out loud. What’s the kid going to miss if she’s a few minutes late? Advanced coloring class?”

“Miss Thelma can be a bit…unbending,” Lenore acknowledged. “But she means well, Gideon. She’s an excellent administrator, and you can certainly understand that having her students there on time makes her schedule run more smoothly. Please try to be patient with her until I return, for Isabelle’s sake.”

“When are you coming home?” he asked without making any guarantees about his patience. “How’s Aunt Wanda?”

“Not good, I’m afraid. She went into shock before she was found, and you know her heart is bad. She’s in intensive care now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, and the words were sincere. Though he wasn’t close to his maternal aunt, he knew his mother must be frantic with worry about her only sister. And, though he rarely expressed his feelings, he cared very deeply about his mother. “Do you need me to come there to help you with anything?” he offered a bit awkwardly.

“No, darling, but thank you for offering.” Lenore sounded genuinely touched. “I know you’re busy with your book, and to be honest, the best thing you can do to help me now is to take care of Isabelle. I would hate to have to call Nathan and Caitlin home early from their honeymoon, unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“She’s no trouble at all,” Gideon said, especially with Adrienne here to help out, he silently added. He wondered how much longer he could delay his agent’s return to New York. After all, wasn’t it part of her job to make sure he finished his books in a timely manner?

“I’ll call again tomorrow,” Lenore said. “And answer the telephone, will you? It could be an emergency at Isabelle’s school, you know.”

He grimaced. “I’ll try to listen for it,” he promised without enthusiasm.

He was definitely going to have to buy an answering machine.

He couldn’t have said how much time passed before his work was interrupted again, by yet another knock on the office door. Scowling, he looked around. “What now?”

Adrienne opened the door. “Sorry to interrupt again, but didn’t you say Isabelle gets out of school at two?”

“Yeah. Why?” He glanced at his watch. It was already one-thirty. “Damn. I’m finally close to finishing this scene.”

“Why don’t I go get her? The booster seat is still in my car, and I remember the way.”

Tempted, he glanced from her to the screen again. “You’re sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

“Not at all. Of course, you’d better call the school first and see if it’s okay. I’m a stranger to the staff. We can’t expect them to turn Isabelle over to me without authorization.”

He reached for the phone. Five minutes and a few terse exchanges later, they had their approval. “You’ll have to show your driver’s license and this note,” he said, scrawling something on a sheet of unlined paper. “But you’re authorized.”

She plucked the signed note from his fingers. “I’m on my way. It’s a good thing I brought an umbrella with me.”

Only then did he become aware of the steady drumming rain against the office windows. “How long has it been raining?”