The Shop of Shades and Secrets (Modern Gothic Romance 1) (19 page)

Claire disappeared out the door, and moments later returned with Fiona. Both men rose from their seats—Pettigrew, whose jaw nearly dropped to the floor at the sight of both women in close proximity, and Gideon, who felt his whole body tighten when he saw how damn good she looked in jeans and a vintage Nirvana t-shirt. It was skin-tight.

Then he saw her face and knew something was terribly wrong. When he turned to release his client from their meeting, and saw the man’s eyes fastened on the very well-defined breasts under the blue-gray shirt, Gideon could do nothing but grit his teeth. As it was, the handshake he gave the lech was bone-crushing, and at least had the result of turning Pettigrew’s attention from Fiona’s body to his attorney.

“Thank you, Claire,” Gideon said to his assistant, and reminded himself to give her another raise.

As soon as he shut the door behind them, he crossed over to Fiona, who’d begun to pace around the room. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Her face was wan and white, and lines of worry etched around eyes that seemed dazed and lost.

“There’s a body in the shop.” Her voice came out rough and uneven, and her hand shook as she pushed her hair out of her face.

“What?” He stared at her, taking her arms as though to steady her. “A body? Someone is dead? Someone broke in—”

“She’s definitely dead,” she said, shuddering. “All that’s left of her is a skeleton.” She took a deep breath and pressed her hand over her mouth.

“Fiona, sit down and tell me what is going on.” He propelled her into a chair, then turned to his desk and jammed a finger into the intercom. “Helene, please, I need some—uh—sparkling water?” he glanced at Fiona to be sure, and she nodded absently. “Sparkling water, and…why don’t you bring a small brandy too.”

“I found a skeleton under the stairs—where that big desk used to sit,” she explained rapidly, as though it was a relief to get the words out. “It was boarded up under there—and when I pulled the wood away and looked in there, I saw a skeleton on the floor.”

“How—this is stupid that I’m asking this, but how do you know it’s a woman?”

“Her clothes are still on her.” Fiona shuddered once, hard, then seemed to lose the rest of her control and suddenly, she was trembling, crying, and in his arms all at once. “I didn’t know what to do or who to call…so I came here.”

He smelled her hair and held her close, his mind working rapidly even as his body leapt and sizzled at the feeling of her against him. “Did you call the police? What about Dylan? Does he know?”

She shook her head against his shoulder, her curls tickling his chin. “No,” her voice was muffled. “I came right here.”

“All right, then, let’s head over there so I can be there when you call the police.”

White bones glowed in the dim light, easily visible in the small closet like room.

Gideon didn’t consider himself a squeamish person, but the sight of the skeleton, still clothed, collapsed against the wall, sent an uncomfortable ripple through his middle.

Her skull tilted back, empty sockets and gapping mouth yawning at the ceiling. One of her knees was somehow still propped upright and the other had fallen to the side, stretching her skirt like a canopy between them. Judging from the style of her dress, she appeared to have been there since the mid-fifties. A hat lay fallen to one side and its decoration of pale yellow feathers matched the trim on some other type of garment sitting in a crumpled heap next to it.

Gideon jumped slightly when something touched him from behind, but it was Fiona, coming to stand next to him at the gaping hole in the wall.

“Did you talk to the police?”

“Yes. They’re on their way. I told them not to use their sirens—it’s going to be bad enough having a cop parked in front of my shop so soon after my reopening.” Fiona seemed less unsettled than she’d been when she first came to his office. Still, though, when he turned to look at her, he could see the worry and shock in her amber eyes.

He started to reach for her, but she stepped away, putting distance between them. “Gideon.” Her voice was a soft warning, and she shook her head slightly.

A pang shot through his belly. He didn’t want her pulling away from him, keeping her distance, banning him from her life. The realization came quickly—its force a shock that actually made his eyes widen. He wanted her, physically, sexually, of course…but her flamboyance and casual personality intrigued him against his will, bringing an air of the unexpected into his staid world. He wanted to
know
her.

That realization both lightened the regret that had clouded his life for the last week, and scared the hell out of him. He’d been playing the game of hard to get, and carrying the need to be in control like a shield in front of him…but in that moment of clarity, he realized he couldn’t do that with Fiona. She was too open, too honest…and crazy though it was, she had begun to insinuate herself into his mind so that he couldn’t shake her loose.

That simple warning—the sound of her speaking his name—made something click inside him. He realized how foolish it would be to hold onto a non-relationship with Leslie just so that it didn’t appear he was capitulating to Fiona’s demands…and in the process, lose the opportunity to be with her.

Just as he was about to speak, the faint scream of sirens reached their ears and Fiona jerked her eyes to his, dismay coloring her face. “Oh, no!” she moaned, turning toward the front of the store. “I told them not to use the sirens!”

She fled toward the door and Gideon followed, unable to help admiring the back view of her jeans.

A homicide detective accompanied the officer who came, and they were both very pleasant men even when she scolded them for using their sirens. In fact, Gideon felt that they were a bit too solicitous toward Fiona, treating her as though she’d found a blood-spattered, decapitated body—not a harmless, long-dead skeleton.

She showed them the hidden alcove and Detective Sherman Hinkle pried the rest of the boards away from the space under the stairs. They took photographs of the bones, and searched the small area to be certain there weren’t any other items in there.

When the forensic team arrived, and they were ready to move the skeleton, it took only a moment to determine the cause of death: “Head wound,” said the team leader, gingerly pulling the skull away from the wall. “Right in the back. Probably didn’t feel a thing.”

Fiona closed the shop for the rest of the day, and, when, at nine o’clock in the evening, all of the police and detective personnel had filed out, she was surprised to find that Gideon was still there. He’d been beside her all along, of course, fielding questions, directing the lawmen, and keeping the peace in his own direct, structured way…but when the activity finally settled down hours later, Fiona realized that she should be surprised that he’d stayed.

“You’re so busy,” she said, suddenly feeling awkward now that they were alone in the store. “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

His handsome face stilled. “I wouldn’t have left you to handle such a thing on your own.” He looked at her, and she felt the weight of desire in his gaze, warming her, but she also saw something less mercenary there. Like concern, or tenderness…not simply lust.

“Well, thank you.” She didn’t know what to say, and the awkwardness was growing. When she found the skeleton, she had one coherent thought: get to Gideon—he would help.

She’d forgotten her need to stay away from him and her resolve that, as attracted to him as she was, she couldn’t give in and share him with another woman. As she looked up at him now, and her attention rested on the planes of his face, gliding over the firm, manly chin and to his mouth, she felt that resolve falter.

“Let’s grab a bite to eat,” he suggested in a voice rough with some emotion. “Unless your appetite has fled?”

“Yes. That would be great,” Fiona agreed, seizing on an opportunity to move past the heavy moment. Perhaps he’d taken her warning to heart, and the only caution she need have would be directed at herself.

His car, so different from her tiny yellow Beetle, had butter soft leather seats that embraced her in comfort. It was a sleek black Mercedes, and it had been parked with less neatness than she would have expected. She couldn’t resist the opportunity to comment—after all, the mood had to lighten up soon or she was going to go mad at the thought:
a skeleton in her closet
—so she teased, “Nice parking job.”

He paused in buckling his seatbelt and looked up at her from under a thick shock of hair. “You didn’t give me much time to tidy it up,” he replied dryly, then changed the subject. “Would you like me to cook, or are you in the mood to go somewhere?”

“What? This sounds suspiciously like a date,” she replied with an arched brow. And then she added, “You cook?”

“Yes, well, I usually wait at least a week after finding a skeleton in her closet before I ask a woman out, but I decided to make an exception in your case.”

Fiona stared at him. “Did you—did you just make a joke? You?”

Gideon frowned, tilting his head as though contemplating a deep thought. “Yes, I guess I did. Sorry about that. Now,” he turned to fit the key into the ignition, “what’s your preference? Eating in or eating out?”

“Depends what you’re cooking,” she replied, still staring at him.

The decision was made. “My house.” He started the car with a low purr and the Mercedes slid into the street.

Suddenly, Fiona panicked, picturing them at his house, enjoying an intimate meal, picking up where they left off…. “Gideon, I don’t think—”

He glanced at her, his face inscrutable as the streetlights flickered over his features. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Fiona. I’m not planning to jump your bones or any—ouch!” He directed a definite glare on her and rubbed the thigh where she’d poked him. “All right, I’m sorry—that was two too many jokes in as many minutes. I’ll stop.” And she was shocked and delighted when his frown turned into that devastating smile of his.

She was still reeling from the effect of his sensual mouth curving in such an unfamiliar manner when they pulled into his garage and he stepped around to help her out of the car. She slipped past him, afraid to let him touch her even in the most innocent of matters.

This was going to be a tortuous meal.

~*~

Gideon waited until she was sitting on a bar stool at the counter in his kitchen before telling her. “Wine?” he asked, pulling two balloon glasses down from a cupboard and setting them on the counter between them.

“Sure.”

He could tell she was nervous—like a cat ready to spring—and he was pretty certain it was only partially due to the heap of bones in her shop. He forced himself to be nonchalant as he poured sparkling garnet wine into the glasses. He handed her one rounded goblet and raised his own in a slight toast.

“To skeletons…and to us. We’re going to be magnificent.” He caught and held her eyes firmly as he sipped the rich Cabernet, looking at her from over the rim of his glass so that she would be in no doubt of what he meant.

Fiona took a drink and set her glass down quickly. “Gideon,” she began, her voice surprisingly firm for the consternation she must have felt. “You can’t seduce me. I won’t let you.”

He almost laughed, but realized in the nick of time that that would be fatal. “No, Fiona…I’m going to let you seduce me. But first….”

He paused, reaching to cover her sexy, parted, angry mouth with two fingers. Her lips were plump and warm, and he felt their faint moisture as he pressed lightly against them. “Let me tell you one thing: there is nothing between Leslie and me. What there was, was convenient, occasional sex when we both wanted it, and an agreement to act as each other’s escort at certain functions. That’s it, that’s all it ever has been, and that’s over. It’s
been
over, except for the escorting part.”