That made her smile a little. “But I do appreciate you checking on me. It was very kind of you.”
He glanced down at her hand, which still lay on his bare arm, and it occurred to him that he should probably get the hell out of there. Immediately, if not sooner. “I am not a particularly nice person,” he felt the need to tell her. “You can ask anyone.”
She responded to that with a soft laugh. “I prefer to make up my own mind about whether someone is nice.”
He really needed to get out of there, before he did something stupid, like making a clumsy pass at his injured agent.
“Yeah, well, I just don’t want you to get the wrong impression of me,” he muttered, and shoved himself to his feet while he was still able to do so. “I’m basically surly and self-centered and I like being that way.”
She still sounded amused when she nestled more deeply into the covers and murmured, “Good night, Gideon.”
Feeling like a fool, he didn’t look back as he made a beeline for the door. “’Night.”
This was what he got, he told himself, for acting completely out of character and trying to take care of other people instead of himself. As soon as his mother returned to take Isabelle off his hands, and Adrienne had healed enough to make the trip back to New York, he was reclaiming his solitude.
“Gideon?” Isabelle’s sleepy voice floated through the open doorway of the guest room. “Is that you?”
“Yes, Isabelle. Everything’s fine, you can go back to sleep.”
“Could I have a drink of water?”
He sighed
heavily. “Hang on a minute. I’ll bring you one.”
And then, he vowed, he was going to lock himself in his office again. And he would stay there this time.
Chapter Five
It must have been the pain pills that made Adrienne sleep later than usual Wednesday morning. Even the bright sunlight from the window didn’t rouse her. It was nearly 9:00 a.m. when she forced open her gritty eyes and peered at the clock. Normally she would be at her office by this time, wide awake and already inundated with calls and e-mail.
Pushing her hands through her hair, she eased upright, moving her right leg with care. Her ankle was still bruised and swollen upon inspection, but maybe just a little less sore than it had been? An experimental flex made her teeth clench. Okay, maybe not.
Rubbing the back of her neck, she wondered for a moment if she had dreamed Gideon’s middle-of-the-night visit. Had he really sat rumpled and shirtless on the side of her bed, supporting her while she had washed down the pain pills? She remembered, if fuzzily, that his touch had been very gentle, though his voice had been characteristically gruff.
She went all warm inside just thinking about it.
It took her a while to shower and dress, since she was still barely able to put her weight on her ankle. Gideon had moved several items of clothing to his office and had been using the shower in the guest bathroom. She still felt rather guilty about taking his bed and bath, even though he’d brusquely insisted he didn’t mind at all.
She’d thrown the clothes she’d worn yesterday into Gideon’s washer last night. They had been damp and dirty from her fall. She was rapidly running out of clean clothes, but she still had one casual outfit she hadn’t worn yet, a pair of black slacks and a black-and-white-patterned top. She slipped a black loafer on her left foot, but could only wear the black brace on her right. Using the crutches for balance, she left Gideon’s room.
The kitchen was empty, but a covered plate sat on the counter. Lifting the lid, she found two large, golden-brown muffins oozing with blueberries. Apparently Gideon had stopped by the bakery again after taking Isabelle to school. Certain he had left these out for her, she poured herself a cup of coffee, set it on the table, then carried one of the muffins with her to a chair. Serving herself was quite a balancing act, but she managed.
She took her time drinking the coffee and eating the muffin, enjoying both immensely. She’d been hungrier than she’d realized, probably because she hadn’t felt like eating much the night before. And she needed the time alone to prepare herself for seeing Gideon. If, of course, he ever emerged from his office.
He did, in fact, less than ten minutes later. She had just finished her breakfast and was trying to muster the energy to pull out her computer when Gideon entered the kitchen, carrying an empty coffee mug and wearing a rather ferocious frown in addition to his standard uniform of jeans and T-shirt. “How’s your leg?”
“Better, thank you.”
His narrowed eyes swept her face. “That’s a lie.”
“Not entirely. It is a little better.”
Though he still looked skeptical, he grunted and moved toward the coffeemaker. “Don’t you want your other muffin?” he asked, glancing at the plate.
“No, one was enough for me. It was delicious, by the way.”
Snagging the remaining muffin, he nodded and headed toward the doorway again, his filled-to-the-brim coffee mug in his other hand. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”