Conflict of Interest (The McClouds of Mississippi 2)

“I’m so sorry you were hurt. Is there anything I can do for you? Besides the list you’re sending me, of course.”

“No, that’s all. And, um, there’s no need to mention this accident to my father. As far as he needs to know, I’m simply taking some vacation time. He didn’t really expect to hear from me this week, anyway.”

“He knows I’m calling you. I’ll just tell him you sound fine, which you do, so it’s not really a lie. I wouldn’t want him to be too worried about you.”

Jacqueline’s dry tone didn’t quite hide her cynicism. Adrienne’s brusque reply did not entirely conceal a touch of wistfulness. “We both know he would be more likely to be annoyed with my carelessness than concerned for my health. But by all means, tell him I’m fine.”

“You’re sure you’re okay there? I hate to think of you staying alone in some hotel room when you’re injured.”

“Actually, I’m not staying at a hotel. Mr. McCloud invited me to stay at his place for a few days.”

“Oh? Would this be the old, ugly, married Mr. McCloud?”

Adrienne cleared her throat. She could lie to her father with ease, but she’d never been able to deceive her friend and assistant. “No. This would be the young, good-looking, single Mr. McCloud.”

“I see.”

The way Jacqueline stretched out those two syllables made Adrienne add hastily, “His sister’s staying here with us.”

“Oh.” Jacqueline sounded vaguely disappointed to hear that Adrienne’s visit was being chaperoned. There was no need to tell her, of course, that Gideon’s sister had just celebrated her fourth birthday.

She couldn’t lie to Jacqueline, but she saw no reason to tell her every little detail of this interesting interlude with Gideon McCloud.

Deciding that it was entirely possible Gideon wouldn’t reappear at all that day—at least until she reminded him about picking up Isabelle—Adrienne settled in his den with her foot elevated and her work spread around her. She had trouble concentrating on her reading, though. Her thoughts kept wandering back to that late-night visit from Gideon.

Why was she having so much trouble putting that out of her mind? She’d bet Gideon hadn’t given it another thought. He probably hadn’t given her another thought as he’d lost himself in his writing.

When the doorbell rang at midmorning, she hesitated only a moment before reaching for the crutches and moving to answer it. She was certainly making herself at home here, she thought wryly, but it wasn’t as if Gideon would rush to open the door. He probably hadn’t even heard the bell.

Officer Dylan Smith stood on the doorstep, his toast-brown hair tousled in the breeze, his Old-West handsome face creased with a lazy smile. With the studied courtesy she had come to expect from him, he touched a finger to the brim of his hat and drawled, “’Morning, ma’am. How’s the leg today?”

“Better, thank you,” she fibbed.

He held out his hand, opening the palm to reveal a purple plastic bead bracelet. “I found this is in the back of my patrol car this morning. Since I don’t think it belongs to the drunk I hauled in for relieving himself on Mrs. Arnett’s prized rose bushes, I thought maybe someone here would recognize it.”

Laughing, Adrienne reached out to take the inexpens

ive bauble from him. “It’s Isabelle’s. I remember seeing it on her arm. Everything was so hectic yesterday, I don’t think she’s even missed it.”

He looked down at her right foot, which was still noticeably swollen. “That looks painful.”

“It hurts,” she replied candidly. “But it really is getting better, I think.”

“Are you taking the pain pills the doctor gave you?”

She was immediately transported back several hours, to a gravelly voice in the darkness and a pair of gentle hands supporting her as she swallowed her pills. Feeling the blood warm in her cheeks, she looked away from the officer and motioned toward the den. “I take the pills only when I’m forced to. Won’t you come in, Officer Smith? I just made a fresh pot of coffee. Gideon guzzles it by the gallon.”

His smile turned wry. “Thanks, but as much as I would enjoy the visit with you, I’d better decline. If McCloud were to see me in his house, drinking his coffee, I’d probably have to haul him in for assaulting an officer.”

Adrienne shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand the hostility between you two. Gideon hasn’t told me what caused it.”

“Let’s just say he never fancied me as a brother-in-law.” His smile no longer reached his eyes, and Adrienne sensed that his ironic tone was intended to mask a tangle of old emotions he didn’t want examined too closely. And then he stepped back and touched his hat again, falling back into his blandly polite Southern-cop routine. “I’m glad you’re doing better, Ms. Corley. You be sure and give me a call if there’s ever anything I can do for you.”

“Thank you, Officer Smith.”

He turned and strolled to his car, whistling cheerily as he went. Still part of the act, Adrienne decided as she watched him leave. Just what was Officer Dylan Smith hiding behind that good-old-boy grin?

“What the hell was he doing here?”