Conflict of Interest (The McClouds of Mississippi 2)

“That’s a lovely name.”

“But Nate says we need a big, black dog with big teeth and we should call him Killer or Spike.”

“Um…”

Isabelle giggled. “Nate likes to make jokes. He’s silly sometimes.”

Remembering that Gideon had said he and his older brother were quite different, Adrienne remarked, “Nathan sounds very nice.”

“He’s the best big brother in the world,” Isabelle agreed fervently. And then looked suddenly stricken. “But Gideon’s nice, too,” she added a bit loudly, as if he might overhear.

Amused, Adrienne agreed, “Yes, he is—in his own way.”

“Do you like Gideon, Miss Corley?”

Her eyebrows rose in reaction to the child’s tone. Isabelle wasn’t indulging in a bit of toddler matchmaking, was she? “Yes, I like Gideon. He’s my client— I work with him to sell his books. I think he’s a very talented writer.”

“Are you going to marry him, like Caitlin married Nate? They work together. Caitlin’s my sister now, and you would be my sister, too, if you marry Gideon. I have another sister, too. Her name is Deborah, but I don’t see her very much.”

All amusement gone now, Adrienne cleared her throat. “Gideon and I are friends and business associates, Isabelle. We aren’t going to be married.”

A flicker of disappointment crossed the child’s face. “I wish you could be my sister.”

“Couldn’t I just be your friend instead? Everyone could use more good friends.”

Isabelle nodded in resignation. “Okay, Miss Corley. I’ll be your friend.”

“You can start by calling me Adrienne.”

Pleased, Isabelle nodded. “Okay, Adrienne. I think I’ll go play now. Gideon said I could take my toys outside and sit on the swing.”

“Put on a jacket, okay? That wind is a bit chilly.”

“Okay.” Climbing out of the chair, Isabelle dashed from the room, leaving Adrienne to tidy the remains of the snack and spread out her work again.

She could see Isabelle through the big window over the sink. The little girl had settled into the free-standing lawn swing in Gideon’s backyard with a doll, her stuffed owl and a couple of books. As she had promised, she had donned a lightweight denim jacket with her T-shirt and jeans. Her little white sneakers pumped the air to keep the swing moving as she read with animated expression to her stuffed friends.

Adrienne found herself spending more time watching Isabelle than concentrating on her work. The child made such a pretty picture, her golden curls glittering in the afternoon sun, her cheeks pinkened by the brisk March breeze.

She would be proud to have this child for a little sister, she thought.

Or a daughter.

That thought took her aback. Whoa, Adrienne. Who wound your biological clock?

Hoping the faint ticking would stop if she ignored it, she focused fiercely on the computer again. A rather whiny and petulant e-mail from one of her authors was on-screen and she had to figure out a way to answer it patiently, effectively and reassuringly.

Who needed kids? She already spent most of her life holding hands and averting emotional crises.

When Gideon hadn’t emerged from his office by dinnertime, Adrienne took matters into her own hands and prepared a meal without consulting him. She assumed he had gotten so involved with his work that time had slipped away from him.

She hoped he had gotten more accomplished that day than she had.

Preparing a simple meal of baked pork chops with rice and vegetables, she moved around the kitchen with only an occasional twinge of pain from her ankle. The prescribed anti-inflammatories and exercises seemed to be doing the job. The swelling had gone down significantly, and though it still ached almost constantly, she didn’t allow herself to dwell on the discomfort.

When the meal was ready, she set the table, sent Isabelle to wash her hands and then approached Gideon’s office. She tapped firmly on the door. “Gideon?”

“What?”