Conflict of Interest (The McClouds of Mississippi 2)

Though she half expected to lie awake the rest of the night, she fell deeply asleep almost the moment the bedroom door closed behind him. She slept without dreaming, waking to find the morning sun shining brightly through the windows.

A glance at the clock told her it was after eight. Isabelle was probably awake, since she shared her brother’s predilection for early rising. Rolling slowly out of bed, Adrienne nearly stumbled when her feet tangled in the black nightgown lying discarded on the carpet. Glancing at the tumbled bedcovers, she groaned softly and pushed her hair out of her face. What had seemed like a good idea the night before looked different in the full light of day.

She didn’t regret making love with Gideon, exactly. She just wasn’t sure it had been wise to open herself up to heartache if she found she was unable to leave her growing feelings for him behind when she returned to her life in New York.

She took her time showering and dressing. When she finally went into the kitchen, she found Isabelle and Gideon sitting at the table, having breakfast. At least, Isabelle was eating cereal with sliced bananas. Gideon was reading the newspaper and drinking coffee—and from the look of the pot, it wasn’t his first cup.

Pouring the remainder for herself, she carried her mug to the table, her chin held high as she greeted them brightly. Isabelle smiled and mumbled a return greeting around a mouthful of cereal. Gideon grunted and turned to the next page in the sports section.

So much for tender morning-after smiles, she thought wryly. “Aren’t you having breakfast?”

“Not hungry. But help yourself.”

“The cereal’s good this morning,” Isabelle said.

“Is it? Then I’ll have that.”

She fetched a bowl and filled it with cereal, milk and sliced bananas. Taking her seat, she spooned a bite into her mouth, chewed and swallowed, then nodded gravely to Isabelle. “You’re right. The cereal is excellent this morning.”

Gideon looked up from his newspaper. “I realized last night that I’m completely out of ink for my printer. I’m going to make an office supplies run this afternoon. It’s about a forty-five-minute drive to the nearest office supplies warehouse. Will the two of you be okay here while I’m gone?”

He wasn’t inviting them to join him. In fact, he seemed to be making a point to avoid doing so. Apparently, he needed some time to himself this afternoon. Because she knew him well enough by now to understand why, she nodded. “We’ll be fine.”

His gaze held hers a moment, no particular expression discernable in his eyes, and then he looked down at his paper again, the subject apparently settled.

Dipping her spoon into her bowl again, Adrienne wondered if this exasperating man would even remember her after she went away.

Gideon had been gone about an hour when the front doorbell rang. Because she wasn’t expecting anyone, Adrienne glanced through the small window in the front door before turning the knob with a smile. “If it isn’t Officer Smith.”

He flashed his charmingly lazy smile. “’Afternoon, ma’am.”

“Gee, I know you’re going to be terribly disappointed to hear this, but Gideon isn’t here.”

“I know. I saw him driving out of town a while earlier. I figured this was as good a time as any to bring you this.”

This was a thick manila envelope, which he held out to her with the same rather sheepish expression he’d worn when he had told her about his writing.

“Your book?”

He nodded, swallowing visibly. “You haven’t changed your mind about wanting to read it?”

“Of course not. I’m delighted to read it.” It was the absolute truth. She had become quite fond of Dylan Smith during the past few days, but more than that, she suspected that his book w

ould be good.

And if it was? How would Gideon feel about her representing a man he was in the habit of despising? Would he consider it a conflict of interest, even though it would have absolutely no effect on her work for him?

She would worry about that after she read Dylan’s book and decided whether it was worth representing.

“Come in,” she said, holding the envelope and motioning with her free hand. “I’ll make some coffee. You aren’t on duty, are you?”

“Just went off. But I’d probably best not come in. Gideon—”

“Gideon told me to make myself at home during my visit,” she interrupted firmly. “I’m sure that includes inviting my friends in for coffee. If it makes you feel any better, he’ll be gone for another hour or so, so you won’t have to see him.”

“Something tells me he wouldn’t agree with you about inviting me in. He’s more likely to blow a gasket.” But he entered, anyway, looking around as if checking to make sure Gideon wasn’t lurking somewhere inside.

“Officer Smith!” Isabelle ran toward him with her arms outstretched.