“I’d be happy to,” she said, then gave Dylan a smile. “You might as well join us. As often as we encounter each other professionally—even on opposite sides, occasionally—it’s ridiculous to pretend we’re total strangers.”
Both Nathan and Dylan looked dubious.
“Attorneys and cops are rarely bosom buddies,” Nathan explained.
“Not to mention my personal history with the McClouds,” Dylan added.
“Then we’ll agree not to talk about work or past grievances,” Adrienne said firmly. “Trust me, I’ve had very pleasant meals at tables with authors, agents, editors and publishing executives. If a disparate group like that can put aside their professional conflicts for a few hours, I’m sure you two can. You grew up in the same small town, for heaven’s sake. You must have some mutual friends or root for the same sports teams—something in common.”
“What we have in common is a long history of mutual dislike,” Nathan muttered.
“Well, I like you both,” Isabelle asserted firmly. “And I think you should be friends.”
After a moment of silence, Caitlin laughed.
“A decree from Princess Isabelle,” Dylan said, his smile wry. “I suppose we can make an effort to be sociable—for an hour or so.”
“Well, glory be.” Caitlin grinned as she moved toward the coffeemaker. “Maybe there’s hope for world peace, after all.”
“Not if Gideon walks in anytime soon,” Nathan predicted glumly, setting Isabelle on her feet. “World War III’s gonna break out right here in this kitchen if he walks in and finds us helping ourselves to his food and sharing it with Smith.”
“I’ll make Gideon behave,” Isabelle promised confidently, making the adults laugh again.
While Adrienne wouldn’t have said Nathan and Dylan were friendly, exactly, as they dined on ham and cheese sandwiches with chips and pickle spears, they were at least civil. Yet both made a point of addressing their comments to either her, Caitlin or Isabelle, and rarely to each other.
Though it was, of course, absolutely none of her business, she was still very curious about what had gone wrong between Dylan Smith and Deborah McCloud—and why it had left such hard feelings in her brothers. Adrienne was also intensely curiously about Dylan’s offhand comment about Isabelle’s mother being Gideon’s girlfriend.
Was that the primary cause of his lingering antipathy toward his late father? Had he loved her? Did he see her face every time he looked at Isabelle?
Darn it, why hadn’t he said anything to her? As much as she told herself he had been under no obligation whatsoever to tell her anything about his past, she was still irrationally angry with him for not doing so.
Perhaps because the omission reminded her so graphically that he only saw her as a temporary diversion in his life.
Gideon heard the sounds as soon as he stepped out of his truck and into his garage. Voices, laughter, the muted clatter of dishware—was there a damned party going on in his kitchen?
His hands filled with bags from the office warehouse, he stalked toward the kitchen door. He froze in the doorway when he saw the group gathered around his table. He was surprised to see Nathan and Caitlin, of course, since he hadn’t expected them for another week. But he was absolutely flabbergasted to see Dylan Smith sitting there with them.
Last he’d heard, which hadn’t been that long ago, Nathan hadn’t been any fonder of Smith than Gideon was. Now he was sitting here having afternoon tea with the guy?
Apparently, the group had been laughing at something cute that Isabelle had said and hadn’t heard him open the door. Caitlin was the one who spotted him first. “Red alert,” she said comically.
Everyone looked around at him, their smiles fading.
Isabelle made a stern face and wagged a finger at him. “Now, Gideon. Be nice.”
Dylan pushed himself to his feet. “I think I’d better be going. I, uh, have to do some laundry.”
“Freeze, Smith.” Gideon set his purchases on a counter. “What the—” Catching a glimpse of Isabelle, he changed his words. “What’s going on?”
Adrienne seemed to be the designated explainer. “Nathan and Caitlin decided to spend the rest of their honeymoon with Isabelle. Dylan dropped by to bring me something I had requested from him. We’ve been having a nice visit over coffee and sandwiches. Would you like something to eat?”
How graciously she had offered him his own food, he thought with a scowl. “No.”
“Coffee?”
“No.”
Dylan had taken another couple of steps toward the doorway. “I really think it would be best if I just go.”