“No, but I think you’ll want to work him in. The man is gorgeous—green eyes, dark hair, a face that should be on a billboard. Body to die for. All male, if you know what I mean—no having to ask yourself if this one is straight. And he’s got a sexy Southern drawl that I could listen to all afternoon.”
Her own heart was pounding now. “Gideon is here?”
Jacqueline chuckled. “Didn’t have any trouble recognizing the description, did you?”
“Oh, my God.” With an instinct as old as woman, she raised both hands to smooth her hair.
“Want me to tell him you’re too busy to see him?”
Adrienne gave her grinning assistant a look. “I’ll see him.”
“I thought you might.”
Standing behind her desk, she was still trying to decide how to greet him—a smile, a handshake, an air kiss near his cheek?—when he entered her office. Looking as delectable as Jacqueline had described, in khakis and a forest-green shirt, he stopped on the other side of her desk and tossed a thick manila envelope in front of her. “I sent this directly to my editor, but I thought you might want a copy.”
“You finished your book.”
“Yeah.”
She moistened her lips. “So you just decided to…bring me a copy?”
“You know how I am about telephones.”
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
He glanced at the window, through which they could see all those other buildings. “I’m finding that a bit hard to believe, myself.”
An awkward silence fell for a moment between them, and then Gideon said, “You look good, Adrienne.”
“So do you.”
“When can you get out of here?”
“Now.”
His eyebrows rose. “You don’t have a full calendar for the afternoon?”
“Not anymore.” She picked up her purse and the envelope he’d brought her, leaving everything else where it lay.
His rare smile flashed, and he crooked his arm to her. “Let’s go.”
Electricity surged through her when she laid her fingers on his arm. Their eyes met, and she smiled, her skin feeling warm and tingly beneath her clothing.
They had almost made it out of the office when her father stepped into the doorway, blocking their way. Peering at them over his half glasses, he raised his eyebrows. “What’s this?”
Adrienne dropped her hand from Gideon’s arm. “Gideon McCloud, this is my father, Lawrence Corley.”
Gideon raked the older man with a cool glance. “Nice to meet you,” he said, though his tone belied the words.
Lawrence wore the smile he reserved for valued business associates. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McCloud. I’m a great admirer of your work.”
Mostly because that work had brought in a generous fifteen percent, Adrienne added in cynical silence.
“Thanks. I attribute much of my success, of course, to my agent. She’s one of the most dedicated professionals I’ve ever dealt with.”
“Thank you. I’ve trained her in the business from the time she was just a teenager.”
And he took full credit for everything she had become, Adrienne thought in resignation—despite her formal education and the years of hard work she had spent learning the business.