reality as the blood that sustained him.
Kate had risen from the piano bench and started toward him, a little shy, maybe, and flushed with anticipation. Gideon’s senses embraced her without his control. His pulse thrummed in tandem with hers.
His body stirred and hardened where hers had gone soft and damp.
“I’ll go change,” she said, suffusing the air around her with the fragrance of soap and sensuous female as she moved by him.
He waited until she’d left the room, then crossed to the piano where his son sat with head bowed, gently pressing the keys. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Jude said petulantly.
Gideon raised his eyebrows and leaned an elbow on the edge of the instrument. “You like Ms. O’Brien, don’t you?”
“Why does it matter?” He jabbed at middle C and the note rent the air, harsh and brassy. “You obviously do and as usual, that’s all that counts, right?”
“Whoa.” He ducked his head to see his son’s expression. “Is there a problem?”
“I watch the way you talk to her and I see how she looks at you. She likes you or something, and it’s your fault. But I know, Dad, that you’ll hurt her feelings. And then she’ll leave, and we’ll start all over, and I’m sick of it. I like this one. I want something to stay the same for once, so leave her alone.” Gideon waded through his astonishment for a reply and came up empty-handed. It wasn’t until Jude closed the lid and stood that the words came to him.
“I won’t hurt her feelings,” he said simply, because it was all he could promise.
Jude stared back at him with an intensity that both disconcerted and impressed him. “I’d rather have Delilah around here all the time, every day, than for you to make Ms. O’Brien mad enough to leave.” Drawing his thin shoulders back, he swerved around his father and headed through the door, leaving Gideon alone in the conservatory, with only phantom strains of chamber music for a paltry finale.
The soles of their running shoes crunched rhythmically in the gravel as they ran, side by side, in silence.
Kate turned her head to stare at Gideon’s profile and frowned. She’d expected the amiable, breathless exchange of fellow joggers between them, maybe more of that delicious banter she’d come to anticipate from him, but he was quiet, his dark eyes hidden behind a pair of reflective sunglasses.
His gait was brisk, steady, graceful. He didn’t pant or wheeze or make any of the respiratory noises that begged to burst from her own chest. He wasn’t even sweating.
Annoyed, Kate wiped the back of her hand against her damp forehead and dropped back to a defeated walk. It took a few more paces before Gideon seemed to notice she no longer kept up with him. Turning backward, he jogged in place and waited for to her to catch up.
“Tired?” he asked, his expression impassive.
“Confused.” Anger quickened her gait and she strolled right past him, the momentum swinging her arms.
“You invited me to run with you. Did you do it to be polite?”
“I did it because I wanted your company.” He gained on her and fell into step beside her. “I’m sorry.
Jude and I had words after you went up to change. I can’t quit thinking about what he said.” Kate glanced at him, then away, then back again, her brows lowered. “Well? Are you waiting for me to ask what the argument was about?” Gideon sighed, scraped his fingers through his thick, dark hair. “He thinks…” He cleared his throat. “He thinks you like me.” “I do like you,” she said, knowing immediately where the conversation was headed. “Shouldn’t I?”
“He thinks you like me more than you should. Or more than he’s comfortable with,” he quickly added.
“I see.” She lifted her chin and stared at him. “So what was the problem?”
“He says it’s my fault. That I’m encouraging it.” He turned his head to meet her eyes. “He’s right, you know. I am encouraging
Kate had risen from the piano bench and started toward him, a little shy, maybe, and flushed with anticipation. Gideon’s senses embraced her without his control. His pulse thrummed in tandem with hers.
His body stirred and hardened where hers had gone soft and damp.
“I’ll go change,” she said, suffusing the air around her with the fragrance of soap and sensuous female as she moved by him.
He waited until she’d left the room, then crossed to the piano where his son sat with head bowed, gently pressing the keys. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Jude said petulantly.
Gideon raised his eyebrows and leaned an elbow on the edge of the instrument. “You like Ms. O’Brien, don’t you?”
“Why does it matter?” He jabbed at middle C and the note rent the air, harsh and brassy. “You obviously do and as usual, that’s all that counts, right?”
“Whoa.” He ducked his head to see his son’s expression. “Is there a problem?”
“I watch the way you talk to her and I see how she looks at you. She likes you or something, and it’s your fault. But I know, Dad, that you’ll hurt her feelings. And then she’ll leave, and we’ll start all over, and I’m sick of it. I like this one. I want something to stay the same for once, so leave her alone.” Gideon waded through his astonishment for a reply and came up empty-handed. It wasn’t until Jude closed the lid and stood that the words came to him.
“I won’t hurt her feelings,” he said simply, because it was all he could promise.
Jude stared back at him with an intensity that both disconcerted and impressed him. “I’d rather have Delilah around here all the time, every day, than for you to make Ms. O’Brien mad enough to leave.” Drawing his thin shoulders back, he swerved around his father and headed through the door, leaving Gideon alone in the conservatory, with only phantom strains of chamber music for a paltry finale.
The soles of their running shoes crunched rhythmically in the gravel as they ran, side by side, in silence.
Kate turned her head to stare at Gideon’s profile and frowned. She’d expected the amiable, breathless exchange of fellow joggers between them, maybe more of that delicious banter she’d come to anticipate from him, but he was quiet, his dark eyes hidden behind a pair of reflective sunglasses.
His gait was brisk, steady, graceful. He didn’t pant or wheeze or make any of the respiratory noises that begged to burst from her own chest. He wasn’t even sweating.
Annoyed, Kate wiped the back of her hand against her damp forehead and dropped back to a defeated walk. It took a few more paces before Gideon seemed to notice she no longer kept up with him. Turning backward, he jogged in place and waited for to her to catch up.
“Tired?” he asked, his expression impassive.
“Confused.” Anger quickened her gait and she strolled right past him, the momentum swinging her arms.
“You invited me to run with you. Did you do it to be polite?”
“I did it because I wanted your company.” He gained on her and fell into step beside her. “I’m sorry.
Jude and I had words after you went up to change. I can’t quit thinking about what he said.” Kate glanced at him, then away, then back again, her brows lowered. “Well? Are you waiting for me to ask what the argument was about?” Gideon sighed, scraped his fingers through his thick, dark hair. “He thinks…” He cleared his throat. “He thinks you like me.” “I do like you,” she said, knowing immediately where the conversation was headed. “Shouldn’t I?”
“He thinks you like me more than you should. Or more than he’s comfortable with,” he quickly added.
“I see.” She lifted her chin and stared at him. “So what was the problem?”
“He says it’s my fault. That I’m encouraging it.” He turned his head to meet her eyes. “He’s right, you know. I am encouraging
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