“Perhaps you’l both come to dinner later this week?”
His only answer was an arched brow. Then his gaze lifted, luring my attention to fol ow it. I found Cary emerging from what appeared to be a hedgerow maze with a very recognizable pop princess on his arm.
Gideon gestured him over.
“Oh, not Cary, too!” Elizabeth protested. “He’s the life of the party.”
“I thought you might like him.” Gideon bared his teeth in something that was too sharp to be a smile.
“Just remember that he’s Eva’s friend, Mother. That makes him mine as wel .”
I was hugely relieved when Cary joined us, breaking the tension in his easygoing way.
“I was looking for you,” he said to me. “I was hoping you’d be ready to go. I got that cal I was expecting.” Looking into his sparkling eyes, I knew Trey had reached him. “Yes, we’re ready.”
Cary and I walked around to say our good-byes and offer our thanks. Gideon remained at my side like a possessive shadow, his demeanor calm but markedly aloof.
We were al walking toward the house when I spotted Ireland off to the side staring at Gideon. I stopped and looked up at him. “Go get your sister so we can say good-bye.”
“What?”
“She’s standing to your left.” I looked to our right to hide my prodding from the young girl whom I suspected might hero-worship her eldest brother.
He gestured Ireland over with a brusque wave of his hand. She took her time ambling over, her pretty face schooled into an expression of militant boredom. I looked at Cary with a shake of my head, remembering those days al too wel .
“Listen.” I squeezed Gideon’s wrist. “Tel her you’re sorry you two didn’t get to catch up while you were here and she should cal you sometime, if she wants.” Gideon shot me an arch look. “Catch up on what?” Rubbing his biceps, I said, “She’l do al the talking if given a chance.”
He scowled. “She’s a teenage girl. Why would I give her a chance to talk my ear off?”
I pushed onto my tiptoes and whispered in his ear,
“Because I’l owe you one.”
“You’re up to something.” He eyed me warily for a moment; then pressed a hard kiss to my lips with a
growl. “So we’l leave it open and say you owe me more than one. Quantity to be determined.” I nodded. Cary rocked back on his heels and twirled one index finger around another in a sign meaning
I was surprised when Gideon accepted the keys to the Bentley SUV from one of the valets. “
Where’s Angus?”
“Day off.” He nuzzled against my temple. “I missed you, Eva.”
I settled into the front passenger seat, and he shut the door behind me. As I secured my seat belt, I saw him pause by the hood, making eye contact with two men dressed in black who waited beside a sleek black Mercedes sedan at the end of the drive. They nodded and got in the Benz. When Gideon pul ed out of the Vidal driveway, they fol owed directly behind us.
“Security detail?” I asked.
“Yes. I took off fast when I was told you were here, and they lost the tail for a while.”
Cary went home with Clancy, so Gideon and I headed straight to the penthouse. I found myself getting turned on from watching Gideon drive. He handled the luxury vehicle the way he handled everything—confidently, aggressively, and with skil ful control. He drove fast but not recklessly, weaving easily over the curves and straightaways of the scenic route back to the city. There was almost no traffic until we hit the gridlock of Manhattan.
When we arrived at his apartment, we both went straight into the master bathroom and undressed for a shower. As if he couldn’t stop touching me, Gideon washed me from head to toe; then he dried me with a towel and wrapped me in a new robe of embroidered teal silk with kimono sleeves. He finished by pul ing a pair of similarly hued drawstring silk pants out of a drawer for himself.
“Don’t I get panties?” I asked, thinking about my drawer of sexy underwear.
“No. There’s a phone hanging on the wal in the kitchen. Hit speed dial one and tel the man who answers that I want him to pick up double my usual dinner order from Peter Luger.”
“Al right.” I headed out to the living room and made the cal ; then I had to search for Gideon. I found him in his home office, a room I hadn’t been in before.
I didn’t get a good look at the space at first because the only lighting came from an angled picture light on the wal and a barrister’s lamp on his polished wood desk. Plus my eyes were more interested in focusing on him. He looked utterly sensual and compel ing sprawled in his big black leather chair. He held a tulip glass of some liquor that he warmed between his hands and the beauty of his flexing biceps sent tingles racing through me, as did the tight lacing of muscles on his abdomen.
His gaze was on the wal il uminated by the picture light, which snagged my attention, too. I was startled when I saw the art—a huge col age of blown-up photos of him and me: the picture of our kiss on the street outside the gym…a shot of us from the press gauntlet at the advocacy dinner…a candid of the tender aftermath of our fight in Bryant Park…
