wrong?”
Succinctly explaining the situation with their aunt, Gideon added, “I’m surprised she didn’t let you know.”
“I’ve been out of town on a business trip. She left a message on my machine that Aunt Wanda had been hurt, but she sounded rushed and didn’t give many details.”
“She’s been staying at the hospital with Wanda.”
“Surely she doesn’t have Isabelle with her.”
“No, actually, I have Isabelle.”
“You?” Deborah seemed to doubt that she had heard him correctly. “You’re baby-sitting?”
“Yes. It wasn’t as if Mom gave me any other choice.”
“I’m just surprised that even Mom’s tactics got you to agree to this. What did she use? Guilt? Pleas? Threats?”
“A combination of inducements, actually,” Gideon answered dryly.
“So, how’s it going? Have you learned how to do a French braid yet? Sing a lullaby?”
“I’ve been getting by,” he said, feeling just a touch defensive. And then—because he knew she would find out eventually—he felt compelled to add, “I’ve had a little help. My agent is staying here for a few days. She and Isabelle have sort of bonded.”
He glanced toward the kitchen doorway, picturing Adrienne in the other room with Isabelle snuggled in her arms. As he had stood there looking at them, he’d been aware of mixed emotions—one of them an inappropriate touch of envy. He wouldn’t have minded having Adrienne’s arms around him.
It wasn’t the first time he’d acknowledged his attraction to her, but he was just starting to realize how strong that attraction had grown. Which didn’t mean there were any more-dangerous emotions involved, of course. Sure, he wanted to hit the sheets with her, but he was still fully prepared for her to leave in a day or two and go back to being an efficiently professional voice on the other end of the telephone line.
Not that he was ready for her to leave just yet, but only because he still needed her help with Isabelle, he assured himself.
“What’s your agent doing there?”
“She came to discuss some publishing offers and to map out some career plans with me.” Not that they had actually accomplished either of those things, he added to himself.
All things considered, she had been remarkably patient with him. Not only had he avoided talking business with her since she’d arrived, but he’d closed himself in his office for hours at a time, manipulated her into helping out with his little sister, which had indirectly resulted in her being injured, and he’d even dumped secretarial duties onto her. And still she was doing everything she could to assist him with Isabelle and his writing.
Was it any wonder he suspected he might miss her—a little—when she returned to New York?
“ You could always come give me a hand,” he suggested to his sister.
“No way. I don’t do kids, remember? If the rest of you want to clutter things up with the result of Dad’s thoughtlessness, that’s your choice, but I have a life.”
Deborah sounded cold and cynical—as Gideon himself had been accused of being on many occasions—but he knew that with Deborah, it was all facade. She’d erected it so successfully that it probably fooled most people—but Gideon knew her better. His own resistance to forming emotional bonds was based on selfish convenience—or so he’d always told himself. Deborah’s was founded on fear.
“I’ll tell Mom to call you next time she checks in.”
“Okay, thanks. Good luck with everything there.”
“I’ll give your best to Isabelle.”
“Yeah.” Her voice was almost brittle now. “You do that.”
Hanging up the phone, Gideon turned back to his dinner preparations. He understood Deborah’s bitterness, of course—far too well—but he was beginning to think she was missing out by not giving herself a chance to get to know Isabelle better. As resistant as he’d been, himself, to letting another sibling into his life at this late stage, he’d grown
Succinctly explaining the situation with their aunt, Gideon added, “I’m surprised she didn’t let you know.”
“I’ve been out of town on a business trip. She left a message on my machine that Aunt Wanda had been hurt, but she sounded rushed and didn’t give many details.”
“She’s been staying at the hospital with Wanda.”
“Surely she doesn’t have Isabelle with her.”
“No, actually, I have Isabelle.”
“You?” Deborah seemed to doubt that she had heard him correctly. “You’re baby-sitting?”
“Yes. It wasn’t as if Mom gave me any other choice.”
“I’m just surprised that even Mom’s tactics got you to agree to this. What did she use? Guilt? Pleas? Threats?”
“A combination of inducements, actually,” Gideon answered dryly.
“So, how’s it going? Have you learned how to do a French braid yet? Sing a lullaby?”
“I’ve been getting by,” he said, feeling just a touch defensive. And then—because he knew she would find out eventually—he felt compelled to add, “I’ve had a little help. My agent is staying here for a few days. She and Isabelle have sort of bonded.”
He glanced toward the kitchen doorway, picturing Adrienne in the other room with Isabelle snuggled in her arms. As he had stood there looking at them, he’d been aware of mixed emotions—one of them an inappropriate touch of envy. He wouldn’t have minded having Adrienne’s arms around him.
It wasn’t the first time he’d acknowledged his attraction to her, but he was just starting to realize how strong that attraction had grown. Which didn’t mean there were any more-dangerous emotions involved, of course. Sure, he wanted to hit the sheets with her, but he was still fully prepared for her to leave in a day or two and go back to being an efficiently professional voice on the other end of the telephone line.
Not that he was ready for her to leave just yet, but only because he still needed her help with Isabelle, he assured himself.
“What’s your agent doing there?”
“She came to discuss some publishing offers and to map out some career plans with me.” Not that they had actually accomplished either of those things, he added to himself.
All things considered, she had been remarkably patient with him. Not only had he avoided talking business with her since she’d arrived, but he’d closed himself in his office for hours at a time, manipulated her into helping out with his little sister, which had indirectly resulted in her being injured, and he’d even dumped secretarial duties onto her. And still she was doing everything she could to assist him with Isabelle and his writing.
Was it any wonder he suspected he might miss her—a little—when she returned to New York?
“ You could always come give me a hand,” he suggested to his sister.
“No way. I don’t do kids, remember? If the rest of you want to clutter things up with the result of Dad’s thoughtlessness, that’s your choice, but I have a life.”
Deborah sounded cold and cynical—as Gideon himself had been accused of being on many occasions—but he knew that with Deborah, it was all facade. She’d erected it so successfully that it probably fooled most people—but Gideon knew her better. His own resistance to forming emotional bonds was based on selfish convenience—or so he’d always told himself. Deborah’s was founded on fear.
“I’ll tell Mom to call you next time she checks in.”
“Okay, thanks. Good luck with everything there.”
“I’ll give your best to Isabelle.”
“Yeah.” Her voice was almost brittle now. “You do that.”
Hanging up the phone, Gideon turned back to his dinner preparations. He understood Deborah’s bitterness, of course—far too well—but he was beginning to think she was missing out by not giving herself a chance to get to know Isabelle better. As resistant as he’d been, himself, to letting another sibling into his life at this late stage, he’d grown
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