The Shop of Shades and Secrets (Modern Gothic Romance 1)

by Colleen Gleason

  “It looks as though you’ll be marrying soon,” she said suddenly, breaking what had become—to him—a charged silence, but was in reality only moments of quiet. “And at least one child.”

  He almost pulled his hand away as anger spurted through him. What the hell kind of game was she playing?

  Iva nearly burst from her seat, barely able to contain herself, and he shot her a dark glare. “Don’t get all excited, Iva—she’s just telling you what you want to hear.”

  Fiona remained cool, and her gaze continued steadily on him. “I’m just telling you what I see, Gideon.” Did he detect a hint of sadness in her gaze. Regret, perhaps? “Unless you’ve already been married?”

  “No.” He snapped the word out and this time did start to pull his hand away. Her fingers held on and he relented, for, despite his anger, he liked the feel of her small, warm hand around his.

  She bent to look at his palm again, her pale, slim fingers caressing the darker skin of his own flesh, straightening his digits with her thumbs, smoothing the underside of his hand where the skin was softer and more sensitive. Then she looked up at him, and he could see the surprise in her face. “Let me see your right hand,” she said, frowning slightly.

  “What is it?” Iva asked, leaning forward.

  “Nothing major…just one of those secrets I mentioned.” She was waiting for him to show her his other hand. “Since you’re left-handed, your left hand shows what you are or have been, while your right hand indicates potentials that may or may not have been realized.”

  Gideon was just about to comply when he was saved, rescued from something that would certainly be uncomfortable, by the waiter serving their salads. By the time all of them received their plates, Gideon had managed to swing the conversation to the success of the open house for the antiques shop.

  The rest of the meal passed slowly but at least without further discomfort on his part. Fiona and his step-grandmother had hit it off famously, discussing things he knew nothing about—ta’i chi, aromatherapy, feng shui and yoga.

  Gideon Senior managed to bring up the Valente estate only once—when he casually asked, “How did you say you knew Nevio Valente, Fiona?”

  She flickered a glance at Gideon as if to measure how she should respond, but replied, “Do you mean Gideon didn’t tell you? I only met him once when I ducked in his shop a few months ago.”

  The older man shook his head, then dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “Odd man, Valente was. Even odder for a crotchety old bastard—pardon me, ladies—to do something nice for anyone, let alone someone he didn’t know. Everything going okay with the shop?” His blue eyes focused sharply on Fiona, and Gideon held his breath.

  Don’t mention the light. He couldn’t bear for his grandparents to think she was a flake—talking about lit lamps that weren’t plugged in. Obviously, it was something that had rattled her—and, odd as she was, probably for good reason…but he wasn’t sure his grandfather would understand.

  In order to forestall that from happening, he reached over and, resting his hand on top of hers, said, “Speaking of the shop, I’m sure you need to get back and get closed up for the night, hmm, Fiona?”

  He ignored the frown directed at him by his grandfather and kept his attention on Fiona. He was ready to get out of there—away from the suggestive looks from the older couple, and away to where he could have Fiona to himself. Lightning zipped through him as he realized exactly how much he wanted to abscond with her…and just what he would do when they did.

  Gideon had his way, for, not ten minutes later, he and Fiona were strolling along the street, down the blocks toward Charmed Antiquity. He hadn’t spoken a word to her since they’d parted from his grandparents—for suddenly, now that they were alone, he didn’t know what to say. He knew what he wanted to do…but not what he wanted to say.

  Fiona broke the silence at last. “Your grandparents are wonderful people—and it was so kind of them to invite me to dinner.”

  “Yes, well, you should know that they had an ulterior motive.” He glanced down at her as they passed under a streetlight, and saw the delicate planes of her face outlined by the stark light when she looked up at him.

  “Well, of course they did, Gideon—it was pretty obvious. They’re dying for you to settle down and find happiness just as they have, so they’ll take advantage of any possible candidate for you.” The smug smile she sent him should have quirked his annoyance, but instead, he grinned at her candor. “Even an oddball like me.”

  His gaze flickered away. “You’re no more odd than Iva, believing in all that New Age stuff,” he heard himself say. “You actually think that by rearranging your furniture, you can become wealthy or happy?”

  Fiona laughed out loud, delightedly, and another couple passing by glanced over at them. The man’s gaze lingered a bit too long on her, then slid away as they walked past. “Do I detect a bit of sarcasm, there, Gideon? You’d best be careful—sarcasm could be mistaken for a sense of humor, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that.” She laughed again, her bare arm brushing up against him as they strolled along. Then, to his surprise, she slipped one hand around his bicep, hugging it to her without breaking her stride.

  They walked along, their steps matching, thighs brushing, her thick, wild hair tickling the underside of his chin, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

  When she smiled up at him again, the sparkle in her eyes showing even in the half moonlight, Gideon felt an unfamiliar twinge deep inside and he almost stopped right there on the sidewalk. He must have hesitated anyway, for she looked back up, shifting against him as they walked.

  “Almost there,” he said, just to make sure his voice still worked.

  “Yes.”

  They passed a group of young people lined up outside one of the trendy bars, and then, two doors down, was the entrance to Charmed Antiquity.

  “Do you need to go in?” he asked as she paused in the little exterior alcove. She peered in one of the windows, cupping her hand around her eyes as if to see better.

  “No. Dylan locked the back door when he left, and everything looks fine from here.”

  At the mention of her shop clerk, Gideon’s veins froze and his earlier irritation returned. “Yes. Your assistant. How could I have forgotten?”

  Fiona looked up at him, puzzlement etched over her shadowed features, and nodded. “You met him?”

  “No, I didn’t meet him—but all the ladies were gushing on about him.”

  Fiona grinned, nodding in agreement. “Yes, he does tend to have that effect on the ladies. Well, I’m not complaining—it can’t be a bad thing for business, can it?”

  She stepped away from the door and turned to walk past him. “My car is parked in the alley around back. I’m really glad you’re here to walk me back there since Dylan’s gone.” She tossed him a warm smile and slipped past, back onto the sidewalk.

  Gideon felt outrage bubbling in his veins, but he mutely turned to follow her. So he was an acceptable escort when her boy toy wasn’t around, was he? A mere stand-in?

  He wondered furiously whether their back-room embraces meant anything in light of the fact that she’d been kissing her assistant earlier in the evening. His mouth settled into a hard line as he stalked just behind Fiona when she turned into a narrow but well-lit alley between two storefronts. The thought of her passionate, pliant, willing responsiveness under another man’s mouth infuriated him, driving coherent thoughts from his mind.

  The only thing that stayed there, the pinpoint of lucidity in his haze of anger, was the need to remind her of those moments—to mutilate any last trace of Dylan’s kiss on her lips, and replace it with his own…and to make her understand that he wanted more from her. And despite her silly “sex complicates things” motto, he was going to get it.

  Fiona rounded the sharp corner to the alley that led to the back entrance of her shop, walking as quickly as she could. She felt him behind her, and her skin prickled with anticipation. She though
t about how it was going to feel—pressed up against the side of her little VW, sandwiched between it and the hard, muscular frame of Gideon, his mouth on hers and his hands everywhere else.

  He was going to kiss her—and if he didn’t, she would kiss him—and after that…well, she couldn’t make that decision right at this very moment. She was too nervous, too on-edge to think about where this could lead…and whether she wanted to take that step.

  “Fiona!” He caught up with her in the middle of the alley, a narrow, brick-walled passage just wide enough for a car to pass through. A glimmer of streetlight cast shadows and shards of light down upon them. At the end of the alley, in the small loading area behind Charmed Antiquity, Fiona could see her VW Beetle gleaming like a sleek lemon drop in the moonlight.

  She didn’t need to turn, for his hand closed over her arm and tugged her, firmly, around to face him. The intensity in his eyes shocked her, sending a thrill of sensation—and a bit of nervousness—through her belly. “Are you going to kiss me now?” she asked, attempting to cover her momentary jolt. “I was hoping you would.”

  Gideon stilled as his fingers closed around her arms and he glowered down at her, obviously astonished by her flippancy. His mouth settled into a slashing black line, shadowed by the uneven light, and the slight movement in the shape of his jaw indicated the control he was having to exert. “Is that what you say to all your boy toys?”

  “Boy—?” Fiona choked on her surprise as he reeled her in to him, smothering her abrupt confusion with those hard, persuasive lips. Temptation won out, and she allowed her mouth to mold to his for the briefest of moments before reminding herself that he’d made some off-the-wall accusation, and pulled sharply away.

  “What do you mean, boy toy?” she demanded, stepping back as far as his arms would allow. The further away from temptation, the clearer her mind would be.

  “Your little smurf, Dylan. And Barnaby Forth. And whoever else you may have stringing along. I don’t count myself in that line-up, by the way.”

  He was angry—that kiss had not been one of uncontrolled passion, Fiona realized, but one borne out of fury and frustration. Even so, it left her hot and fluttery—wanting more.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, garnering her indignation—which was difficult in light of the fact that what she wanted mostly to do was step back into his arms. “That’s one of the most nonsensical comments I’ve ever heard you make, and if you really believe that, then you’re degrading yourself as well by kissing me.”

  She yanked out of his loosening grip and planted her hands on her hips. “Let’s get one thing straight, Hollis Gideon Nath—I don’t keep a line-up of men…although I suppose it’s rather a compliment that you think I’d be able to.”

  She considered that briefly, then shook off the intriguing thought and returned to the matter at hand by thumping a forefinger in the center of his well-defined chest. “If I choose to be involved with a man, that’s it—it’s him and no one else. Unlike yourself, I might add, who seems to be alternating weekends between myself and Leslie van Dorn!”

  The reminder of the elegant Leslie piqued her anger even further, and she would have finished ripping him into little man-shreds had he not taken a step toward her. She felt the presence of the brick wall behind her, brushing it with her fingers, but she did not feel trapped.

  “Don’t call me Hollis,” he said from between clenched teeth just before he descended on her again.

  She should have continued to berate him, she should have insisted that he apologize for such a rude comment…she should have stayed in control, walked away…but she didn’t. She let go.

  Dropping her one-ton leather bag, Fiona slipped her arms up around Gideon, smoothing her fingers down the sides of his warm neck and over the breadth of his wide shoulders, thinking vaguely that it was odd—scary, almost—that she should be so affected by his kisses, and the closeness of his body.

  But she didn’t care to examine the situation too closely. Instead, she concentrated on him, on the skillful way his mouth moved on hers, and every plane and angle of his body, and that of the wall behind her now, the ridges of brick pressing into her spine.

  He must have realized she wasn’t going to push away, and Gideon released her arms, planting his hands on either side of her shoulders, pinning her back against the rough wall with his mouth and thighs. Fiona shifted, kissing him back, pushing her breasts up into him so that he exhaled long and raggedly as he trailed his lips along her jaw-line.

  “Fiona….”

  “Ever made love in the back of a VW bug?” she murmured with a husky chuckle that ended in a gasp as he circled his tongue around her ear. “Gideon . . .” she began, but then forgot what she was going to say as he returned to taste her mouth again. His hands had long since left their anchor on either side of her, and were deftly unbuttoning the back buttons of her pantsuit top.

  He slipped those long, elegant fingers up under the linen, smoothing them over the satin of her bra, then under it, stretching under it, to hold her nipple-hard breasts in his hands.

  The cooling night air breezed over her hot skin through the open back of her shirt, and the sandpaper roughness of the bricks grazed her bare back, but Fiona was conscious of little other than what his fingers were doing to her body. She was just about to yank his shirt open—damn the buttons—when there was a crash, followed by a shrill alarm.

  Gideon whirled around to look toward the back entrance of the shop. “What the hel—”

  “That’s my alarm!” Fiona started toward the rear door.

  Just then, a figure burst into view from the back of the store, started toward them, then whirled to run in the opposite direction. Gideon was after him in a flash, with Fiona stumbling behind in her high heels.

  “Hey! Stop!” she shrieked as Gideon tore along, gaining on the intruder and leaving her far behind.

  She hurried after them, damning herself for the little bit of fashion sense she’d chosen to follow this evening, but unwilling to kick off her shoes and run barefooted through a back alley. She saw Gideon disappear around the corner of the opposite end of the alley and sped up her pace. Her foot landed awkwardly on a stone or some odd object, wrenching her ankle enough to bring her to a wincing halt.

  She forced herself to hobble along at a much slower pace, realizing belatedly that the cool breeze on her back was due to the fact that the top of her pantsuit was unbuttoned. She angled her hands up behind her, fumbling to connect at least one button before the whole thing fell off as she rushed to catch up to her date.

  When she finally rounded the corner around which he’d disappeared, she nearly ran into him. “What happened?” she exclaimed, breathing heavily, looking around past him. “Did he get away?”

  Her hands landed on the center of his chest, and she felt it rising and falling rapidly. Only then, when he didn’t reply, did she look up to see a dark stream running down the side of his face, and the hand he had pressed to his head.

  “Gideon! What happened?” she cried, pulling his hand away.

  “Don’t fuss,” he muttered, replacing his hand back onto some type of wound. “Let’s get back to your shop and see what damage he did.” His voice, though weaker than usual, still held the stilted command of a man used to no-nonsense—and dripped with self-disgust.

  “He crowned me as I came around the corner—caught me right in the gut, then knocked me against the brick edge there.” He had begun the walk back to the shop, and Fiona could do little but walk along with him.

  “Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere else?” She wrapped her arm around his waist as though to support him, already feeling guilty that he should have been hurt.

  “I said don’t fuss,” he repeated, but he did not move away from her embrace. In fact, he may have shifted a bit closer to her. “I didn’t get a look at the guy at all—did you? Just that he was fairly tall, and average build. Fat lot of good that’ll do us.”

  They had reached the back of the
store now, and Fiona saw that the bathroom window next to the back door was shattered where someone had obviously tried to break in. “Good thing Dylan set the alarm,” she commented, moving forward to be certain the door hadn’t been jimmied. The opening of jagged glass was much too small for any person to pass through. Since the alarm had gone off just after the window was broken, the intruder obviously never made it inside the store.

  That was also the conclusion of the police officers, who arrived moments later, having been notified by the alarm system. The store was still locked up tightly, and since nothing was taken and the break-in hadn’t been successful, the incident would go on file as vandalism and suspected attempt of breaking and entering.

  Through the whole conversation with the law, Gideon had leaned propped against the side of Fiona’s yellow Beetle, holding a rumpled handkerchief to his head and refusing to allow Fiona to minister to him. “Finish up with this first,” he snapped once when she tried to pry it away to look at it.