An Impromptu Proposal

by Carla Cassidy

  He walked into the office, unsurprised to find the small space filled with women and children. The receptionist looked harassed and exhausted despite the fact that it was only a few minutes after ten. “May I help you?” she asked as he approached.

  “I need to speak with Colleen Jensen,” he said, then jumped in surprise as somebody grabbed him around the knee. He looked down into the grinning, drooling face of a toddler who gripped his leg to steady his wobbly, chubby legs.

  “Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked. The phone rang and she answered it, holding up a hand to Gideon. “Do you have an appointment?” she repeated when she hung up the phone.

  “Uh, no, but I’m sure she’ll want to see me.”

  “Name?”

  “Bond…James Bond,” he answered with a cheeky grin. The receptionist obviously had no sense of humor. “Gideon Graves,” he added as she glared at him balefully.

  “Have a seat, and I’ll let you know when she’s available.”

  Gideon stood uncertainly, afraid to take a step and topple the toddler, who laced a string of drool from his knee to his ankle. Helplessly, he eyed the women, seeking the mother of the kid, but it was difficult to tell which of the dozen children belonged to which mother.

  He finally picked up the child, found an empty chair, then sat down and placed the kid on the floor in front of him. The little boy giggled, then crawled over to a woman reading a magazine.

  For a moment Gideon watched the child as he pulled himself up using his mother’s knees. He looked at Gideon and laughed again, as if inordinately pleased with himself.

  A piercing ache of banished dreams ripped through Gideon. He’d wanted children once, had hoped to build a family of laughing, happy offspring. How ever, like so many of his dreams, that one had also been stolen by Anne. Anne and her money.

  He frowned, shoving aside old memories, ancient bitterness. Instead he looked at his wristwatch, wondering how long he would have to wait before speaking with Colleen.

  It was a little over an hour later when his name was finally called and the receptionist showed him into Colleen’s tiny office. Twice in that hour she’d stuck her head out of the office, appealing for him to be patient.

  As he entered, she stood up, looking as frazzled, as tired as the receptionist had looked. “A person could grow old waiting to get in to see you,” Gideon said with a touch of irritation.

  “I apologize. It’s been a full schedule today, and I really didn’t think it was fair to see you before the clients who had appointments.” She motioned to the chair in front of her desk. “Please, sit down.”

  Gideon frowned. The office was far too small and filled with the lovely scent of her perfume. “It’s after eleven. How about we go someplace and grab a sandwich?” At least in a café or diner he would smell hot grease and sizzling meat instead of the mind-muddying fragrance of her.

  “I usually don’t go to lunch…” She looked at her appointment schedule. “I suppose I could take forty minutes or so.” She grabbed her purse and together they left the office and walked out to the sidewalk.

  “There’s a diner on the next block. That okay?” he asked.

  She nodded. “When I get a chance to have lunch, that’s usually where I go.”

  “You always have mornings as busy as this one?” he asked curiously.

  “I’d love to be able to say no, but unfortunately it was pretty typical of most mornings.” She smiled and shook her head. “We’re accustomed to functioning in an atmosphere that borders chaos.”

  “You like your work,” he observed.

  Her smile was full and warm. “I can’t imagine doing anything else for a living. There’s something very rewarding in knowing you’re making a difference in people’s lives, fighting hopelessness, alleviating despair.” She blushed, as if embarrassed by her zeal, and shook her head, causing her curls to dance impishly in the bright sunshine. “Sorry, I tend to be a bore when it comes to my love of my work.”

  “There’s nothing boorish about liking what you do,” Gideon returned. “I find that a rather admirable trait.” She blushed again, and Gideon found himself wondering how on earth a young woman who blushed so easily had ever gotten herself involved in an affair with Sam Baker.

  “What about you? Do you like your work?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “It’s all right,” he replied, grateful they’d reached the diner and no further answer seemed anticipated. It was a question he rarely asked himself.

  It wasn’t until they’d placed their orders and the waitress had departed that Colleen looked at him expectantly. “I assume there’s a reason for this meeting?”

  He withdrew a small notepad and a pen from his shirt pocket. “In order to find Sam, I need a little more information about him.”

  She frowned and again he sensed secrets in the depths of her smoky eyes.

  “What kind of information?” She averted her gaze from his and instead looked at the place mat.

  “What did Sam like to do in his spare time? Did he have hobbies? Close friends? Was there anyone who might have aided him in his disappearance?”

  Her frown deepened, creating a small furrow in the center of her forehead. Gideon fought the impulse to reach across the table and rub away the crease. Her skin looked so soft, so touchable. Instead he wrapped his hands around his water glass, irritated by his wayward thoughts.

  “Sam didn’t have hobbies,” she answered, finally looking at him once again. “And he didn’t really have close friends. He was kind of a workaholic.” She looked at her hands laced together on the tabletop, then at Gideon. “I hate this,” she said softly, her voice filled with emotion. “I’m talking about him in the past tense…like he’s dead.”

  “He might be.” Gideon didn’t say it to be unkind, but he also didn’t want to give her any false hope. Three months was a long time for a man to be on the run. Anything was possible. “Or he might just be very good at staying hidden,” he added, compelled to say something to reduce the grief that darkened her eyes.

  Their conversation halted long enough for the waitress to serve them. “Did Sam ever mention any place he’d like to visit?” Sam asked the moment the waitress had departed. “Was there a city, a state…a country he ever mentioned?”

  She shook her head. “Sam was satisfied with his life in the here and now. He never wanted to be anywhere else but with his family and working.”

  “And with you,” Gideon added.

  “Of course,” she replied quickly. She focused on her hamburger, meticulously picking off the onions before cutting it in half.

  “Don’t like onions?”

  “I love them.” She smiled. “But I’ll be spending the rest of the afternoon talking with clients in a very small office.”

  Gideon reached over and took the onions on the side of her plate and added them to his hamburger. “I love them, and I don’t much care if my breath is offensive.”

  “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” she observed with a small grin.

  He looked at her in surprise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Her smile lingered as she shrugged. “I just imagine you’re the kind of man who finds pleasure in being perverse.”

  “And what has caused you to think that?”

  “You ate my cinnamon knot last night knowing full well you intended to tell me you weren’t going to take the case.”

  Gideon laughed. “Guilty as charged,” he confessed, then sobered. “But I vindicated myself by changing my mind and taking your case.”

  She tilted her head and gazed at him curiously. “What did make you decide to change your mind?”

  There was no way Gideon could answer her truthfully. He couldn’t tell her he’d decided to take the case solely because of the emotional impact of her eyes. “Boredom,” he finally answered. “Besides, I never turn down a healthy fee,” he finished flatly, not wanting to invite any further personal questions from her.

  He suddenly realize
d he was beginning to like her, and it unsettled him. It had been a very long time since Gideon had liked anyone. He’d promised himself three years ago that he’d never care about anyone again. And he positively could not allow himself to feel anything for a client, particularly this one, who was obviously deeply, desperately in love with a missing man.

  Colleen immediately knew in some way she’d stepped over some personal boundary with her innocent question. She could tell in the way his features tightened, his eyes darkened and he focused on his meal. He’d withdrawn completely and totally, like a perverse flower closing its leaves to the warmth of the sun.

  No problem, she thought with a flicker of irritation. It had been an innocent enough question on her part. In truth, she didn’t much care why he’d decided to take the case. She just wanted him to find out if Sam was all right. That’s all she wanted from Gideon Graves.

  As they finished eating in silence, she cast surreptitious gazes at him, finding him a fascinating bundle of contradictions. He emitted the aura of unbendable strength, of self-containment, and yet something about him, some elusive quality hinted at a vulnerability deep inside him.

  His hair was unruly, as if it hadn’t received the benefit of a comb for days, and yet it shone with cleanliness. His posture appeared relaxed, but on closer inspection she noted a subtle tenseness, a studied watchfulness that betrayed his image of relaxation.

  Yes, an interesting bundle of contradictions. She flushed as his eyes met hers and a spark of unexpected warmth shot through her. Confused and surprised, she quickly broke the gaze and once again focused on her lunch.

  She was relieved when he began asking her more questions about Sam, although they were questions she felt helplessly inadequate to answer. For a moment she wondered if the best thing to do was to come completely clean, confess that Sam wasn’t her lover, but instead was her brother.

  She bit her tongue, refusing to give in to the impulse. That information was what had messed things up with the last three detectives. Besides, if he was really as good as he professed to be, he’d eventually discover her true relationship with Sam, but she hoped not before he’d gained the information she so desperately desired.

  “So when can I expect to hear something from you?” she asked as they walked to her office. She tried to ignore the way the sunlight stroked glistening highlights in his dark hair, the self-assured strides of his long legs, all the little personal nuances that merely added to his attractiveness.

  “I should have some kind of a preliminary report in a couple of days.”

  She nodded as they stopped walking and paused in front of her office building. “You’ll call me?”

  “As soon as I have something to report.” He hesitated a moment, looking at her as if she somehow held the last piece to a complex puzzle. “Tell me something, Colleen. You’re obviously an attractive, bright young woman. What did you hope to gain by your relationship with Sam Baker?”

  “What did I hope to gain?” She frowned thoughtfully, her gaze locked with his. “I just loved him.” When he looked at her skeptically, she continued, “Mr. Graves, my love doesn’t come with a price tag. I give it as a gift, expecting nothing in return.”

  He laughed, the unpleasant sound discordant with heavy cynicism. “I can’t figure you out. You’re either an accomplished liar or a naive fool.” Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked away.

  Colleen watched him, noting how his shirt pulled taut across the width of his shoulders and the way his tight jeans hugged his slender hips. He was definitely a sexy enigma. Just before he’d turned to walk away, Colleen had seen a glimpse of that elusive vulnerability in his eyes. It had been fleeting, but compelling.

  She’d spent the past two years since her divorce steering clear of men, especially ones like Gideon Graves. Her husband had been handsome to a fault, with that edge of simmering emotions that hinted at dangerous intensity. Heartbreakers. Her experience with her ex-husband had taught her to steer clear of that particular variety of man.

  She knew better than anyone that love often came with a price tag, but she had quickly learned her husband’s price was far too high.

  Frowning, she wondered what price Gideon had once paid. Whatever it had been, from his scornful smirks it had apparently also been too high. Or perhaps he simply believed her to be a bloodsucking mistress only interested in the expensive pretties her wealthy lover could buy her. He’d said she was either a liar or a fool for loving without demanding a price. Perhaps she was a little of both.

  What bothered her most was why she cared at all what Gideon thought of her. All she wanted from him was his expertise in finding out something about Sam. He would be in her life two weeks. She would pay him, then he would be gone. She would get what she wanted, information about Sam. And he would get what he wanted, a generous fee. An easy business transaction, nothing more, nothing less.

  As she turned to go into the building, she wondered why she had the sinking feeling that nothing was going to work out quite as easily as she hoped.

  Chapter Four

  Eddy was waiting for Gideon when he finally returned to the houseboat that afternoon. The skinny kid jumped from the plastic lounger on the deck, his face lighting up as Gideon approached.

  “Gideon, you won’t believe how much stuff I found at the library on the Baker case,” he exclaimed, and pointed to a stack of papers on the deck at his feet.

  “Bring them inside and let’s see what you’ve got.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open, waiting as Eddy gathered the material, then Gideon followed him inside.

  He grabbed a beer for himself and a soda for Eddy from the refrigerator, then joined the kid at the table where he had laid out the copies he’d made at the library.

  “This was a big murder case, Gideon,” Eddy explained, his face radiating excitement.

  “Murder is always big,” Gideon observed absently as he popped the tab on his beer can and took a deep swallow, trying to shove lingering thoughts of Colleen Jensen out of his mind.

  After he’d left her, he’d spent the rest of the afternoon taking care of the errands necessary in the daily routine of living. He’d taken a pile of clothes to the Laundromat that washed and folded, he’d paid another two months of berth space for the houseboat, and he’d chased down a client who owed him a final check for services rendered. And the whole time he’d been doing these mundane errands, his head had been filled with Colleen.

  Somehow, someway, something about Colleen Jensen had managed to crawl beneath the defenses he’d erected over the three years since his divorce.

  It couldn’t be that Colleen reminded him of the woman he had once loved. Physically Colleen and Anne were nothing alike. Anne had been a cool blonde, tall and willowy. Colleen was short, petite, and her dark hair and blue-gray eyes emitted vitality and an earthiness Anne had lacked. So what was it about Colleen Jensen that affected him so strongly?

  He normally prided himself on being a fairly good judge of character. He’d only been fooled completely once, and that had been by Anne. For the life of him, he couldn’t get a handle on Colleen Jensen.

  He didn’t know whether to believe that she was an innocent victim, a nice social worker who been taken advantage of by a wealthy, unscrupulous man, or a smart seductress who slept with Sam Baker to feather her nest with things she couldn’t otherwise afford.

  He tried to focus on the paperwork in front of him. He’d quit reading papers and watching the news a long time ago, when he’d found himself the subject of headlines. Seeing his own story twisted and turned by the media had bred in him an enormous mistrust of the press. Unfortunately, short of seeing the actual police records of the crime, the news articles were his only access to information.

  “It looks really bad for this Sam Baker guy,” Eddy said as he studied one of the papers. “It says here that a security guard at Baker Enterprises saw him running from the building minutes before Joseph Baker was discovered dead.”

  “Yeah,
it doesn’t look good,” Gideon agreed. As he read article after article on Joseph Baker’s murder and the subsequent disappearance of Sam Baker, he tried not to feel pity for Colleen. All the evidence pointed to Sam’s culpability, and even if the man was innocent, with so much evidence against him the odds were good that if he was found he’d probably spend the rest of his life in jail.

  “At first I couldn’t find anything written up on the Baker family,” Eddy explained as Gideon scanned page after page. “Although Joseph Baker made the financial news regularly. I finally decided to check the society pages and see if I could find anything there. On the bottom of the stack are photocopies of all the mentions the Baker family got in the society columns.”

  “Good work,” Gideon said, causing Eddy to beam with pride. “That’s it for today, Eddy. You can go on home,” he said, knowing it would take him some time to read through all the material, and that nothing more would be accomplished until he’d read everything.

  “You sure there’s nothing else I can do for you? I mean, I don’t have to be home at any special time.”

  Again Gideon felt a curious empathy for the kid. He knew Eddy’s father was a truck driver and his mother spent most of her evenings in a local tavern, rarely sober by the time she stumbled home.

  Yes, Gideon knew all about lonely nights. His life had been filled with them. Still, he was nobody’s keeper and refused to take on the responsibility of being Eddy’s hero.

  “Go on home, Eddy. I’ll have something for you to do in the morning.” He hardened himself against the yearning in Eddy’s eyes. Instead he focused his gaze on the papers before him.

  “Okay, good night, Gideon,” Eddy said softly as he walked out the door. When he was gone, Gideon reared back in his chair and took another deep swallow from his beer can.

  Sooner or later Eddy would realize Gideon was nobody to hang a hero hat on. Somewhere along the line the kid would hear the stories surrounding Gideon’s resignation from the police force. He would hear the tales of the fallen angel and eventually he would leave, just like everyone else in Gideon’s life.