An Impromptu Proposal

by Carla Cassidy

  She nodded and smiled sheepishly. “To be perfectly honest, I feel better. I guess that cry had been bottled up inside for too long.” A blush swept over her face. “I’m sorry. I don’t often cry.”

  He believed her. He couldn’t imagine Colleen being the type of woman to use tears to exploit or control. “I saw the resident watchdog outside,” he said as he joined her at the table.

  “You mean Eddy? Yes, he stopped in and had a cup of coffee with me.” She smiled indulgently. “He’s something else. He told me he knew you’d be gone this morning so he wanted to guard the perimeters.”

  Gideon laughed and shook his head. “And he told me he was keeping an eye on the dame.”

  “He called me a dame?”

  “He reads too many Mickey Spillane novels.”

  “Then I suppose I can forgive him,” she said with a small laugh. “Where is his family? He seems to be rather alone.”

  “For all intents and purposes, he is. His house is about a mile down the beach.” He leaned back and propped his chair against the wall, the front legs off the ground. “His father is a truck driver, on the road most of the time. His mother is an alcoholic. If she’s home, she’s passed out.”

  “Eddy seems like a bright boy. It’s a shame he’s not going on to college or any kind of a trade school.”

  Gideon eyed her with a touch of humor. “Do I see the spinning of a social worker’s mind?”

  She shrugged and smiled again. “I’d at least like to talk to him about options.” She eyed him slyly. “Or you could. He seems to hang on your every word. You could be an important role model for him.”

  Gideon frowned, uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. His chair came down hard on the floor. “You don’t know anything about me. I’m the last person to be anyone’s role model. My life has already been pretty screwed up. Why would I want to take the responsibility for somebody else’s life?” He didn’t realize how angry he sounded until he saw her flinch. He raked a hand through his hair and drew in a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry. But you’re the social worker, not me. I’m the last person who should try to help anyone decide what’s best for them.”

  She nodded, her gaze not quite as warm on him as it had been moments before. For some reason Gideon felt as if he’d lost something. It irritated him. Suddenly she irritated him. He downed his coffee and stood up. “I spent the morning speaking with a friend of mine, a police officer. There have been hundreds of leads on Sam, but none of them led anywhere. I’ve got to tell you, Colleen, I’m not sure I can help you on this.”

  She jumped up suddenly. “I forgot to tell you, I think I have a clue to everything that has happened.” She walked over to the coffee table, picked something up, then approached him. She opened up her hand and showed him what she held.

  “Your necklace? What does that have to do with anything?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  He listened as she explained about her conversation with her sister. When she told him about the two stolen necklaces, Gideon felt a quickening of his pulse. He lifted the charm from the palm of her hand, his gaze on the scratches still vivid on her neck. Had this been the object the mugger had been after? Had the grab for her purse merely been a diversion?

  He looked at the necklace, a pretty piece, obviously expensive, but he couldn’t imagine how it could possibly be a part of any of this. Still…he flipped it over, squinting as he spied tiny writing across the bottom. “What is this?” he asked.

  Colleen looked at it in surprise. “I don’t know. I never noticed it before.”

  “I suppose it could be the artist’s signature,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Do you think this is all-important, or do you think it’s just coincidence that both Carolyn’s and Bonnie’s necklaces were stolen?”

  He frowned, his gaze once again going to the scratches around her neck. “This is one of those coincidences that just doesn’t feel right.” Once again he stared at the tiny writing across the bottom of the charm. He shook his head in frustration. “I can’t read it. It’s just too small.”

  “Do you own a magnifying glass?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “You know where your father bought these?”

  “I imagine he bought them all at Lowensteins in Manhattan. That’s where Dad always bought jewelry.”

  “Then perhaps we should take a drive into Manhattan. If we’re lucky we’ll be able to find some answers there.”

  “Should we invite Eddy to take the ride with us?” she asked.

  He looked at her sharply. “No. If you want to redeem Eddy, do it on your own time. Let’s go.” Without waiting for her, he went out the door. He knew he’d been brusque. Hell, he’d been nothing short of a bastard. But he had the distinct feeling Little Miss Social Worker wouldn’t be satisfied just offering help to Eddy. She would somehow get it into her head to redeem Gideon. She would never understand that he was a fallen angel. He was simply not redeemable.

  The drive to Lowensteins on Broadway would take just a little over an hour. The first half hour of the drive was accomplished in silence.

  Colleen couldn’t help it. His brusqueness before they left had hurt her feelings. Twice in the conversation he’d snapped at her, both times taking her by surprise.

  She found it interesting that each time he’d become short the conversation had involved Eddy and role models. She turned in the passenger seat and cast him a surreptitious gaze.

  On the morning she’d first met him, she’d thought he looked wild and half-crazy, with his intense eyes and unruly hair. She realized she now found his unmanageable hair sexy and his dark gaze intriguing. It held secrets she wanted to learn, experiences she wanted to share.

  Frowning, she turned to stare out the window, wondering what secrets of his past made him so afraid to reach out to anyone else. She had no doubt it was fear that had inspired his anger. He’d said his life was screwed up, and he didn’t want the responsibility of being Eddy’s role model. Her disappointment in him had taken her by surprise.

  She rubbed two fingers across her forehead where a dull ache had begun. With everything that was going on in her life, why on earth was she wasting time trying to figure out a licorice-chewing, recalcitrant man who was only in her life because she was paying for his time?

  Leaning her head against the seat, she released a deep sigh. She just wanted this over with. She wanted the real murderer of her father found. She wanted Sam home where he belonged, and she wanted to go back to the uncomplicated life she’d led before her father’s death.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” he said, breaking the silence that had filled the car.

  “I have a lot on my mind.”

  “Is part of what’s on your mind my poor manners?”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Perhaps,” she admitted.

  “I apologize for my flare of temper before we left. I just never expected my life to include being nursemaid to a lonely, ill-adjusted teenager.”

  “Lonely and ill-adjusted is a state of normalcy for most teenagers, and your apology is accepted.” She gazed at him curiously. “Didn’t you ever consider that you might one day be a father to a teenager?”

  “My visions of the future never carried me past having a kid in diapers.” His smile softened the tautness of his features, relaxed the lines around his mouth. “I thought about toddlers, even imagined Little League baseball and dance recitals, but I never thought about teenagers.”

  “How long were you married?”

  “Five years.”

  “Your wife couldn’t have children?

  His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white. “My wife wouldn’t have children. She was afraid she’d lose the figure that allowed her to wear her favorite designer gowns. I think I grieved the loss of the opportunity to have children more than I mourned the end of my marriage.” He cleared his throat. “What about you?”

  “Jesse didn’t hang around long enough for us to
have a family. We married and divorced the same year.”

  “That’s tough.”

  “Not really. In retrospect I think it would have been much tougher if Jesse had stuck around.” She looked at her hands in her lap. “From the way it sounds, we really should introduce our exes to each other. They sound very compatible.” She grinned and enjoyed the smile he offered back.

  They fell silent, but it was not the same strained silence that had filled the car before. It was comfortable, companionable. Colleen wanted to ask him more questions, delve deeper into his past, learn more about the woman he’d loved more than life, but she didn’t want to shatter the peace between them.

  Soon they were in the city traffic. As they drew closer to the jewelry store, Colleen reached up and clasped the necklace tightly in her palm. She was afraid they were on a wild-goose chase.

  She couldn’t figure out what was so important about a necklace that people might break into her home to get it, that somebody would attack her in broad daylight and try to rip it from her neck. Still, she couldn’t discount the coincidence of Caro’s and Bonnie’s necklaces being stolen.

  By the time Gideon found a parking space within a block of Lowensteins, Colleen was a bundle of nerves. As they stepped out on the sidewalk, Gideon reached for her hand. “I want you to stay close. We can’t take your safety for granted no matter where we are, until we get some answers.” As his hand enclosed hers, he looked at her in surprise. “Your hand is like ice.”

  “I’m nervous,” she admitted. “I keep wondering what the necklace has to do with anything. And is all this somehow connected to my father’s death or Sam’s disappearance?”

  He squeezed her hand. “One step at a time, Colleen. First we need to find out everything we can about the necklace.”

  “I know. I just want this all over. I want Sam home and my life back to normal.”

  “And I want the New York Jets to win a Super Bowl.” He smiled at her. “I guess we’ll both have to wait and see what happens.”

  “Ah, the Giants will win long before the Jets,” she replied.

  He looked at her in surprise. “You a football fan?”

  She nodded. “A rabid Giants fan.”

  The light conversation halted as they came to the door of Lowensteins Jewelry. Gideon released her hand and opened the door, and together they walked in.

  Immediately they were approached by a smiling salesman. “Good afternoon,” he said pleasantly. His sharp blue eyes behind his glasses took them both in. “Are we looking for something in particular today?” His smile widened. “Perhaps an engagement ring?”

  Colleen felt a blush stain her cheeks. “Oh, no…we aren’t…we don’t…”

  “We’d like to speak to a manager,” Gideon cut in smoothly.

  “I’m the manager. Jeffrey Rutherford, at your service,” he replied.

  “Mr. Rutherford, I suspect my father, Joseph Baker, bought this necklace from your store. We were wondering if you might possibly have any information about the transaction and the necklace.” As Colleen spoke, she took off the piece of jewelry and handed it to Jeffrey Rutherford.

  “Ah, a lovely piece,” he said, then looked at Colleen sympathetically. “I knew your father well. He was a good man.”

  Colleen nodded and swallowed around the lump that rose in the back of her throat. “Yes, he was.”

  “I vaguely remember the day your father came in and ordered this. There was more than one, wasn’t there?”

  “Four. He bought four of them,” Colleen replied.

  “Please wait here and let me check my records.” He handed Colleen the necklace then turned and disappeared into a back room.

  “I can’t imagine what he’s going to be able to tell us that will help,” Colleen said, a wave of helplessness sweeping over her. “I’m afraid this is all a wild-goose chase.”

  “Half of my work is chasing geese,” Gideon returned with a smile. “All it takes is one goose to show the way to the golden egg.”

  “My problem is I think I’ve lost track of what the golden egg is.” Colleen frowned. “At first the only thing I wanted was for Sam to come back. Now I want the real murderer found, I want to know who bugged my house. I want to know why somebody tried to tear that necklace off my neck.” She broke off in frustration. “I sound like a whining child.”

  “We all need to whine once in a while,” Gideon said. “At least you have very real reasons to whine.” He put an arm around her and gave her a hug.

  For a long moment Colleen remained in his embrace. Earlier when he had held her, she’d been too distraught to notice how very pleasant it was being in his arms. This time she reveled in the sensation.

  They fit well together, as if their bodies were interlocking pieces of a puzzle. She felt safe in his arms, his familiar scent surrounding her and the warmth of his body suffusing her. She turned her head into the hollow of his neck, enjoying the soft scrape of whisker stubble against her face.

  Jeffrey cleared his throat as he. walked into the room. Reluctantly Colleen stepped out of Gideon’s embrace.

  “I’m not sure exactly what you’re looking for,” he said, his attention focused on some paperwork he held in his hands. “I can tell you the charms were specially made here in the store by one of our master jewelers.”

  “Could we speak to that jeweler?” Gideon asked.

  Jeffrey looked pained. “I’m afraid that’s quite impossible. The charms were made by Roger Wiley, and tragically, Mr. Wiley died a month ago in a freak car accident.”

  Colleen looked at Gideon, who frowned thoughtfully. “Could you possibly take a look at the bottom of the back of the charm and tell us what’s engraved there?” Gideon asked.

  “Certainly.” Jeffrey disappeared once again into the back room, and reappeared a moment later with a jeweler’s loupe. Taking the charm from Colleen, he studied the writing through the loupe. “Hmm, it isn’t actual words, it appears to be a series of letters and numbers.” He looked at Colleen once again. “You know, now I vaguely remember Roger telling me about these charms. If I recall correctly, your father had different numbers and letters engraved on the back of each charm, and he insisted Roger not keep a record of any kind.” Jeffrey smiled sheepishly. “Roger found it quite odd and wondered if perhaps your father was under a lot of strain or something.”

  Gideon pulled a small notepad and a pen out of his pocket. “Can you read off those letters and numbers for me?”

  “Certainly.” Once again Jeffrey picked up the magnifying glass and the charm necklace. “M, P, 2, E, 6, C, V.” As he read off each letter and number, Gideon wrote them down in his notebook.

  “So what now?” Colleen asked moments later as she and Gideon got into the car.

  “We need to figure out what these numbers and letters mean. They don’t mean anything to you?”

  “Nothing.” Again despair swept through her. She sighed. “Somehow I feel like every day that passes, with every bit of new information we get, things only get more murky and confusing.”

  “My next concern is to find out the circumstances surrounding Roger Wiley’s death.”

  Colleen looked at him in surprise. “Do you think his death has something to do with all this?” A renewed horror chilled her, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

  “It just seems like another odd coincidence to me. A month ago Wiley dies in a freak accident. Three weeks ago somebody steals your sisters’ necklaces, then yesterday somebody tries to take yours.”

  Put together, it sounded ominous. A shiver worked its way up Colleen’s spine. “Gideon, I’m afraid,” she said softly.

  He started the car engine then turned and looked at her.

  For a moment his gaze lingered on her, warm and soft. “Colleen, there are a lot of things I would never promise to you. But this, I promise. I intend to keep you safe from harm.” His gaze lingered for another moment, this time hot and intense. He broke the gaze and put the car into gear.

  Colleen looked
at him for another long moment, a new, different kind of chill racing through her. Again she’d seen a hunger in his eyes.

  As they headed toward Long Island, Colleen stared out the window, a new, disturbing though in her head. While he was protecting her from everyone else…who was going to protect her from him?

  Chapter Eight

  A charm, a series of numbers and a dead jeweler. Colleen stood at the bedroom window, staring out at the moonlight, trying to put it all together in her head. It had been two days since they’d been to the jewelry store, two additional days and nights at Gideon’s.

  Gideon had learned that Roger Wiley’s car had been forced off the road by an unknown perpetrator. Unofficially it was being regarded as a murder. Unfortunately there had been no answers, no clues to let them know exactly what it all meant.

  The charm necklace rested in a safety-deposit box at a nearby bank. Until they knew exactly why it was so important, they had agreed it was best to leave the necklace there.

  Gideon had spent much of the past two days at the computer, linked onto various networks and hooked into different agencies, trying to figure out what the series of numbers on the back of the necklace meant. Each evening he’d been more frustrated than the last.

  Eddy had been in and out, his awkward charm growing on Colleen with each encounter. In truth, she’d found his presence comforting, easing the subtle tension between Gideon and herself.

  She turned away from the window, sleep even more elusive as her thoughts turned to Gideon. He was outside now, frustration evident as he paced the deck.

  Gideon. He confused her as much as anything. There had been times in the past two days that she’d felt his gaze on her, thoughtful and probing. Other times his eyes had followed her hungrily, and she’d known he wanted her.

  However, his desire frightened her because she didn’t know what motivated it. Was he capable of separating the woman Colleen Baker from the status and money her name brought with it?

  She should leave, go back to her duplex. Sooner or later she was going to have to return to her own life. It was possible Gideon might never be able to solve the mystery. She couldn’t hide out here forever.