The Dream Unfolds Page 9

  He gestured toward the desk. “Be my guest. I won’t say a word.”

  “I can’t work with you here.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’ll distract me.”

  “You don’t have to look at me.”

  “I’ll see you anyway.”

  “Ahh.” He sighed. “A confession at last.”

  She blushed, then scowled in an attempt to hide it. “Gideon. Please.”

  Coming forward, he put his elbows on his spread thighs and linked his hands loosely between his knees. His voice went lower, his eyes more soulful. “It’s been just over a week since I’ve seen you, but it feels like a month. You look so pretty.”

  Chris was wearing a burgundy jumper that she’d pulled from the closet, and a simple cream-colored blouse with a large pin at the throat. It was one of her oldest outfits. She didn’t think she looked pretty at all and was embarrassed that he should say it. “Please, Gideon.”

  But he wasn’t taking back the words. “I think about you a lot. I think about what you’re doing and who you’re with. I think about—wonder about—whether you’re thinking of me.”

  She shut her eyes tight against the lure of his voice. “I told you. Things have been wild.”

  “But when you’re home alone at night, do you think about me then?”

  She pressed two fingers to her lips, where, just the night before, she’d dreamed he’d kissed her. From behind the fingers, she breathed a soft, “This isn’t what I want.”

  “It’s not what I want, either, but it’s happening, and I can’t ignore it. I feel an attraction to you the likes of which I haven’t felt in years. I’ve tried to hold back, Chris. I tried not to come today because I know how you feel. But I’m not real good at waiting around. Call it impatient or domineering or macho, but I’m used to taking the lead. I want to see you again.”

  Anthony Haskell waited around, Chris realized. Anthony waited around all the time for her to beckon him on, but when she did, there was never any heat. There was heat now, with Gideon. She felt it running from her head to her toes, stalling and pooling at strategic spots in between.

  Needing a buffer, she took refuge in the large chair behind the desk. “I thought we agreed to talk on Thursday,” she said a little shakily.

  “We did. And we can. But you’re right. I didn’t come to talk about the Rise. And I don’t really want to talk about it on Thursday. There’s nothing pressing there, certainly nothing that can’t wait until the beginning of January, especially if you’re as busy now as you say.”

  “I am busy.”

  “I believe you,” he said genially. “But you have to take a break sometime. Why can’t you take one with me?”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Why not?”

  She could think of dozens of answers, none of which she was ready to share.

  Gideon didn’t have that problem. “Don’t you like me?”

  She scowled. “Of course, I like you. If I didn’t, I’d have already called the police to kick you out. You’re interfering with my business.”

  “Do I still make you nervous?”

  “Not nervous. Exasperated. Gideon,” she begged, “I have to work.”

  “Do I excite you?”

  “Yeah, to thoughts of mayhem.” She glowered at him. “This isn’t the time or place for a discussion like this.”

  “You’re right. Let me take you to dinner tonight.”

  She shook her head.

  “Tomorrow night, then. Come on, Chris, you have to eat.”

  “I do eat. With my family.”

  “Can’t they spare you for one night?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then let me come eat with you.” He seemed to warm to the idea once it was out. “I’d like that. I mean, I’d really like it. Big family dinners are something I always wanted but never had. I’ll bring flowers for your mom. I’ll bring cigars for your dad—”

  “He doesn’t smoke.”

  “Then beer.”

  “He doesn’t drink.”

  “Then cashew nuts.”

  She shook her head. “Sorry. Doctor’s orders.”

  Gideon looked appalled. “The poor guy. What does he do for the little joys in life?”

  “He sneaks out to the kitchen when he thinks none of us is looking and steals kisses from my mom while she does the dishes.”

  That shut Gideon up. For a minute he just stared at her as though he couldn’t grasp the image. Then his expression slid from soft to longing. “That’s nice,” he finally said, his voice a little thick. “I’m envious of you all.”

  Chris was beginning to feel like the worst kind of heel. If she was to believe Gideon’s act, he was all alone in the world. But he dated, he dated a lot. And he had a mother in California. Maybe even a stepfamily. No doubt there would be numerous brightly wrapped gifts under his Christmas tree. So why did he look as though spending a little time with her family might be the best gift of all?

  “Look,” she said with a helpless sigh, “my parents have a Christmas open house every year.” It would be packed. She could do her good deed, ease her conscience and be protected by sheer numbers. “It’s this Sunday. If you want, you could come.”

  He brightened. “I’ll come. Tell me where and when.”

  Taking a business card—deliberately, as a reminder of the nature of their relationship—she printed the address on the back. “It runs from three to seven, with the best of the food hitting the table at six.”

  “What should I wear?” he asked as he rose from the sofa to take the card.

  “Something casual. Like what you wore to lunch last week.”

  He looked at the card, then stretched a little to slide it into the front pocket of his jeans. Chris was barely recovering from the way that stretch had lengthened his body when he turned, grabbed his coat and threw it on. For a split second his sweater rose high enough to uncover a sliver of skin just above his jeans. In the middle of that sliver, directly above the snap, was a belly button surrounded by whorls of dark hair.

  She felt as though she’d been hit by a truck.

  Oblivious to her turmoil, Gideon made for the door. Once there, he turned and gave her an ear-to-ear grin. “You’ve made my day. Made my week. Thanks, Chris. I’ll see you Sunday.” With a wink, he was gone.

  * * *

  Five days was far too soon to see him again, Chris decided on Sunday morning as she pulled on a sweatshirt and sweatpants and went to help her mother prepare for the party. He was still too fresh in her mind—or rather, the effect he had on her was too fresh. Every time she thought of him, her palms itched. Itched to touch. Itched to touch hair-spattered male flesh. And every time she thought of doing it, she burned.

  She didn’t know what was wrong with her. For fifteen years, she hadn’t felt the least attraction to a man, and it hadn’t been deliberate. She was with men when she worked. Her dad had men over. So did her brothers. But none had ever turned her on, it was as simple, as blunt as that.

  What she felt for Gideon Lowe made up for all those chaste years, so much so that she was frightened. She sensed she’d need far more than crowds to lessen the impact he had on her. She only prayed he’d arrive late to coincide with the food. The less time he stayed, the better.

  * * *

  Gideon would have arrived at three on the nose if it hadn’t been for his truck, which coughed and choked and balked at having to go out in the cold. He called it every name in the book as he worked under its hood, finally even threatened to trade it in for a sports car. That must have hit home, because the next time he tried it, the engine turned smoothly over and hummed nicely along while he went back into the house to scrub his hands clean.

  It was three-thirty when he pulled into the closest spot he could find to the address Chris had written down. The street was pretty and tree lined, though the trees were bare, in a neighborhood that was old and well loved. Wood-frame houses stood, one after another, on scant quarter-acre lo
ts. Their closeness gave a cozy feeling that was reinforced by wreaths decorating each and every door and Christmas lights shining from nearly every window. None of the houses was large, including Chris’s parents’, but that added to the coziness.

  From the looks of things, the party was in full swing. The front door was open, there were people preceding him up the walk, and the side stoop was occupied by a group of college-age kids who seemed oblivious to the cold.

  Leaving his truck, he followed the walk to the door, dodging two young girls who darted out of the house to join their friends. Once on the threshold, he felt a little unsure for the first time since he’d bulldozed the invitation from Chris. He’d gone to parties at the homes of people far more wealthy and influential, but none mattered more to him than this one.

  He assumed that he was looking a little lost, because he barely had time to take more than two steps into the house when he was greeted by a tall gray-haired man. “Welcome,” the man said in a voice loud enough to be heard above the din. “Come on in.”

  Gideon extended his hand. “Mr. Gillette?”

  “That I am,” the man said, giving him a hearty shake, “but probably not the one you want. I’m Peter. If you’re looking for my brother Frank, he’s mixing the eggnog, which is real serious business, so I’d advise you to leave him be. If he messes up, we all lose out, if you get my drift.”

  “Actually,” Gideon said, searching for a blond head among those crowded into the living room, “I’m looking for Christine. I’m a friend of hers, Gideon Lowe.”

  “Even better,” Peter said with a broad grin. “Tell you what. Why don’t you hang your coat up in the closet while I go find her.”

  Gideon was already working his way out of the leather jacket. “That’s okay. I’ll go.” Spotting a hook at the end of the closet, he freed himself of the jacket. “Which direction?”

  Peter looked first toward the dining room on the left, then the living room on the right, then back toward the dining room. “The kitchen, I guess. If she’s not helping Frank, she’ll be helping Mellie.” He pointed through the dining room. “That way.”

  With a nod, Gideon started off. The dining room was filled with people helping themselves to drinks and the small holiday cookies and cakes that covered plate after plate on the table. At one end was a huge punch bowl, into which a man Gideon assumed to be Frank was alternately pouring eggnog and brandy. He was a good-looking man, Gideon thought, tall and stocky, with salt-and-pepper hair and a ruddy complexion. Despite the good-natured coaxing and wheedling of several onlookers, he was concentrating solely on his work.

  Gideon inched between two people here, three others there, until he’d made his way to the far end of the dining room and slipped through the door into a small pantry that led to the kitchen. There he saw Chris. She was standing at the counter by the sink with her back to him. Beside her was the woman who had to be her mother, if the similarity of height, build and coloring were any indication. They were slicing hot kielbasa, putting toothpicks in each slice, arranging the slices on a platter.

  Coming up close behind Chris, he bent and put a gentle kiss beneath her ear.

  She cried out and jumped a mile, then whirled on him in a fury. “Gideon! Don’t ever do that again! My God—” she pressed her hand to her heart “—you’ve aged me fifteen years.”

  He gestured toward her mother, who was eyeing him curiously. “If this lovely lady is any indication of what you’ll look like fifteen years from now, you’ve got it made.” He extended his hand toward Mellie. “Mrs. Gillette?” There was no mistaking it. The eyes were the same, the hair, the mouth. Chris was slimmer and, wearing loose pants with a tunic top, more stylishly dressed, but they were very definitely mother and daughter.

  “Gideon…?”

  “Gideon Lowe, Mom. He’s the builder for Crosslyn Rise and may well be the death of me before I even get to the project.” She scolded him with her eyes, then her voice. “I thought you were coming later.”

  “You suggested six if I was starved. I figured I’d give myself a while to build up to that.” He shook Mellie’s hand warmly.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lowe.”

  “Gideon. Nice to meet you, too, ma’am.” He let her take her hand back and return to her work. “This is quite some party.” He looked down at the platter. “Can I help?”

  “No,” both women said at the same time.

  Chris elaborated. “Men don’t cook in my mother’s kitchen. My father does the eggnog, but not in here. Men are good for cleaning up. That’s all.”

  “And a few other things,” Mellie added softly, almost under her breath. Then she looked straight at Gideon and spoke up, “But I don’t want you in here. You’re a guest. Christine, leave these now. I’ll finish up. Take Gideon out and introduce him around.”

  Gideon thought Chris was going to argue, but even he could see that Mellie wasn’t taking no for an answer. So she washed and dried her hands, then led him through another door into a hallway that led back to the front. This hallway, too, was crammed with people, giving Gideon ample excuse to stay close to Chris.

  “You look fantastic,” he murmured into her ear as they inched their way along.

  “Thanks,” she murmured back.

  “You taste even better.”

  “Oh, please,” she whispered, but before he had a chance to come back with anything wickedly witty, she half turned, took his elbow and drew him alongside her. “Gideon, this is my brother Steven. He’s a junior at U. of Mass. Steven, meet Gideon Lowe, a builder I work with.”

  Gideon shook hands with a blond-haired young man who also had the family features. “You must be one of the basketball fanatics,” he said, noting that Steven stood nearly as tall as he did.

  Steven grinned. “You got it. You, too?”

  “You bet. If not for this gorgeous sister of yours, I’d be at the game right now.” Leaning close, he asked out of the corner of his mouth, “Any fix on the score?”

  In every bit as low a tone, Steven answered, “Last time I checked, the Celts were up by eight. Game’s on upstairs, if you want.”

  Gideon slapped his shoulder and straightened. “Thanks for the word. Maybe later.”

  “Don’t you dare go up and watch that game,” Chris warned, leading him on by the hand. “That would be very rude.”

  “Keep holding my hand,” he whispered, “and I’ll stay right by your side.” He raised his voice. “Ah, here comes another brother.”

  Chris shot him an amused grin. “This is Jason. He works with Dad. His wife’s over there—” She stood on tiptoe, looking around, “Jase, where’s Cheryl?”

  Jason shook hands with Gideon. “Upstairs nursing the baby.”

  “Gideon Lowe,” Gideon said. “What baby?”

  “A little boy,” Chris explained. “He’s their first.”

  “Hey, congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” Jason said, but he had something else on his mind. “Chrissie, you seen Mark? He parked that rattletrap of his in the driveway in back of the Davissons and they have to leave.”

  “Try the front steps. Last I knew he was holding court out there.” Jason promptly made for the door, but before Chris and Gideon could make any progress, a loud cheer came from the dining room. Seconds later, a grinning Frank Gillette emerged through a gauntlet of backslapping friends. When he caught sight of Chris, his eyes lit up even more.

  “Go on in and try it, honey. They say it’s better than ever.”

  “I will,” Chris said. Her hand tightened on Gideon’s. “Dad, I’d like you to meet Gideon Lowe. He and I work together.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Frank said, “and glad you could come.”

  “It’s kind of you all to welcome me.”

  “Any friend of Chrissie’s, as they say. Hey, Evan,” he called, “get over here.” Seconds later, he was joined by another fair-haired son. “Evan, say hello to Gideon Lowe. Gideon, this is my second oldest son, and his fiancée, Tina.”

&
nbsp; Gideon smiled and nodded to them. Waving, they continued on into the living room. Gideon was beginning to wonder how Chris kept her brothers apart when yet another stole by. This one was younger and faster. He would have made it out the front door if Frank hadn’t reached out and grabbed his arm. “Where you off to so fast?”

  “I want to see Mark’s friends. Steve says there’re a couple’a cool girls out there.”

  Chris grinned up at Gideon. “That’s Alex, the baby.”

  Alex looked instantly grieved. “Come on, Chris. That’s not fair. I’m fifteen. Besides, I’m not the baby. Jill is.”

  “Jill?” Gideon asked. Chris had said there were six kids in the family. He was sure he’d already met ten. “There’s another one?”

  “Yeah,” Alex said, “and there she is.” He pointed to the girl coming down the stairs. While everyone looked that way, he escaped out the door.

  “Come over here, girl,” Frank said, but it was to Chris’s side that the girl came.

  Accordingly Chris was the one to make the introduction. “Say hi to Gideon,” she told Jill. “He’s the builder for Crosslyn Rise, but be careful what you say. He’s also on the consortium.”

  Jill grinned. “Ah, he’s the one?”

  “He’s the one.”

  Gideon couldn’t take his eyes off Jill. With her long brown hair and her large brown eyes, she was different from every other Gillette he’d met. A beauty, she looked to be at least seventeen, yet Alex had called her the baby, and he was fifteen. Gideon wondered if they were twins, with Jill the younger of the two by mere minutes. She couldn’t possibly be fourteen.

  He stuck out his free hand. “Hi, Jill.”

  For a split second she seemed a little shy, and in that second he almost imagined she could be younger. Then she composed herself and gave him her hand, along with Chris’s smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  “The pleasure’s mine. It’s not often that I get to hang around with two gorgeous women.”