Conflict of Interest (The McClouds of Mississippi) by Gina Wilkins Page B

statement and not to her errant thoughts. She cleared her throat. “In some ways, perhaps.”
    He sat on the couch, draping his arm over the back. “How’s your tea?”
    “It’s very good.” She took a sip of the cooling, interestingly flavored beverage.
    “It’s my mother’s favorite herbal blend. She keeps me stocked because she thinks I drink too much caffeine.”
    “Do you?”
    “Probably.”
    “Where’s Isabelle?”
    He glanced toward the doorway. “In my office. She wanted to draw pictures.”
    “She really is an amazing child. I know she’s only four, but she acts so much older. Her mannerisms, her vocabulary…everything about her.”
    “She’s spent almost all her life around adults. Her parents spent nearly every waking moment with her before they died. After that she lived with her maternal great-aunt in California for a few months until her aunt became ill and turned her over to my brother. I believe this preschool program is the first time she’s ever really been around other kids.”

    “She’s had a lot of tragedy in her short life, hasn’t she?” Adrienne murmured quietly.
    His face expressionless, Gideon nodded. “She’ll have a good home with Nathan and Caitlin. The three of them are crazy about each other. But then, Isabelle has known Nathan all her life, so she’d already bonded with him before she moved here.”
    A bit confused, Adrienne frowned. “She hasn’t known you all her life?”
    He looked toward the doorway again, so that all she could see of his face was the hard line of his jaw. “My father and I didn’t get along very well even before he dumped my mother and moved to California with his pregnant girlfriend, who he married just before Isabelle’s birth. I hadn’t seen him since he moved. He died in a tourist helicopter crash in Mexico last year.”
    The very lack of emotion in his voice made her throat tighten. Though he wouldn’t let it surface, she suspected he still harbored a great deal of emotion about his father—anger, an equal amount of pain and probably a few regrets. Because of her complicated and frequently acrimonious relationship with her own father, she could identify with his mixed emotions. The difference was that she still had some hope of settling things between her father and herself. Gideon’s last chance was gone.
    He nodded toward her elevated foot, abruptly changing the subject. “How’s your ankle?”
    “Sore,” she admitted, trying not to dwell on the discomfort.
    “Need another pain pill? I think it’s time for you to take one now.”
    “I’d rather not. They make me woozy.”
    “Isn’t it better to be woozy than in pain?”

    “It’s not so bad,” she lied, shifting her foot gingerly on the pillow. “I’ll put some more ice on it before I turn in.”
    “Maybe now is a good time to discuss the business that brought you here.” He looked as though he would rather undergo a root canal, but she could tell he was trying to feign interest for her sake.
    She nodded and began. “I had a long lunch with your editor last week, and she—”
    “Miss Corley! I made you a get-well picture.” Waving a sheet of paper in front of her, Isabelle dashed into the room. “I drew a bunch of them before I decided which one I liked best.”
    Adrienne made a point of admiring and praising the colorful, imaginative picture of rainbows and flowers and smiling animals that were certainly creative, if a bit hard to identify. The drawing was painstakingly signed with Isabelle’s name. “This is lovely, Isabelle. I’ll treasure it. Thank you.”
    Dimpling, Isabelle leaned over the arm of Adrienne’s chair to give her a hug. “Does it make you feel better?”
    Adrienne returned the hug with an unexpected rush of affection. “Much better.”
    Satisfied, Isabelle turned then to Gideon. “I’m still sort of hungry. Could I have a cookie for dessert?”
    He pushed himself off the couch. “How about two cookies and a glass of milk?”
    She