Conflict of Interest. GINA WILKINS

      “No problem. I’m often the same way. Are you taking the call in here?”

      He nodded and reached for the phone.

      “I’ll hang up the extension in the kitchen,” she said, and let herself out of his office, closing the door behind her.

      He wasn’t an entirely hopeless case, she decided as she slipped the receiver quietly into its cradle and returned to her own work. He just needed someone to take him in hand and remind him about the manners his mother had no doubt tried to instill in him. Not that she had any interest in taking on such a project herself, of course.

      “She sounds nice.”

      Half his attention still focused on the words on his computer screen, Gideon frowned. “Yes, she’s nice. And, no, nothing interesting is going on here. She’s here to discuss business with me—which we’re going to do as soon as I finish this scene I’ve been struggling with for days.”

      “Yes, I know you want to get back to work,” his mother said with long-suffering resignation. “I simply wanted to check on things there. Did Isabelle sleep well? Did you have any trouble getting her to school this morning?”

      “As far as I know, she slept just fine. And she was only a few minutes late to school, which hardly justified the attitude I got from the old biddy who runs the place. It’s preschool, for crying out loud. What’s the kid going to miss if she’s a few minutes late? Advanced coloring class?”

      “Miss Thelma can be a bit…unbending,” Lenore acknowledged. “But she means well, Gideon. She’s an excellent administrator, and you can certainly understand that having her students there on time makes her schedule run more smoothly. Please try to be patient with her until I return, for Isabelle’s sake.”

      “When are you coming home?” he asked without making any guarantees about his patience. “How’s Aunt Wanda?”

      “Not good, I’m afraid. She went into shock before she was found, and you know her heart is bad. She’s in intensive care now.”

      “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, and the words were sincere. Though he wasn’t close to his maternal aunt, he knew his mother must be frantic with worry about her only sister. And, though he rarely expressed his feelings, he cared very deeply about his mother. “Do you need me to come there to help you with anything?” he offered a bit awkwardly.

      “No, darling, but thank you for offering.” Lenore sounded genuinely touched. “I know you’re busy with your book, and to be honest, the best thing you can do to help me now is to take care of Isabelle. I would hate to have to call Nathan and Caitlin home early from their honeymoon, unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

      “She’s no trouble at all,” Gideon said, especially with Adrienne here to help out, he silently added. He wondered how much longer he could delay his agent’s return to New York. After all, wasn’t it part of her job to make sure he finished his books in a timely manner?

      “I’ll call again tomorrow,” Lenore said. “And answer the telephone, will you? It could be an emergency at Isabelle’s school, you know.”

      He grimaced. “I’ll try to listen for it,” he promised without enthusiasm.

      He was definitely going to have to buy an answering machine.

      He couldn’t have said how much time passed before his work was interrupted again, by yet another knock on the office door. Scowling, he looked around. “What now?”

      Adrienne opened the door. “Sorry to interrupt again, but didn’t you say Isabelle gets out of school at two?”

      “Yeah. Why?” He glanced at his watch. It was already one-thirty. “Damn. I’m finally close to finishing this scene.”

      “Why don’t I go get her? The booster seat is still in my car, and I remember the way.”

      Tempted, he glanced from her to the screen again. “You’re sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

      “Not at all. Of course, you’d better call the school first and see if it’s okay. I’m a stranger to the staff. We can’t expect them to turn Isabelle over to me without authorization.”

      He reached for the phone. Five minutes and a few terse exchanges later, they had their approval. “You’ll have to show your driver’s license and this note,” he said, scrawling something on a sheet of unlined paper. “But you’re authorized.”

      She plucked the signed note from his fingers. “I’m on my way. It’s a good thing I brought an umbrella with me.”

      Only then did he become aware of the steady drumming rain against the office windows. “How long has it been raining?”

      “Almost an hour. According to the radio in your kitchen, we’re in for some downpours this afternoon and early evening.”

      “You’ll be okay picking up Isabelle?”

      “I’ll be fine. Finish your scene. You and I really need to talk business today. I have to get back to New York tomorrow.”

      He nodded. “We’ll talk as soon as you get back.”

      She really was being very helpful with Isabelle, he thought after she left, as he stretched a few kinks out of his shoulders. As eager as he was to get back to his normal routines, he rather wished Adrienne could stay as long as Isabelle did. He was sure that was the only reason he was so reluctant to see her return to New York.

      Listening to the steady fall of rain outside the office windows, he frowned, wondering if he should have insisted on going after Isabelle himself. He hoped Adrienne wouldn’t have any problems picking her up. And then he reminded himself that Adrienne had a stake in his finishing this book—after all, she didn’t get paid until he did.

      He put his hands to the keyboard again and let himself be drawn back into the world that existed solely in his mind.

      Emerging from her colorfully decorated classroom with a stream of other students, Isabelle greeted Adrienne with a bright smile. “Hi, Miss Corley. Did you come for me?”

      Adrienne returned the smile, pleased that the child seemed happy to see her. “Yes. Your brother is busy writing, so I volunteered.”

      Thelma Fitzpatrick, the gruff-voiced, squarely built owner of Miss Thelma’s Preschool and Daycare, hovered nearby with a frown on her irritable-grandmother face. “This is highly unorthodox,” she grumbled. “We are not accustomed to releasing our students to complete strangers.”

      Since Adrienne had already provided Gideon’s letter of authorization and her driver’s license, she didn’t know what else it would take to reassure the woman. “I respect your concern for your students, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. I know the McClouds must have the utmost confidence that Isabelle is safe here.”

      The woman folded her hands in front of her and eyed Adrienne with lingering suspicion. “I suppose we’ve done all we can, considering that her guardian is off on his honeymoon and her appointed caretaker had to leave town. Though I can’t imagine anyone leaving a small child with Gideon McCloud,” she added in a murmured aside.

      Immediately defensive on Gideon’s behalf—after all, he was her client—she smiled coolly. “Actually, I think she’s in very good hands with her brother.”

      “Humph.” The other woman was notably unimpressed. “You obviously don’t know him very well.”

      “Gideon’s taking good care of me, Miss Thelma,” Isabelle said earnestly, proving she had been playing close attention to the conversation. “He made me spaghetti for dinner last night.”

      “Yes, well…” Miss Thelma cleared her throat. “Go with Ms. Corley, Isabelle. I’ll see you in the morning. And don’t forget to bring a stuffed animal for our jungle party.”

      “I won’t forget.” Demonstrating that