A Fool's Gold Christmas (Fool's Gold #9.5)

She stared at him. “Excuse me?”


“It’s a breathing exercise. You work up to a count of ten or twelve, but that takes practice.”

“Seriously?”

Gideon surprised her by winking. “I have mysterious depths.”

“Apparently.”

He was casually dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She studied the part of the tattoo visible on his forearm and then looked into his dark, unreadable eyes. She could imagine Gideon doing a lot of things. Holding a gun, giving orders, riding a motorcycle, but she couldn’t picture him on a yoga mat practicing his breathing.

“Ex-military?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

Despite the three thousand, two hundred empty seats and the incredible list of things she had to get through between this moment and the performance, she laughed. “Because if you told me, you’d have to kill me?”

“Something like that.” He shrugged. “I’ve been places and done things. One day I decided I was done. When my tour ended I went looking for a way to make peace. With myself, at least, and maybe the world. I ended up in a shack in Bali.”

“Bali? Not Tibet?”

“I’m more a beach guy.”

“Nice work if you can get it.”

“There was a teacher there. He taught me—”

For a second something flashed through Gideon’s eyes. Evie couldn’t say what it was, but she would swear there was pain involved. Something cold and ugly that made her shiver. Then he blinked and it was gone.

“He taught me how to keep on moving forward,” Gideon continued. “When I left, I remembered a buddy of mine talking about this place. He grew up here, and when he talked about home, he made it sound like the only place worth living.”

“Who was the guy?”

“Ford Hendrix.”

“Oh. I know who he is. Well, not him, but his sisters.” She laughed. “Did he also tell you that living in this town is like trying to put a puzzle together? I wonder if I’ll ever get all the names straight. But I think my mom knows his mom. But he’s not here.”

“He’s still serving. He’ll be back soon.”

She thought about asking “back from where,” but reality returned in the form of all those empty chairs and a ball of panic bouncing off the walls of her stomach.

“Did I already mention I think I’m going to throw up?”

“Yes, but now I don’t believe you.”

“Fine. Risk your shoes. See if I care.” She shook her head. “Okay. I’m focusing. The changes in the script for the narration are great. I love them.” She pulled several sheets of paper out of her handbag and shuffled through them. “I want to make sure we’re on target with the transitions of the dancers. I’ve marked this copy with where I think the girls will be moving on and off the stage.”

He moved close and studied the pages. “Sure. I see what you’re doing. So you want me to pause until everyone is off stage before starting?”

“Right.” She glanced up at him. “You’re coming to the dress rehearsal, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “Give me your schedule. I’ll get to at least one other before then, so we can do a run-through from the top.”

“That would be great.”

* * *

DANTE WALKED INTO THE convention center, still not sure why he’d been summoned. Mayor Marsha had called and gone on about a large space and the sound system. Just when he’d started wondering how he was going to politely get her off the phone, she’d asked him to meet Evie right away. He’d agreed, grateful to be able to hang up.

Now he watched her up on stage, standing close to Gideon, their heads bent over sheets of paper. Evie pointed to something and Gideon nodded. His arm brushed hers as he took another paper and held it close to the first.

His head knew there was nothing between them. That Evie spent most nights in his bed, or he in hers. While neither of them was looking for a serious kind of relationship, they were, in the confines of what they had, monogamous. He’d considered himself civilized for many years now. Law-abiding. He was a lawyer, which made him, by definition, boring.

But deep inside, something stirred. Something heavy and ugly that wanted to propel him to the stage. He didn’t just want to step between them, he wanted to push Gideon away. He wanted to hurt the other man and then stand over his broken body and pound his chest as a sign of victory.

The flush of intense emotion faded as quickly as it had risen, but the remnants left him shaken. What the hell was he thinking? Beat up some guy and then do a victory dance? What was he, seventeen again? Mature, sensible people didn’t act like that. He didn’t act like that.

Evie said something he couldn’t hear, and Gideon walked away. A couple of seconds later, music filled the open space.

“That’s it,” Evie called and put down the papers. She shrugged out of her coat, revealing body-hugging dance clothes. As always, the sight of her body in all its perfection moved blood from his head to points farther south.