Two of a Kind (Fool's Gold #11)

Gideon gave her a slow smile. “You’re not boring. I like that.” He glanced at the trees. “I have a lot more respect for the California black oak than I did.”


She wasn’t sure if he was teasing her in a gentle, “I like you” way or making fun of her. She hoped it was the former.

A young woman in black pants and a white shirt walked toward them. “Good evening. Thanks for joining us for dinner. I’ll be your server. Tonight we have several specials along with three different wine flights.”

She explained about the wine choices. Felicia and Gideon decided they would each try the red wine flight and ordered a selection of appetizers to start.

“How’s the new job going?” he asked.

“I’m still adjusting and learning. I went to the X-treme Waterski festival with Pia. She walked me through what happened before, during and after.” She paused, wondering how honest she could be.

“What?” he asked.

“It was disorganized. Some of the booth placements surprised me, and the bathroom situation wasn’t efficient.”

She smoothed her napkin again. “I liked meeting the competitors. They’re remarkably skilled. While I understand the physics of waterskiing, I doubt it’s something at which I could succeed.” She wrinkled her nose. “In fact, I picture myself falling over and over.”

“You’d look good in a bikini, though.”

Felicia opened her mouth, then closed it. She felt heat on her cheeks. The involuntary response to unexpected attention, she thought. Or perhaps it was the sexual innuendo in the compliment. The pleasure of knowing he enjoyed her body.

“A one-piece bathing suit is more practical for sports.”

He sighed heavily. “Well, if you have to be practical.”

She laughed.

The server appeared with five glasses of wine for each of them. There was only a small amount in each. She explained about the various wines and then laid out the appetizers and left.

“Dinner’s gotten complicated,” Gideon said.

“The different wines and foods allow us to find the most pleasing combinations. Salty with sweet, spicy with acidic and so on.” She pressed her lips together. Not every conversation has to be a lecture, she reminded herself. “Sorry.”

He frowned. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I have too much information in my head. Not everyone wants to know that the phrase ‘Get your ducks in a row’ in Latin is Instrue omnes anates tuas in acie.”

He picked up the first glass. “I’ll sleep better with that information.”

“You’re just being nice.”

“Ask around, Felicia. I’m not nice.”

“Actually you are. The people in town think well of you.”

She watched him as she spoke, noting the moment he stiffened, as if finding himself in a trap.

“That compliment doesn’t make you happy?”

“No.”

His honesty surprised her. “Because you’re not capable of fitting in and if they think you do, they’ll expect too much?”

He studied her. “Got it in one. I should remember you’re familiar with the warrior psyche.”

“As much as I can be. I’m not one of those who believes that men and women have the same neurophysiology. Our brains are wired very differently, and because of that, we process information differently. But I was with the military long enough to have a working knowledge of how soldiers think and react.” She paused. “As much as one can generalize from the group to the individual.”

She put down her glass of wine and thought briefly about running. Anywhere would work, as long as it wasn’t here.

“I’m doing it again,” she murmured. “I’m nervous. That seems to make the rambling worse.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself. I like the facts you share. It makes me think about my world in different ways.”

“Thank you.” She hoped he was telling the truth, because not everyone felt that way.

She thought about Denise Hendrix and how the other woman hadn’t seen her as a potential wife for either of her sons. “I believe I have a clear grasp on my personality flaws,” she told him. “Ignoring them won’t make me fit in.”

“Followed by a husband and children.”

“I’d like that, yes.” She took a sip of her wine. “Some of the scientists at the lab where I was raised had family. I remember how excited they got when a child was born or a milestone achieved. These were brilliant men who proudly talked about a baby’s first step or first word. We’re hardwired to want to procreate, to pass on our DNA. More than that, being part of a close group—a family—satisfies us emotionally. I’m sure you’ve heard about the studies that show people live longer when they have a community around them.”

“I’m not arguing your goals,” he told her. “Just how much effort you have to put into it.”

“You’re a strong, tall, good-looking man. You’d never lack for female companionship, and if you let it be known you wanted to get married, you’d have tons of women volunteering.”

He dodged the compliment by pushing the plate of bruschetta toward her. “Try it.”