The Artisans (22 page)

“It is my pleasure to go with you tomorrow. End of debate.” His eyes flare, colors intensifying. “Do we understand one another?”

The boy deals it back, and I’m in up to my keister. I shrug. “Have it your own way.”

His smile is devastating. “I usually do.”

Maggie glides into my bathroom in the tight, brown leather corset, complete with green, satin lace-up ties that I designed for her. She wears it over a cream peasant blouse and a short, peach tulle skirt with brown ankle boots. I can tell by the spring in her step she feels good in my clothes. She even dyed the strip in her hair peach to match. Her obvious happiness is the only good thing about tonight so far.

“Your hair is to die for done up like that.”

“Thanks,” I say with a flat tone. Maggie frowns. Always so good with hair and makeup, my friend outdid herself curling my hair into corkscrews. She pinned it up, allowing a few tendrils to fall down my neck in the back. “No, you did great, it’s just …”

“What?”

I toss my eyeliner in the sink as though it offends me and glare at myself in the mirror. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

Maggie stands behind me, staring at my reflection, daring me to meet her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Look, I don’t want to be Debbie Downer to your plans tonight, but the last thing I want to do is go to a dance with Gideon.”

“He really got to you in New York, didn’t he?”

Yes. “No.”

“I’m sorry.” Maggie’s voice is sympathetic. I don’t want her pity, and I can’t stand the thought he got the better of me. That his charisma had worn through my armor, and I’d actually thought about him as … as what? A hook-up, my boyfriend? I’m beyond lame.

“I know I agreed to all of this. To be civil, play a part, and pretend I’m happy about his supposed offer of help, but it’s way harder than I ever imagined. And I can imagine a lot.”

Maggie puts her hand on my shoulder. “Sorry. I really thought getting out tonight might be good for you. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks Mags, I know you understand, but now I have to go. Gideon made it pretty clear last night. You didn’t see him. He intimidates the crap out of me when he gets like that.”

“I’ve seen him in action, remember? Poor Stephen, I thought he might wet himself. Gideon has that whole animal magnetism thing going on. Exciting and yet sort of dangerous, too.”

“Dangerous, yes. I don’t know how exciting he is,” I lie. He’s unpredictable and exhilarating, the kind of attitude that makes girls all stupid and swoony. Even me. “I can’t be in ‘like’ with a guy like him.”

“Then we’ll go and make the best of the night. Ignore him and dance with us, okay? Besides, you look amazing. The boys will bust something over this outfit you’re wearing.”

That sounds about right. My dress is red, bustier style with a sweetheart neckline. I covered the push-up bust in pleated black damask netting with light padding for shape. The skirt flares from the waist to an uneven petal hem, and I added two layers of netting underneath for body. My clothes are what have value, not me as a person. Who was I kidding? It has always been about what I can do, not who I am. But whatever.

We head downstairs and find Dane waiting at the foot of the stairs. He stops pacing. His eyes rivet onto Maggie. She looks hot in my designs, if I do say so myself. I consider rolling Dane’s tongue off the floor and shoving it back in his mouth when he clears his throat. “Hi.” The crack in his voice is the cutest darn thing I’ve ever heard.

Dane wears tan, canvas duck pants with a white button-down and brown tweed waistcoat and boots. He’s gathered his gorgeous dreads in a leather tie at his nape. They cascade down his back in a dramatic statement. I dusted his jacket with chalk to make him look like a Steampunk cowboy who’s just ridden into town. He’s billboard worthy. If Maggie doesn’t
see
him tonight, she never will.

“Oh, you’re fantastic!” Maggie squeaks. Her cheeks color. “I mean, Rae’s clothes are. Fantastic. You look great.”

I hide a smile.
Vera nice
… maybe there is hope.

Jenny waddles into the room, bosoms jiggling. “Ooh, here you are. All my little lambs.” Dane’s brows lower as he glances my way. I’m not sure he’s okay with Jenny’s description. I wink, a signal to humor the old woman, but it’s hardly necessary. Dane adores her. “Now let me see you all together.” We obey and she clasps her hands beneath her chin. “Lovely. But where is the master? Jamis has gone for the car. You know how he hates to be tardy.”

“I’m here, and Jamis will survive, Jenny.” Cane in hand, Gideon descends the staircase like royalty. He’s all poise and unhurried ease wearing the clothes I’d sewn specifically for him last week. I’d given them to Jamis this morning, unsure if Gideon would even want to wear them, and
voilà
, he appears. A small masterpiece. I’d covered his long legs in slim, black pants under a coat with tails. A black leather vest with copper buckles and accents cinched over a button-down shirt. The fabric is thin and faded, with an old world map print design in the background and ruffled cuffs.

“Damn my eyes,” Mag’s whispers.

I take a deep breath.

Gideon nods to my friends, but doesn’t stop until he’s standing in front of me. “Raven.”

“Gideon.” My eyes narrow to slits.

A pause as we size each other up. “You are breathtaking.”

I nod. “You, too.”

“Will you take our picture with my phone, Jenny?” Mag’s asks the question, but neither Gideon nor I move a muscle.

“Oh, my goodness. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t know how!”

“It’s easy, Jen. Here, I’ll show you …”

A ghost of a smile plays at the corner of Gideon’s lips. He lowers his head, eyes glinting with humor. “I get the distinct impression, Miss Weathersby, that you are angry with me.” Another pause and he chuckles. “More angry than usual, and here I thought we were making some headway.”

I lift my chin, but that only brings his face closer. “You thought wrong.”

“Did I?” He’s smiling now. The insufferable, egotistical smile that turns my bones to jelly. His eyes flash as though I just challenged him to a duel. “We’ll see about that.”

***

We arrive at nine to a dance that started at seven. Perfect. Only two hours to endure until the end. We choose our seats, deposit our things on a cloth-covered table, and survey our surroundings.

The theme of this year’s dance appears to be the Zombie Apocalypse. Tattered sheets hang from the ceiling in strips. Bloodied manikins are strewn over the bleachers and hang from the rafters. Chaperones with white painted faces and blackened eyes line the walls of my school. Several rub their temples, as if the throbbing strobe lights threaten them with seizures.

A mob in the center of the basketball court dances to pounding music. “I love this song!” Maggie shrieks. She tugs on Dane’s hand. “Let’s dance.” His grin proves she won’t have to ask twice. Any fool can see it’s all he wants.

As they disappear into the throng, I wring my hands together. Dane’s happy expression scares me. I can’t control Maggie’s feelings, but if she knew how Dane felt, she might be more careful. I ease into my chair at our table and glance at my watch. Damn thing’s stopped again. My ‘date’ sits beside me, extending his long legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles.

A giggle pulls my attention back to my friends on the dance floor. Dane’s been through so much already. A small voice reminds me that I can’t protect him from pain or life. Shut up, voice. I swore I’d never tell Mags that Dane loves her, but I’m not sure it’s a promise I can keep. My desire to break promises is becoming a theme.

“Raven?” I shift, meeting Gideon’s eyes. He’s so close I can feel his breath on my skin. Uncharacteristic concern covers his attractive features. His gaze darts to Maggie and Dane on the dance floor and back. “You care for him, don’t you?”

Fear must be written all over my face for someone as self-absorbed as Gideon to notice. There’s no use denying the truth. “I’d do anything for Dane.”

Gideon scowls in answer. One hand covers mine, and he lifts me to my feet. The other hand props his cane against his chair, and we’re off. “Dance with me.”

“Dance? But I thought …”

“What?” he snarls. “That a cripple can’t dance?”

What? “No!”

He doesn’t seem to care what I think, because he tows me onto the dance floor. A slower song starts as I’m enveloped within his arms. His chin rests on my head, and I breathe him in. The intoxicating scent of male and spice fills my nose as his arms tighten about me. Though he’s slim, his chest is solid, and warm. I lean into him. I know it’s loneliness on my part, but I hate admitting how good his body feels next to mine. Good thing I don’t have to, at least, not out loud.

“Raven.” His tone is rough. He clears his throat but says no more. My skin erupts in gooseflesh as his fingers slide down my neck and across my collarbone. Gideon’s lips brush feather light across my forehead. My skin feels hot, yet his touch sends shivers over me. The air is suddenly close. I wish my body wouldn’t respond this way, but he’s so good at what he does. When he moves us around the dance floor, his limp is barely discernible, but it’s there. I recall the framed pictures in his office, him in bed, in a wheelchair, on crutches. I wonder what happened.

I can’t allow him to believe I didn’t want to dance with him because of his disability. No matter what he’s done to me, or who he is, I’m not
that
girl. I lift my lashes. “Gideon?” His eyes are veiled by shadow. I can’t gauge his emotions. “What I said back there? I don’t judge people like that. I only meant you don’t have to dance with
me
tonight. There’s no obligation. I wasn’t implying anything or making assumptions about your dancing prowess.”

His hands press against me more firmly, crushing me, and his smile is like the sun. “My prowess?” He laughs. “Raven, you and I haven’t begun to explore the inexhaustible possibilities of my prowess.”

I roll my eyes. “All very impressive, I’m sure.”

His grin is sexy and sends my pulse skipping. “I’ve been trying for weeks to impress you, but I’m not sure it’s working. You’re exhausting, actually.”

My eyes bug. “Me?” I step back. “Please. I know you’re here to schmooze and cover your tracks with Principal Myers. And to prove a point to anyone paying attention that our …
arrangement
is all business and above board. I’m not stupid. I don’t have any illusions about you.”

When a faster song begins, Gideon leads me off the floor. His limp is more pronounced without his cane, but he moves easily enough, navigating through the other dancers. He cranes his neck over his shoulder, shouts over the music. “You have a lot of illusions about me. Initially, those I wanted you to have, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“That so?” My curiosity is off the charts.

My arm threatens to come out of the socket the way he’s tugging. He maneuvers me into a dark corner behind the punch table. My back presses against the painted concrete blocks. Cool against my skin, they offset the fever building in me at Gideon’s nearness. “Before we left for New York, we were talking in your workroom. I told you there is a place I wanted to show you. A place that’s special to me. Do you remember?”

I did. I wondered if he’d bring it back up.

“Tomorrow. Will you go there with me?” His voice gains volume and momentum as he speaks. “I’ll ask Jenny to pack a lunch. We’ll spend the day. There are some things I want to say to you, Raven. Important things.”

I swallow, try to stay calm. “Are you asking me or telling?”

“Asking.” The intensity in his eyes suggests he’s serious. When he leans closer, I catch my breath. My heart thrums a crazy beat against my ribs. He runs his thumb pad over my lower lip, dropping to trace the line of my neck to the hollow of my throat. As he glances down, his thick lashes fan his cheekbones. “So beautiful.”

Right back atcha’.

Gideon stares at my mouth. The kind of staring that makes a girl so uncomfortable, she wants to do cliché things—things like bite her lip, or play with her hair, or sigh, or faint. Crap! His head arches. I think he wants to kiss me, and if he does, I’m going to let him. “Say yes,” he orders.

“Excuse me, are you Gideon Maddox?”

I manage my disappointment as he straightens. When he pivots, I take in three men dressed in spiffy blue uniforms. Cops.

“I’m Sergeant Andrews with the Sales Hollow Police Department. We need to speak with you on the whereabouts of a delinquent teen.”