Sunrise in a Garden of Love & Evil (24 page)

Ophelia let her arms fall and slowed her breathing.
Okay. For now.

"I can't believe you thought I would arrest you," Gideon said. "Even if I thought you'd done it, I'd never put you in a cell. I'd find some way, some better way..." He scooped up a handful of pebbles and strode toward the water.

Ophelia followed. Moonlight glanced off the stones and splashed into the meandering river. "What better way?"

"I don't know! Does it matter?"

Unfortunately, it does.
"Why did you search my house, then?"

"To encourage him to think I suspect you. To make sure he hadn't planted anything else, and to know what was there already, in case he does plant something."

"Ah. He might kill someone with a vibrator and stick it in my underwear drawer."

"You
are
upset," Gideon said.

"Not really. Now that you've inventoried my sex toys, you know the feather duster will fit right in."
I'm actually fishing,
she realized.
I've never done anything so humiliating.
She met his eyes, but for the life of her she couldn't read what went on behind them. Still nothing to do with sex. Hoping her utter dejection didn't show, she said again, "I guess I'll go."

"Stay a while," Gideon said. "Please."

"Why? What do you want from me?"

"I want your presence. I want your listening ears and your lively mind and your generous heart. I want you with me at the kitchen table or on the couch--"

She crossed her arms again and tried to sound cynical. "Not in bed?"
I'm so pathetic.

"Of course I want you in bed, but how much talking would we get done? I can't catch a murderer if I'm thinking with my dick."

By the time he had outlined the theory that Donnie and the print and photo guy were in cahoots, Gideon's libido, if not yet controlling his thoughts, had given notice of its intention to do so. As Ophelia curled on the couch drinking coffee, mulling things over, and cussing Donnie out, and then cussing him out even more when she heard how Plato had been victimized for years, Gideon tried to keep his eyes off the bustier and progressed from strained detachment to bemused admiration to downright lust. Which was despicable of him, since Ophelia was shedding tears over Plato and his two D-shaped basket bottoms.

"Plato knew he was in danger," Gideon said. "Maybe he watched Donnie too obviously and got caught. Maybe he got so upset he confronted Donnie. The basket bottoms were a long-shot backup plan, in case he didn't reach me. He'd told me about all his baskets being O-shaped because of you, so he hoped I'd figure it out."

Ophelia didn't look lustful as she wiped the tears away, but she looked desirable as all hell.
Luminous,
Gideon mused, eyeing her in the low light from the stairwell, trying halfheartedly to keep his mind on the case.
Does she give off allure even when she's not in the mood?
Ophelia's mind was definitely where it belonged, and fortunately, she didn't need prompting from him to stay on track.
Heaven,
he decided, not sure whether he meant her ability to take the ball and run with it or to take him by the balls and reduce him to a gibbering fool. He'd mentioned that a search of Donnie's house had yielded nothing to do with the photo shop, and she'd nailed it.

"The trash bags," she said. "He half-filled them with film or prints or CDs, then cushioned them with pine straw and dead leaves. But how will you pick out his bags from among the zillions of other ones in the dump?"

"The orange one," Gideon said. "There was one orange bag in his truck."

"Jack-o'-lantern leaf bag. It must have been left over from fall. You're right, not many people have them at this time of year. There was a beat-up roll of carpet cushion on his truck, too."

Now she sat straight, her eyes wide and delighted. "That's how he carried the body out of the apartment. Remember? There were bits of foam rubber sticking to it." Her luscious lips curved into an unrestrained, blinding smile.

"Oh God," he said thickly. He gripped her by the shoulder and kissed her hard. "Amazing woman." He kissed her again, and she laughed in her throat and tongued him back.

She drew away. "Let's get back to the detective thing. I can't have sex with you tonight."

"You started your period?"

Ophelia shook her head. "I just can't."

Gideon tangled his fingers into her curls and licked at her lips again. "If it's a birth-control issue, I have condoms upstairs. But we already fucked that one up this morning."

"I've been trying the pill for a month or two," Ophelia said, drawing away again. "Apparently it reduces sex drive in some women." She grinned ruefully. "Not me, so far."

Gideon groaned. "Don't smile like that if you want me to back off. If it's not birth control and it's not lack of libido, what is it?"

"It doesn't matter," Ophelia said. "Tell you what. I'll get you off, and then you'll be able to think straight again, or at least be temporarily incapable, so we can keep on talking this through." She slid off the couch and went straight for his fly.

"Are you offering me a hand job, or..."

She smiled at him again, flashing those glow-in-the-dark razor-sharp fangs. "Scared?"

Holy shit. "Hell, yes," Gideon said. "Go for it."

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-TWO

Afterward, Gideon mumbled, "Can't do detective work when I'm comatose, either." A few seconds after that, his low, steady breathing told Ophelia he was asleep.

She stood and went slowly upstairs. What had Constantine said?
Don't burden him with your past.
She peeled off the red bustier and let the silk skirt fall to the floor.
Leave it be.
In the hexagonal shower, Ophelia stood for a long time under a cool spray, eyes closed, imagining a life with Gideon, free of the past. It felt damned good.

It also felt like a fantasy.

She toweled dry and rooted in Gideon's dresser for something to wear. Now,
that
felt right--comfortable, as if going through his stuff was fine. She found a well-worn green T-shirt, pulled the silk skirt back on, and went onto the back deck to indulge her fantasy, just for a while, and plan her twisted garden.

When Gideon came out an hour later she was long past fantasy and into the reality of clearing the honeysuckle and Virginia creeper from what had once been a bed of roses. "I'm partial to vines," she told him as he came up beside her, "but they require firm control. It's a miracle a few of your mother's roses survived. She chose varieties that do okay in this climate, but still, under this sort of onslaught..." She shook her head. "I don't mess with rose gardens in south Louisiana. Too much work. Black spot, mildew...You need to get rid of the wisteria next to the house, too."

"It's impossible. I've tried everything short of digging it up."

"That's what you have to do," Ophelia said. "Dig it up."

"Maintaining a rose garden is too much work, but digging up wisteria isn't?"

"It's a matter of choice," Ophelia said. "If you don't want a rose garden, you just don't have one. If you don't want wisteria, you have to prove it. Even then, it might come back."

"I don't not want it that badly," Gideon said.

There was an uneasy silence. After a while, Ophelia said, "The honeysuckle and Virginia creeper will have to be dug up, too, and the soil sifted. Then you need to plant something besides roses." More silence. She babbled on. "A pergola would be a nice feature. Some of your mom's plantings will recover with a little care and pruning--the camellias, gardenias, azaleas...I'd suggest periwinkle or Asian jasmine on the slope toward the river, English ivy in some shady areas beside a meandering flagstone path, maybe trumpet vines against the deck. And some potted plants on the deck itself, of course. It's awfully barren as is."

"Art gives me potted plants for my birthday," Gideon said. "But they always die."

Another awkward pause. Ophelia stripped off her gardening gloves. "We need to finish our talk so I can go home. I still don't know why Donnie has it in for me. He's crazy about my sister. He should want to stay on my good side." She gathered her secateurs and shears and headed up the stairs to the deck.

"He does want to stay on your good side." Gideon followed Ophelia indoors. "He also wants you to move back to town and sell your property--to him. I've been through the city and parish databases. Donnie's been buying up property along this side of the river, almost to my place, and for a ways on the other side of yours, for the past several years. You and Willy were the only holdouts, and now, with the new golf course and the upscale subdivisions across the river, land prices are likely to go up." He opened the fridge and proffered Ophelia a beer.

"No, thanks. I already drank too much tonight, and I have to drive home." She scrubbed her hands at the kitchen sink and dried them on her shirt.

"Coke, then." Gideon popped one and handed it to her, then led the way to the futon couch. He patted the cushion beside him.

Ophelia sat at the other end of the couch, out of reach. She took a swig of Coke. "The real-estate agent told me my property value was increasing, but I didn't care because I wasn't planning on selling. Donnie's offered to buy my place a couple of times, but I can't afford property in town unless the value goes up a lot more. Also, I've wondered about starting a small nursery, and for that I'd need my land even if I did move back to town."

"Did you tell him that, too?" Gideon moved closer and swallowed some beer. Couldn't he take the hint and keep his pheromones at a distance?

"I might have. Yeah. A couple or three weeks ago."

"That was the last straw for Donnie's ambitions. It's one thing to buy and build a single lot at a time; he's been doing that for years. It's another entirely to develop a whole subdivision. What with the classy subs going up across the river, he figured the time was right, but he couldn't have a couple of holdouts right in the middle of his development." Gideon grinned, but behind the smile he was giving her that suspicious look again. No wonder he didn't want her to move in. No wonder he wasn't asking her to take care of his garden. He still suspected her--but of what?

He went on acting cool and perfect, the detective so very much in charge. "With Willy Wyler, he figured he could wait it out--the guy's got major drug problems and his wife's too proud to work, so they were going down the tubes without any help from him. Even if Willy hadn't sold to Donnie, it wouldn't have been catastrophic, because his house is comparable in value to what Donnie would build. But an old trailer, no matter how refurbished, no matter how pretty its garden, would never do.

"When those nasty pictures of Joanna showed up at the photo shop, he put the squeeze on Willy even more. Encouraged Willy to believe you took the pictures. Probably egged him on to mess with your place, too. He figured if you got hit with enough--dead cat, dead garden, vandalism, accusations of child abuse and even murder--you'd either get scared or you'd end up in jail and sell your place to him to raise money for a lawyer. He may not have planned to kill his cohort at the photo shop, but once he had, where better to dump the body than on you? And who was ready with plenty of ill-gotten cash to rescue you? He was, of course."

"He thinks if he gets rich he'll have a chance with Vi," Ophelia mused. "Men are such fools."
Including you. And if you aren't, it's even worse.
She stood up to get away from his suspicions and his hormone bouquet. "I have to go home."

"Wait," Gideon said, standing as well, way too close.

Ophelia closed her eyes to block out his delectable aroma, which didn't help at all.

"Don't go," Gideon said, in that slow, lazy voice that had drawn her in from day one.

She headed for the door. "We've pretty much talked this out. Try the Taylor Road dump first. Donnie has a key to the back gate, so he can get in and out easily. He took me there once to dump a whole truckload of trash because I was too broke to pay the fees. The bastard," she added under her breath. "He's always been so helpful, and none of it was real. I can't believe I actually liked him, sort of."

"Taylor Road it is," Gideon said. "First thing in the morning. In the meantime, sweetheart, please stay."

"Why? I already said we're not having sex tonight." She picked up her gloves and tools.

"I don't want to have sex tonight," Gideon said, and then stopped. "No, of course I do, but not if you don't. Sex or no sex, I want you here with me. Is that so strange?"

Ophelia rolled her eyes at him, one hand on the door handle. "I get it. You think I'm in danger if I go back home. Well, now that I know who I'm watching for, I'll do just fine."

"Sure you will, but why should I be alone here and you be alone there? Why not sleep in the same bed?" She said nothing, and Gideon threw up his hands. "I don't get it. I thought you liked me. Turns out I'm just another sex toy. A bimbo. Pretty damn ironic, wouldn't you say?"

Ophelia stared at him, swaying with surprise. "What?" she asked faintly.

"What else am I supposed to think? You don't want to talk to me, you're always trying to get away, and the only thing about me you've shown interest in is my dick. I suppose I should be flattered that a vamp wants me for her boy toy, but the fact remains, I want more."

Ophelia put the gardening tools down before she dropped them. "What do you want?"

"If I tell you, you'll freak out and leave."

Ophelia made an incredulous face. "You're into kink?" She leaned against the blessed firmness of the door. "I don't believe it."

"The only kink I'm into is you, and I'd rather not talk about sex in any form if you're not in the mood, because even when I'm pissed off at you, I want you to throw me on the rug and fuck me senseless." He made a disgusted noise. "Probably even more when I'm pissed off. I'm turning into a love slave. Me!"

Ophelia laughed and bit her lip so she wouldn't lick it. "Then what do you want from me?"

His eyes burned into her, and she squirmed under both the scrutiny and her mounting desire for him. Damn. "Promise you won't leave?" Gideon said.

Her heart thumped against her chest, hard and then harder. She sucked in a breath. "I'll hear you out before I decide whether to leave."

"All right," he said, looking strained and determined and adorable. "I want you to move in with me. I want you to sleep with me every night." He stopped, his eyes scouring her again, and took a deep breath and went on. "I want you to sit beside me and talk to me and live with me. And marry me and have kids with me." He paused. "And while you're at it, fix my goddamned garden, if you like."

Ophelia said nothing, mostly because she couldn't. Again, she closed her eyes.

"See, I knew it," Gideon said. "It's too soon, just like Lep warned me. You think I'm just another crazy guy under your spell. If you give me a chance, sweetheart, some time to prove it, you'll see that I'm a lot more than that."

Ophelia came slowly back across the room and sank onto the couch.

The weeping garden. That tangled, twisted garden, all hers.

The man just asked you marry him, and all you can think about is a bunch of plants?

"We hardly know each other," she said stupidly.

"That makes it even more fun." Gideon sat next to her and took her hand, pressing kisses on her palm. "Honey, you don't have to answer me now. Just think about it."

"I'm so confused." Helplessly, because she wanted to and because there was nothing else, she leaned across and kissed him. The kiss deepened and grew, and then she was on the couch under him, her arms twined around his neck, his hands insistent under her shirt, his lips pressing hot kisses down her throat.

"I love you," he said roughly. "That's all there is to it. And I'd better go take a cold shower right now if we're not having sex tonight." He raised himself on one elbow. "Why, again, aren't we having sex? Don't tell me you don't want to. I won't believe it."

"It's nothing to do with not wanting," Ophelia began, but by then his hand was under her skirt and hard on her thigh. "Ow!" She recoiled. Damn.

"What the hell?" Gideon sat up. It took him half a second at the most. "You had the gun hidden under your skirt, on a strap or something, right? You wore a crinoline to bulk it out so I wouldn't be able to tell." He stood and paced across the room. "Jesus."

Ophelia shrugged it off. "I was in a hurry, and I'd run out of duct tape."

"Your walk was awkward, but I attributed it to the heels. You really were afraid of me." He ran his hands through his hair. "Damn."

"It's only a couple of bruises."

"Take your skirt off," Gideon said.

Five minutes later, flat on Gideon's bed and naked from the waist down, Ophelia wallowed in love and guilt. He had taken her explanation with admirable calm.

"This won't do." He eased a splinter out of her thigh and dabbed the tiny tear with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball.

"Ow! Skip the alcohol next time." She poked out her tongue. "My spit works better."

"My, my," Gideon said. "What an unusually flexible woman you must be. No wonder that vibrator doesn't impress you."

Ophelia chuckled. She sucked his middle finger into her mouth and pushed it out again. "What won't do?"

He wiped her saliva across the cut and got back to work with the tweezers. "You can't marry me if you don't trust me."

"I haven't said I'll marry you." She watched his dark head bent over her thigh and longed for innocence. His warm breath tickled her pubic hair.
Well, not that kind of innocence.

"But you want my garden," Gideon said, "and marrying me is the only way you'll get it." He tugged on the second splinter.

"There are other gardens," Ophelia said, horrified at how easily he had read her, hoping she sounded indifferent.

"But you want mine," Gideon said with a panting little laugh. He leaned closer and licked her. "And I want yours." He sucked gently. "But not if you don't trust me."

Ophelia put her hands behind her head and wriggled languorously. She ran her tongue over her fangs. "Trust doesn't happen overnight."

Gideon withdrew and picked up the tweezers again. "What I don't understand is, why shouldn't you trust me? I haven't given you any reason not to feel safe with me. Even Lep and Constantine are on my side."