Page 34 of Cruel Saint

“Just make sure I don’t leave tonight without thanking Liam.” She smirked.

Over the course of our afternoon, she’d brought up Liam several times, mentioning how thoughtful he was to organize all of this for my birthday. Each time, I sensed she only did so in an attempt to get me to share whoreallycould have been behind it all.

So far, I hadn’t.

That was the thing about spending hours being pampered, though. It gave me time to think.

And the more I thought about Gideon Saint, the more I felt the urge to confide in someone about him.

“We both know Liam didn’t arrange any of this,” I told her over the top of my champagne flute.

“Finally!” Her voice echoed through the calm serenity, the only other sound that of the ambient music and a nearby fountain. “I thought I was going to have to torture the truth out of you.”

“Why were you so quick to assume it wasn’t him? It could have been.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I love Liam, but he’s not the most thoughtful person. It’s not that he doesn’t care,” she added quickly. “But booking an appointment atthepremier spa in San Diego so you can have a relaxing birthday, as well as sending you a dress to wear for your party? And not just any dress, but the dress you were foaming at your mouth over? That’s not something Liam would do. Not something he’d eventhinkabout doing. I mean, how many designer purses are you up to now?”

I blew out a soft laugh. My closet was filled with bags of various sizes, all thanks to Liam. That, and overpriced shoes. Apparently, he was under the impression I was like the women onSex and the Cityand only cared about expensive purses and shoes.

The truth was, I only used the purses or wore the shoes when I knew I’d be seeing him. I wasn’t really a purse and high heel kind of girl. My work uniform consisted of a polo shirt, yoga pants, and sneakers. The only times I dressed up over the past year had been whenever Liam was in town and asked me to attend some business dinner or charity gala with him. Or when going out for a night on the town with Melanie.

“Which begs the question ofwhoarranged all of this for you.” She leaned closer and dropped her voice. “Perhaps a mysterious man who can snap a guy’s neck in one move.”

I lifted my glass back to my mouth, hoping to hide my smile at the thought of Gideon, but it was impossible.

“I’m right, aren’t I? There’s something going on between you and Gideon.”

“Not...exactly.”

Melanie’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Then tell meexactlywhat is going on.”

On a long sigh, I took another sip of my champagne. Then I settled into the chair and told my best friend about my various encounters with Gideon, starting with that first morning and going into detail about each of our subsequent encounters, ending with Monday morning.

“Okay. So you keep running into each other and he saved your life. What aren’t you telling me?”

I worried my bottom lip. I could very well lie, insist I’m not keeping anything from her. But Melanie knew me better than anyone. She already sensed I wasn’t being completely forthcoming. If there was anyone I could tell my concerns without judgment, it was Melanie.

“Have you noticed something…unusual about his eyes?”

Melanie tilted her head, her brow creasing with confusion. “Unusual? I don’t?—”

“The color. The shape.”

It took a moment for her to register what I was referring to.

“They remind you of Sam,” she breathed.

“A little.” My expression faltered as I pushed down the lump building in my throat. “And then Monday, he told Ollie to heel.”

“What? Say it isn’t so,” she responded sarcastically. “I’ll alert the media. Prepare a press release. He told a dog to heel?”

“That’s not what I mean.” I placed my hand over hers. “It washowhe said it, Mel. He sounded so much like Samuel.” I fought against the tremble in my voice. “If I hadn’t been looking at this man whose face didn’t resemble his, I would have thought he was there with me.”

Melanie’s expression softened as she studied me intently, seeming to weigh my words and find understanding. Finally, she pushed out a deep sigh.

“You just said it yourself, Gin. His face doesn’t resemble Sam’s. I can understand why it might spark some memories. He does crossword puzzles. Ollie seemed to take to him quickly. But we both read the police report. Based on the amount of blood found in his car?—”

“I know. I just…” I shook my head, struggling to find the words to explain what was going through my brain.

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