by Linda Conrad
Cinco nodded, as he apparently agreed that his ranch was as secure as anything the U.S. Marshals might come up with.
Meredith sighed, knowing her case was lost. She only had two choices—federal prison or ranch life with her friend's partner. She realized she had to give up the fight, but she didn't have to like it.
Cinco smiled at her for the first time, but the dimple creasing his left cheek didn't do much to soften his eyes. "This here's a real homey place, sugar," he drawled. "You'll be a lot happier and safer here."
She straightened her shoulders and stood tall. "I'm sure." But in her heart she knew the truth of her situation.
She probably would've been much better off locked up in some federal jail instead of being confined way out here with the original Lone Ranger as her guardian.
* * *
Two
« ^ »
"You could've at least warned me Frosty was a woman," Cinco muttered. He and Kyle had walked out to retrieve Meredith's bags from the sporty sedan while she made use of the facilities.
Kyle ducked his head and pulled the keys from his pocket. "Hmm. It's just that I forget sometimes. I don't usually think of her as a woman."
Cinco stopped in his tracks and planted his hands on his hips with a frown.
"Well, I don't," Kyle insisted. "She's the best pilot the Air Force ever lost. She's tough and intelligent and can take care of herself in a barroom brawl better than any guy I've ever known."
"The facts are … she is a woman," Cinco declared, and was immediately chagrined that he'd stated the obvious quite so forcefully. "It'll be really awkward for me to give her the protection and comfort she needs out here."
Cinco shook his head in disgust and turned toward the car's trunk. "Why couldn't you have brought me an honest-to-God barroom brawler? Some guy I could knock a little sense into and kick around when the waiting gets on our nerves."
"Give Frosty a chance, Gentry. She's a no-maintenance female and could probably kick you farther than the last fence post on Gentry Ranch." Kyle grinned and opened the trunk.
"And that's another thing. What the hell kind of name is Frosty, anyway?" Cinco didn't feel the least bit better about his unintended guest.
"Most pilots in the armed services have nicknames." Kyle shrugged. "Earned in training usually."
"What'd she do to earn that one?"
"Nothing." Kyle pulled a duffel and a briefcase from the car and slammed the trunk lid.
At Cinco's exasperated expression, he continued. "She never flinched, never looked scared, never raised a sweat during all of training. It was like she had ice water in her veins. And only once did anyone see some jackass come on to her. She frosted him but good. No one ever dared it again."
"Ah. I get it. Ice water … Frosty." Cinco grabbed his friend's shoulder, preventing him from moving across the yard and into the warmth of the house. He wasn't entirely sure he'd been convinced yet.
"What's the matter with you, Gentry?" Kyle squirmed under Cinco's hand. "It's not like you to simply ignore a person in distress. And it's really out of character for you to shirk your responsibilities to anyone who might need your shelter." Kyle jerked his shoulder free and shifted his grip on the bags.
Ah, hell. Kyle knew him too damn well. His friend had just played his best card. The moment Cinco had learned she was the witness from the TV news accounts of the shooting of General VanDerring, he knew he wouldn't—couldn't—turn her away. But that didn't mean he had to like being manipulated this way.
The real problem suddenly became clear as glass. What on earth was he supposed to do with this Amazon woman? Why he'd even be willing to bet she'd be better on a computer than he was, although that'd be stretching it some.
He scrubbed a hand across his face. This had just turned into the worst twenty-four hours he'd spent since that endless day twelve years ago when all he could do was hang on and pray it was all a dream. Starting last night, when his brother, Cal, called to say he'd gotten some racing groupie pregnant and was going to marry her. Then continuing with Abby calling to say she'd decided not to stay in school for her master's because she wanted to come home and take over the ranch foreman's job.
Now this.
"Geez, Kyle. What the devil am I supposed to do with a female while I'm giving her safe harbor?"
Kyle threw him a wry grin. "How the hell should I know? I said I don't think of her as female, I think of her as a pilot … and I haven't the foggiest idea what there is to do out here in cowboy land."
When Cinco grimaced and cursed under his breath, Kyle quickly tried to smooth it over. "Look, Gentry. Just give her a break will you? She's been through a lot in the past few months. First, her father suddenly dies of a heart attack. Then, just as she's about to fly her boss home from his last Pentagon meeting before she retires from the Air Force for good … she watches him die in a hail of bullets that could very easily have taken her down, too."
Kyle turned, continuing as he headed toward the Gentry family's homestead and the warmth of the kitchen. "But whatever you do decide to do, keep her off the Internet and out of a plane. Either one of those two things could bring an abrupt ending to the feds' star witness against Richard Rourke. And we certainly can't afford to lose a client … or turn this into some kind of media circus."
No, Cinco thought, he'd been there and done that. One media circus per lifetime was about all he could stand, thank you.
Kyle stood at the door with his hands full of Frosty's baggage, waiting for Cinco to swing it open for him. "And it wouldn't do Cyber-Investigations' reputation as security specialists any good to lose such a major client, now would it?"
"You know Kyle well?" Meredith asked as she placed her used coffee mug in the sink.
She and her host had just come inside the house after watching Kyle's Jaguar pull out of the yard and head toward civilization. And freedom.
"We go back about thirteen years." Cinco leaned his elbows against the kitchen counter and crossed his ankles in front of him. "We went to MIT together."
"MIT?" She suddenly realized she'd been slouching again and deliberately straightened her shoulders. "You went to MIT?"
A real grin began to spread across his features. But he quickly contained it and only managed to look amused instead.
"Aw, shucks, ma'am. What's that ol' saying my daddy used to have?" He stared up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, with an expression on his face that said at the moment this was the most important thing he had to do in the world. "Oh, yeah. I remember. You can't always judge the bite by the sound of the snake's rattle.
"Take this house, for instance." He swung his arm around in a circle. "From the outside, you can't tell what it's supposed to be. But with enough time for a little study, you'll find remnants of the hearts and souls of each of the five generations that have made it a home."
Meredith knew her too-fair skin was betraying her once again. She could feel the burn of embarrassment creep up her neck and plant itself high on her cheeks. No amount of schooled features could hide what she was feeling. It was her curse.
She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to find some words that wouldn't make her sound like a complete idiot. "Sorry. This situation doesn't exactly bring out the best in me. I didn't mean to imply…"
He waved off her apology. But instead of letting her off the hook entirely, he pinned her with a silent stare that made her feel squirmy and bewildered.
She blinked, realizing that the man actually bothered her. Not only with his chiseled good looks, but on some deeper level. Someplace buried within her that she really didn't care to go.
But no man ever bothered her. Not even… Oh, no. She wouldn't think about the jerk from her past along with everything else right now. She once again buried the memories of a man she'd vowed to forget.
Well, maybe it was Cinco's size. Though that wasn't all there was to it. Those broad shoulders and wide-palmed hands seemed made for soothing … protecting. Not as if they'd ever be raised i
n anger.
She shook her head to clear those old scary thoughts of anger and wrath. Surely this odd feeling when Cinco looked at her came from something simple and straightforward. Maybe it was that Texas drawl of his—even when he wasn't putting the accent over-the-top for her benefit. Slow and as cocky as his grin, his words oozed charm and made her think of streaky sunshine over rose and blue clouds at 40,000 feet.
Meredith pulled herself out of her thoughts. She'd been lost in them for too long. An awkward silence had settled over the kitchen, and his gaze had become more of a curious perusal. She needed to think of some diversion. Fast.
"Uh. Five generations did you say?"
He nodded silently and crossed his own arms over his chest.
It finally hit her. "And you're the fifth … Cinco."
"Sì, senorita." He straightened and bowed slightly. "Theodore Aloysius Gentry V, at your service."
"Theodore? Aloysius?" She tried desperately to keep the chuckle out of her voice.
He made a face, then sighed. "Yeah, I know. Very old-fashioned and not very Spanish sounding, is it? Well, when the first Theo settled here and married Maria Alonso Aragon de Castillo, most of the land they worked had been given to them as a wedding present by her father. The land was part of a huge Mexican land grant, most of which has since been incorporated into our family's ranch holdings."
He shrugged and turned to run water over their used mugs. "It's all part of the heritage of the place … of my heritage."
"I think Cinco is a fine name," she managed without so much as a smile.
"Well, in five generations there's been Theo, Teddy, Tres, and my father was T.A. All in all, I'm pretty happy to have Cinco. Though, my mother used to call me Tad sometimes."
"No, Tad doesn't seem to suit you." She narrowed her eyes slightly in thought. "You said 'was' … 'used to.' Have your parents passed away, then?"
Uh-oh. Cinco was afraid the conversation had just turned a little too close to home where the Amazon queen was concerned. He sure knew how much it hurt him having to dredge up the pain of losing his parents. Even after all these years her question rocked him.
"Sort of." That wasn't much of a civilized answer, and at her shocked expression he was immediately sorry he'd been so blunt.
He tried to remind himself that the wound of her father's death must still be fresh and raw. "Sorry. The truth is, no one's positive whether either of my parents are dead or alive. They went on a cruise twelve years ago and never returned."
"Oh, my God." She paled and Cinco nearly reached out for her.
He'd stopped himself, not because he didn't want to comfort her or need to hold her close, but because he knew she'd never allow him to be so intimate.
"It's been a long time. Life goes on. Time…" He suddenly decided it was time for them to get out of the kitchen, so he swung around toward the back stairs. "Time, Meredith," he added over his shoulder, "can heal most anything if you have the patience to wait for it."
He bent to retrieve her duffel and briefcase before he headed upstairs.
"What do you think you're doing?" She bristled past him and made a grab for the bags.
Cinco closed his fingers around the handles and straightened. "Carrying your bags up the stairs to the room you'll be using."
"I'm perfectly capable of carrying my own things … and my own weight. I can handle it, if you'll kindly just give me directions." She threw her hands on her hips and pulled her chin up.
He kept his grip tight and stood aside to look at her. Her eyes were shooting those electric-blue blasts of cold energy again. Ferocious and adorable all at the same moment. Cinco decided he liked the way the bridge of her nose crinkled when she was piqued.
He decided to see just how bothered he could make her and what other delights he'd see as she grew angrier. He set the bags down next to his feet in silence, folded his arms across his chest and cocked one eyebrow in her direction.
And there he stayed. After two full minutes of silence, Meredith blinked and began to squirm a little where she stood. He was grateful she'd been the first to crack, because another few seconds and he would have given up. The sweat was already beading across the small of his back.
He'd gotten to her. Good.
Suddenly the urge to drag her against him and plant a devastating kiss across those perfect lips made his own body start to twitch in anticipation. However … that wasn't exactly what Kyle had in mind when he asked for her protection.
"Uh, look, darlin'," Cinco finally said. "You and I need to reach a truce here. I'm not your enemy. I only want what's in your best interest."
The first real semblance of a smile crossed her face, making Cinco even sweatier than before. Have mercy, but this woman was a stunner when she smiled.
"I'm forced to accept your hospitality, cowboy. And yes, I agree a truce is definitely the only way we'll ever live through however long I must stay here." She took her hands from her hips and raised her own eyebrows at him. "But I think I know what's in my own best interest better than you do. And I insist on pulling my weight … and my own bags."
She reached for the duffel bag's handle. "And I'm not your … darlin'."
"Okay. Carry your own load. It's no skin off my nose." He put one foot on the first stair, then turned around with a grin. "But this is my house, and I'll lead the way upstairs … darlin'."
Meredith followed him up the staircase, and Cinco stood aside to let her be the first to enter the room that would double as her cell for the foreseeable future. It was the third one down the hall from the top of the stairs. As she'd made her way down the hall, she'd noted that farther along the hallway a short flight of stairs led to more rooms, in what might pass for a different wing entirely. She supposed that wing had been patched on by a generation other than the one who had built this room.
And what a room it was.
The furniture was well built, sturdy—and big. Huge slits for handholds were carved right into the fronts of the chest of drawers. She'd bet someone had designed and built those by their own efforts. The bed was oversize and covered by a soft, tanned-leather throw. A matching leather easy chair, big enough for two of her, was comfortably placed in a corner with a decent-looking reading lamp on the brass-topped table beside it.
The walls were white cracked stucco and the slanted ceiling was held aloft by huge, blackish-brown beams. The room was old, the furniture nearly new. Smelling of furniture polish and leather, the whole thing was spotless, and Meredith was positive it belonged to a man. A man with very good taste.
Probably the very man standing at the threshold, gazing at her with a confused and wary smile.
"Is this your room?" she asked. "I don't want to put you out."
"Naw." He shook his head and gave her a hesitant look. "My room's across the hall. This was my brother, Cal's, room once. He moved out about eight years ago so he could try his hand at the stock-car circuit. I had it renovated a few years back in the hopes that maybe he'd come to his senses someday and return home to the ranch."
He shifted to the other foot but didn't step any farther into the room. "Guess it won't be happening now."
She didn't want to care, but he sounded so despondent that she was curious. "Oh?"
"He's getting married today." Cinco made a face like he'd tasted something sour and foul. "She's expecting. Apparently, they're having a quick, shotgun wedding."
"Yes, well…" She wasn't sure what to say to that. "Maybe as new parents they'll want to be closer to family. When your brother becomes a father, maybe he won't want to do anything as dangerous as car racing."
Cinco shook his head. "I doubt it. Cal's a star. Last year he won the championship cup. That means he won the most races on his circuit. This year he's so far ahead of the pack that he could just skip a few races and still win this year's cup. He gets endorsements and TV offers. I don't think he'd be willing to chuck all that and come home to boring ranch life. Not even for his own child's sake."
She felt com
pelled to say something soothing, regardless of the fact that she had no idea how to do such a thing. "I'm sure ranching isn't all that boring. I bet it's probably exciting sometimes," she said with a smile.
The look he shot her wasn't boring, lazy or the least bit bemused. All of a sudden his gaze turned hot, sharp and fast—like an F-16 fighter.
"You know when you smile, you sure are easy on the eyes," he drawled, in complete opposition to the intensity she saw in his gaze. "You ought to do it more often."
She could feel the pink burn start deep in her chest and gush toward her cheeks again. Damn him. She should've known better than to try to be nice to such a control freak.
Meredith turned her back on him and unzipped her duffel. She'd packed lightly. Really, she didn't own much more than these few things. All her previous clothing had been flight suits or uniforms and she didn't want to buy anything new. Her intention was to be wearing a pilot's uniform again soon. Very soon, she hoped.
A couple of T-shirts and sweats, her running shorts and shoes, and the nice navy-blue slacks outfit she'd bought last year to attend her father's retirement party.
That, the clothes she wore and some underwear were about all she owned.
She began stowing her gear in the huge walk-in closet and in one of the drawers when, without warning, she felt Cinco's presence behind her. She rounded on him, ready for anything. The man had so far been totally unpredictable.
Cinco bent over to pick up a pair of underpants Meredith hadn't noticed she'd dropped. When he felt the satiny smoothness of the flimsy black briefs, he'd become enchanted. They weren't at all what he would have expected coming from the uptight Viking pilot. He failed to notice her warrior stance until he'd straightened up.
Holding the silk lightly in his fingers, he grinned into her deadly stare. "Here you go. Mighty sexy undies for a captain."