Pushing that possibility—and other even sexier options—out of his mind, he focused firmly on the task at hand, correcting, “I’ll pick up the glass. You go see if you can’t find some cardboard to tape over the window.”
She reacted as gratefully as he had expected. “I don’t think we’ve got any.”
She was not getting rid of him until, he had accomplished what he’d set out to do, and sooner or later she would realize that. “What do you have?”
She took a minute to think about it. “Some heavyduty garbage bags.”
“Then that’ll have to do. Won’t it?”
She held his glance, her expression gradually accepting but no less mutinous. “I suppose it will,” she murmured eventually, then spun around and left in a drift of hyacinth perfume.
Cisco watched her until she disappeared from sight, before he started carefully picking up debris.
He knew Max was counting on him to find a way to help Gillian out of whatever jam she was in, and perhaps find a little romance in the bargain. The first task was going to be a lot easier than the second, but he hoped he could manage, because Gillian was clearly hiding something. Not just from him, but from all the McKendricks. And that something had her running scared.
DARN IT ALL, Gillian fumed. She didn’t care what he did. She was not going to let Cisco Kidd get to her. Gillian swept purposefully toward the dining hall kitchen for plastic to cover the broken window for the night. Not that he wasn’t trying his damnedest to get under her skin. Being frankly suspicious of her every avowed statement one moment, then incredibly, playfully, helpful to her the next. She had no doubt he wanted to use their enforced proximity to each other during the next forty-five-plus hours to snoop even further into her private life, but he had another think coming if he thought she was going to tell him anything. She was a solo act all the way these days and she planned to stay that way.
Fortunately, they had a lot to keep them busy, even if it was technically supposed to be their “wedding night.”
Aware it, was getting late, she rummaged around the kitchen, lamenting the lack of organization all the while. Biscuits, the previous cook, had left it in terrible shape. Nothing was stored where it should be. He had silverware tucked next to the canned peas, plastic storage containers next to the self-rising flour. From the moment she’d set eyes on the spacious work area, she had wanted to organize it properly. Now, having learned of Max’s plans to give the dining hall to her outright once the forty-eight hours were up, she wanted to get her hands on it twice as bad. But she supposed, as she reached for the roll of plastic garbage bags on the shelf above the sink, it would have to wait until tomorrow, or the day after, since she doubted she could get Cisco to remain here with her while she worked nonstop.
Without warning, a chill moved over her, so cold it made her hair stand on end. Whirling, Gillian looked around her and saw nothing out of place. She drew a deep breath and told herself she was being ridiculous. No one was here. No one was watching her. She was just letting Cisco’s suspicions that her past was not as far behind as she liked to think and the unexpected run-in with Pete Lloyd get to her.
Not that she really had anything to worry about there, either. It had been such a long time. She might look familiar to him, but what she’d told Cisco was true, she and Pete had never met. Chances were excellent Pete was never going to recall anything. Hence, all she had to do now was calm down, concentrate on the tasks at hand.
That agenda in mind, she took four black plastic garbage bags off the roll. And that was when she felt it again—the sharp unmistakable sensation of being watched. And there was only one person here tonight in the dining hall who could be spying on her, she thought, her temper soaring.
“Cisco?”
“What?” His voice sounded both muffled and far off.
So it wasn’t him. Gillian looked around and tried to get a grip on her jangled nerves. “Can I bring you anything?” she yelled back, aware her hands were trembling as she searched the utility drawer for a pair of scissors and a roll of tape.
“A dustpan and broom would help,” he called from the other end of the building. “Did you find what you needed?”
“I’m still looking!” Gillian shouted as shivers continued to ghost down her spine. Finding neither scissors nor tape, she shut the utility drawer in frustration and headed for the pantry. She was almost to the doorway when a can tumbled from the shelf, rolled out onto the center of the kitchen floor and landed at her feet.
There was no reason for her to freak out, Gillian told herself firmly. Sometimes things were not set right on a shelf.
Taking a deep breath, she continued moving forward. As she passed through the open portal, a second can bounced off the shelf and tumbled toward her. Her heart pounding, Gillian whirled toward the shelves of canned goods. There was nothing out of place that she could see, nor did there appear to be anyone in here. Nevertheless, she backed swiftly out of the pantry and did a quick check behind her.
The rear door to the kitchen was closed and locked. The windows were still intact, despite the storm, the one to the right locked, the one to the left…open. Her heart sinking at the oversight—for she knew she had forgotten to close and lock it before she went to the wedding—Gillian moved toward it. Her knees trembling, she realized anyone could have removed and replaced the screen from either the inside or the outside with no one being the wiser.
Angry she’d made such a crucial mistake, when— if not for Max and his matchmaking—she would have been coming back here alone after the wedding, Gillian reached up to pull down the bottom window. It snapped into place with a satisfying thud that soon had her sagging with relief.
Everything was fine now, she reassured herself firmly as she swiftly turned the lock. Those cans had probably been knocked off the shelf by the breeze blowing through the open window.
Or had they?
CISCO DIDN’T KNOW what came first—the cacophony of noise, the tremendous crash or Gillian’s highpitched, absolutely terrified shriek. He only knew, as he sprinted across the dining hall to the kitchen, he had to get there fast.
Hand pressed to her mouth, Gillian came tumbling out of the pantry and smashed—backward—into his chest, a fact that only made her jump in surprise and shriek all the more. “For God’s sake, what is it?” Cisco asked above her muffled gasps, holding her close.
Trembling, Gillian could only point.
Cisco looked down. At the back of the long walk-in pantry, a mother raccoon and four baby raccoons were poised for both fight and flight.
They had probably found their way in through the broken window via the downed tree branch, looking for shelter after the storm, and had then taken up residence in the pantry.
But Gillian, a real city girl, obviously didn’t know that, Cisco thought, amused. “It’s all right,” Cisco said, using his grip on Gillian’s arms to shift her protectively behind him. “They’re probably more scared than dangerous, and just want a way back outside.”
“Then they should have asked for directions!”
“I’ll tell them to do so next time.” Cisco turned to face her. “You going to be okay if I let you go?” She felt so good all cuddled up against him, he was tempted to keep right on holding her like this.
“Of course!” She put a palm to his chest and pushed him aside.
His eyes still drifting over her, he made his way to the back door. He opened it wide, securing it so it would stay open, then moved back in the opposite direction.
The mama raccoon sized them up carefully, then led her babies, one by one, out the back door. Cisco waited until they were gone before he shut the door again, locked it and turned back to Gillian.
To his surprise, she still looked as though she was going to jump out of her skin. For reasons that seemed to have little or nothing to do with the raccoons.
He filed away the worrisome bit of information for future reference, then stepped forward and took her in his arms once again. “You can sto
p shaking now,” he said.
That, Gillian thought, as she relaxed in the warm and comforting circle of Cisco’s arms, was a task easier said than done. The feeling of being watched had triggered an onslaught of unpleasant memories, and try as she might, even with Cisco watching her intently, she couldn’t seem to stem the tide.
Her whole body stiffened in annoyance. “I’m trying, believe me,” Gillian replied.
Cisco gently brushed a strand of hair from her face and continued to study her intently. She had no idea what conclusions he was drawing from all this and was sure she did not want to know. “Are you okay?” he asked eventually, smoothing a hand down her spine. “You still seem awfully jumpy.”
“I’m fine.” Gillian dropped her glance self-consciously.
Her shoulders stiff with mounting tension, she moved away from the compelling warmth and intimacy of his touch. She had to get a grip! Her past was not coming back to haunt her!
Deciding it best to concentrate on something that posed no real danger to her, she gathered her supplies and headed briskly for the broken window on the other side of the rustic building.
“Do you think the raccoons’ll try and come back in through the office window again?” she asked as she began to sweep up.
“Nope,” Cisco said, manning the dustpan while she worked the broom. To her chagrin, he continued to watch her carefully. “It was a fluke they ended up in here in the first place, though after that behemoth storm we had last night you can’t blame them for looking for better shelter.”
“I guess not,” Gillian mused, her embarrassment over the way she had screamed deepening as she located scissors and tape in the desk drawer and dragged a chair to the window, stood on it and stretched plastic over the open window.
“And anyway, it could’ve been worse,” Cisco continued as he stepped up beside her and taped the edges of the plastic in place with long, thick strands of moisture-resistant package-sealing tape. “It could have been a family of skunks in here with us,” he said.
Gillian moaned at just the idea. “Don’t even joke about that,” she admonished, bending slightly to hold the lower edges flat against the frame. Together they finished taping up the window from the inside. Gillian dusted off her hands and stepped back to admire her handiwork. “I guess that will have to do until tomorrow,” she said.
“You mean Monday,” Cisco corrected.
Very much aware how helpful he had been to her in cleaning up, Gillian slanted him an astonished glance. “We can’t get it fixed tomorrow by one of the crew or something?”
“We could get someone to fix it. We just couldn’t get the replacement glass.” He paused, studying her unease.
Aware he was beginning to read her all too well, Gillian turned her glance away from his probing silver-gray eyes. With his dark hair, ruggedly attractive face, stubborn jaw and sensually chiseled lips, not to mention the expert way he kissed, it would be so easy to let herself be attracted to him. But she couldn’t do that. And she knew all the reasons why, even if he didn’t.
“Would you feel better if we boarded it up with wood instead?” he asked.
“No. This’ll be fine.” Gillian picked up the tape and scissors and put them back where she had found them.
“But…” Cisco prodded gently when it was clear she wasn’t saying absolutely everything that was on her mind.
“I was just wondering.” Gillian’s teeth raked across her lower lip as her green eyes lasered into his. Like it or not, she supposed it was time to ask. “Where are we going to stay tonight?”
Cisco shrugged. Until now, graced with the mission of helping her, that had been the last thing on his mind. “Your place?” he guessed.
“We can’t stay there.” Gillian put the broom and dustpan away. “It’s only a single room, barely big enough for one person. I’d never sleep a wink.”
Like I would with you cuddled beside me? Cisco thought, amused. “Well, the honeymoon cottage Max left us is out, at least for this evening. The road to it was knocked out by the storm last night. Going by past experience, it’ll be another twelve or fourteen hours before the water recedes enough for us to get up there. And all the hotels in the area are booked solid with wedding guests.”
Gillian’s frustration was evident as she removed her apron and hung it up. To his chagrin, she looked as edgy as Cisco felt about the prospect of spending the night together, which in turn made him wonder if she, too, was thinking about the sizzling impact of their earlier kiss.
“Then where?” she asked.
Cisco shrugged, able to think of only one place, as Gillian sat down and exchanged her tennis shoes for satin pumps. He lounged against the wall. “We’ll have to stay at my apartment in town, I guess.”
“Exactly how many bedrooms does this apartment have?” Gillian asked warily as she undid the kneehigh knot in her skirt and let the hem fall back around her ankles.
“One, but there’s a pull-out sofa in the living room.”
Gillian regarded him silently a long moment. “We don’t have any choice here, do we?”
Cisco shrugged. “None that I can think of.” Not that it would make much difference where they were, he acknowledged privately. The attraction between them was still going to exist
“Then I guess it’ll have to do,” Gillian conceded with a reluctant sigh.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN Max had all my stuff put in storage?” Gillian asked Tom Turner, the logging camp crew chief, short minutes later.
“He told me you wouldn’t be needing it, now that you were going to marry Cisco. Not that there was all that much to begin with,” Tom said.
Gillian knew she hadn’t brought much with her to Montana. That wasn’t the point. “Just tell me where it is, Tom,” she insisted, unable to keep the aggravation from her voice.
The burly logging crew chief, who had just recently returned from the wedding celebration himself, stroked his gray-brown beard and shook his head in obvious apology. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Gillian. Max would have my head if I interfered in what he has planned for you and Cisco.”
Gillian whirled on Cisco. For the first time in many years, she felt her life was slipping out of her control again in countless ways. “You knew about this?” she demanded.
“Hell, no,” Cisco muttered as he raked a hand through his hair and took in the angry expression she leveled on him. “It’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
“But it doesn’t surprise you?” Gillian ascertained.
Cisco shrugged. “You saw the challenges Max threw out to his other heirs. We’d be fools to think he’d want to test us any less.”
“I want my stuff back, Cisco.”
“I want you to have your stuff,” Cisco stated, looking just as exasperated as she felt.
Gillian whirled back to Tom. “Did Max order you to confiscate Cisco’s belongings, too?”
Tom shook his head and planted his work-bootclad feet even farther apart. “But that doesn’t mean he didn’t do it,” Tom said, crossing his arms squarely in front of him, and giving the newly married couple the once-over. “Just that he didn’t order me to do it. Frankly, knowing Max, anything could be happening, even as we speak.”
Chapter Four
“Max is not rifling through your stuff, Gillian,” Cisco told her dryly as they walked out of her small, dormitory-style room and private bath where she’d been residing. “He did this to throw us for a loop, force us closer together.”
Gillian paused to lock the door behind her, though she didn’t know why; thanks to Max, there was nothing left there to steal or see. “Well, it isn’t working,” she declared hotly, pocketing the key and struggling to hide her dismay. What was she going to wear for the next two days or even tonight if she didn’t have her own clothes? She couldn’t stay in this wedding dress forever, nor could she lounge around clad only in the frilly wedding lingerie! -Maybe tomorrow she could cajole her own belongings back from Max or find something else to wear at one of the local clothing sto
res. But in the meantime, what was she going to do? She certainly couldn’t sleep in the buff tonight, not with Cisco under the same roof!
“I beg to differ. It looks like it’s working damn well to me,” Cisco drawled, with a humorous shake of his head. Adapting his longer strides to her more dainty ones, he fell in step beside her as they headed for the exit.
She shot him a look as he held the door for her. Unable to resist, he dropped his head to hers. “Don’t you feel just a tiny bit closer to me…like we’re in this together, come what may?” he asked as she turned sideways and slipped past.
Maybe it would’ve been nice to fall in love with Cisco, Gillian sighed wistfully, but circumstances demanded a practical husband. One who wouldn’t constantly be taking on the role of Sir Galahad, unasked, or kissing her like he meant it. Her head high, Gillian headed for his car. “I don’t care if Max’s intentions are of the romantic variety. I refuse to be manipulated this way,” she announced, as the cool, summery breeze stirred her hair and sent goose bumps over her skin. She refused to fall head over heels in love with Cisco Kidd just because Max McKendrick felt she should!
“Well, whether you intend to get in the spirit of things or not, you may as well get used to unforeseen developments,” Cisco said as he stepped forward to hold open the passenger door for her. “At least for the next forty-four hours—”
“Forty-four,” Gillian murmured as she glanced at her watch. “Right now that seems like a lifetime to me.”
Cisco braced an arm on top of the door as she slid into the luxuriously appointed bucket seat. “I know what you mean, but maybe there’s a way to fix that.”
Aware of his hot glance raking over her, Gillian tucked her skirt around her and settled into the smooth leather. “Such as?” Gillian asked stiffly.
“We could both try to have more of a grin-andbear-it attitude about all this.” Cisco flashed her a sexy grin. “‘Cause you know what they say.” Cisco waited until she had fastened her shoulder belt, before he shut the passenger-side door. “Time flies when you’re having fun.” He circled lazily around the front of the car.
Spur-Of-The-Moment Marriage Page 5