Gillian sighed as she leaned against the wooden building that was painted a very dark brown. “Well, right now it’s not their age keeping them apart, but Max’s insensitivity to Pearl’s feelings,” she said, as Cisco began to unlock the heavy oak-and-brass door.
Cisco stopped in midmotion and turned to her with a knowing smirk. “Uh-oh.”
“What?” Gillian replied, welcoming the opportunity to match wits with him.
“Here it comes. The part where you lambaste all men,” Cisco drawled, stepping back and holding up both hands in a facetious parody of surrender.
Gillian couldn’t help it; she grinned. This was a side of Cisco she hadn’t seen—and liked. “If the chaps and spurs fit,” she quipped with exaggerated seriousness.
Cisco narrowed his eyes in mock censure. “Hey—” he arrowed a thumb at his chest and sparred right back “—all men are not insensitive jerks.”
“Right.” Gillian nodded with playful amiability. “Some are sensitive jerks.”
Cisco moved, so she was trapped against the side of the building, just right of the front door. “I resent that,” he told her with an amused twinkle in his eyes.
“I’m sure you do,” Gillian replied, a giggle escaping from her lips.
Grinning, Cisco placed a hand against the wall next to her head and leaned in close. “On behalf of all men everywhere, I demand a retraction,” he teased.
Gillian grinned back, aware, but not surprised, at the way her heart was racing at his nearness. She’d known, when she kissed him back at the wedding, there were considerable sparks between them. That didn’t mean she should surrender to those sparks, however. Especially when she knew this spur-of-the-moment marriage of theirs was soon going to end.
Forcing herself to ignore the excitement racing through her, the sensual tingle in her arms and legs, Gillian slipped beneath his outstretched arm and replied, “Oh, you do, do you?”
“Yep,” he said, not dropping his eyes from hers.
“I’ll give it some thought,” Gillian drawled, reminding herself firmly she had secrets she still needed to keep. That would not be done if she allowed him to get too close to her. She regarded him cheerfully. Took a deep, bracing breath. “Now, are you going to show me this building of yours, or not?”
“YOU LOOK SURPRISED,” Cisco said as they walked inside and he switched on the lights. He showed her through the first floor with the elegantly appointed reception area, adjacent private law library, secretary’s office and private office. Upstairs, on the second floor, he took her through the combination kitchen and living area, the bathroom and single bedroom.
“It’s so…tidy.” She stepped across the polished wood floor and peered into the walk-in closet. Her eyes scanned the row of freshly dry-cleaned business suits, starched shirts and handcrafted leather boots. “There doesn’t appear to be a single item out of place,” she continued, impressed, as she stepped away from the closet and toward the big brass-framed bed.
Cisco had a firm policy of only taking credit where it was due. “I have a maid service that comes in once a week to do the cleaning.” Cisco guided her back into the living area with the saddle-brown leather sofa bed and custom-made wagon-wheel coffee table before heading back into the kitchen. Cisco watched her peruse the stove, microwave and indoor grill—none of which he’d put to use—but the delight in her eyes faded as she peered into the refrigerator.
“Cisco, there’s nothing in here but beer, coffee and orange juice!”
He shrugged. As far as he was concerned, that was all he needed. “I eat out almost all the time—with clients at fancy restaurants and with Max at Pearl’s.”
“You don’t cook at all, then?”
“Not unless you consider beverages cooking.”
“No, I don’t.” She shook her head at him and gave him a vaguely pitying look. “You really need to learn.”
Cisco didn’t know why. He didn’t have anyone to cook for. He sauntered closer. “You going to teach me?”
As he’d expected she would, she stepped away. “Maybe. If we have nothing else to do.”
Cisco could think of plenty of things he’d rather do with Gillian than slave over a hot stove. But none of those things would help him find out what was troubling her.
“Besides,” Gillian continued, albeit a little nervously now that he’d tried to get close to her again, “it takes a lot more than just spending a couple of days and nights together under one roof or embarking on shared activities to make a marriage.”
I agree. It takes trust And that was something they didn’t have and wouldn’t be likely to gain when both were so wiped out. Cisco paused. “Are you as beat as I am?” Maybe everything—including their spur-of-the-moment marriage—would seem easier in the morning.
Gillian nodded. “It’s been a long day.”
“For me, too,” Cisco admitted with relief.
“If you don’t mind calling it a night,” Gillian said, looking consoled by the idea of a long, nocturnal time-out from the intimacy of spending time with each other, “then I for one would be glad to go our separate ways until morning.”
“Not at all.” Glad they were in synch about this, Cisco went into the bedroom and returned carrying two pillows, a stack of linens and a blanket. “Though I doubt separate beds are what Max had in mind for us,” he continued as he set the linens down on the end table next to the sofa bed.
“In some instances,” Gillian said defiantly, putting her purse carefully down on the kitchen counter, “we know best.”
Cisco took off the sofa cushions and neatly set them out of the way. He sized her up and decided a little time and space were what she needed. “I’ll sleep out here,” he said matter-of-factly.
Gillian immediately disagreed as she swept over to assist him. “I don’t want to put you out of your own bed.”
Cisco straightened and regarded her in a gentlemanly manner. He wanted her to have her privacy, though he wasn’t sure he was too excited about the prospect of having her sleep in his bed, either. Forever after he’d likely be haunted by hotly envisioned images of her between his sheets, and the lingering floral scent of her on his pillows.
“You should have the bedroom,” he repeated, even more firmly.
Gillian folded her arms in front of her and continued to look mutinous. To Cisco’s chagrin, she seemed to be thinking about the downside of sleeping in his bed, too. “I’d rather have the sofa bed,” she said just as stubbornly.
It wasn’t worth arguing about. “Fine.” In one swift, smooth motion Cisco pulled the mattress out by the metal handle and unfolded it. “I’ll help you make it up.”
“That’s not necessary.” Gillian stepped between Cisco and the bed. “I can do it” She took the stack of linens and held them to her chest like a protective shield.
Cisco paused, not certain he liked the feeling of being treated as a lustful schoolboy in search of a female to bed, even if that was the direction of his forbidden thoughts and fantasies. “You’re sure?” he asked casually.
She nodded.
“All right, then.” Giving up on the gentlemanly thing to do, he turned to leave, wondering how he was even going to feign sleep when every inch of him was on fire with desire.
“Cisco?”
Her gentle voice stopped him dead in his tracks. Pulse racing, he turned back. A flush of color pinkened her cheeks. “I hate to ask, but since I have no clothes of my own at the moment, save what I’m wearing, and I can’t very well sleep in a wedding dress…” She gestured inanely and her voice trailed off.
“You want to borrow something to sleep in?” he guessed.
She searched his eyes, looking for the slightest sign he was put out. “Would you mind?” she asked hesitantly, still looking embarrassed at having to ask.
“No. Not at all,” Cisco fibbed. Now, along with the memories of her in his apartment, he thought wistfully, he’d have the memories of her in his pajamas. ‘Course, staying here still had to be better than stayin
g in the honeymoon cottage. This had to be a lot less romantic setting.
He slipped into the bedroom and came back with a pair of flannel pajamas. Gillian looked at the pattern of cowboys and lassos and horses and broke out into a smile. “They were a gag gift, years ago,” he explained tersely, not wanting her to think he had picked them out for himself.
Gillian’s eyes sparkled with lively curiosity. “From Max?”
“Patience,” Cisco corrected. “I wore them a couple of times at Max’s place when I had a heck of a case of the flu, and the McKendricks were nursing me through the worst of it.”
“But you haven’t worn them since,” she said, remarking on the fact they were soft and thick and practically like new.
“No. Patience laundered them and sent them home with me. I put them in a drawer and haven’t needed them ‘til now.”
Gillian shook her head. “After hearing the story behind these pajamas I’m not so sure I should sleep in them,” she teased.
“Well, you’re going to have to if you want to wear pajamas,” Cisco quipped dryly. He spread his hands wide. “It’s the only pair I’ve got.”
That threw her for a loop, but she recovered quickly enough. “What do you normally sleep in?” she asked after a moment.
“The buff.”
Gillian rolled her eyes in obvious exasperation. “Well, that won’t do,” she scolded sternly. “As long as we’re under one roof, I insist we both wear nightclothes of some sort.”
“How come?” he taunted, sauntering even nearer.
Gillian backed up until the backs of her knees touched the sofa-bed mattress. “Trust me on this, Cisco,” she said as twin spots of color swept into her cheeks. “We need to stick to some level of propriety.”
“Even if it’s our wedding night?” he drawled.
“Especially because it’s our wedding night,” she returned. “Therefore, I’ll take the pajama top.” Demonstrating, she held it against her slender form for size. “It comes down to midthigh anyway, which is almost as long as a nightshirt. And you can wear the bottoms, Cisco.”
Cisco knew she was trying to lessen the erotic tension between them. He wasn’t sure this was the way to go. The thought of her in nothing but. that shirt caused a heat wave as big as all Montana in his lower half.
“Promise me, Cisco. You’ll wear half if I wear half.”
“Fine.” Cisco swallowed around the sudden parched feeling in his throat and the throbbing in his groin. “I promise.” If splitting one pair of pajamas between them made her feel better, more protected in a sexual sense, so be it. However, judging by the hardening state of his lower half, her proposal was having the opposite effect on him. Figuring he better get out of there before she noticed the burgeoning change in his anatomy he said, “If you don’t need anything else…”
She smiled briskly and avoided his eyes. “Just your shower.”
He pointed to the green and black tiled room situated to the left of both the bedroom and living area. “Help yourself. You should find everything you need in there. I’ve even got a new toothbrush in the drawer, so have it”
“Thanks,” Gillian said, already heading quickly toward the bathroom, his pajama top clasped in her arms. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Cisco nodded thoughtfully, knowing even if she didn’t what a long, sleepless night this was likely to be, at least for him. “You, too.”
GILLIAN EMERGED FROM the bathroom and climbed into bed, exhausted, but wired. It had been one incredible twenty-four hours. The storm last night followed by a full day putting together emergency provisions at the dining hall. Then the McKendrick wedding, Max’s surprise appearance, followed by more celebrating and Max’s daring suggestion that she and Cisco marry.
She’d agreed because she was tired of running and because the questions Cisco had been pestering her with proved to her beyond a shadow of a doubt that she needed a new identity that was both legal and rock solid.
She’d figured if she had all that, plus the protection of the McKendrick wealth and name, she would finally be able to stop looking over her shoulder and worrying her past would catch up with her, and begin to live again.
What she hadn’t counted on was Cisco. How safe he’d make her feel, and at the same time how threatened. If she spent too much time with him, she had the sinking feeling she could very well lose her heart to this man.
But nearly six hours of marriage had already passed. What were another forty-two, really, she told herself confidently, when so very much was at stake? She just had to get through another couple days of this marriage and then she’d be safe again. Protected. Married or not, she’d have a “family” in the McKendricks and a place where she belonged, and the vast dining hall business on the ranch would be hers.
For the first time in her life, she would be able to experiment with recipes to her heart’s content and run her kitchen exactly the way she wanted to run it, with no interference from anyone.
As far as Cisco went…well, she knew she could deal with him. She just had to be careful not to let herself get too caught up in this ridiculous match-making scheme of Max’s. And she could do that, too, she thought, as she opened the secret compartment she’d had built into the bottom of her purse, retrieved what she needed and climbed back into bed.
JUST AFTER MIDNIGHT, Cisco lay on his back in the dark, hands folded behind his head, as an hour passed. Then another. And another. Normally not one to have trouble sleeping, he was frustrated but not surprised by his inability to sleep.
Sighing, Cisco finally threw back the covers and got up. Maybe if he had a cold beer he’d be able to fall asleep. Certainly, it would help him to relax and stop thinking hopelessly protective and erotic thoughts about his new bride in the next room. Because if there was one thing that was not going to happen tonight—regardless of the wily Max’s hopes to the contrary—it was any sort of a honeymoon. He and Gillian had both agreed wholeheartedly on that.
Pretty sure Gillian had fallen asleep a long time ago, he soundlessly eased open the bedroom door. Sure enough, she was breathing deep and even. And curled on her side, the covers drawn up to her chest. Her long auburn curls were tousled like a halo of crumpled silk around her head, her lips soft and bare and slightly parted, her cheeks flushed pink against the fairness of her skin. Where her flannel top gaped open, midsternum, he could see the uppermost curve of her breasts, and the even sexier hollow in between.
Suppressing a groan of renewed desire, Cisco turned his glance away. Determined not to disturb her in the slightest, he moved barefoot across the room and headed for the kitchen.
And it was at that moment, as he edged quietly past her that she woke with a startled gasp, reached under her pillow and presented him with an even bigger surprise.
Chapter Five
“What in the heck…” Cisco whispered, stunned, as he found himself looking down the barrel of a very small but very deadly gun.
“I told you what would happen if you came back,” Gillian said, in a voice thick with both confusion and sleep. “I told you I wouldn’t let you terrorize me again.” She gripped the barrel with hands that shook and stared at him with eyes that were wide with fright.
“Terrorize you how?” Cisco demanded. To his frustration, she didn’t answer, didn’t move. “What have I done, Gillian?” Cisco asked, even more firmly.
“You know very well what you’ve done….” she said, her voice rising angrily as she continued to aim the gun straight at his chest.
His jaw tensing, for he knew there was no way he could survive a bullet wound at such close range, Cisco stayed where he was and lifted his hands in surrender. “Put the gun down, Gillian, and we’ll talk,” he ordered.
But she didn’t seem to see him at all. “Never again,” she murmured thickly instead, as tears streamed down her face. “I told you…this was never going to happen again…and I meant it, Phillip,” she whispered hoarsely. “I meant it with every fiber of my being.”
Phillip! W
ho was Phillip? And why did she think he was Phillip? Was she dreaming? In the midst of some terrible nightmare? Not that this explained her sleeping with a gun under her pillow, for Pete’s sake! A gun she had to have carried with her on her person or in her purse. Both options were damned unsettling, to say the least. She was obviously in far more trouble than she’d let on. No wonder she didn’t want anyone asking questions or looking into her past.
“Gillian, listen to me,” he began patiently, imbuing his voice with as much tranquillity and kindness as possible, as his heart thudded all the harder. “It’s Cisco—”
Again she appeared not to hear him. “You have no right to be here,” Gillian said. Her lips tightened determinedly as she released the safety.
Talk about nightmares! “Put the gun down, Gillian.”
Still deep in her dream, she lifted the gun slightly, the whole of her trembling. “I’m warning you. Don’t come any closer! I’ll shoot!” The barrel of the gun jerked up as she put one hand up as if to ward off a blow. “I promise you I will!” she stated again. Then the gun came down once more, and locked into shooting position. Her left hand closed over her right in steadying fashion.
Cisco knew time had run out He wasn’t going to let her hurt herself or him. In one smooth motion, he ducked and dove for the sofa bed. His body covered hers and he knocked her body flat, her hands up above her head just as the gun went off with a resounding…click?
It wasn’t loaded, Cisco thought, as relief swept over him in a staggering wave. Or at least not all the way, Cisco decided as he struggled to get the gun away from her and Gillian began to scream. Given no other choice, he forced the gun from her hand and cut off her shriek with a hand clamped tight across her mouth. “You’re dreaming, Gillian,” Cisco said, giving her a little shake. “Do you hear me? You’re dreaming, Gillian. And there’s no reason to be afraid. You’re here with me. Cisco. In my apartment. No one is going to hurt you. Do you hear me, Gillian? No one is going to hurt you.”
Spur-Of-The-Moment Marriage Page 7