by Cindy Stark
She looked skyward and let her gaze trickle down, trying to see the world through his eyes. She liked to have her space. Just not this much space. "I guess you're right." She faked a smile. She assumed he took her gesture as genuine because he nodded and led the way into his house as though they were checking into the Four Seasons.
The sight of a gorgeous brown leather couch, complete with turquoise throw pillows and a creamy white throw folded on the edge stopped her in her tracks. An exquisite woven rug covered a gleaming wood floor and provided a backdrop for a beautifully handcrafted wooden table.
"Wow." He had oil paintings and candles, even floral arrangements. "I was expecting more of a bachelor pad." The room was a little smaller, but his furnishings could rival her family's.
He stopped his descent down the hallway with her suitcase and grinned. "Didn't you know? What you see isn't always what you get."
"You did all this?" Deputy Sykes puzzled her.
His lips turned to a sheepish grin, and he shrugged. "Okay, I confess. My last girlfriend was an interior decorator who liked spending my money."
The reminder of his all-important girlfriends, past and previous, stoked her unhappiness. She narrowed her gaze. "That makes much more sense."
He seemed offended. "Hey, I paid for it and let her do it. I should get some credit."
"Of course." She strode toward him. "Take all the credit you wish," she said as she stopped directly in front of him. "Makes no difference to me." She glanced between what appeared to be two bedrooms at the end of the hall. "Which room is mine?"
CHAPTER THREE
Ariana spent the next hour in her room unpacking and changing into a tank top and jeans that seemed more apropos for this little country town. Her room was also fashionably furnished. A warm green comforter accented the contemporary walnut headboard and dresser. She fell in love with it at first sight. Whoever this girl was that had stolen Milo's heart had impeccable taste.
Which was just fine with her. Deputy Sykes could have all the girlfriends he wanted. She didn't care. In fact, she should be more concerned that she'd been so preoccupied with this unknown woman. It had to be the stress of relocating again and, of course, the impending trial. She sighed. The thought of facing her father in a court of law sickened her. She couldn't let her thoughts go there. Not right now.
She glanced at the cell phone she'd placed on the dresser. It beckoned her. Quinn had given it to her for emergencies. Would he consider the loss of her sanity an emergency? It was a simple, little pay-as-you-go phone. There was no way the mob would be able to trace it. She climbed off her bed and picked it up. Her fingers danced over Kenzie's number. It would be so simple. If she kept the call short, what could it hurt?
She groaned in frustration as she opened a dresser drawer and tossed the temptation inside.
She needed to leave her room and face Milo. As it was, she'd already tempted fate too many times. The sexy deputy could distract her before she made another mistake.
Ariana found him asleep on the couch. He looked peaceful as he lay there, his crossed arms lifting with each breath he took. She missed the animated sparks that now hid behind his closed lids. An urge surfaced, and she resisted smoothing a lock of rumpled blond hair from his forehead. She wished she could know that kind of tranquility in her life. It didn't seem to matter if she was awake or asleep, her past continually haunted her. She prayed that would change when they locked her father behind iron bars.
She made as much noise as she could as she plopped down in an adjacent beige wingback chair. Milo didn't budge. His chest rose and fell as though he was in a deep, relaxed state. A tendril of fear wound through her stomach and chest. The hit men her father employed had surely been sent to find her. The Feds had a pretty good case against him without her testimony, but she would be the one to put the irremovable nail in his coffin.
The threat against her life was a certainty, and although she doubted they'd find her in Aspen, the man sleeping on the couch was her only protection. At the moment, he wasn't inspiring her confidence. She shifted in her seat and emitted a loud sigh.
Still no movement. What kind of protection was this?
Maybe she needed to go into hiding on her own. If only she had a way to obtain some kind of identification and money. Of course, she knew people who could procure things like that, but they were all associated with her family. Family and friends from a past she could no longer claim.
She was well and truly on her own. Not to mention vulnerable.
She lifted a travel book about Scotland from the coffee table and set it back down with a thud. Nothing.
"Something you need?"
His voice startled her, and she squeaked. She eyed him, surprised that he still appeared to be in a deep slumber. "I thought you were asleep."
He lifted a lid, exposing one ice blue eye. "Appearances aren't always what they seem."
She adopted a nonchalant attitude, hoping he wouldn't notice her pulse slamming against her throat. "I suppose they're not."
"You forget, I spent time in the army. Sometimes the only sleep we got was ten minutes at a time on the side of the road in the middle of the day. I learned how to make the most of it."
She nodded, feeling the idiot. "I can't imagine what that must have been like. Thank you for your service to our country."
He regarded her with a studious gaze as though sizing her up and then nodded.
She glanced about the room, not comfortable with him watching her. "I'm wondering what there is to do around here."
He sat up and stretched his arms above his head. She watched, fascinated as his triceps bulged outward. The white bandage that circled his left arm expanded with his movements.
"What happened to your arm?"
He glanced at it and snorted. "By-product of the job."
"How do you mean? What happened?"
"Got shot during a standoff. The guy had already wounded several people."
She widened her eyes. He spoke of it like being shot was nothing. "I thought you were this expert marksman."
"I said I was good, not perfect." He eyed her with a serious look. "However, if you're concerned about my abilities, don't ask him."
"Why not?"
"He's dead."
She sucked in a breath, trying to shake off an impending shiver. "Do you always take killing this lightly?" She didn't want his attitude about murder to be the same as her father's.
A pained look shot across his expression before he transformed it into a blank mask. "Of course not. The men I killed while I was in the army haunted me for months. The man I shot the other day was the first person I had to take out while serving in this capacity." His voice cracked on the last syllable. He cleared his throat. "No one ever goes into those situations wanting to take a life. But he wouldn't surrender peacefully, and I couldn't allow him to hurt another citizen that I've sworn to protect. The situation is under investigation as we speak, but Sheriff Williams is telling me they think he wanted to die. Suicide by cop."
She nodded. She'd spent several hours hiding in a dark warehouse in Chicago, consoling Danny because his uncle had done something similar. He'd double crossed her father and death-by-cop had been a more humane way to die than what her father would do to him. "I'm sorry. That was unfair of me to suggest you took it lightly." She couldn't keep comparing every man she met to the thugs who had pervaded her younger years.
Milo stood. "Speaking of shooting, I'm pretty sure I still have some old coffee cans in the shed that would be perfect targets. We can work on your shooting skills if you'd like." He seemed to have reburied the distress she'd brought up.
Her spirits lightened as well. "Okay." If she was ever going to feel safe in this life, she'd need to know how to protect herself, and she'd always been intrigued by the different weapons her father's men had carried. The one time she'd handled a revolver her father had stashed in his desk, she'd been backhanded so hard she'd tumbled across the floor, horrified to find blood dripping fr
om her lip. But that world was no longer her world, and in her new life, she could shoot if she pleased.
* * *
Milo made them both a couple of roast beef sandwiches before they headed outside. They were heavy on the meat and light on veggies, but hers tasted surprisingly good. He was definitely right on the fact that appearances weren't what they seemed. So far, he'd proved to be quite enigmatic and interesting.
When he retrieved his gun holster and strapped it around his waist, a silent thrill rushed through her. He looked damn good sporting a pistol. She watched with fascination as he checked his weapon.
Under the circumstances she'd had growing up, she should hate weapons, but she was smart enough to recognize it wasn't the gun that killed people. It was the person standing behind it. She also couldn't deny that guns meant power. That was something she'd inherited from her family whether she liked it or not—she enjoyed power. Not that she was proud of that fact.
With a jerk of his head, he indicated she should follow him out the kitchen door.
The sun had crept to the west side of the house by the time they headed outside, leaving the sprawling backyard shaded. A sweet-scented breeze tickled her skin. She folded her arms and waited near a swing on the back porch while he crossed the yard and entered a small wooden building. The sound of metal banging and things being shuffled around drifted from inside the structure.
She glanced about his yard. No signs of a woman's touch out here. It had an untamed or old-fashioned feel to it. No landscaping. The grass was mowed, but wild pink roses grew up and over the surrounding wood fence while tall grass clung to the posts. An old hammock strung between two tall shade trees beckoned to her. The tool shed commandeered one corner and a large pine sat squat in the other. To the far left, a vegetable garden overflowed with ripe tomatoes and peppers. She couldn't really picture Milo spending his time gardening, but then again, there were many things about him that didn't fit with the descriptive labels she'd given him.
He emerged from the shed, a cocky grin curving his lips, a stack of old coffee cans in his hands. "Got 'em."
Good Lord. The image of him standing with his gun slung low on his hips, his t-shirt outlining every glorious curve of his chest, and his blue eyes lit with excitement would remain seared on her retinas for a long time to come. A shiver of attraction rolled through her as she stepped off the porch and walked toward him. "Great." She had no idea what to do with the pistol or with the unwanted attraction that had sprung up like the wildflowers growing up the fence.
Milo balanced all five cans on separate posts of the fence and then stood in the middle of his yard. "Come here."
She moistened her lips, swallowing an intense thread of excitement as she joined him. When she stopped, he moved closer, removing the remaining space between them. He slid his gun out of the holster and displayed it in front of her. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you that handling a weapon is serious business."
A wicked bit of heat rushed to her cheeks. He was not talking about that weapon, though handling it would be serious business, indeed. She cleared her throat. Sex had been off her radar for a long time. It shouldn't be popping up now. "Yes, I know guns can kill."
He blinked, then nodded. "Of course you do. Have you ever fired a weapon?"
She shook her head.
"This is a 9mm handgun. It holds 15 rounds in each magazine." He wiggled a black clip before shoving it up inside the handle until it clicked.
"Okay."
He held out the weapon to her, and she took it. The pistol was lighter than she'd imagined. She wrapped her fingers around the butt of it, the gun fitting nicely in her hand. Her nerves stretched taut. She released a breathy smile. "What do I do?"
"Aim it at that first can."
She held the gun out from her, her hand shaking from anticipation. "Do I just shoot?"
"Squeeze the trigger."
She relaxed her stance, embarrassed that she was such a novice. She fired. The gun went off, kicking back against her hand. Not one of the cans moved as the bullet sailed into the green pasture.
Milo laughed and approached her from behind. "Let me give you a few tips." He moved in close, energy radiating off his chest into her back. "Hold out the gun." He lifted her right arm, the weapon aimed toward the cans. "Now take your left hand and support your right hand along the wrist." He covered the outside of her hand and moved it toward the gun as he leaned over her shoulder. "See how that keeps you steadier?"
"Uh-huh." She was pretty sure she was anything but steady at the moment. If he were to back away, she would probably fall to the ground. She tried to inhale a calming breath, but that only forced her closer to him.
He let go of her wrist and trailed his fingers across the back of her neck, tugging her hair out of his way. She froze as shiver after shiver radiated down her body.
"Your hair smells nice." His nose bumped her head as he took another long whiff and exhaled an appreciative sigh.
"Thanks."
He lifted her arms, reminding her that she'd let them droop. "Many people choose to turn their head to the side and close one eye to help them sight in their target. You probably have one side that is more dominant over the other, so try practicing with different eyes shut and see how you do."
As she adjusted her aim using only one eye, he released her hands, dropping his to her waist as though to hold her steady, still watching over her shoulder. Her gaze blurred, and she blinked. She couldn't think, let alone shoot with him that close.
She focused again, letting out a slow breath. The can sat dead center in her gaze. Just as she pulled the trigger Milo's breath caressed her ear. Her shot went wide, sending splinters flying from the side of the small wooden building. "Shit."
He laughed. "I think you just killed my shed."
"It's your fault." She turned, and he tipped the point of the gun downward, making her feel even worse.
"How's it my fault?" Merriment danced in his eyes.
"I can't keep my concentration with you that close."
Interested brows rose over his blue eyes. "Oh, really?"
She clamped her lips shut, not happy that she'd given herself away. But she couldn't keep them closed. She needed to give him a piece of her mind. "You did that on purpose."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
She studied him for a moment, staring deep into his so-called innocent expression. After a few seconds, a hint of a smile tugged at his lips, and she knew she'd won. "You are so busted. You blew in my ear on purpose, trying to distract me."
He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay. I'll admit it. You're just too cute not to tease."
Her heart jolted at his admission. He liked the way she looked. Shouldn't matter to her, but it did. She grinned. "You should take a step back, mister, and don't forget who's holding the gun here. Wouldn't want to distract me too much."
He moved backward a few steps, his face alight with amusement. "Absolutely darlin'. You're in control now."
She snorted. The man was a master of sexual innuendos.
She turned, sighted in the first can one more time and fired. The coffee can flew in the air and landed on the other side of the fence. "Woo!" She turned with an excited smile, and again he tipped the gun toward the ground. "Sorry." She tried to look chastised, but she'd actually hit her target.
Her grin resurfaced as she focused on the second can. She fired. "Crap," she mumbled under her breath. She fired again, and the rusty can sailed high over the fence. Yes. The next two also took her a couple of times, but she hit the fifth one with her first attempt.
"Ha," she said as she glanced over her shoulder. "I can shoot."
He approached wearing a contagious grin. "You sure can." He took the gun from her and holstered it, before he continued toward the fence. He hopped it, his moves sure and strong. She knew he'd done it to impress her…and it had. He replaced the coffee cans and jumped the fence again, walking toward her, his gaze holding hers, with a smile that said
he knew she couldn't help but watch.
He handed the gun to her, giving her a sexy, sideways glance. "Go again, hot shot."
She fired off several more rounds. Hitting some and missing more than she'd like. Each time she finished, he hopped the fence and then swaggered back to her with a sexy grin. Each time, increasing the heat building inside her. She wasn't quite sure what was going on between them, but she was definitely more entertained than she'd been in the previous places Quinn had placed her.
By the time she finished her tenth round, he called it quits. "I'm tired of playing fetch for you, darlin'. Let's call it a day."
"Really?" She frowned. "I was just getting good at it."
"You definitely have a shooter's eye."
"I don't need you to set up the cans. I can do that." She shrugged. It was no big deal. She'd just enjoyed watching his muscles flex as he jumped the fence. Having a man around to do her bidding had been rather pleasant, but she could do this for herself.
He walked closer, stopping just feet from her, tilting his head so he faced her dead on. Her pulse paused and then sprinted. He held her gaze as he reached between them. She shifted a nervous glance downward to see him working the buckle on his holster. She looked up, the happiness inside her flipping into a smile.
He removed his holster. He broke eye contact with her as he slid the leather strap around her waist, his fingers grazing the skin near her belly button. She was suddenly glad she hadn't changed out of her tank top like she'd planned. It was an innocent touch, but she liked the sizzle he left on her skin.
She'd done an excellent job in the years since Danny's death keeping men at arm's length. She'd convinced herself she didn't want or need a man's touch to be happy. She certainly didn't want to risk someone's life by falling in love. But this attraction and playfulness was kind of fun, and if her father knew, it would really piss him off.
She wasn't sure why flirting with Milo held such appeal for her. Deputy Sykes had something about him that had snuck over or around her protective emotional walls, and she wasn't certain she cared. She'd only known him a few hours, but he'd charmed her to the point she couldn't stop flirting with him.
