by Linda Conrad
When the kids moved out of earshot and Abby had Meredith huddled in a quiet corner, she looked up into Meredith's face with an almost guilty expression on hers. "I don't believe it would be bad for the kids to go tonight. The dance is not exactly church sanctioned, but most of the kids around here will be there, and it would be good for our teens to get to know the others better. Except…"
"Except?" Meredith interrupted.
"I can't take them tonight," Abby continued. "I have, uh, something else I have to do."
Meredith thought her new friend was being unnecessarily mysterious, but maybe Abby had a date or something that she didn't want to talk about.
"But I could lend you one of the trucks so you can take them," Abby quickly interjected. "That is if you don't mind being a chauffeur and baby-sitter for the evening."
"I wouldn't mind going, but isn't it dangerous? And what will Cinco have to say?"
"We won't tell Cinco. He must think your cover story will keep you safe, or he'd have a bodyguard watching you twenty-four hours a day." Abby shrugged and grinned. "We live in a fairly isolated community, and Cinco has already spread the word that you're a computer consultant. No one knows the truth except the three of us."
Meredith grinned back at her. "Okay. I guess you're right, and I could sure use a night off."
Abby turned to tell the kids they were on their way, but stopped to say one last thing. "I'll call all the kids' guardians and try to waylay Cinco when he realizes you're gone." Her expression turned solemn. "Enjoy yourself, Meri. But be careful what you say while you're there. Just remember your story and everything will be fine."
Cinco crammed the gears of the pickup into second and stepped on the gas so hard that the tires spun wildly on a patch of gravel. Damn it all to hell. Furious, he muttered curse words and beat his fist against the steering wheel in frustration.
How could Meredith do such an idiotic thing? Had the woman absolutely no sense at all?
And as for his sister … well, Abby was apparently just congenitally naive and stupid.
He carefully turned the pickup onto the state highway and pushed down harder on the gas pedal. To think he'd spent nearly the whole of last week digging into computer files and calling people all over the country, trying to get a line on Meredith's pursuer.
It didn't matter that Richard Rourke had disappeared off the face of the earth. Or that Cinco had to finally put out word on the Internet, leaving the search to others. What mattered was that he'd tried.
So what did Meredith do while his back was turned? She traipsed off to some teeny-bopper country-western dance with a bunch of very visible young strangers. He ground his teeth like he'd just done to the gears.
It was a good thing he'd decided to have dinner with her this evening. Damn it. As a treat, he'd been planning to offer to take her out dancing—only to have Lupe tell him that Meredith had already gone off the ranch without letting him know.
Cinco spun the wheel and roared into the Roadhouse Café's parking lot. Swinging down from the driver's seat, he adjusted his Stetson lower on his forehead and started off toward the front door.
He swallowed back the lump in his throat and tried telling himself that what he'd felt was irrational. Her secret identity had not been compromised. She was probably safe and sound.
But still… She'd left the ranch without telling him—without him being at her side. And she'd better just look out. He was on his way.
* * *
Seven
« ^ »
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Cinco knew he shouldn't storm into the Roadhouse Café while he still felt this fury over Meredith's leaving the ranch. He was a reasonable man and he should first walk off his anger outside—in the parking lot—or maybe a few miles away.
He just couldn't seem to help himself.
The few coherent thoughts that had actually gotten through his mad haze were of Meredith being stalked. Or worse, of her being hurt by something Cinco himself had failed to do.
And the thoughts stung.
Spotting her golden hair the second he stormed through the café's front door, Cinco took a breath. She was all right, and with that realization he could feel the tension begin to leave his chest. Head and shoulders above most of the others in the crowd, she was dancing with some kid.
Cinco pushed through the tables toward the crowded dance floor as the beat of the country-western band changed tempo. They began to play a slow heartbreaking song that he knew from the radio. She looked so beautiful … and so unwary. How could she endanger herself and these kids by going off on her own? Without him?
The kid she was dancing with was barely her height; his hair stood out in spiky little strands and his cheeks bore acne scars. Dang it, that kid's looks just screamed big city. Meredith couldn't have picked a more visible partner.
Cinco moved beside them and touched her shoulder. "We need to talk," he told her. "Outside." He took her arm, swung her away from the kid and headed for the door.
In the background he could hear the kid sputtering something about not taking his dancing partner.
At first Meredith's expression had been one of surprise, but as he elbowed his way through the crowd she held back.
"Wait, Cinco."
He kept moving as if he hadn't heard, striding as fast as he could past the couples swirling around them. Not daring to open his mouth until he was sure no one else could hear him, he ground his teeth and kept his lips tightly locked.
"Cinco," she cried, making her voice clearly heard above the music. "That's far enough."
Meredith suddenly planted her feet and, in a move calculated to throw him off balance, ripped her arm free of his. "Stop this instant and listen to me."
She'd not only halted his forward motion but also managed to drag him around to face her in one swift move. "Listen."
"Not here," he urged fiercely.
Without warning, Meredith looked beyond Cinco and shouted. "Bryan, no!"
Cinco moved quickly away from whatever danger was coming at him from the side. When he turned to face his attacker, he found himself looking at the young kid who'd been dancing with Meredith.
Cinco took a step back from the teenager, who was getting ready to take another swing. "Back off, kid. This isn't any of your business."
"You leave her alone," the young man demanded. "She was dancing with me."
When the boy balled his fist and swung, Cinco once again had no trouble sidestepping the blow. The kid nearly toppled over on his own face, but he only stumbled and fell backward a few feet.
The boy tucked his head. "I'm going to kill you," he screamed, and came at Cinco full force. He tried to throw his older and heavier opponent off balance.
Cinco put a hand on the kid's bowed head and held off the attack by keeping him at arm's length. "Stop this," he demanded of the boy. "You're making a fool of yourself."
A couple of teens stepped up and pulled the angry youngster back. The kid sputtered and swore, but his peers whispered quietly to him as they dragged him through the crowd and out of sight.
Cinco picked up his hat with a swift motion and grabbed Meredith's elbow at the same time. "Now," he grumbled. "Are you coming outside to talk to me or do I have to carry you?"
Meredith's head swam with conflicting emotions. She battled her fury at Cinco for manhandling her that way and for causing trouble with Bryan. But she'd been so glad to see him after all these days that the mere sight of him had sent her senses skittering out of control.
She let him lead her out past the dispersing teenage crowd and into the parking lot. The controlling jerk. When they were alone and about ten feet from the front door, she fisted her hand and took her best jab at him. The punch landed on his chin, stinging her hand and jolting her arm.
"Ow," they both said in unison.
He let go of her arm and rubbed at his jaw. "What'd you do that for?"
She massaged her aching hand. "That was for being an idiot. You could have waited until
Bryan and I were done dancing. Or at least you could've asked me to come outside and not just pushed everyone out of your way. If you were worried about someone spotting me, I think your little spectacle just ensured it."
To Meredith's great shock, he looked guilty and hurt at her words. He stood there with those great big sad eyes and tenderly touched his chin. Her heart skipped a little beat and the tingles that had captured her attention before now hit her full force like the exhaust from a jet engine.
"You've got a hell of a left hook, you know that?" he mumbled. Damn but he was cute.
"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I'm just concerned about Bryan. He seemed so embarrassed. I wish I knew how to make that go away for him … poor kid. I feel it's all my fault somehow."
"Your 'poor little' Bryan seemed way out of control and delusional. And I don't believe any of that is your fault," he said with a wince.
Cinco appeared to be in genuine pain. "I shouldn't have slugged you," she admitted. "Hitting you was just as controlling as what you did," she said through a stupid grin. "What can I do to make it up to you?"
"Come here and see if I'm bleeding?" he offered.
"Oh, you're not hurt that badly, but I'll check." She'd never played silly flirting games with a man before. But she'd seen other women do it and, with Cinco, the whole process might be less intimidating.
She leaned over slowly and, circling his wrist with her fingers, pulled his hand away from his face. "Let me see how bad it is."
Even in the brilliant orange glow of the café's parking lot lights, she could see an angry red bruise beginning to show through the stubble on his chin. She cringed, realizing that she'd actually marked him.
"Oh, dear. I must have hit you a little harder than I'd intended. I'm terribly sorry."
Meredith really didn't stop to consider it, just brushed her lips across his chin in a light apology. But being that close to his body threw her. She could smell his aftershave and the leather jacket he wore. She could feel his heat, rolling over her like an ocean wave. She could almost feel his heartbeat entwining with hers.
Because he stood so still and didn't make a move toward her, she pulled herself up to full height and moved her lips from his stubbled chin to that full soft mouth of his. But once there, she sort of lost her mind again. She felt her knees go weak, so she let go of his wrist, wrapped her arms around his neck and plunged her hands into his hair, leaning full against him.
He encircled her waist with both arms, steadying her, and instead made her knees buckle.
She eased her head back, but stayed a hairbreadth away from his lips. Those magnetic lips. She couldn't move, held fast by the need to kiss him again.
He made a funny little sound deep in his throat. She looked up into his eyes and nearly bolted away from the passion she'd witnessed in them. But it was too late.
Cinco began nibbling on the corners of her mouth, with a slight scrape of his teeth and a gentle tug on her lips. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and tenderly nipped it. Then, releasing her, he lightly ran his tongue over her swollen bottom lip.
Heat, hot enough to burn her soul, flashed between them when she sighed. He tightened his hold on her and deepened the kiss, devouring her, consuming her with imploding shocks of want.
Something was growing inside her gut. A mountain of tremendous proportions—and she felt herself climbing to the precipice.
Suddenly afraid of falling, she drew away from him and felt the shiver rush through him and into her as she tried to get her bearings. She had the urge to shove him away, to manage her feelings and exert full control over her own body.
But he opened his eyes and gazed at her, waiting for her to make the next move. So she stayed in his embrace. "I…" Her throat was dry, her voice raspy and weak. Swallowing hard, she tried again. "I don't kiss men that way in public places." She'd never been kissed the way Cinco had done—ever—not in any place, public or not.
He smiled and loosened his grip on her. "Oh? How do you kiss men in public places then?"
She jolted with his casual tone. He was teasing her she knew, and she felt her heart twist with emotions she didn't recognize.
"I don't," she mumbled.
"What about dates? Boyfriends?"
Meredith's body began to retrieve its usual steadiness. "I don't date," she admitted. "Not many boyfriends in the past either … except for being engaged once. I guess you're only the second man I've ever had the opportunity to … kiss like that."
Cinco stared at her, his eyes darkened to near black as he searched hers. "You want to run that by me again? Someone who looks like you doesn't date?" He shook his head. "Why on earth not?"
She shrugged a shoulder. "No time. No desire." How would she be able to explain things to him?
He simply stared at her with confusion and disbelief.
Meredith wasn't positive why, but she wanted him to understand. "Remember I told you about my father—Rear Admiral Stanton Powell?"
Cinco scowled and nodded, watching her carefully.
"From the time of my mother's death, he controlled every aspect of my life … right down to my very thoughts," she explained. "What I wore and ate. Where I went to school. Who my friends were … or weren't. Every small detail of my life was thought out, arranged and executed with military precision."
"He didn't let you date." It wasn't a question.
"No," she agreed with a bubble of a laugh that didn't reach her eyes and ended almost before it started. "Or do anything else I saw other girls doing."
"What did you do after school and on holidays?"
"Studied. And for a change of pace, I learned self-defense, took marksmen lessons, learned to sail and fly."
She eased her shoulders and went on. "He kept me too busy to miss having friends or dates."
"And in college?"
"Father decided I was to go to the Air Force Academy. He wanted no appearance of nepotism so the Navy was out. His next choice was West Point, but I loved flying so much, I actually got up my nerve and asked for something I wanted."
Cinco's eyes lit with a question, so she waited.
"Why didn't you rebel? Run away, or at least sneak away for some fun? You seem to have such a strong streak of independence."
It wasn't a question she hadn't asked herself a million times over. But when he asked it, she wasn't positive how to respond.
"I'm not sure."
Cinco grimaced and shook his head.
"No, really," she insisted quickly. "When I was little, he kept telling me that I had to do whatever he said to prove that I loved him. To convince him that I was worth his time and effort."
"And if you didn't?" Cinco asked.
"That he'd leave me … just like Mother did. Go away and never come back." She heard the little crack in her voice and straightened her spine to get past it.
"Oh, darlin'." Cinco reached for her, but she avoided his grasp.
Shaking her head, she quickly went on with her story. "Finally out of his control at the Academy, I tried to get up the audacity to make friends, go out … date. But I didn't have the experience of the others. And I was afraid of disappointing my father by doing something that might embarrass him."
She did smile then, remembering her stupidity. "I should have realized that he was controlling me still. It was simply from a distance."
She changed gears and hurried to finish her tale. "I fell in love … or thought I was in love … with the first guy who paid me any attention and seemed kind. Within a few weeks we were engaged … and talking about our future."
"Meredith," Cinco interrupted. "You don't have to tell me this. I think I understand."
She looked at him with such quiet strength that he knew she had to finish.
"Making love with him didn't do a thing for me," she went on. "No thrill … no chills. I thought it was supposed to be that way." Her voice trailed off as she watched him.
Meredith looked toward the parked cars for a second, then began again. "Nothing we
did together was like what I'd read about in novels … or just experienced in real life with you. Nothing."
Cinco didn't know what to do, where to look, what to do with his hands. Finally he adjusted the Stetson and hooked his thumbs on his jacket pockets.
"I thought it must have been my fault. That I made too many demands on him. But then—" her voice had become so low that he almost missed what she said "—my fiancé suddenly left school. He quit the Air Force, told me we were done and walked away."
Her eyes clouded over with the hurtful memories. "I found out a year later that Father threatened to ruin his career if he didn't leave me. Then he also made the arrangements for my fiancé to transfer to the Naval Academy."
"I bet you were really upset with your father when you found out," Cinco ventured.
"No, not at all. By that time I was absorbed with flight school and thinking about my career." She smiled without any cheer in her face. "Actually, I was grateful to my father for making me see what a bad mistake I almost made. Since that time I've never found the time or energy to try being serious again."
"What about the past few years? When you were assigned to be that general's private pilot? You must've had time for dates and friends then."
A real smile warmed her eyes. "Oh, I've thought about trying again … lots of times."
Cinco wanted to place a kiss on those smiling lips—to feel their softness and breathe tenderness and caring into her at the same time.
The light left her eyes as quickly as it had come. "A few years ago my father had a stroke. He retired from the Navy and begged me to come live with him. I couldn't turn him down. After all … he was still my father."
"So you worked and took care of your father?"
"Yes. He controlled me until the day he died. I couldn't seem to help myself."
"Meredith, don't beat yourself up over that." Cinco could barely stand not touching her. "Your father abused you. That wasn't love, it was total control."
"Oh, I'm well aware of what it was," she said flatly. "And aware that I never walked away from it. Frankly, I hate to say this, but I'm glad to finally be free of him."
