“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 stores. 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.
Gillian watched him slide in beside her and fit the key into the ignition. “You actually don’t seem to be minding all that much,” she marveled.
“Don’t kid yourself,” Cisco retorted grimly as the engine sprang to life with an enviable purr. “I have plenty of resentment, too, half of which is directed at myself,” he said as he turned to see as he backed out of the parking space in front of the log-cabin-style building.
“Why?” Gillian asked softly as he thrust the sleek car into gear. He was so sure of himself, so sure he could handle everything!
Cisco grimaced and kept his eyes on the road. “For starters, I probably should have seen this coming.”
“Because you’re his attorney, you mean?” she asked.
“That’s part of it. I’ve worked with Max long enough to know exactly how his mind works—although he can still surprise me from time to time, as he clearly demonstrated tonight. The other part is that Max has treated me like one of the McKendrick family for a long time now.” Cisco braked at the approaching intersection, and the beams of the sports car illuminated the lonely two-lane highway between the ranch and town. “Whatever he did for Trace, Patience and Cody, he also did for me.” Seeing the coast was clear, Cisco moved his hands confidently on the steering wheel and turned his car onto the smoothly paved road. “I thought I’d be excluded in this particular matchmaking activity because I was instrumental in helping him pull off the other three forty-eight-hour engagements and various ‘surprises.’ Cisco frowned, and continued in an introspective voice, rife with exasperation, “I guess I was wrong.”
Gillian studied him, and sighed. Though he irritated the heck out of her with his nosiness, Gillian had only to hear the rest of the family talk about Max’s young protégé and attorney to know they loved him deeply and considered him to be “family,” too. And family was something Gillian did not take for granted. Not since she’d lost her own.
Working hard to express her yearning for close enduring ties, she observed wistfully, “Max loves you like a son, doesn’t he?”
Cisco shrugged and kept both hands on the wheel, his emotions held carefully in check. “Yes.” Cisco smiled sheepishly after a moment. He shot her an intrigued glance as he adjusted the dials to allow slightly warmer air into the car. “What about you? What is your family going to think about the two of us getting married like this, even if it is only for a couple days?”
Gillian’s hand tightened on her purse. She had never wanted to disappoint her parents, and she still didn’t. “Thankfully, they’ll never have to know about this lunacy—they died in a fire when I was nineteen.”
A sorrow-filled silence filled the interior of the car. “I’m sorry.” Cisco reached over and lightly squeezed one of the hands in her lap. “You must miss them very much,” he said gently.
“Yes, I do,” Gillian admitted quietly as unwanted tears sprang to her eyes. She knew the pain she felt over the loss was never going to go away, no matter how many years passed.
A brief silence ensued as they moved from a two-lane highway to a four. Gillian leaned back in her seat and concentrated on the passing scenery. As they got closer to town, the dense woods around the logging camp gradually gave way to gently rolling hills and an occasional country home or small, well-tended ranch.
“Susannah mentioned she met you in a Los Angeles women’s shelter ten years ago,” Cisco said as they followed the signs toward Fort Benton.
Here it comes again, Gillian thought resentfully. First some sweet talk, and then the gentle but lawyerly third degree. “And you want to know how and why I happened to end up in a shelter, I suppose?” she surmised with more tartness in her voice than she would have liked. She turned to face him once again.
Cisco sighed and shrugged his broad shoulders noncomittally. “It crossed my mind.”
Gillian sensed he wasn’t going to ease up on her until she told him at least part of her past. Hence, she might as well get it over with. She folded her arms in front of her and began to talk in a clipped, reluctant tone. “After my parents died, it wasn’t a good time for me. Unable to concentrate enough to do my work, I’d dropped out of college. I was scared, drifting, and at that point I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.” She shut her eyes at the memory of that miserable time. “I admit I didn’t manage my money very well. And what little money I had went very fast”
Deliberately she did not recount details of the rest of that year, but slipped on ahead to the time she became involved with Susannah McKendrick.
“I was dead broke when I entered the shelter, and met Susannah, who was one of the volunteers.” Gratitude filled her heart as she recalled the kindness that had been shown her. “Susannah told me they were looking for a prep cook in the restaurant she was working in at the time, and she offered to give me a recommendation and help me get hired. From that point on, I worked almost exclusively for and with her.”
“That sounds like Susannah,” Cisco replied. “Generous and nurturing to a fault.”
Gillian nodded, her affection for her old friend a balm to her lacerated soul. “She’s been a very good friend to me.”
“As all the McKendricks have been to me,” Cisco replied with a similar amount of affection in his voice as they reached the very edge of town.
Eleven o’clock on a Saturday night, the only establishments open were a few gas stations, a twenty-fourhour supermarket and several restaurants. “Why all the questions?” Gillian asked as they passed the square that held the imposing limestone courthouse.
Cisco shrugged as he stopped at a traffic light. “The way I figure it, as long as we’re married—even if it is only for a little while, we ought to know a lot more about each other.”
Gillian arched her auburn brow at him as they waited for the light to turn green. “I see,” she said slowly, anxious to turn the tables on him, too. After all, he wasn’t the only one who could ask questions. “Would this include something about your family, too?”
Cisco immediately looked annoyed. “You’ve met my family—the McKendricks,” Cisco reminded her implacably as the light changed and he drove on.
“I meant before that,” Gillian insisted as they drove by Pearl’s Diner, a homey-looking restaurant with a softly lit interior, large glass windows looking out onto the streets and a handsome Western exterior.
“I know what you meant,” Cisco replied, and to her frustration offered nothing further about his roots.
“Wait a minute.” Cisco hit the brakes as they cruised around the corner, unable to suppress his surprise. “Isn’t that Pearl’s pickup truck?” He pointed to the sporty pink truck with white leather interior, that sported an extrafancy Pearl’s logo on the side.
“Yes,” Gillian murmured, still feeling a little piqued he hadn’t confided in her, since she’d confided in him. “Why?” she asked Cisco, thinking he could be a most maddening man!
“I thought she’d be with Max tonight,” he murmured, obviously perplexed, “especially since the wedding reception is expected to go on ‘til long after midnight.”
Gillian made a soft dissenting sound. Sometimes men could be so dense! And that went triple for the men from the Silver Spur Ranch!
“I don’t know about that,” she replied, putting in her two cents and slanting Cisco a wry look as he guided his car into a parking place at the rear of the establishment. “Pearl was still pretty ticked off at Max when we left the wedding reception,” Gillian allowed.
“Yeah, I know, but I figured Max would’ve been able to talk his way out of that by now.” Cisco shook his head, perplexed, and continued in a low, subdued tone. “The two of them have been together for as long as I can remember. Although in the past she’s been a lot quicker to forgive him.” A determined look on his handsome face, Cisco cut the motor and the lights. “I know we’re still in our wedding clothes but I want to stop in and make sure everything’s okay.”
Gillian shrugged and let him know with a glance that whatever he wanted in that regard was fine with her. After all, she was in no hurry to go to his apartment. “It’s not like I have anything else to change into,” she said dryly.
“True.”
Plus, it was June, and brides were literally everywhere. Their unusual attire would probably be overlooked, and if not, so what? “So, you’re close to Pearl, too,” she noted.
Cisco stepped out of the car and circled around to help Gillian with her door. “Let’s just say she was a mom and a friend and a big sister all rolled into one, when I needed her,” he confided as he flattened a hand over Gillian’s spine and escorted her around to the entrance. “I owe her a lot. Besides, if she is in the diner, maybe Max’ll be there, too.” Cisco grinned mischieviously. “And we can both give him a piece of our mind for the way he had all your belongings packed up and spirited away.”
“Sounds good to me,” Gillian said as she squared her slender shoulders resolutely. “I want that stuff back!”
PEARL WAS BEHIND the long wooden bar that served those who came in intending to eat alone. She had changed out of the clothes she’d worn to the wedding, into her pink waitress uniform, white apron and white Western boots. Her bright red hair was, as usual, pinned into a high French twist, but this time there were tendrils escaping to softly frame her face and the back of her neck. And that was unusual, Cisco thought. Pearl always coated her hair with enough hairspray to hold it in place in even the stiffest Montana wind.
“Hey, Pearl, thought you’d still be at the reception,” Cisco began casually, hoping he could work some of the matchmaking magic his mentor now seemed to possess in spades.
“You two ducked out early, too,” Pearl remarked, ushering the two of them to a cozy wooden booth by the window. She gave Cisco a measuring look. “And I didn’t see either of you eat any dinner.”
Cisco grinned at Pearl’s unabashed attempt to mother him and Gillian, but made no move to resist it. “That’s ‘cause we didn’t,” he answered cheerfully.
“Then the two of you sit right down and I’ll get you whatever you want, on the house.” Her manner brisk and businesslike, Pearl handed them both menus and whipped out her order pad as they slid across the padded leather seats. “Tonight’s special is countryfried steak, drowning in cream gravy, with whipped potatoes and collard greens.”
“The special sounds great,” Gillian said.
“To me, too,” Cisco added.
With her slender shoulders stiff with tension, undoubtedly lingering from her fight with Max at the reception, Pearl scrawled down their order, then looked up again. Her pretend-there’s-nothing-wrong expression spoke volumes. “Can I get you two a couple of green salads to go with that?”
“Sure,” Cisco said, intentionally ignoring the unmistakable tinge of sadness in Pearl’s eyes. “I’ll have ranch dressing on mine.”
“Sounds great,” Gillian agreed. She exchanged concerned looks with Cisco, before turning back to Pearl. “I’ll have the ranch, too.”
“I’ll bring it right out.” Pearl went back into the kitchen. Short minutes later, she came out of the swinging double doors, two crisp green salads in hand. She set them in front of Gillian and Cisco, along with a basket of hot rolls and butter. Knowing it was now or never, Cisco reached out and caught Pearl’s hand before she could get away. “Sit with us a minute, Pearl,” he urged, knowing the high-backed booth would allow them a measure of privacy.
Gillian scooted over and made room for Pearl as she added softly, “We can see you’re upset.”
“As anyone would be, after what Max put you through,” Cisco added.
“I’m not complaining.” Pearl took a seat at the end of the booth, beside Gillian. “What Max did brought me to my senses,” she confided with weary sadness. “It made me face some things I should’ve confronted a mighty long time ago.”
“Like what?” Cisco asked, as he forked up some greens.
Pearl sighed. “Like the fact that maybe I am the marrying kind after all.” Pearl took a lace-edged hankie out of her bodice and dabbed at the fresh tears sparkling in her eyes. She swallowed hard and it was a moment before she could go on. “I don’t know. Maybe it was something about seeing Trace and Susannah, Patience and Josh, and Cody and Callie together again, but as I watched them all pledge their undying love for each other and speak their vows, I realized I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as a single woman.”
“How long have you and Max known each other?” Gillian asked, taking a sip of her water.
“We’ve been close for twenty-five years now,” Pearl admitted, twisting her capable hands together. “Enough to have a silver wedding anniversary. Instead, all I have to show for it is this diner, of which I admit I’ve made a grand success, and more expensive presents than I can shake a stick at!”
“You still love Max, then?” Gillian persisted, while Cisco listened intently.
“It doesn’t matter what I feel.” Pearl stood abruptly. She crumpled her hankie and tucked it back into the bodice of her uniform, then smoothed the clinging fabric over her hips.
“Now, Pearl, I know Max loves you with all his heart and soul,” Cisco protested, before his friend could run away.
“Oh, really.” Pearl slapped both hands on hips that were as slender as a teenage girl’s. “Then why—if he believes in marriage so much for his kin, and even you and Gillian, Cisco—didn’t he lasso the two of us together for forty-eight hours and then end that with a marriage proposal and a wedding ring?” she demanded belligerently.
Cisco spread his hands wide. “I don’t know, Pearl. Maybe he didn’t want to mess things up by changing them. Maybe he thought you liked things the way they were, too.”
Pearl leaned forward abruptly and slammed the table with her fist. “Darn it all, Cisco. Stop defending that bounder and just admit he isn’t committed to me.”
“Now, Pearl—” Cisco began cautiously. He had the sinking feeling, despite his best intentions, that he’d just made things worse.
“Don’t you ‘Now Pearl’ me, Cisco Kidd!” Pearl fumed. “You tell that old rapscallion this! You tell him I never want to see him again, and to put that in his pipe and smoke it!” Pearl stomped off. The doors to the kitchen swung shut behind her.
Gillian and Cisco finished their salads in silence as Cisco tried vainly to figure out how to repair the situation. And he was still thinking on it when another waitress cleared their salad plates and brought out two plates of fragrant, steaming food and a complimentary basket of warm and flaky buttermilk biscuits.
“This is really upsetting you, isn’t it?” Gillian asked as she spread butter and homemade peach jelly on her biscuit.
“I’ve never known them to be anything but together. To this point, I’ve never really even seen them fight,” Cisco admitted as he cut into his steak.
“Maybe they’ll make up pretty quickly.”
Cisco shook his head. He didn’t have any illusions on that score. Gillian shouldn’t, either. “I have a feeling that is not going to happen unless Max proposes.”
Gillian brought a forkful of fluffy mashed potatoes to her lips. “You don’t think he will?”
Cisco shrugged. Aware his appetite had faded, he continued to eat nonetheless. “Up to this point, Pearl and Max had agreed they weren’t the marrying kind.”
“Only now she’s changed her mind,” Gillian surmised, as she swiftly cleaned her plate, finished off her biscuit and buttered and jellied another.
“Right.” Cisco nodded. “And as far as I know, Max hasn’t.”
Another silence fell as the waitress returned and left them with a pitcher of cream and a carafe of hot coffee. “I guess I could play matchmaker,” Cisco said eventually, as he poured the rich brew for both himself and Gillian—who surprised him by downing yet a third biscuit.
“But you don’t really want to, do you?” Gillian asked, stirring generous amounts of both cream and sugar into her coffee.
“I’ve always accepted advice from Max—not the other way around—at least when it comes to personal matters. Legal matters are different, since I’m his attorney now. Though even on that score, I’ve learned a lot from Max, too.”
Gillian studied Cisco. “You don’t think he’d listen to you if you tried to intervene in this situation with him and Pearl?” Gillian asked.
Cisco sighed. “I’m not sure he’d listen to anyone on this. And why should he? It’s his love life.”
“IT’S OUR LOVE LIFE, too,” Gillian said after they’d paid the bill and headed back outside. She was glad to have something—and someone—else to focus on beside her own situation with Cisco. “That hasn’t stopped Max from interfering,” she added as Cisco helped her into the car.
“That’s different.” Cisco climbed in beside her.
“How so?” Gillian queried as he started the car and drove several streets south.
Cisco parked in front of a building that looked very much like a stable from the Old West. He cut the motor and briefly rested his broad shoulders against the back of his seat. An affectionate note crept into his low, commiserating tone. “Max is just trying to set his affairs in order and make sure his property goes to the people he wants to have it, while he’s still around to see to it that things are done right”
Gillian blinked as the next thought hit. “He’s not sick or anything, is he?” Gillian asked worriedly as Cisco came around to hold her door for her.
“Heck no,” Cisco replied, one warm hand closing protectively on her waist as he helped her out. “Max is as healthy as a horse. But he is also—in his own words—’as old as the hills now.’ Which could be the real reason why he doesn’t want to marry Pearl,” Cisco continued, bringing her closer yet. “Max has a good twenty years on Pearl, I’d guess.” Cisco paused to locate the door key. “He’s probably worried he’d become ill at some point and she’ll have to spend the rest of her life nursing him.”
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 staying 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.