“You know, as warm and cozy as that was, I don’t think we should sleep together again,” Gillian said first thing the following morning as she extricated herself from the rumpled covers on the sofa bed.
Given Gillian’s skittish nature, Cisco had half expected she might pull back from their newfound intimacy, once they faced the light of day. “Why not?” he asked casually as he watched her shrug into his pajama top and button up the front.
Gillian began to look a little panicked as she finished her task and pivoted away from him. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s too intimate.”
“Too intimate,” Cisco repeated, remembering how warm and pliant her mouth had been beneath his.
“Yes.” Her emotions under tight control once again, Gillian raked a hand through her auburn hair. While Cisco scrambled around for his pajama pants, she headed for the kitchen and came back with a tall glass of orange juice for each of them. Their fingers brushed as she handed him the glass. “The lovemaking was great, I won’t deny that—”
“Good,” Cisco said, because he wasn’t about to deny that, either.
Gillian pressed the rim of her glass against lips that were still swollen from his kisses. She met his eyes in a forthright manner, then shrugged as she explained matter-of-factly, “I just hadn’t anticipated the way waking and finding myself in your arms would make me feel.”
Or the way she would look now, Cisco thought, all soft and tousled and warm. Not to mention well loved. Unhappily, the physical and emotional wellbeing that came from two heated lovemaking sessions and several hours of contented sleep were obviously not what she was referring to.
Cisco rolled to his feet and moved forward languidly until they stood toe-to-toe. He looked down at her. “And how exactly does sleeping with me make you feel, Gillian?” he asked gently, aware it was all he could do not to put his juice glass aside, take her into his arms again and kiss her doubts away.
Gillian sighed and looked even more skittish as she backed away. “Like we’re really married.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Cisco gave her a cocky grin that belied the hurt in his words.
“Everything,” Gillian declared with a rush of emotion that surprised him as she turned and headed for the bathroom, Cisco trailing her. “Because our marriage isn’t a real one, Cisco. It’s a business arrangement.” She looked at herself in the mirror and frowned.
All too aware of how little she had on beneath his pajama top, and how little it would take to persuade him to make love to her again, Cisco reminded her, “Businesslike is not a word I would use to describe the way you were acting last night.”
A fiery blush deepened the color across her cheeks. Gillian avoided his glance completely as she busied herself checking out the supply of shampoo, soap and toothpaste on the medicine cabinet shelves. “You know as well as I do what all that was about.”
Maybe. Maybe not. Cisco remained in the open bathroom doorway. His eyes searched hers. “I’d be interested to hear your version.”
Gillian blew out an exasperated breath, looking supremely irritated he was forcing her to spell it out for them. “It had obviously been a while for me since I’d…well, you know—”
“Made love. And it had been a while for both of us, Gillian,” Cisco corrected gently, not bothered by that at all. What was bothering him was the soft movement of her breasts beneath the pajama top and the sleek sexiness of her bare legs.
He’d barely been awake ten minutes and already his whole body was aching to possess her again, and his heart…well, to his chagrin, that was in no better shape.
To his amazement, it didn’t seem to matter she was pushing him away with both hands, now that she’d had time to think about the new turn in their relationship. He only knew he was drawn to her as he had never been drawn to anyone else. And that was something he feared was not going to change no matter how this spur-of-the-moment marriage of theirs did or did not work out.
With a deep bolstering breath, Gillian picked up the hairbrush on the sink and, facing forward, began to run it through her hair. “The fact of the matter is we both wanted what happened last night to happen,” Gillian continued determinedly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “And so it did. And now that it has, and our…basic curiosity about each other has been satisfied, it won’t happen again.”
Just when he thought he understood her, she threw him for a loop. “You really think that’s what last night was about, just satisfying our curiosity?” Cisco echoed, shocked. He’d never been accused of being overly sentimental; it surprised him how much the hours they’d shared had meant to him. Furthermore, in his view, curiosity had had very little to do with what happened. It had been about passion, desire, attraction, needing each other—and about a shared loneliness that went soul deep.
Her composure intact, Gillian lifted her slender shoulders in an insouciant shrug. “That, and maybe getting rid of the leftover adrenaline simmering in our veins,” she told him practically as she finished restoring order to her wildly curling mane of red hair.
Laying the brush down, she turned to face him once again. “You have to admit we were both pretty pumped, after I pulled a gun on you. But that won’t happen again, either. So we shouldn’t have anything to worry about during the next thirty-six hours.”
Or anything else that would prompt them to fall recklessly into each other’s arms, Cisco figured she meant. And though that should have been as much a comfort to him as it was to her, as he was no more prone to indulge in reckless love affairs than she, it wasn’t. Time was passing much more quickly than he had imagined it would. He couldn’t deny at first he had wished the forty-eight hours would hurry up and pass. Now he was wishing he could slow down the clock. Draw out each and every minute. And that had little to do with the truth he was trying to whittle out of her and everything to do with wanting to spend time with her.
Wise or not, he wanted to make love to her again. Not hotly and passionately, as he had last night, but slowly and tenderly this time. Afterward, he wanted to cradle her in his arms and hold her close. He wanted her to fall asleep in his arms, and be happy about it—instead of skittish—when she woke again and found herself in his arms.
She shrugged as if that ended the conversation. “Anyway, as they say, there’s no use crying over spilled milk. So if you don’t mind…” She picked up the toothbrush he had lent her the night before and put toothpaste on it.
Her indifference was no more convincing than her bravado had been, but for the heck of it, Cisco decided to play along anyway.
“Of course there were other reasons, as well, why that happened last night, don’t forget,” he said, reminding himself sternly of the real reason he’d let Max push him into this marriage. So he could get close enough to Gillian to really help her. He opened the linen closet to get two fresh towels and a washcloth for her.
“Really,” Gillian countered as she accepted the linens he handed her. “And what would that be?” she asked, then went back to brushing her teeth.
“Making love with me was a pretty effective way to change the subject away from the nightmares you still have about your dangerous past.” Cisco put toothpaste on his toothbrush, too.
Gillian stiffened indignantly as she rinsed her mouth. “I did not seduce you as a way of changing the subject, Cisco Kidd!”
Finished, Cisco rinsed his toothbrush and put it back in the holder. “Nor did I seduce you last night” He met Gillian’s eyes in the mirror, wondering if she knew how sexy she looked clad in the oversize pajama top. “It was a mutual combustion of heat and passion that brought us together,” he finished smugly.
Gillian’s cheeks flushed. “Not to mention the fact that I was shaken up by a nightmare about my past”
“A past you still haven’t told me much about,” he. pointed out, glad she had brought that up.
Silence fell between them, more telling than any lies, or the upset way she had reacted when Pete Lloyd had appeared to recognize her at the wedding. Gillian glared at him as she turned on the warm water and lathered up a bar of soap. “I told you everything I could,” she declared hotly as she began to wash her face.
“Everything?” Cisco echoed, his expression hardening as he watched her cover her face with silky bubbles. “I don’t think so, Gillian.” As an attorney, he had learned when a client was holding back, and Gillian was still holding back plenty. But he also sensed she had revealed far more to him than she normally did. And that it bothered her that she had confided in him even as much as she had.
Gillian shrugged, again making light of what had just happened between them the previous night. She bent over the sink, the pajama top riding high on the backs of her slender thighs, as she splashed warm water on her face. “If you’re expecting any more ‘true confessions’ from me, Cisco, you’re going to be waiting an awfully long time,” she told him succinctly as she blotted her face dry. “Because day or night, I have nothing more to say to you on that subject.”
Ditto for the whole truth and nothing but the truth, he thought, as she flattened a hand on his chest and directed him out of the bathroom. “I do, however, need to borrow something besides your pajamas to wear.”
“Guess you can’t go around in my pajamas all day.”
“Guess not,” she agreed dryly.
“Nor would a wedding dress do.”
“Right again.”
Cisco strolled to his closet, followed by Gillian. “Knowing Max, more clothes for you—probably ranching duds—are on the way. In the meantime, you can have your pick of my shirts. This blue one here—” he handed her one in pale blue “—might look nice.”
She held it up to her, noting as she did that it came down to midthigh on her. “It’ll be fine. I’ll just roll up the sleeves. About pants of some sort—”
“I’ve got some workout shorts with a drawstring waist.” He plucked them out of his bureau. “Think these will do?”
Gillian held up the soft gray jersey to her, noting the hem fell just above her knee. “Yes, thank you.”
“White crew socks to go with your sneakers.” Cisco handed her a pair of those, too. “But I don’t have any lingerie.” Nor would he mind if she continued to go without.
But alas, he realized quickly, that also was not to be. “Relax. I’ll hand-wash my unmentionables while I’m in the shower. They’re mostly lace anyway, so they’ll only take a minute to dry if you have a hair dryer I can use.”
Cisco swallowed. “The dryer’s in the drawer next to the sink.”
“Thanks.” Gillian slipped back into the bathroom. A split second later, the lock turned. The shower began to run.
Knowing he’d better find something to busy himself with while she was in the shower—if he didn’t want to get aroused all over again, just thinking about her standing naked under the spray—Cisco went into the kitchen, made coffee and poured himself another glass of juice. For the first time he wished he knew how to cook something—anything. And that he kept some sort of food, other than a few beverages, in his apartment.
He was finishing his first cup of coffee and thinking about whether they should go to Pearl’s for breakfast or hit the supermarket for supplies, when the phone rang. Cisco picked up on the second ring.
“Hey, Cisco!” Trace’s teenage son Nate teased. “How does it feel to be famous?”
Cisco grinned, kicked back in his chair and wondered what mischief Trace and Susannah’s four boys were in now. “What are you talking about?” Cisco asked.
“USA Daily. Parts of the Monday edition of the newspaper are already posted on the Internet.”
Cisco knew there’d been several journalists at the wedding. “Let me guess,” Cisco drawled, already switching on his computer and logging on to the Internet. “They wrote an article about Max being alive after all, and mentioned me as the attorney who carried out Max’s wishes and arranged all the shenanigans.”
“Well, yeah, they did that,” Nate affirmed cheerfully, “but that’s not why your picture’s in the paper.”
Cisco typed in the newspaper’s address and waited impatiently for the information to appear on-screen.
“You’re in there because you and Gillian got married last night.” Nate paused. “The article’s on the front page of the Lifestyle section.”
The color photo booted up and it was all Cisco could do not to groan as he saw his own image on the screen. “I see it.”
“Okay, just remember I told you first!” Nate said.
“I will. Thanks, Nate.”
Gillian emerged from the bedroom, towel drying her hair. She looked concerned. “What’s up?”
“This.” Cisco pointed to his computer screen.
Gillian leaned over his shoulder and looked at a news photo of a bride and groom exchanging wedding rings. “Wedding Fever Sweeps The Nation.” Gillian read the headline out loud. “‘From the traditional wedding to the—’ oh my God!” She clutched his shoulders tightly as the enormity of what had happened sunk in. “Is that us?”
“In living color,” Cisco replied dryly.
“And they’ve identified us both by name!” Gillian began to pace.
“That is customary.”
She spun around and stomped back to the computer. The color draining from her face, she stared intently at the posted news article, reading aloud the caption beneath the photo. “‘Caught up in the excitement of a triple wedding, logging camp chef Gillian Taylor marries Fort Benton attorney Cisco Kidd in a spur-of-the-moment marriage ceremony on the Silver Spur Ranch in Montana….” She shook her head and paled all the more. “Is this on the stands now?”
“It’s on the Internet now,” he explained, using his index finger to point out the time and date of the posting. “It’s been there since 1:28 this morning, or roughly six hours now. It’ll be on the newsstands Monday morning.”
“Well, that’s impossible!” She looked at him, wild-eyed, distressed. “Cisco, you’ve got to do something to stop it!”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” Gillian paced away from him. “You’re a lawyer! We never gave permission for our photos to be used.”
Cisco sat back in his chair. “Under current law, we don’t have to,” he said calmly. “Consent is only required for commercial use of a photo. News photos, on the other hand, require no consent.”
Gillian paled as she trod nearer in a drift of flowery perfume. She splayed a hand across her chest. “We’re news?”
Cisco nodded grimly. Though he sensed they felt the way they did for very different reasons, this wasn’t what he wanted, either. “We became news when we married the way we did.”
Gillian dragged a chair over and sank into it, so they were sitting face-to-face. “Can’t we ask them to pull the photo?” Gillian asked in desperation.
Cisco regarded Gillian patiently. He wasn’t above using this situation to get more of the information he needed from her, particularly when she wouldn’t allow him to help her any other way. “For what reason?”
Gillian waved her arms at him in exasperation, punctuating each and every word she spoke. “Because I don’t want to be famous.”
The question was why didn’t she want to be famous. What else was she running from? What had Pete Lloyd, from Kansas, started to recall last night that had thrown her into a panic?
Cisco called on his experience as an attorney to reassure her gently. “Fame like this fades more quickly than you can imagine.”
Gillian’s soft lips tightened into a rebellious line. “So, in other words you’re telling me we’re stuck with that article, and that Monday morning it’s going to be on every newsstand in America?”
Cisco nodded grimly, taking in the decidedly militant edge to her posture. “Looks like, yes.”
GILLIAN COULDN’T BELIEVE it. Ten years on the run. Ten years of holding everyone, save Susannah McKendrick and her boys, at arm’s length. The moment she put her fear of being discovered aside and decided to do something for herself, like marry Cisco to gain a new legal name, a permanent home on the ranch and a business, what should happen but her past comes back to haunt her with a vengeance! First in the form of former KSU professor Pete Lloyd at last night’s wedding, thinking she looked somehow familiar to him, and now this!
“You’re upset?” Cisco guessed as he continued to study her with concern etching his features.
The time to be coy had passed. “Hell, yes, I’m upset, Cisco. Damned upset. Suppose other papers pick this up?” she asked emotionally.
“I’ll be honest with you. Chances of killing such a lively human-interest story are almost nil, particularly when the story has already been posted on-line.”
Almost, but not absolutely. “But we could try, couldn’t we?”
“Yes, but there’s no guarantee our efforts would be successful. And we can’t do anything about the six hours the story has already been on-line.”
Beggars couldn’t be choosers, Gillian thought. At this point, she’d take what she could get. “What about the photo of us?” she asked anxiously. “Can we do anything about that?”
Cisco frowned. “Again, we can’t stop it because it’s news, but we could try and purchase the copyright, and hence control the distribution of the said photo from now on. I’m warning you, though. Doing something like this’ll be an expensive proposition.”
Gillian sighed her relief. “I don’t care. I’ll pay you back every cent, I swear. I just want my—I mean our—photo off the Internet.”
Cisco narrowed his eyes at her appraisingly. “All right,” Cisco said finally. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“IT’S DONE,” Cisco said a tense hour and a half later. “The copyright on the photo is ours. Any mention of our wedding is being stricken from the article, but USA Daily is going to continue with the modified article on the triple wedding at the Silver Spur.”
“So there’ll be no mention of our names or photo of us in the USA Daily newspaper that hits the stands tomorrow morning?” Gillian asked.
“Correct.”
“Oh, thank heavens.”
Cisco continued to study her, looking as though he wanted to ask her so much, but—his expression turning protective—didn’t. “Are you okay?” was all he said.
Gillian nodded. Now that their names and photos were off the Internet, she felt a lot better.
Deciding she needed a time-out rather than risk any further questions, however, Gillian sent him a bracing smile. “I think we both need something to eat. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to take our first time-out and walk down to the twenty-four-hour supermarket and get some food for breakfast”
“You don’t have to cook,” Cisco pointed out as Gillian braided her hair into a loose plait over one shoulder, and fastened it with a coated elastic band. “We could eat at Pearl’s.”
“It’s no problem.” Gillian waved off his concern. “I want to do it. Besides, cooking relaxes me.” And right now, Gillian thought, as she picked up her purse and headed toward the shiny black revolver on the table, she needed to relax.
Cisco frowned as she picked the gun up and carefully replaced it in her purse.
Ignoring his faint look of disapproval, Gillian closed her purse and inquired cheerfully, “Any preferences for breakfast?”
Cisco shook his head and continued watching her as though he knew something was up and it was just a matter of time until he found out precisely what that was. “Whatever you want is fine with me,” he said.
CISCO WAITED until Gillian had left, then sat down behind the desk and, putting off his shower for a few more minutes, telephoned the head of the detective agency Max owned on the West Coast. “Lynda, Cisco Kidd. Sorry I woke you.”
“What’s up?” she asked around a yawn while a male voice grumbled sleepily in the background. “It must be important for you to be calling me at this hour.”
“Yeah, it is,” Cisco admitted, leaning back in his leather swivel chair. “I’ve got someone I need you to check out for me. Her name is Gillian Taylor. She used to work as a chef in L.A., mostly for Trace’s wife, Susannah Hart.”
“What’s this Ms. Gillian Taylor done to warrant your interest?” Lynda asked curiously.
“She agreed to be my wife.” He went on to give a skeletal synopsis of the events of the past twelveplus hours. And I am now more certain than ever she needs help the way I once did “My gut feeling is that she’s running from someone or something, ‘cause she’s damn near hysterical about her picture appearing in the Monday edition of the USA Daily newspaper.” Briefly, Cisco explained what lengths he’d gone to to have the picture and article pulled, then concluded, “She’s also carrying a gun on a regular basis.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Uh-oh’s right. She also claims to have once been a student at UCLA, but they have no record of her.”
Cisco heard Lynda scrambling for a paper and a pen. “Did you ask her why not?” Lynda asked.
“She-claims they’ve lost her records.”
“You don’t buy it?”
Cisco frowned. “I don’t know. I have a feeling she’s only told me a very small portion of what she’s running from, and I know from her reaction this morning and last night that she still feels she could be in rather immediate danger. Since she won’t confide in me further, at least at this point, I’m going to have to look into the reasons for her fear myself.” It was the only way he could help and protect her.
“I understand where you’re coming from,” Lynda sympathized.
Cisco sighed inwardly. The question was would Gillian, if she ever found out what he’d done in having her investigated? “You might also look to see if there were any police complaints filed by her against someone named Phillip for breaking and entering or stalking.”
“Any idea where or when these incidents might have taken place?”
Cisco hazarded a guess. “Try looking in the Midwest, probably Kansas, ten years or so ago.”
“I presume there’s a rush on this?”
“You bet your bottom dollar there is,” Cisco said. Before he even knew what they were facing, his gut told him danger could be upon them. And that could be deadly, for both of them.
“I TOLD YOU THEY’D BE UP,” Cody said after Gillian had opened the door to Max’s nephew and his new bride, Callie.
“We are, but Cisco is in the shower.” Gillian peered at them. She was still breathless from her under-thirty minute run to the Fort Benton grocery. Thankfully, Cisco lived in town, as opposed to out on the ranch, and the twenty-four-hour grocery was just down the street, otherwise it would’ve been impossible. “Aren’t you two supposed to be on your honeymoon?” she asked the cowboy and his beautiful, blond bride.
Cody and Callie McKendrick grinned in unison and wrapped their arms around each other. “We delayed it for a few days on account of we promised Uncle Max we’d help get you and Cisco together,” Callie explained, her green eyes sparkling warmly.
Cody took off his hat and raked a hand through his shoulder-length wheat blond hair, which was tied back with a rawhide strip. “We owe Max and Cisco a lot, since they both did so much to bring Callie and me back together,” Cody said. “Normally, of course, I don’t think interfering is a good thing, but in this case, ‘cause Cisco’s been so much like a brother to me, I’d be willing to make an exception. And besides—” Cody paused to kiss the top of Callie’s head “—if anyone around here deserves to be happy, Cisco does.”
Gillian was beginning to agree with that “How do you know I make him happy?” Gillian asked curiously.
Cody and Callie exchanged speculative looks, rife with romance. “All anyone had to do was look at the sparks flying between you last night to know there’s something special there,” Callie said.
“Besides,” Cody added as he tightened his arm around his wife’s waist, “Cisco wouldn’t have said ‘I do,’ even on the spur of the moment, unless he was really interested in you.”
Gillian flushed, wondering if that was true.
Callie turned to Cody and toyed with the buttons on his shirt. As usual, she was dressed in jeans, vest and shirt and her red cowgirl boots. “Now that we know someone is here, don’t you think we should bring in the things we have for Gillian and Cisco?” Callie asked.
“Right,” Cody said.
Looking reluctant to be apart from his new bride even for just a second, Cody nevertheless took off down the stairs. “What do you have for us?” Gillian asked Callie curiously, knowing that Max could be very generous indeed.
“Beats me,” Callie said. She noticed on the kitchen counter the groceries that Gillian had yet to put away. “Max was typically enigmatic.”
Cody returned carrying a stack of gaily wrapped presents and a single envelope, just as a fully dressed, shaven and showered Cisco Kidd emerged from the bathroom. He was wearing a white Western shirt, open at the throat, soft faded jeans and boots. He looked handsome and at ease in the casual rancher’s clothing. “What’s going on?” Cisco asked cheerfully, joining the group.
Cody set the presents in front of Gillian, and handed Cisco the single envelope. “Presents for the two of you, from Max.”
Callie looked from Gillian to Cisco. She took the time to study them intently. “Everything going okay for the two of you so far?” She hesitated for a moment. “I mean, you’re getting along and everything, aren’t you?” Callie continued, concerned.
You mean beside the fact we threw caution to the wind and recklessly made love twice during the night? Gillian thought wryly. She still wasn’t sure what had come over her, if it was the romance of the evening, or wedding fever, or just the fact she’d been alone and on the run for so long now. She only knew that when Cisco held her, she felt safe. And when he kissed her, and made love to her with such fiery passion, she felt whole again, as though she had a future not just here on the ranch, but with him.
And then there was the potentially disastrous situation with their photo on the Internet He had handled that just right, putting some pressure on her of course to level with him, but not pushing her too hard just the same.
She didn’t know how he did it, exactly. She just knew whenever he was by her side she felt everything really would be all right. Maybe not today exactly, but someday. And that, Gillian admitted, was a feeling she did not want to relinquish, even though, because the USA Daily news photo had been posted on the Internet she might soon have to do so.
“Everything’s fine,” Gillian finally answered as they exchanged a glance, standing united on that front.
What had happened between the two of them—the fact they’d decided on the spur of the moment to embark on a wild, reckless weekend love affair—was nobody’s business but their own, Gillian thought.
Cody and Callie exchanged looks rife with both disbelief and humor. “Uh-huh. Well, if you need us, you know how to find us,” Cody drawled.
“See you,” Callie echoed with a grin and wave.
Their eyes dancing with hopelessly romantic lights, the newlyweds were off.
Cisco shut the door after them and inclined his head at the ribbon-wrapped boxes. “Aren’t you going to open them?” he asked Gillian.
Gillian had to admit she was curious. “It’s probably too much to hope he’s giving back the things of mine he put in storage, isn’t it?”
Cisco shrugged as she tugged at a ribbon. “With Max, you never know.”
The first box contained a very beautiful, very sexy floor-length negligee in emerald green lace. Gillian blushed at the thought Max had expected—correctly, it turned out—for them to end up making love in no time flat. Was the chemistry between she and Cisco really that obvious? And if so, what did it mean? Deciding not to think about that for the moment, she put the negligee aside.
“Going to model it for me now?” Cisco teased.
“You wish,” Gillian replied as she simultaneously flushed with pleasure and ignored the hint of renewed sexual interest in Cisco’s eyes. Besides, she much prefered wearing just the soft flannel top to Cisco’s cowboy pajamas, she told herself defiantly. No way was she wearing that negligee.
“Want me to help you open the rest?” Cisco teased, edging nearer. The hint of sandalwood and sage clung to his freshly shaven jaw.
“No, thanks,” Gillian replied. She still wanted first glimpse. Because if it was too much, this time it was not coming all the way out of the box!
But to her relief, Max’s second gift to her was much more practical. “What is that? A denim skirt?” Cisco asked.
“A split skirt, the kind specifically made for sitting astride a horse. And a tailored blue denim blouse to go with it.” Reassured, and happy—for now she had something to wear today aside from Cisco’s clothing or her wedding dress—Gillian tackled the rest of the boxes in short order. Finding a flat-brimmed hat to protect her from the sun, a pair of pine green Western boots, more jeans and a pretty plaid shirt and a whole boxful of satin undergarments and cotton socks, suitable for wearing with her new boots. There was also a handwritten note addressed to Gillian.
“Just a few things to tide you over ‘til you reach the honeymoon cottage,” Max had written, “where even more treasures…of all kinds…await.”
Feeling both perplexed and wary, Gillian handed the note over for Cisco to see. “What do you suppose this means?” she asked curiously.
Cisco shrugged, his silver-gray eyes still holding hers. “I don’t know. We’ll have to go out there and find out” He cut a glance at the groceries still out.
“When?” Gillian asked, getting up and heading for the kitchen, just as there was another knock at the door.
“As soon as possible,” Cisco replied as he moved to answer the door while she went on into the kitchen.
There, outside the door, was Pearl, a picnic basket slung over her arm.
“What are you doing out so early?” Cisco asked. Usually Pearl let her staff handle the breakfast rush, while she ruled the diner during the lunch and dinner hours.
“Oh, I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d make myself useful and make you two lovebirds something to eat, since I know you don’t keep much of anything in your refrigerator.” Pearl handed over the wicker basket and looked at him closely. “You two are getting along, aren’t you?”
That all depends, Cisco thought, on how you defined “getting along.” If that meant being at loggerheads one minute, making wild passionate love the next, they were getting along splendidly. But not about to go into that with even a dear old friend, he peered inside the basket at the goodies she’d packed. “Your timing is great, Pearl. Gillian and I were just opening a few presents from Max and getting ready to go out to the honeymoon cottage.”
Pearl cast a glance at the presents scattered across the sofa. She looked anything but pleased. “That buzzard still thinks he can buy his way out of everything, doesn’t he?” Pearl muttered, planting both hands on her hips.
“I take it this means you’re still mad at him,” Gillian called sympathetically from the kitchen, where she was busy putting away the groceries she had purchased.
“You bet I am,” Pearl replied, as she sashayed in to sit at the breakfast counter opposite Gillian. “You have my sympathies, Gillian, to be wrapped in another of Max’s crazy schemes. Though I must admit I can’t feel bad he is trying to get you married off, Cisco.”
Cisco gave Pearl an odd look as he joined them. “Why?”
“Well, you know…You had such a rough childhood and all…. I just want to see you happy arid with someone instead of spending your life all alone.”
Cisco strode past Pearl and poured himself another cup of coffee, irked at the unexpected display of pity. “I don’t need your sympathy, Pearl,” he said gruffly as he poured her a cup of coffee, too.
“Honey, I know you don’t” Pearl stirred in two lumps of sugar. “But you’ve got it anyway.” Giving Cisco no chance to respond, Pearl grinned and inclined her head at the discarded cowboy pajamas. “Ahh, now, who’s been wearing these?” she teased.
“I have,” Cisco and Gillian said in unison.
Blushing, Gillian poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the opposite counter as she went on to admit, “Actually, thanks to Max’s machinations, we were a little short on clothes last night, so we split them. Cisco wore the bottoms, I wore the top.”
“Hmm.” Pearl grinned mischieviously, as if thinking the worst.
Cisco held up a palm. “Now, Pearl, it wasn’t like that,” Cisco said.
At least it hadn’t started out that way when they had made the decision to each wear a part of the pajamas, Gillian agreed. They had done so with the most conservative of intentions. It was only her bad dream…and his kindness…and the intimacy of the moment…plus their proximity to each other that had led to the lovemaking.
“Well, I bet the two of you were both cute as buttons anyway,” Pearl said as she waggled a finger at Cisco teasingly.
“Okay, Pearl, enough reminiscing.” He held up a staying hand as a flush started in his neck and climbed to his cheeks.
“All right, I can see I’m embarrassing you,” Pearl said with a careless wave of her hand. “So I’ll be on my way.”
“Sure you wouldn’t like to stay and have some breakfast with us?” Gillian asked, suddenly determined not to be alone with Cisco.
“No thanks, honey.” Pearl gave her an officious smile as she patted the pins in her upswept hair, making sure it was still neatly in place. With her voice dropping a confiding notch, she said, “The upset way I’ve been feeling since I tangled with that rascally old beau of mine, I couldn’t eat a bite. In fact, if you want to know the truth, my temper is still as hot as a two-dollar pistol.”
“Speaking of the rascal, have you talked to Max?” Cisco interjected.
“No,” Pearl said, her chin setting stubbornly, “and I don’t want to, either. So you can save your advice for someone who wants to hear it.”
Cisco fell in step beside Pearl as he walked her to the door. “The two of you have been together an awfully long time.”
“Too long.” Pearl sighed with heartfelt chagrin. “It’s time I moved on to greener pastures, or at least to someone who loves and trusts me enough to confide in—and marry—me.”
Concern etched deep lines around the corners of Cisco’s lips as he held Pearl up at the door. “Does Max know how you feel?” he asked.
“He darn well should,” Pearl replied stubbornly. “And I don’t care if he doesn’t.” The discussion was finished, as far as she was concerned, and she slipped out before another word could be said.
Gillian, who had joined them at the door to the apartment, was silent a moment. She turned to Cisco, fighting a wave of unbearable sadness. Maybe it was overly sentimental of her, but she hated it when people let happiness slip through their fingers, and from what she had seen when she first arrived in town three weeks ago, Pearl and Max had really seemed to belong together. “Maybe it’s time Max had a little of his own medicine,” Gillian suggested dryly.
Cisco’s gray eyes lit with interest. “What are you suggesting?”
Gillian grinned and linked hands with Cisco. “That we forget ourselves for a while and turn our talents to matchmaking, too.”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN they won’t come for lunch?” Gillian demanded as Cisco joined her in the kitchen of his apartment.
“Just that. They both said no.”
Gillian bit her lip. “Think we were too obvious?”
“Probably.” Cisco fell silent. “We’ll never get them back together if we can’t get them off somewhere alone long enough to talk.”
“Any ideas?”
Cisco stroked his jaw thoughtfully. “Well, now that you mention it, Max does have that Silver Streak recreational vehicle. It’s as luxurious as they come and is rigged to be driven just about anywhere.” Cisco’s smile spread. “I know just the place to park it, too. Not too far from Trace and Susannah’s place, there’s a beautiful campsite next to the take.”
“Sounds good, but how are we going to get them in it?”
Cisco snapped his fingers. “By enlisting some comrades they’d never suspect.” He reached for the phone.
He smiled mysteriously. “You’ll see.”
“OKAY, EVERYONE SET?” Cisco asked Trace and Susannah McKendrick’s four rambunctious boys.
“I’ll call Pearl and tell her we need a baby-sitter so Mom and Dad can have some time alone,” tenyear-old Jason said.
“I’ll call Max and tell him the same thing,” eightyear-old Mickey added.
“We’ll ask Uncle Max to show up thirty minutes early and do some fishing down by the lake,” sixteenyear-old Scott said.
“When Pearl shows up, we’ll give a whistle signal and get her busy in the RV, and then get Max to come back up here,” fourteen-year-old Nate concluded.
“He and Pearl will be really ticked off when they find out we tricked ‘em,” Mickey continued.
“While they’re yelling at each other, we’ll all take off and leave ‘em stranded here at the campsite,” Jason said.
“Yeah, and before you know it, they’ll be all kissyface again,” Mickey concluded impishly.
“Indeed.” Gillian smiled.
The next hour everything went like clockwork. Both Max and Pearl happily agreed to baby-sit the boys. Max showed up with the RV. He parked it at the campsite and then he and the boys promptly went off to fish while Gillian and Cisco crept back and put the finishing touches inside: flowers, candles, wine, soft music and a delicious lunch.
Finished, they tiptoed out of the RV and into the nearby woods and waited. And waited. And waited. And still no Pearl.
“What could be keeping her?” Gillian whispered anxiously as she paced back and forth, being careful to keep out of sight.
“Heck if I know.” Cisco looked around. “She’s usually very punctual.”
Gillian looked toward the lake, a short distance away beyond the trees. “Max and the boys are awfully quiet.”
Cisco grimaced. “They’re fishing. They’re supposed to be quiet.”
Gillian rolled her eyes. “Those boys are never that quiet unless they’re getting in trouble.”
Cisco and Gillian exchanged looks. “Oh, my—”
“You don’t think—”
Cisco swore. Simultaneously, they raced down the leaf-strewn path to the lake. To their chagrin, where the boys should have been was a red bandanna tied to a stick and waving in the gentle summer breeze. A note written on Silver Spur stationery was pinned to that.
“‘Dear Cisco and Gillian,’” Cisco read aloud. “‘Nice try, but Pearl and I saw your machinations a mile away. No need to let the next few hours go to waste, though. The distributor caps to your car and my RV will be returned to you this afternoon around two.’” Cisco sighed. “It’s signed by both Max and Pearl. And down here is another note—looks like it’s from the boys. It says, ‘Sorry, guys, but they paid us more than you.’ And all four of them have signed that.”
Gillian didn’t know whether to chuckle or cry. She tipped the brim of her hat back. “So, we’ve been double-crossed,” she concluded wearily.
“Apparently.”
Gillian released an exasperated breath, and thought back to the distributor cap remark. She narrowed her glance at Cisco. “We really are stuck, then?”
Cisco grimaced, swept off his Stetson and shoved a hand through his hair. “What do you think?”
“HOW DOES THIS SPOT LOOK to you?” Cisco asked Gillian as they stopped next to a flower-filled meadow at the base of Silver Ridge Mountain. Trees surrounded the golden field on all four sides. In one direction a rushing mountain stream gleamed as blue as the sky overhead in the early-aftemoon sunlight, in the other the Silver Streak RV was plainly in view.
“It looks great,” Gillian said quietly. A lot less intimate than the RV.
Together, they spread out a blanket on the soft warm grass beneath the spreading branches of a large oak tree. The two of them settled on the blanket. Cisco watched while Gillian began bringing out the sumptuously prepared food they’d intended for Pearl and Max.
“You’re really taking this in stride,” Cisco said as he helped himself to a slab of country ham and a serving of fresh, sliced fruit.
Gillian filled her own plate to overflowing. “It’s not like we can do anything about being stuck out here, so we might as well enjoy our day off.”
“Do you enjoy your work as a chef?” Cisco asked, watching the sunlight catch her hair and turn it into amber fire.
Oblivious to his urge to run his hands through the wildly curling ends of her hair, Gillian nodded. “Usually, although when you work for a restaurant, even if you’re the head chef you’re stuck with the restaurant menu and traditions and business policies.”
“They don’t let you try new recipes?” Cisco helped himself to a flaky buttermilk biscuit, too.
Gillian shrugged a slender shoulder. “Sometimes you get a little latitude. The owners will let you try a new dessert, or add a new entrée to the menu, but it gets very boring cooking the same list of things year after year. That’s why I changed restaurant jobs frequently, early in my career, right along with Susannah, and later worked as an assistant for Susannah, when she became a restaurant consultant. She’d work with owners and regular clients to revamp the restaurant menus, I’d prepare the dishes and train the chefs on-premise to prepare the dishes exactly as Susannah wished.”
Cisco understood always wanting to do more; it was the way he’d felt working side by side with Max. The bigger the challenge, the more he had enjoyed it. Obviously, it was the same for Gillian. He was pleased they had that in common.
“How did Susannah talk you into coming out here with her?” he asked. Moving from California to Montana was a big change, especially for someone who had no family ties here.
Gillian smiled. “Susannah told me how beautiful Montana was. And that if I took the position at the logging camp kitchen, Max would give me carte blanche.” Gillian smiled wistfully and a distant look came into her dark green eyes. “It wasn’t a hard sell. I’ve always wanted my own kitchen to run as I see fit. And to have the run of several—well, that’s a dream come true.”
“The idea of being your own boss appeals to you,” Cisco noted, aware that he, too, had the same takecharge, entrepreneurial spirit.
“In more than one way. I like being independent, Cisco.” Gillian turned up her nose at him playfully. “Or hadn’t you noticed?”
“Oh, I noticed all right,” Cisco drawled. “It’d be hard not to.” Just like he noticed the way the new denim split skirt and shirt, green cowgirl boots and flat-brimmed hat that she had changed into suited her.
“So when are you going to open the envelope Max gave you?” she asked softly, seeming now as curious about him as he had been about her.
Cisco looked down at his shirt pocket. He had been so busy trying to reunite Max and Pearl he had forgotten all about himself and what he had to gain in this cockeyed arrangement.
“I forgot all about that,” Cisco murmured, already reaching for the envelope. Now that he thought about it, he did wonder what Max had given him.
He opened it while Gillian watched. Inside, as suspected, was a handwritten note from Max.
Cisco read it once, twice, hardly able to believe his eyes.
“Cisco, what is it?” Gillian demanded, leaning forward. She grabbed his arm and shook it lightly. “What does it say?”