followed him up the staircase, and Cinco stood aside to let her be the first to enter the room that would double as her cell for the foreseeable future. It was the third one down the hall from the top of the stairs. As she’d made her way down the hall, she’d noted that farther along the hallway a short flight of stairs led to more rooms, in what might pass for a different wing entirely. She supposed that wing had been patched on by a generation other than the one who had built this room.
And what a room it was.
The furniture was well built, sturdy—and big. Huge slits for handholds were carved right into the fronts of the chest of drawers. She’d bet someone had designed and built those by their own efforts. The bed was oversize and covered by a soft, tanned-leather throw. A matching leather easy chair, big enough for two of her, was comfortably placed in a corner with a decent-looking reading lamp on the brass-topped table beside it.
The walls were white cracked stucco and the slanted ceiling was held aloft by huge, blackish-brown beams. The room was old, the furniture nearly new. Smelling of furniture polish and leather, the whole thing was spotless, and Meredith was positive it belonged to a man. A man with very good taste.
Probably the very man standing at the threshold, gazing at her with a confused and wary smile.
“Is this your room?” she asked. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“Naw.” He shook his head and gave her a hesitant look. “My room’s across the hall. This was my brother, Cal’s, room once. He moved out about eight years ago so he could try his hand at the stock-car circuit. I had it renovated a few years back in the hopes that maybe he’d come to his senses someday and return home to the ranch.”
He shifted to the other foot but didn’t step any farther into the room. “Guess it won’t be happening now.”
She didn’t want to care, but he sounded so despondent that she was curious. “Oh?”
“He’s getting married today.” Cinco made a face like he’d tasted something sour and foul. “She’s expecting. Apparently, they’re having a quick, shotgun wedding.”
“Yes, well…” She wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Maybe as new parents they’ll want to be closer to family. When your brother becomes a father, maybe he won’t want to do anything as dangerous as car racing.”
Cinco shook his head. “I doubt it. Cal’s a star. Last year he won the championship cup. That means he won the most races on his circuit. This year he’s so far ahead of the pack that he could just skip a few races and still win this year’s cup. He gets endorsements and TV offers. I don’t think he’d be willing to chuck all that and come home to boring ranch life. Not even for his own child’s sake.”
She felt compelled to say something soothing, regardless of the fact that she had no idea how to do such a thing. “I’m sure ranching isn’t all that boring. I bet it’s probably exciting sometimes,” she said with a smile.
The look he shot her wasn’t boring, lazy or the least bit bemused. All of a sudden his gaze turned hot, sharp and fast—like an F-16 fighter.
“You know when you smile, you sure are easy on the eyes,” he drawled, in complete opposition to the intensity she saw in his gaze. “You ought to do it more often.”
She could feel the pink burn start deep in her chest and gush toward her cheeks again. Damn him. She should’ve known better than to try to be nice to such a control freak.
Meredith turned her back on him and unzipped her duffel. She’d packed lightly. Really, she didn’t own much more than these few things. All her previous clothing had been flight suits or uniforms and she didn’t want to buy anything new. Her intention was to be wearing a pilot’s uniform again soon. Very soon, she hoped.
A couple of T-shirts and sweats, her running shorts and shoes, and the nice navy-blue slacks outfit she’d bought last year to attend her father’s retirement party. That, the clothes she wore and some underwear were about all she owned.
She began stowing her gear in the huge walk-in closet and in one of the drawers when, without warning, she felt Cinco’s presence behind her. She rounded on him, ready for anything. The man had so far been totally unpredictable.
Cinco bent over to pick up a pair of underpants Meredith hadn’t noticed she’d dropped. When he felt the satiny smoothness of the flimsy black briefs, he’d become enchanted. They weren’t at all what he would have expected coming from the uptight Viking pilot. He failed to notice her warrior stance until he’d straightened up.
Holding the silk lightly in his fingers, he grinned into her deadly stare. “Here you go. Mighty sexy undies for a captain.”
Meredith snatched them from his grip, narrowing her eyes in defiance. Her hands curled into fists, and Cinco was amused to see she seemed ready for a fight.
All in all, she surely did look fine. Every furious inch of her long, lean body. Not too lean, mind you. The curves he figured were hidden underneath that starched, khaki outfit would be a perfect match for him. He just knew it.
Uh-oh. Where did that come from? He was supposed to be her guardian. Her protector. He never figured he’d have to protect her from himself.
As he stood there, speechless and breathless from the mere nearness of this spectacular woman, she turned and continued cramming the underwear and some T-shirts into a drawer.
He stepped back and tried to get a grip on his racing hormones. He needed to think of her as a client. Or a sister. Or a buddy he could pal around with while they bided their time. He could do that.
Cinco swallowed hard and moved to open the drapes covering the big picture window on the east wall. The sun quickly filled all the dark corners of the room, and he felt a lot steadier.
“So. What do you like to do for fun, Meredith?” he asked while still gazing out the window. “Do you ride…or have you ever done any line dancing?”
“The only things I ride are propelled by horsepower not horse meat,” she muttered. “And the only lines I’ve ever danced around were ones thrown by superior officers who decided it might be worth their stripes to try coming on to me.”
Meredith slammed the drawer shut on the last of her things. Then she hefted the duffel into a far corner of the closet. Returning shortly to her comfortable prison cell, she faced her slow-talking jailer who still stood in front of the window.
She hated the way her heart pounded when he came into view. Nor had she been at all prepared for the thick honey that seemed to replace the blood pulsing in her veins as his low voice sent heat trembling up her spine.
“I don’t think you’ll find anything out here in the wilderness that will keep me occupied, Gentry. That is, unless you have a plane hidden around somewhere.” She didn’t like the sarcastic tone in her voice, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Her world was slowing, turning on its side.
“As a matter of fact, we do have a few planes on the spread,” he said softly. “No fighter jets or fancy jumbos that can haul around generals, mind you. But we do have a couple of single-engine prop planes that we use for ranch work, and a small Learjet we use for corporate…”
He stopped midsentence like a person who’d just remembered he hadn’t turned off the stove’s burner when
