Renegade Moon (CupidKey) (4 page)

With a sigh, Destiny played the childhood game of ‘eenie meenie’ and obediently followed the chosen direction. She’d go five miles, then turn around if she didn’t find anything.

She topped a rise and gasped. There, framed between great craggy rock formations, were layers and layers of blue mountains, following each other into the distance. A stunted mesquite tree jutted upward in defiance of harsh nature. Camera ready, Destiny jumped from the car and snapped away.

“Hey,” growled a cracked voice. “What’cha doin’, lady? This ain’t no movie set.”

Destiny spun around to face a gnarled little man with scraggly gray whiskers and watery blue eyes. He squinted at her, cradling the rifle he held.

“Strangers ain’t welcome here.”

“Where did you come from?” Destiny asked with a gasp, startled.

“There.” He pointed with the rifle.

Destiny moved to see a shack a few yards away that had been concealed by rock formations.

“That’s my place. Been livin’ here for years.” He poked the rifle barrel into Destiny’s shoulder. “Git outta here, if ya know what’s good fer ya.”

“Will! What do you think you’re doing?”

The grizzled little man and Destiny turned around simultaneously.

Eric George Montoya dismounted from his big paint horse.

“Shucks.” Will spat through tobacco-rotted teeth. “Cain’t never have no fun.” He slung the rifle over his shoulder and stomped off into the rundown shack.

Destiny exhaled the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding as Eric walked over and grinned down at her.

“Don’t let old Will scare you. He likes to spook people, but he’s harmless as a coyote pup.”

“His gun isn’t harmless. Thanks for rescuing me.”

Eric glanced around. “What are you doing way out here? The dig’s miles away.”

Destiny pressed her fingertips to her temples. “I got lost. My map doesn’t show these roads accurately, and GPS is a joke.”

Will popped out of his shack. “She yore woman?”

Eric’s dark brows thundered together, his expression so threatening that Destiny expected the ground to tremble. Will darted back inside.

“Drive me back to the ranch house,” Eric said, his sensual voice playing delicious games with Destiny’s ears. “That ought to keep Will quiet about your visit.”

“Keep him quiet?” She gazed up into Eric’s chiseled bronze face, confused. “I don’t understand. And what about your horse?”

Eric patted the paint’s rump and looped the reins over the saddle horn. “Home, fella.” The paint snorted, swished his tail, then galloped off into the desert. “Pinto knows the way. He’ll be at the barn waiting for us.”

Destiny slid into the driver’s seat and unlocked the passenger door, grateful she’d taken Eric’s earlier advice to leave her windows cracked.

Eric picked up the map and folded his long legs to get into the small car. He tossed the map into the back seat and as he withdrew his hand, his fingers brushed the ends of her hair. He gently smoothed the silky strands.

“The sun makes your hair shine like liquid gold,” he said in a low voice, almost to himself.

Destiny’s breath caught as his large rough hand turned, caressing the petal velvet of her cheek. Their eyes locked. She could feel the warmth of his breath and smell the sunny, male scent of him. He suddenly drew back, moving his hand as if her skin scorched him.

Shocked, Destiny realized she didn’t want him to stop. Why did this man attract her so? And what did he feel about her? She searched his face for a clue, but impassiveness cloaked his emotions.

“Shall we go?” A trace of abruptness tinged his voice.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, feeling breathless.

“Go back the opposite direction. I’ll show you where to turn off.”

Destiny followed his instructions. “Does Will really live in that tumbled-down shack with no windows?”

“Yeah. Will’s a refugee from West Texas. His family lived on Carrington land, squatters to be accurate, but they didn’t hurt anything. After his family passed on, old Will, well, he didn’t have very good habits and got in a scrape with some other locals there. Our folks made a family decision he should relocate here away from his trouble. Of course his shack started out in far better condition, but he doesn’t do much repairing. No money.” Eric shrugged. “And if he had the money, he wouldn’t use it for repairs.”

“Why does he stay?”

Again, that slight shrug. “No place else to go. Will’s a displaced soul. There are a lot of them in these remote parts of the Southwest. I’m not sure if he even realizes he moved. Not that it matters. It was many years ago.”

“He certainly doesn’t like intruders.” Destiny stole a side glance at Eric’s carved copper profile.

“He’s all hot air and no fight.” His voice dropped. “Feed him a little whiskey and you can convince him of anything.”

Destiny made a silent note to purchase some bourbon, mentally cringing. If she found herself in front of Will’s rifle again, she wanted to be prepared.

The dusty blue Mustang wove along the rough ribbon of road. Presently, Destiny recognized several landmarks that indicated their arrival at the Bar-M ranch house. “I can tell you’ve done a lot of repair and remodeling work on
all
the buildings, not only the house.”

“We
have
done a lot of work, but it’s the kind that doesn’t show up. Sometimes it sure feels thankless.” He flashed her a smile. “But I intend to breathe life back into it.”

“You already have. It’s lovely.”

Eric grinned, his strangely pensive mood lifted. “Please come in for a cold drink.”

“Thanks, but I need to get back to work.”

“Ice cold lemonade, so nice and cool . . .”

Destiny shook her head, resisting temptation. They were alone out here in the middle of nowhere, and Eric was extremely male, more so than any other man she’d ever met. What if he turned out not to be the gentleman he seemed? The two dogs had come out to the car and were milling around impatiently.

“At least come in and meet Estrella and Domingo.”

“Who?”

“Estrella and Domingo Garcia, my caretakers. They take care of the ranch and they take care of me.” Those sensually molded lips curved into a smile. “They were visiting their family in Alamogordo when you were here before.”

A stout Mexican woman opened the front door of the house. “There’s Estrella now,” Eric said, waving.

“All right,” Destiny agreed, picturing icy glasses of tangy lemonade. She allowed Eric to walk around and open her door, not sure if the dogs would remember her, but when she alighted they sniffed her hands and wagged their tails. Then they trotted back to lie down in the shade.

She and Eric stepped up onto the porch.

“Eric George!” Estrella planted her hands on her ample hips and launched into a tide of Spanish, waving one chubby hand toward the back of the house.

“Hey, calm down.” Grinning, Eric placed his hands on her shoulders. “Pinto knows his way home. There was nothing wrong. I just wanted to ride with Destiny.”

“Ah.” Her anger instantly dissipated. “Destiny Winston, the pretty photographer I’ve been hearing about. You must come in before you melt.” She took Destiny’s small hand in her own plump one and led her and Eric inside into the welcome coolness of the stone and adobe house. The aroma of chili spiced the air. “Did Eric George bring you home for lunch?”

“No,” Destiny said, taking an instant liking to Estrella. “Just lemonade.”

“Lemonade?” Estrella leveled a motherly glare at Eric.

He chuckled. “Try to change her mind, Estrella. Even busy photojournalists have to eat.”

“He’s right,” Estrella stated firmly, squeezing Destiny’s hand. “Please stay for a bowl of chili. My husband, Domingo, is putting away Pinto. He and Eric together can’t make a dent in my big bubbling pot.”

Her English was excellent, her accent melodious. Destiny accepted graciously. Soon she was seated at a large, oak table while Estrella brought out the food. The back door opened and in walked a man right out of a western painting. He was small and wiry, slightly bowlegged, with a seamed and weathered face. His grizzled hair was gray and his drooping moustache matched in color. He doffed his hat and hung it on a peg by the back door.

“So, Eric George,” he said, his face breaking into a grin. “Now I see why you send Pinto home alone, no? To come with the pretty
señorita
in the car.”

“Yes.” Eric smiled down at his plate. “Go wash up and be quiet.”

With a laugh the man turned down a hallway and disappeared. When he returned, Estrella was placing food on the table. She paused to make introductions. “My husband, Domingo. And this is Destiny Winston, the pretty lady Eric told us about.”

“
Mucho gusto, señorita
.” He made a little bow in Destiny’s direction as he took his chair.

“Eric is our boy,” Estrella said, dipping out bowls of chili and handing them around. “From a scrawny
niño
with a mop of black hair I helped raise him, as I did the other Montoya children. I feel they are all mine, and they are near the age of our two.”

“Now, Estrella.” Eric passed a plate a cheese chunks. “Destiny doesn’t need a recitation of Montoya history.”

Destiny noticed the way his muscles rippled in his bronze arms and how his faded plaid cotton shirt drew tightly across his broad powerful chest.

“Onions?” he offered, catching her intent gaze.

She blinked. “No, thanks.” Staring down into her bowl, she hoped her complexion didn’t match the chili. She swallowed a spoonful. The combination of flavors tasted spicy, the meat chunks tender. Destiny smiled at the housekeeper. “Mrs. Garcia, your chili is delicious.”

“Please call me Estrella.” Waving a tortilla, she giggled like a schoolgirl. “Domingo claims my chili makes him young again. I’m glad you like it,
niña
.”

After lunch, Eric escorted Destiny out to her car, walking out into white-hot sun radiating down through the dry desert air. About halfway, he halted and stared at Destiny’s feet.

“Still no boots?”

She looked down at her white canvas espadrilles, now turning to what she mentally labeled ‘desert tan.’ “I haven’t had a chance to shop yet.”

Eric shook his head ruefully, rainbow highlights sparking his black hair. As Destiny glanced up to speak to him, her toe caught a protruding rock. Her soft curves slammed into his solid form as her face pressed tightly against his chest. She could hear the thundering of his heart echoing her own inner turmoil. He caught her close with his powerful arms, his hand at the small of her back shooting electric awareness along her spine. His right hand touched her shoulder, then slid around the column of her throat.

She leaned her head back to gaze up at him, her lips parting. He bent to capture her mouth with his own, branding her with his kiss as if their souls were melding together to form a greater whole.

To her disappointment and confusion, the kiss ended as swiftly as it began. She opened her eyes as he raised his head. An impassive mask veiled his features, but he couldn’t camouflage the throbbing pulse in his neck from Destiny’s sensitive fingertips.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice husky. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Destiny whispered, feeling shaken and abandoned as he released her.

“Then say nothing.”

Abruptly Eric spun on his heel and stalked away, a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts spinning around him like a dust devil.

What in the world had inspired him to do such a thing? Of course she was beautiful, but that was no excuse to swoop her up and kiss her. He’d felt almost possessed. Compelled.
Why?
His hand rose to press the warmth of his shirt pocket and a wave of shock washed over him.
Cupid!
Fishing out the charm, he glared at it in disbelief. That morning he’d dropped it into his pocket, intending to take it to town and mail it to his cousin Ty in Houston, along with a few death threats about not sending it back, or else. He’d completely forgotten it.

“Did you make me do that?” he demanded, holding up the pin and watching it sparkle in the sunlight. “I should smash you on a rock!” Quickly he glanced at the house. He didn’t want Estrella or Domingo witnessing not only that kiss, but him scolding a piece of jewelry. Steeped in the Carrington Cupid legend themselves, they would eat this up.

Striding onto the porch, he opened the screen door just in time to see Domingo’s back disappear into the kitchen.
Dammit!
He felt like following and yelling at them for peeping and demand they forget everything they saw. But he squelched that impulse, realizing he’d only make the situation worse, burn the rash kiss into their brains with his ranting.

Changing directions, he entered the study and crossed to the desk, intending to chunk the brooch into the desk drawer. Yet he found himself cradling it in his palm, feeling the familiar warmth as it rested there. Staring at it evoked the memory of that kiss, the feel of Destiny, the scent of her as he’d pressed her slender form against his own body.
No!
Crazy thoughts. He couldn’t afford to get involved with Destiny now, risk exposing her to danger.

“You need to stop interfering,” he instructed Cupid. “You’re meddling in affairs you don’t understand. So shut up, stay in the drawer, and leave me alone!” Only then could he force himself to put the brooch in the drawer and close it firmly against any possible magic. No doubt about it, they’d all been saturated in this Cupid family legend far too much. Cupid was only a piece of jewelry.
Period
.

Trembling, Destiny climbed into her car and drove back to the rented cabin. There, she sought sanctuary at the computer station she’d rigged. Once into her work, her attention focused completely on the images transferred from her camera.

One-by-one she clicked on the photos and studied them critically. She paid special attention to those showing the airplane, people, and vehicles. Even with the telephoto lens and enlarging the shots, it had been too far away to get any useful details, such as facial features or the aircraft number. Still, it was obvious that the men, and they were all men, had been loading crates onto the airplane. After enlarging as much as possible without blurring detail, she magnified and studied one shot.