Page 69 of Dangerous Liaisons

Chapter Fifty-One

Jesse sat in the passenger seat of Cole’s Silverado as he drove along Highway 9 twenty miles outside Galveston, Texas. A bone-white rail fence flicked by her open window. Beyond the fence, green pasture dotted with chestnut quarter horses and sandy Appaloosas rolled past. Up ahead, a sprawling ranch house the color of buttercups sat two hundred yards off the road. Hard to believe only twelve hours ago they had been stranded in the Colombian jungle.

At least she could breathe a little easier. Amanda was all right. According to Harris, she hadn’t seemed to notice Jesse hadn’t visited in two months. Maybe her older sister was forgetting even more easily than Jesse had imagined. That, she decided, was for the best. Once she got Amanda to safety, she would stay away until she proved Lanton’s guilt.

No sign of him or OIA agents at Houghton house. A fact that wasn’t as comforting as it should have been. Jesse hid her sister’s whereabouts to safeguard against enemy attacks. It hadn’t occurred to her the enemy would be in her own camp. Cole hadn’t mentioned Amanda again, but his comment about making sure she was all right indicated he knew her location.

Jesse cast a covert glance at him. His right hand lightly gripped the wheel; the left, with the broken index and middle fingers, rested on the windowsill. His forearm, half exposed by a rolled up, light blue sleeve, mesmerized her. If not for Caruthers and Fletcher, she might have ended up in those arms last night.

Jesse shifted her gaze to the ranch house that drew near. Caruthers and Fletcher were in Nicaragua following her—or the woman Lanton would be made to think was her: Ernesta. Tom would be waiting for them at the ranch. She should have been relieved. If ever she needed him, it was now. But knowing he’d be in the same room with her and Cole for the next two days redlined her anxiety level.

The truck slowed and turned onto a packed gravel drive lined with hundred year-old oaks leading to the yellow house. Two barns, a long, narrow stable, paddock, and two sheds large enough to enclose a two-bedroom house in her hometown of Morristown, New Jersey, came into view beyond the house.

She breathed deeply of the balmy air blowing across her face, then grimaced when she got a whiff of manure. “God, Cole, you are a Texan,” she said over the crunch of gravel.

He ripped a wide grin. Even the facial bruises and remainder of the swelling over his right eye didn’t mar his good looks. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “My family has been here since the homesteaders. Fought in the Spanish-American war. Two even died at the Alamo.”

Jesse blew out a breath. When Cole reported his Uncle Tyler had a place outside Galveston they could use while Tyler was away, she figured they’d hit upon some good luck at finding a safe house so close to the Mexican border. But this place was so big she wondered how they could remain inconspicuous.

“Are all your family’s homes like this?” she asked.

Cole chuckled. “No. Some are larger.”

As they neared the ranch, the driveway curved into a wide circular turnaround. Jesse raised a brow at sight of a three-tiered fountain in the center of the circle. A lone Toyota 4-Runner stood in the drive alongside a full length, wraparound porch.

“Must be Tom’s rental,” Cole said as he pulled alongside the Toyota and killed the engine.

Jesse exited the truck and paused to study the massive house. White trim, porch posts, railing, and real wood shutters completed the idyllic picture. She turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees and surveyed the flat terrain that met cloudless blue skies in the distant horizon. A hint of alfalfa and clover wafted past on a light breeze. Nothing broke the silence.

“Where are the hands?” she asked.

Cole nodded toward the outbuildings. “A couple men are tending stock. The rest are taking time off. I’ve left strict orders to steer clear of the house while we’re here.”

The porch floorboards creaked and Jesse turned to see The Professor stroll around the far corner of the porch. He sidestepped the porch swing, his concentration on a bug sniffer he held. Affection rippled through her. She couldn’t help being glad to see him. She needed him. Not to mention, being alone with Cole was a worse idea than facing them together.

Tom looked up and jerked to a halt. He smiled and tugged one of the ear buds from his ear. “It’s good to see you.” He turned his gaze onto Cole. “I must say, Cole, this place is magnificent.” The Professor pulled the other ear bud loose and wrapped the cable around the sniffer. “I made a point of arriving early to sweep for bugs. So far, the place is clean.”

Cole nodded and climbed the two steps to the porch. His boots clumped on the thick oaken treads. Jesse followed to the double front door and eyed the windows that flanked the entry. Through sheer curtains, she saw no evidence of movement in the foyer or in the shadows beyond.

Cole opened the doors and stepped aside. Jesse entered an air-conditioned foyer and halted on a dark patterned Persian carpet, stunned by the wide staircase in front of her. The white balusters and sweeping circular design looked like something from Gone With the Wind. Jesse ran her gaze up the railing and along the fine trim woodwork, life-size paintings of southern gentleman and ladies, and carved plaster ceiling.

Tom brushed past her, working the scanner again, and disappeared into the nearest of two rooms on the left. A chandelier hung overhead and, to her right, a mirror-backed bench seat with hat pegs rested against the wall. Through an open door next to the bench, she caught sight of a massive fireplace big enough to crawl into.

Cole closed the front doors, then crossed to the parlor on the right and motioned her inside. Jesse stepped up beside him and surveyed the Queen-Ann love seat opposite a full sized sofa, the floor-to-ceiling draperies, and fine wood inlayed harpsichord. Maroon wallpaper sported embossed roses in velvet and satin. He started forward and she followed at a slow pace. Whatever seat he chose, she would choose the other. Tom had known her too long to miss any reaction she may not be able to hide.

Cole turned toward the wet bar that sat against the right wall. “You want a drink?”

“Scotch.” Jesse winced inwardly. Her answer sounded like a croak. What had gotten into her? She had been in mansions, well-appointed embassies, even a castle. Opulent settings didn’t intimidate her. Yeah, but none of those settings had contained Cole Smith. Even Emma Peel had her…her what, John Steed?

Jesse lowered herself onto the loveseat as she studied Cole’s back, the play of muscle in his arm as he reached for the scotch bottle, the tug of his shirt across his shoulders. How would that muscle tighten beneath her fingers as he strained while thrusting inside her? Even Emma might have had a hard time resisting such a temptation.