Florida Knight (9 page)

“Oh, my God!” Mona’s jaw dropped, her eyes shone. “It’s happened? It’s really happened? You’ve fallen for a guy!” Mona bounced up and down on the gravel while Kate cringed at every chortle. “Oh, wow, wait’ll I tell Bubba. He’s gonna go nuts. He’ll be so pleased.
I’m
pleased. Kate, this is great!”

“Look . . . it’s nothing,” Kate protested. Weakly. “He was interested in LALOC. I agreed to take him with us. Nothing may come of it at all.”

Mona shook her head. “That is so lame. The man’s a hunk. Not a pretty boy, a real macho-man hunk. I saw him, remember? I thought he was mad at you, but he was charging along like that ’cuz he was eager to see you.” Mona heaved an elaborate sigh.

Kate’s head shot up. Not all the undercover necessity in the world was going to make her swallow that one. “Mona, you’d make a romance out of a wrestling match. Believe me, he
was
angry that night. Spoiling for a fight. This weekend is nothing more than an experiment. I’m keeping my boss happy and–um–sort of testing the waters.”

“Testing the waters! Girl, you’ve jumped off the deep end, clothes and all.” Mona bent down, picked up the sleeping bag, emphasizing her words by thrusting it toward Kate. “If you think that man’s some tame pussy cat like Ace you can share your bed with, you’re out of your mind.”

“We’re not sharing a bed
.” Kate
turned her back on Mona, fitting the bag onto the pile of equipment. This was the last of the stuff for the roof. Ignoring Mona, Kate set about spreading a heavy canvas cover over everything.

“That man’s a tiger,” Mona lectured, feet firmly planted on the gravel as she watched Kate work. “There’s no way he’s gonna stand for that celibate crap you’re always giving out. Even if he believes it, he’s just gonna consider it a challenge.”

Silence. Kate tugged on a tie rope, crawled toward the other side of the roof.

“Kate Knight, it’s high time you found a man tougher than you are,” Mona called. “You know that, don’t you?”

Kate did a double hitch on the far rail, clambered back toward Mona. She peered over the edge. “I don’t know a thing except I couldn’t say no,” she hissed. “Okay? So let it go, Mona. He’s going with us. And that’s that. The rest I’ll have to deal with as we go along. And tell Bubba not to tease him.”

“Sure.” Mona’s reply was automatic. She was busy considering her friend’s words, the knife-edged chip on Kate’s shoulder which had suddenly blunted enough to allow a man into her life. There was something very strange here. Kate seldom s
lammed
a door in her face. About her life before Golden Beach, yes. About the here and now, no. This Michael Gibbs must be someone very special. Or he had a hold on Kate. Or Barbara Falk had a hold on Kate . . . Somehow that made more sense. Kate, the invincible, was having her arm twisted.

Mona began to worry. She’d have to spout sweetness and light to Bubba or they’d be mopping Michael Gibbs up off the ground. She’d have to play it by ear, discover for herself what the man was like, figure what the tiger was doing in the midst of LALOC lambs. Well . . . the fighters would get pretty hot if they heard her call them lambs. But somehow Mona didn’t think Michael Gibbs fought his battles with bamboo poles padded with duct tape. It was easier to picture him as Indiana Jones in that famous scene where Indy pulls out a gun and shoots the whip-wielding villain dead. Yeah, that suited the Michael Gibbs she’d seen storming up Kate’s driveway.

Mona sighed. It was either high romance. Or violent disaster. She wished she knew which.

“What’s all that?” Michael demanded on Friday afternoon, regarding the canvas-covered mound on the roof of the van as if he were about to call out the drug-sniffing dogs.

“Camping equipment.”

“Camping?” Michael realized he should have asked more questions about the LALOC event. Fine investigator he was.

“We’re emulating Medieval Times. Did you expect a motel?”

“Of course not,” Michael snapped. He hadn’t expected anything. He’d been too damn busy to think about it. Well, not too busy to think about spending a weekend with Kate Knight, but camping equipment had not entered his thoughts at all. The possibilities were . . . interesting, to say the least.

“I’ve provided everything,” Kate said. “Sleeping bag, pillow, towel, wash cloth, soap. I hope you remembered your toothbrush and a razor.”

Change gears, Turco. Not a hint of what you’re thinking! Don’t scare her off.
“Uh
–
Kate, I must owe you quite a bit by now. Costumes, the camping stuff. How much?”

“I’ll send you a bill one of these days. Bring out the coolers in the kitchen, will you?” Kate turned her back, ostentatiously straightening the row of costumes hanging from a wooden railing across the rear of the van.

Michael didn’t move. “Kate . . . if we’re going to carry off this little masquerade, we have to act like we’re–uh–a couple. You need to be at least . . . friendly . . . look at me occasionally. Smile. You remember what a smile is? You sort of turn up the corners of your mouth?”

Kate gave a last tweak to Mona’s veil so it wouldn’t be crushed, turned to glare at him. “When was the last time you tried it?” she taunted.

“Kate,” he sighed, “this isn’t going to work if you don’t— Oh, hi, Bubba.” Michael stifled a wince as Kate’s giant neighbor slapped him on the back. His introduction to Mona Ellis was tougher yet. She looked him over as if she was trying to judge if he was a stud or the lowest slime on the horizon. He was relieved to have the coolers as an excuse to escape her piercing assessment. With Bubba’s help, he loaded the two heavy containers into the rear of the van behind the rack of costumes.

“We’re not heavily loaded this trip,” Kate said. “If I’m vending, we have a mountain of stuff, but this time is easy.”

This wasn’t heavily loaded? Michael shrugged. Packing wasn’t what was bothering him. If Kate stayed this impersonal, they were in trouble. No one—not even Bubba—would believe they were a couple. “I’ll drive,” he announced as Kate started to slide into the driver’s seat.

Kate glared. Michael stood his ground, clamping his teeth over a strident urge to remind her he was FHP. That’s how much the woman messed with his mind. He’d come close to declaring—in front of Mona and Bubba—that he’d spent his entire career driving the highways of Florida. He swore at himself, while continuing to hold out his hand, palm up. He caught the moment when Kate remembered his warning, gave in to necessity. The long lashes above the blazing green eyes drooped. Her lips curled up. Only Michael could see the mockery. “Of course,” Kate purred, “that would be great.”

Behind them, Mona reached across the aisle, clasped a hand over Bubba’s arm as he stirred in his captain’s chair. They both knew Kate never let anyone else drive her van. Something was surely up, but
Mona
had a feeling it wasn’t love. Which was sad, very sad indeed.

“So where are we going?” Michael asked.

“North on 75.” Kate tried to settle into the passenger seat. Unfortunately, as Michael crunched gravel backing out of the driveway, her foot was already reaching for the brake. This was a mistake. She should have told Barbara Falk to go jump. It was all going wrong. Kate felt like a runaway freight train poised at the brink of a downhill r
un
to disaster.
Ridiculous!
They were four happy campers off for the weekend. Fresh air, sunshine, camaraderie, good food, a few thumps of a glaive . . .

“Okay, let’s practice,” Kate declared. “In LALOC, I’m Catriona MacDuff, mostly called Cat. You’re Raven, Mona is Alys of Avon, Bubba is Erik the Strong—“

”Maximus,” Bubba stated loudly. “Not Erik. Maximus.”

Kate poked her head around the tall back of the captain’s chair. “Since when?” she demanded.

“Since we saw
Gladiator
on video,” Mona said with a sigh. “That’s all he talks about. I told him it wasn’t period, but Maximus is his hero.” Mona shrugged, gave Kate the age-old what-can-
you-do-with-’
em look.

Kate eyed the stubborn set of Bubba’s massive jaw. “Sure, why not? There’s one LALOC household th
at dresses Roman every summer.
Mini skirts for both sexes. Suits the
Florida
climate, they claim, so why can’t you be Roman too?” Bubba beamed at her.

“Household?” Michael hated to have to ask, but he couldn’t think of any other way to understand the blasted LALOC language.

“Some people with similar interests—whether it’s archery, rapiers, calligraphy, weaving, music—join together and become what’s called a
household
. It helps promote their skills—sort of an apprentice system—and gives them a sense of belonging.”

“You have a household?”

Kate straightened in her chair, looked out the window. “I’m not a joiner.”

“Okay.” Michael drove up the on-ramp to I-75, inserted the van into the swift flow of traffic. “So I’m Raven, you’re Cat-something, Mona’s
Alice
, and Bubba is Max.”

“A-L-Y-S,” that kind of Alys,” Kate said. “Alys of
Avon
. Mona wanted to keep it simple. Some of the members have names which run on forever and are totally unpronounceable, particularly the Welsh. Clever but not practical. And you can simply call me Cat. Short for Catriona.”

“Scottish for your own name, right?”

“Right.” Kate turned back to Bubba. “Michael is going to be Raven. And he’s going to remember to call you Max. You got that, Bubba?”

“Sure. No problem.” Bubba leaned forward. “You think Max is okay, Cat?”

“You can be anything you want, Bubba. We’re supposed to be having fun, remember? We’ll just ignore the Authenticity Nazis. I sometimes wonder if they’ve forgotten LALOC was founded as one big lark, a let’s-dress-up-and-have-a-fantasy costume party.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Kate caught Michael’s smile. Unfortunately, as she turned toward the front, she also
got
a good look at Michael’s feet. “You’ve got
zippers
,” Kate choked out.

“So? What was that remark I just heard about Authenticity Nazis?”

“But boots with zippers . . . Michael, you can’t have
zippers
.”

“They’re the only black boots I’ve got.”

“Aw, come on, Cat. It’s his first time,” Bubba rumbled from the back. “Nobody’ll mind.”

“They’ll be too busy looking him over to even notice,” Mona added. “Fresh meat.” The last two words were close to a whisper, but Kate heard them. So did Michael.

Kate crossed her arms, glared at the eighteen-wheeler in front of them. Mona was right. She’d already thought about the men’s reaction to a new macho male, a potential fighter, the partner/lover of a woman who had turned down every LALOC offer she’d ever
received
. The women, however—she hadn’t really thought about them. Mona was right. Married or single, teenage to widow, they were going to sit up and take notice. That Michael—Raven—had come with Catriona MacDuff, the frozen woman, would only make him more interesting. More of a challenge. Raven—the newcomer whose tightly leashed energy couldn’t be concealed under cloth of black. Whose craggy face challenged a woman to make him smile, to find out what lay beneath the tough outer layer.

Dear God!
They were barely on the road and she was having trouble controlling her libido.
The libido she had thought
shut away forever. Kate closed her eyes as Michael passed the huge truck. She’d never been on the Interstate with someone else driving. She hated the loss of control.

Lieutenant Michael Turco was a major disruption in her life. Half of her wanted to pitch him out on his ear. The other half . . . the other half welcomed the opportunity to sit hidden behind the height of her captain’s chair and watch him as he drove with the ease and confidence of a man who had spent his life on the road. It was going to be a very long weekend. More, Kate feared, than either of them had bargained for.

“What the—?” Michael clamped his teeth over a raunchy four-letter word, accepted the long bundle Bubba—Max—was handing down from the top of the van. Why he’d associated camping with some picturesque cabin in the woods, Michael couldn’t have said. Stupidity, ignorance. Whatever. He must have seen pictures of
Appalachian Trail
hostels . . . or something. But a tent about the size of a postage stamp was not what he’d had in mind at all.

By the time he’d carried his burden to where Kate was pacing off her selected territory, Michael’s brain had gone on hold. He was going to get through this, that’s all he knew, but the toll was going to be high. A tiny ray of hope crept through the haze. Maybe the girls were sharing one tent, he and Bubba the other.

“I’ve checked for fire ant
mounds,” Kate announced. “This looks okay. We’ll set up with the flap facing that way.” She pointed.

Michael lowered the tent bundle to the ground, stared blankly at Kate. Maybe the blasted thing was bigger than it looked. Five minutes later he knew it wasn’t. Kate had taken over, was doing all the work with the ease of long experience. He let her because he could see the tent was a snap to put up, and it was obvious Kate needed to assert herself. Besides, he wanted no part of the preparation for this particular torture chamber.