This Side of Heaven

agency he works for take care of Ryker.'

'Romero is already involved, but that's not going to solve my problem. Ryker wants me. I can't let someone else fight my battle.'

'You don't want to.'

'All right,' he admitted, 'I don't want someone to fight for me, to die for me. This is between Ryker and me. I don't want any innocent bystanders getting in the way.'

'Is that what I am, an innocent bystander?'

Hell, how did he answer that question? he wondered. Of course she was more than a bystander. She was his woman, and more than anyone else, she was in danger. 'Yeah, Brown Eyes, that's exactly what you are.'

She tried to see beyond the words, past the cool, unemo­tional statement, but his expression gave away nothing. He seemed totally unmoved by her tears, her offer of help and her profession of love.

'I have a ten-thirty appointment this morning,' she said as she walked past him, not giving in to the impulse to take one final look at him in the hopes that some emotion would show on his face.

By the time she reached the front door, she realized he wasn't following her. And she was glad, she told herself. She had fallen in love with a man incapable of loving her in re­turn. Not once, not even when they had shared the most passionate intimacies, had Nate told her he loved her. She had allowed her own sexual desire and the fantasy spell of an ancient legend to overrule her common sense.

Nate was right. She should get out of his life and stay out. For both their sakes.

Cyn opened the front door. Just as she stepped outside, she heard him coming up behind her. Hesitating momen­tarily, she waited for him to touch her or to say something to her. He did neither. Turning her head, she caught a glimpse of him in the doorway. Their gazes met for one brief instant before he closed the door. * * *

Cyn jumped out of her van, glanced down at her watch and groaned. She was fifteen minutes late for her brunch date with Ramon Carranza. She hoped the wealthy Cuban was lenient with tardy guests.

Standing on the stone walkway, she scrutinized the Span­ish-style mansion. It was exactly what she had expected. A two-story cream stucco house with a red tile roof, arched windows and doors, and a lawn filled with palm trees.

Stepping up, she hesitated briefly as she studied the beautifully carved wooden door. She had to make a good impression. She had to convince this man to help Tomor­row House. Of course, he wasn't her last hope, but he was her best chance. A man with enough money to donate ten thousand dollars a year to a small shelter for runaway teens had enough money to solve her problems, at least tempo­rarily.

Cyn rang the doorbell. Instantly, a young woman opened the door and smiled a friendly greeting.

'Senora Porter?'

'Yes.' Cyn walked inside the enormous foyer. If she hadn't been raised in her father's ancestral home in Savannah, she would have been awestruck by the grandeur of Ramon Carranza's home. But Cyn was quite accustomed to fine antiques, impeccable decorating, homes with mu­seum-style quality.

'Please follow me,' the maid said in slightly accented English as she led Cyn down the hallway and out onto a back patio.

Spring flowers, in large concrete pots, surrounded the wide expanse of open courtyard just beyond the patio. A glass table had been set with pristine white linen, sparkling china and heavy crystal.

'Please be seated,' the maid said. 'Senor Carranza re­ceived an important telephone call only moments ago. He will join you shortly.'

'Thank you.' Cyn sat down when the maid went back into the house.

She was grateful to the person who had called Ramon Carranza. Perhaps he wouldn't even be aware that she had arrived late.

The day was beautiful, she decided, looking up at the clear blue sky. Everything was fresh and crisp and caressed with Florida sunshine. The day should be perfect, but it wasn't. Not for her. She was in love with a man who didn't love her, a man totally unsuitable for her.

She remembered the first time she had awakened this morning. Nate had been awake and lying beside her, propped on his elbow while he watched her. He had kissed her, held her, and made slow, sweet love to her. How could a man give of himself to a woman the way Nate had given to her and not love her?

'Senora Porter,' a deep, throaty voice said. 'I hope you don't mind eating outside. I know it is only the first day of May, but after last night's rain, the world is so clean and fresh and bathed in the sun's warmth.'

Cyn glanced up at the tall, elegantly dressed man who had just stepped out onto the patio.

He took her hand, kissing it with Continental flair. 'You are even more beautiful than I had imagined.'

'Why, thank you, Senor Carranza. I'm flattered.' Cyn felt awed at the sight of the elderly gentleman. She wasn't quite sure what she had expected, but it certainly hadn't been this handsome man, so tall, so broad- shouldered, so incredibly suave with his mane of white hair and his thick white mustache. His black eyes sparkled with intelligence and curiosity.

'You must call me Ramon, as all my friends do.' He sat, taking the chair opposite her. 'And you and I are going to be good friends, si?'

'Yes, I hope so.' Cyn thought there was something fa­miliar about this man. Perhaps she had seen his picture in the paper.

'I hope you like seafood, Senora Porter.' Ramon waved his hand, and as if on cue, a plump, dark-haired woman appeared carrying a huge serving tray.

'I love seafood.' Cyn's mouth watered at the sight of the scrumptious shrimp cocktail the woman set before her. 'And please call me Cyn.'

When he widened his eyes in surprise, an amused look on his face, Cyn laughed, then said, 'My name is Cynthia, but all my friends call me Cyn.'

'What a perfectly delightful nickname.'

All through brunch, they discussed a variety of things. Everything from music to wine, but somehow the discus­sion kept coming back around to the fact that Cyn was liv­ing alone in Sweet Haven with only one close neighbor. It seemed of great interest to Ramon Carranza that Nate Hodges was a man Cyn could count on for protection. She simply didn't understand Senor Carranza's interest in her personal life.

'I came here to ask you for money, and yet we seem to have discussed everything except Tomorrow House.' Cyn had enjoyed her meal and the charming old man's com­pany, but there was something in his persistent questions about Nate that bothered her. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

'Ah, but it is a foregone conclusion that I will give you the money you need. I will give you a check to cover the expenses of your shelter for the next six months.' Ramon sipped his wine, eyeing Cyn over the rim of his crystal glass.

'You will?' Cyn gasped. 'But...but how did you know that I needed enough money for six months' expenses?'

With a toss of his hand, indicating that it was nothing for him to know the closest, most-guarded secrets of others, he smiled at Cyn. 'I am sure you are aware of the fact that not only am I a very rich man, I am a powerful man with many powerful friends. My friends know many things, and what I want to know, they find out for me.'

A cold chill raced along Cyn's spine, reminding her that no matter how charming Ramon Carranza was now at nearly eighty, it was reputed that he had once been a part of the Cuban mafia.

'Why does my shelter interest you so much, Senor Car...Ramon?'

He took another sip of his wine. 'May I be perfectly honest with you, Cyn?' His wide smile displayed his spar­ kling teeth against the background of his white mustache and leathery brown skin.

Uncertain how to reply, she simply nodded as she re­turned his smile. A tight knot formed in the pit of Cyn's stomach, as niggling little doubts wafted through her mind.

'I could say that it is because I consider myself a philan­thropist, but I am not. I could say that I was once a boy without a home who needed a place like Tomorrow House, but it would be a lie.' His smile widened. 'You have heard rumors about me, have you not?'

How was she supposed to answer a question like that? she wondered. 'People always like to gossip about the wealthy.'

Ramon laughed hardily, the sound deep and husky. 'Such a diplomatic reply. But I would expect no less from