"You couldn't use the camp for other things the rest of the year?" She took a bite of taco and nearly moaned with pleasure at the sharp, spicy flavors.

"Actually, I've been toying with an idea."

"Oh?" She waited while he chewed and thought even that was sexy-all those strong muscles in his face working together.

"Okay." He swallowed. "You can't mention this to my mom."

"Is it something she wouldn't like?"

"The contrary, actually, which is why I want to think about it before I mention it to her. I want to be sure she's physically up to having the camp open year-round. I mean, God, the woman's old. Which shocked the heck out of me when I came here to recuperate. When did that happen? I've seen her on a regular basis over the years. How could I not notice?"

"You were busy chasing bad guys?"

"That's no excuse," he insisted. "Do you know she was one step away from having to sell the camp when I agreed to take over as director? She loves that camp. Kids are her life! If I hadn't gotten shot in the knee, she'd have lost everything. The camp, her home, and a good chunk of her heart. After everything she's done^for me, I absolutely will not let that happen."

Maddy's heart took another hard bounce on the floor. "So"-she cleared her- throat-"what's your idea?"

A smile teased up one corner of his mouth. "A boot camp for civilians."

"A what?"

He popped a tortilla chip into his mouth as the smile reached his eyes. "There's already a few of them up and running. Former special-ops guys giving civilians a taste of the physical training we go through. Some of the camps are geared toward physical fitness for adrenaline junkies. Others offer group programs to corporations for employee team building. That's where the Rangers excel, working as a team. I think the concept of 'no man left behind' is sadly lacking in corporate America."

"I think you're right. And the idea sounds great."

"So far that's all it is, an idea in my head, but I'd like to pitch it to Socrates."

"Who?"

"Corporal Derrick Harrelson, nicknamed Socrates because he's always spouting philosophy."

"Did you have a nickname?"

"We all did."

"So, what was yours?"

"Promise not to laugh?"

"No, but tell me anyway."

"Scout."

She frowned. "Because you're part Indian?"

"No." His cheeks darkened. "After the mess I got into over the stolen car, I went a little overboard for a while, determined that would be the last time I ever disappointed the Colonel. So every time some of the guys tried to stir up trouble off base I served as the voice of reason. Or, in their words, the wet blanket. Finally one of the guys told me to quit being such a damn Eagle Scout, and it stuck."

"Eagle Scout? You?" She snorted with laughter.

"Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction. I did eventually loosen up a bit, but by then it was too late."

"So tell me about Socrates." She dipped a chip in the salsa.

"We served in the same battalion and got pretty tight. Now that I'm out, he's making noises about not reupping. His current hitch is almost over, so I thought maybe the boot camp was something we could do together. I need to think it through, though. Be sure before I ask Mom to put up with a camp full of people year-round."

"It sounds exciting." She found his enthusiasm contagious. "If you decide to do it, let me know. I'd be happy to help design your promotional material."

"What?"

"I took a few graphic art classes at UT. I'm really good at layout and design. I'd be happy to help."

"Ah…" He raised a brow but said nothing else.

She felt the instant shift in mood, like a wall had dropped between them, and realized she'd taken their truce one step too far. "I mean…"-she back pedaled quickly-"if you want any help."

He polished off the last of his burger. "I'll think about it."

She tried not to show her disappointment, but her lunch had lost some of its flavor. Pushing the plate away, she struggled for a way to get things back on a friendly footing. When the check arrived, she reached for it. "Why don't I get lunch as a thank-you for showing me around?"

"Absolutely not." Joe's hand came down over hers. Heat raced up her arm at the contact. He had large, powerful hands, and his fingers easily circled her wrist. "Here's the deal. I'm getting lunch, but there's a condition. Before we go back to the camp, you will show your portfolio to one gallery."

"I'd prefer to treat you to lunch." She tried to tug the check out from under his hand.

His grip tightened painlessly, just enough to make her aware of the strength he possessed. He leaned close, his gaze intent and his voice smooth as tempered steel. "This is not negotiable.''

"Joe…" She laughed nervously, her whole body tingling at his nearness. "Come on. Be reasonable. I'll show my work when I'm ready."

"Maybe I don't feel like being reasonable."

"I told you-"

"I know. But I have just the place in mind." He plucked the check out from under their joined hands and reached for his wallet. "It's small, unassuming, and well outside of Old Town. If they reject you, no biggie. At least you will have gotten your feet wet."

"That's all I have to do?" She nearly protested the loss of contact. "Get my feet wet?"

"That's it."

"What if they like my work? I don't want to sign an exclusive if the place is a dump."

"It's not a dump. It's perfectly respectable." He handed some money and the check to the server. "It's just not as highbrow as the galleries on Canyon Road. Besides, you don't have to say yes to the first offer you get, but having one gallery interested will give you more clout with the others."

"True." She took a deep breath. "Okay. You're on."

Chapter 8

The only way to conquer fear is to face it.

– How to Have a Perfect Life


Outside of Old Town, Santa Fe resembled any other growing town across America. The strip centers offered the same hardware stores, discount chains, mega bookstores, and fast-food restaurants. Except that here all the buildings maintained the "Santa Fe look" to meet building codes, and the urban sprawl ranged between pine-covered mountains and sage-dotted desert.

Maddy frowned as Joe turned off one of the main roads into a light industrial area. Even here, the metal buildings had adobe facades. Her frown deepened when he pulled into the parking lot of what looked like a warehouse. "Is this it?"

"Yep," he confirmed, parking in the shade of a tree in the far corner of the crowded lot.

Maddy twisted in her seat to study the place. "I thought you said it was small."

"The gallery only takes up a small portion in the front."

"What's in the back?"

"Hmm… frame shop and storage?"

Something in his voice made her study him. He wore a highly suspect look of innocence. "This is a reputable gallery, right?"

"Absolutely."

She looked back at the building. The sign above the covered porch read IMAGES OF THE WEST. That tickled some memory, but she dismissed it. With a name that generic, of course it seemed familiar.

"You ready to go in?" Joe asked.

She pulled the portfolio into her lap but made no move to open the door. "Give me a minute to think of what I'll say."

"What's to think about? We'll go in, I'll introduce you to the owner, then you'll take it from there."

"You're right. I don't know why I'm so nervous." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I've been on the other end of this enough times to know what to do. Artists came into the gallery where I worked all the time. Even though we rejected most of them, we were never mean about it."

"Exactly." He reached for the door handle. "Now, let's go in."

"In a minute."

"Maddy…" He sighed impatiently.

"Don't get all exasperated. I know it won't kill me to have them reject my work, but…"

"I know. This is important to you. I understand. Now, let's go."

"It's hugely important." She laid her hand on his bare arm before he could open the door, then pulled it back when he turned. "I don't want to mess up my chances by jumping the gun. My port-folio is okay, but if I wait just a bit, it will be even stronger."

"All right, here's my take." He settled, back against the seat. "You're projecting too far ahead, not concentrating on the task right in front of you. A solid long-term strategy is Mnade up of steps. Today's step is to get past your first jump."

"First jump?" She frowned.

"As in parachuting. The first jump is the scariest. You scream-if not aloud at least inside your head- the whole way down. After that"-he flashed a devilish grin-"the fear becomes part of the thrill."

"You are so warped." She laughed, which helped to loosen the knot in her stomach. "So, was that the scariest thing you did in training? Parachuting?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you stalling?"

"Maybe." She grinned unabashedly. "So was it?"

He relented with a sigh. "No. Jumping out of a plane from twelve thousand feet was nothing compared to jumping off the high diving board into the deep end of a swimming pool."

"Why was that scary? You're a good swimmer."

"Not when I'm wearing combat boots, fifty pounds of gear, and I'm carrying a rifle. Add to that the little fact that I was winded from all the P.T. they'd just put us through and blindfolded so I couldn't tell which way was up or down."

"Oh my God!" Her eyes went wide. "Why on earth would they do that to you? And why would you let them?"

"Because I wanted to be a Ranger badly enough to do damn near anything." Resolve sharpened the planes of his face. "To make it past each cut, we had to prove we were tough enough."

"And that's what they made you do to prove you were physically tough enough?"

"Not just physically, but mentally. The instructors came up with a lot of drills to prove we wouldn't panic under pressure and start acting on our own instincts rather than following orders. For me those tests were the hardest because I've never been real big on trusting other people."

"NaH." She feigned shock. "Surely you jest."

" 'Fraid not," he confessed, straight-faced. "In fact, they actually put that in my psychological evaluation file. 'Has difficulty trusting his teammates.' "

She laughed. "That sounds like something a teacher would send home in a note to your parents. 'Little Joey doesn't play well with the other boys.' "

A corner of his mouth kicked up. "No, I only play well with the girls."

She gave him a look. "Go on with your story. I take it you passed all their diabolical tests, since you made it into the Rangers."

"I did." Pride joined the resolve. "I made it because I learned to suppress fear, to follow orders, and to focus on the task at hand."

She glanced back at the building and made a face. "I suppose the moral of the story is that I should trust you and follow your orders."

"You follow orders?" He put his fingertips to his chest. "Please, let's try to keep our objective obtainable here. Besides, there is no moral to the story. There's only the question: How bad do you want it?"

Determination filled her. "Bad."

"Okay, then." His voice turned tough and ready for action. "Let's go do it!"

"Right." She nodded and climbed out of the truck, then fell into step beside him as they crossed the parking lot. "What's the owner's name?"

"Sylvia. She knows the art business inside and out, and she has a formidable reputation."

"Gee, thanks for the effort to keep me calm."

"No, she's nice. That's why I picked this place for your first jump."

"Translation: She'll be gentle when she rips out my heart and stomps on it."

"What I meant was if she offers you advice, take it."

"Got it." They stepped onto a covered porch and Maddy reached for the door.

"Wait." Joe closed his hand over her forearm. "I just realized there is a moral to the story about the diving board."

"Oh?"

"The last thing the instructors said before they sent me charging down the board for the big drop was, 'Oh yeah, extend your arms.' "

She gave him a questioning look.

"I was holding a rifle with both hands right in front of my chest. If I hadn't thrust my arms out in front of me, I would have broken my jaw the instant gravity took over. So the moral of the story is, don't hold anything too close. Keep things at arm's length, or you'll get busted in the chops."

An incredulous laugh escaped her. "You mean, want it badly enough to do anything to get it, but don't care enough to be hurt when it doesn't happen?"