Diana Palmer Collected 1-6: Soldier of Fortune / Tender Stranger / Enamored / Mystery Man / Rawhide and Lace / Unlikely Lover

“Give it a little time,” he said. “He’s been alone most of his life. It’s new to him, needing someone.”

“He doesn’t need me,” she said shortly.

“I’m not convinced of that,” he replied. He studied her affectionately. “I think he’s met his match. You’re a pretty damned good shot for a lady who’s never used an automatic weapon before. Laremos said you learned fast.”

She pursed her lips, studying her purse. “It wasn’t a hard weapon to learn,” she told him. “And actually, I have shot a .22-caliber rifle before. Mama and I used to hunt rabbits. But it didn’t have a kick like that gun.”

He smiled as she rubbed her shoulder. “I don’t imagine so. Is your mother still alive?”

She nodded, smiling back. “She lives in Lytle, Texas. There’s a small ranch, and she has a few head of cattle. It’s not nearly as big as the one she and Daddy had, but when he died, she decided to retire. Sort of.”

“And she hunts?” he asked.

“Hunts, rides, ropes, and can outcuss most veteran cowboys,” she told him. “She’s quite a character.”

“You’re a character yourself,” he said. “When J.D. told me he took you along on secret meetings, I began to realize that he had an unusual relationship with you. J.D. doesn’t trust anybody except his sister and me.”

That wasn’t bragging, either, she realized. Just a statement of fact. “He doesn’t trust Laremos.”

“Neither do I,” he whispered, smiling.

She burst out laughing, but the amusement faded immediately as J.D. started toward the car, and she felt herself freezing up. But she needn’t have worried. J.D. climbed into the backseat and slammed the door, waving to Laremos.

“Be back in a few hours, boss,” Shirt called to him. Laremos grinned and waved, and they were under way.

It was a long trip to the airport, not because of distance but because of the tension between Gabby and J.D. Despite First Shirt’s efforts to keep things casual, Gabby drew into herself and didn’t say a word all the way.

It was like that during the flight back as well. Gabby was relieved to find that their seats were not together. She was sandwiched between a businessman and a young girl. J.D.’s seat was farther back. Not one word had passed between them when they landed at O’Hare airport in the wee hours of the morning.

It took her a long time to find a place in the swollen ranks of departing passengers. She didn’t look back to see where J.D. was, either. Her only thought was to get back to her apartment. After that she’d face the thought of leaving J.D. forever, of finding another job and getting on with her life.

At last she reached the front of the terminal and stepped out into the breezy night air that carried the sound of distant car horns and city smells that had become so familiar. There was no cab in sight, but Gabby wasn’t daunted. She’d just call one.

“Come on,” J.D. said tersely, appearing just behind her. “I’ll drive you.”

She glared at him. “I’d rather be mugged.”

“You might be, at this hour, alone,” he said matter-of-factly. “What’s the matter, afraid of me?” he taunted.

She was; he’d made her afraid. But she was too proud to let him see how much.

After a minute, she turned and followed him toward the parking lot. A little later, they were winding their way back into Chicago.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” he asked.

She knew instinctively what he meant. “Yes. I’m going to try to find a job in the IT field. I like working with computers.”

He glanced toward her. “I thought you enjoyed legal work. It’s too bad, to let that paralegal training go to waste.”

“I’m tired of legal work,” she said noncommittally. What she meant was that she couldn’t take the risk of running into J.D. accidentally after she’d quit. It would be too painful.

He shrugged, driving calmly. “It’s your life. You’d better call that agency Monday morning and have them send over some applicants. I’ll let Dick do the interviewing this time,” he added with a cold laugh.

Her fingers clenched on her purse. She stared out of the window at the river.

“No comment?” he prodded.

“About what?” she asked indifferently.

He sighed. One more turn and he pulled the car into a parking spot in front of her apartment building.

She got out and waited for him to get her carry-on bag. “Don’t bother walking me up,” she said.

He glared down at her. “I wasn’t aware that I’d offered.”

Her anger exploded. “I hate you,” she said in a venomous whisper.

“Yes, I know you do,” he said with a cold smile.

She whirled on her heel and started toward the door of the building.

“Gabby,” he called curtly.

She stopped with her hand on the door, but didn’t turn. “What?”

“You’ll work a two-week notice. Every day of it. Or I’ll make sure you don’t work again. Clear?”

She’d been thinking about not showing up at all on Monday. But when she turned and saw his eyes, she realized, not for the first time, what a formidable adversary he made. She hated to give in, but the necessity of finding a new job made her do so gracefully.

“Why, Mr. Brettman, I wouldn’t miss a minute of it,” she said with sweet mockery. “See you Monday.”

Chapter Seven (#ulink_948ea51d-c421-5b31-9fbc-2bb8b7d8f8f1)

The last thing she felt like doing Monday morning was going into the office. To make things worse, her shoulder was aching like mad. But that didn’t stop Gabby. She put on a beige suit with a brightly colored blouse, pinned up her hair, and went to work. Might as well get it over with, she told herself. She’d go back to the office, work out her notice, and get another job. Sure. Simple.

Explaining that to her mother back home in Lytle, Texas, had not been quite so simple.

“But I thought you loved your job!” her mother had gasped. “Why are you quitting? Listen, Gabby, what’s happened?”

“Nothing, Mama,” she’d said quickly. “It’s just that Mr. Brettman may not be in Chicago much longer.” She lied on impulse. “You see, he has prospects in another area, and I don’t really want to relocate.”

“Where would he go?”

“Now, Mama,” she said, “you know I don’t like to pry into Mr. Brettman’s business.”

“That Mr. Dice, his partner, why couldn’t you still work for him?” her mother demanded gruffly. “Better yet, why don’t you come home and get married?”

Gabby chewed on her lip so that she wouldn’t say anything hasty. She had visions of her mother providing a groom, a minister and a loaded gun for motivation. It made her want to giggle, which would have infuriated her mother.