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

“Gabby, you aren’t in trouble?” her mother had added in a strange tone.

“No, Mama, I’m not in trouble. Now don’t get upset. It may all fall through anyway.”

“I like Mr. Brettman,” her mother said roughly. “That one time I met him when I visited you, he seemed like a nice man to me. Why does he want to move anyway? He isn’t getting married?”

“J.D.? Get married?” Gabby laughed mirthlessly. “That would make the world record books.”

“He’ll have to get married someday,” came the curt reply.

“Think so?” Already Gabby could picture him in fatigues rushing some stronghold with Shirt and Apollo. But she couldn’t tell her mother that!

“Of course. It happens to everybody. He’ll get tired of living alone someday. Your father did. That’s when I nabbed him.” Gabby could almost see her grin.

“Are you tired of living alone?” Gabby asked suddenly. It had been ten years since her father’s death. Yet her mother didn’t even date.

“I don’t live alone, baby. I live with my memories. I had the best man God ever made. I don’t want second best.”

“You’re just fussy,” Gabby said accusingly.

“Yes, I am. You’d be be fussy, too. Honey, think about coming home. That Chicago place is pretty big, and if Mr. Brettman isn’t going to be around, I’d worry about you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Gabby promised.

She hated thinking about it. It made her face the fact that she wouldn’t be seeing J.D. again. Whether or not he went back to the old life, he’d made it impossible for her to work for him anymore. He’d forced her into resigning, whether consciously or unconsciously. And now here she was losing her boss, her job, and her heart all in the space of three days. So little time to change so much of her future. It might have been better if she’d stayed behind and never known the truth about J.D.

When she got to the office, it was clear that J.D. had not yet come in. Richard Dice was sitting on her desk with his arms folded across his chest, looking murderous.

“Morning, Dick,” she said with a forced smile.

“Thank God you’re back.” He sighed. “That temporary girl didn’t work out, and the agency hasn’t called me about a replacement. Where’s J.D.?”

“Don’t ask me,” she replied, calmly shedding her jacket and putting her purse in the desk drawer. She tucked her glasses on top of her head while she searched through the calendar for appointments that had been made by both the temporary girl and herself.

“Didn’t he come back?” Dick persisted.

“Yes.” She stared at him. “You mean he hasn’t been in touch with you?”

“Not yet. Well?” he burst out. “What happened? How’s Martina? Did they pay the ransom?”

“You’re chock-full of questions.” She sighed in turn. “Yes, Martina’s safe. No, they didn’t have to pay the ransom. And anything else you want to know, ask J.D., because I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dick looked at the ceiling. “You disappear for days, and all I get is one long-winded sentence?”

“You should have come with us,” she said conversationally. “Then you wouldn’t have to take up my time asking questions. Did you take care of Mrs. Turnbull’s divorce yesterday?”

“Yes,” he murmured absently. “Judge Amherst called. He wants to discuss the Landers case with J.D. before he makes a decision about the trial date.”

Gabby made a note of it.

Dick was studying her closely. “You look bad.”

She smiled. “Thank you. What a lovely thing to be told.”

He flushed. “I mean, you look worn-out.”

“You try crawling through a jungle on your belly with a rifle and see how you look,” she replied.

“Jungle? On your belly? Why did you have a rifle?”

She got up from her desk and started filing some folders that Dick had left there. “Ask J.D.”

“But he isn’t here!”

She glowered at the file folders. “Maybe he’s out buying a new crossbow,” she muttered.

“A what?” But she didn’t hear him. He grumbled something and walked into his office, slamming the door behind him. She glanced over her shoulder. “Well, somebody’s in a snit,” she said to the filing cabinet.

It was a good two hours before J.D. came in, looking as neat as a pin in his vested gray suit.

“Any messages?” he asked Gabby, just as he used to.

“No, sir,” she replied, and she sounded the same, too, except that she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Dick took care of the Turnbull case for you, and Judge Amherst wants you to call him.”

He nodded. “What have I got on the calendar for this afternoon?”

“Mr. Parker is coming by at one to get you to draw up that incorporation for him, and you have three other appointments after him.”

He turned toward his office. “Get your pen and pad and let’s get the correspondence out of the way.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, there you are, J.D.,” Richard called from the doorway of his own office. “Welcome back. Would you tell me what happened? Gabby’s got a case of the clams.”

“So have I,” J.D. informed him. “Everything’s okay. Martina and Roberto are back in Palermo by now, and the kidnappers were taken care of. How about lunch?”

“Sorry,” Richard said, smiling. “I’ve got a luncheon appointment with a client. Rain check?”

“Sure.”

Gabby followed J.D. into the office and left the door open. If he noticed, or cared, he didn’t let on. He eased his formidable frame into the big swivel chair behind the desk.

He started dictating and she kept her eyes on her pad until he finished. Her fingers ached and so did her back from sitting so straight, but she didn’t move an inch until he dismissed her.

“Gabby,” he called as she started toward the door.

“Yes, sir?”

He fingered a pencil on his desk, and his dark eyes stared at it. “How’s your shoulder?” he asked.