Diana Palmer Collected 1-6: Soldier of Fortune / Tender Stranger / Enamored / Mystery Man / Rawhide and Lace / Unlikely Lover. Diana Palmer
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he added. “Because that was a flash in the pan. This is the reality.”
The crush of his mouth was as suggestive as the motion of his hard body. She tried to make her own body move—whether to push him away or pull him closer—but his assault on her senses paralyzed her.
“Are you shocked? Come on, honey.” And he kissed her again, oblivious to the confusion and growing panic in her eyes.
She must have tensed because he stopped and looked at her. He cursed and rolled away, but she couldn’t move. She lay there, her face pale, her eyes closed. The fear subsided, but it left her sick and empty. Tears ran in a flood down her cheeks and her body shook with sobs.
“Damn you, J.D.,” she wept, flushed with fury. “Damn you!”
“That’s how I am with a woman,” he said coldly, ignoring the trembling of her body, the terrible hurt in her eyes. “That’s how it would have been yesterday. I wanted you. But I wanted you because I needed to forget what was ahead, the same way I’ve forgotten it a hundred times before with a hundred other women.” His voice was bitter and he turned away. “So set your sights on some other man, and don’t weave romantic daydreams around me. I’ve just shown you the reality. Remember it.”
She didn’t move. She couldn’t. She was trembling too much. Her eyes looked up into his, bright with furious anger. Something of her pain must have shown in them, because he turned away and, grabbing up his suitcase, went to the door without another glance.
“Bring your bag and let’s go,” he said in a harsh tone.
She watched him close the door and then she managed to get to her feet. His taunting voice would haunt her as long as she lived. She would resign, of course, but she didn’t know how she was going to manage to look at him while she worked out a two-week notice. Maybe he’d let her go immediately. The only problem was that she didn’t have another job to go to. Her rent and car payments wouldn’t wait while she went without work.
Minutes later, wearing a fresh green pullover blouse with a matching sweater and the same jeans, and with her hair carefully pulled back in a bun, she left the bedroom, her suitcase in hand. She was still pale, but makeup helped conceal the shock of what J.D. had done to her.
He didn’t even glance in her direction as she came back into the living room. Apparently, he’d shut her out of his mind already, and she wished she had the ability to do the same with him. The scars he had left on her emotions would be a long time healing. She’d loved him. How could he hurt her that way? How could he?
She tried to disguise her anguish and hoped that she succeeded. She said goodbye to Laremos and got into the van with First Shirt while J.D. said his own farewells.
Shirt gave her a brief but thorough scrutiny and laid one lean, wiry hand over the steering wheel. “What did he do to you?” he asked.
She lifted a startled face. “Why…nothing.”
“Don’t lie,” he said gently. “I’ve known him a long time. Are you okay?”
She shifted restlessly in the seat, refusing to let her eyes go past Shirt to J.D., who was standing apart with Laremos. “Yes, I’m okay,” she said. “Of course, I’ll be a lot better once I get out of his life.”
“Whew.” He whistled ruefully. “That bad?”
“That bad.” She gripped her purse tightly in her lap.
“Gabby,” he said gently, with a tiny smile, “have you ever known a fighting fish to lie down when he hit the bait? Don’t expect to draw him in without a little effort.”
She glared at him. “I’d like to put a hook in him, but not to land him.”
“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,