Diana Palmer Collected 1-6: Soldier of Fortune / Tender Stranger / Enamored / Mystery Man / Rawhide and Lace / Unlikely Lover. Diana Palmer
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“You make it sound like a disease,” he said shortly.
“Isn’t it? You’re afraid to feel anything. Shirt, Apollo, Semson, all of them are men who’ve lost something they can’t live without. So they’re looking for an end, not a beginning. They don’t have anything to lose, and nothing to go back to. I learned so much in those three days, J.D. I learned most of all that I have everything to live for. I don’t want that kind of freedom.”
“You’ve never had it,” he reminded her.
“That’s true,” she agreed. “But you’ve spent five years working to build a life for yourself, and you’ve made a huge success of it. Several people owe their lives, and their freedom, to you. Are you really crazy enough to throw all that away on a pipe dream?”
“Freedom isn’t always won in a court of law,” he growled.
“How then—with an Uzi and a few blocks of C-4?” she asked. “There are other ways to promote change than with bombs and bullets!”
He drew in a short breath. “You don’t understand.”
“That’s right, I don’t. And for your information, I’ve lost all my illusions about the exciting life of a soldier of fortune.” She stood up with her pad in hand. “I’ll go and transcribe this.”
He watched her walk to the door. “Wait a minute,” he said.
She paused with her hand on the doorknob and watched him come around the desk. She felt a twinge of fear as he came close to her. He towered over her, his blue pin-striped suit emphasizing the strength of his muscular body.
She opened the door and moved through it, trying not to show fear, but he saw right through her.
“No,” he said softly, shaking his head. “No, don’t run. I won’t hurt you.”
“You used to say that a lot, and I listened one time too many,” she said with a nervous laugh. She backed up until she got the width of her desk between them. “I have to get these typed,” she added, lifting the pad.
His dark eyes had an oddly bleak look in them. “It’s real, isn’t it, that fear?” he asked.
She sat down in her chair, avoiding his piercing gaze. “I have work to do, J.D.”
He propped himself on the corner of the desk with a graceful, fluid movement.
“Don’t panic,” he said quietly. “I’m not coming any closer than this.”
She stiffened. She couldn’t help it.
“I should never have hurt you that way,” he said, staring down at her clenched fingers. “I overreacted. Someday I’ll try to explain it to you.”
“There won’t be any ‘someday,’” she said tersely. “You’ll be off blowing things up and I’ll be programming computers.”
“Will you stop that?” he growled. He fumbled for a cigarette.
“There’s no smoking in the office,” she said coldly.
He glared at her and draped an arm over her monitor.
“I can’t transcribe your letters until I can use the computer,” she said matter-of-factly.
“So the letters can wait,” he said. “Gabby, I swear to God I didn’t mean to frighten you that much. I was shaken by what we’d been through, I was half-crazy…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I forgot how innocent you were, too. I want you to know that under ordinary circumstances it wouldn’t be like that for you with a man.”
“With another man, perhaps not.” She bit off the words.
“Gabby, what happened the morning before the mission didn’t frighten you.”
She felt herself go hot all over at the reminder, at the memories that flooded her mind. She remembered the touch of his hard mouth, the feel of his body, the tenderness of the fingers that searched over her soft, aching flesh….
“You were a different man then,” she shot back. “You wouldn’t even speak to me when we got back to the finca, you wouldn’t look at me. You acted like a stranger, and then you attacked me!”
He removed his arm from the monitor and stared down at his hands. “Yes, I know. I’ve hardly slept since.”
His chest rose and fell slowly. He was so close, she could see the harsh shadows under his eyes.
“Would you consider having supper with me?” he asked.
Her heart jumped, but she didn’t take time to decide whether it was from anticipation or fear. “No,” she said bluntly, before she had time to change her mind.
He sighed. “No.” His broad, hard mouth twisted into a rueful smile. He let his eyes wander slowly over her face. “Somehow, storming that terrorist camp seems like kid stuff compared to getting past your defenses, Gabby.”
“Why bother?” she asked quietly. “I’ll be here only another week.”
The light went out of his eyes. He got to his feet and turned back toward his office. He paused at the doorway with his broad back to her. He seemed about to say something, about to turn. Then he straightened, went on into his office, and closed the door quietly behind him. Gabby hesitated just for a minute; then she turned to the computer again and concentrated on typing the business letters he’d dictated.
Saturday morning arrived sunny and with the promise of budding flowers. Gabby hated the city on such delightfully springlike days. She was brooding in her apartment, in the midst of doing her laundry, when a knock sounded at the door.
She couldn’t imagine who might be visiting, unless her mother had gotten worried and had come all the way from Lytle to see her. That thought bothered her, and she went rushing to open the door.
J.D. lifted a heavy eyebrow. “Were you expecting me?” he asked with a faint grin.
She faltered, trying to think of a graceful way to ask him to leave. While she was debating, he walked into the apartment and sat down on her sofa.
“I thought you might like to have lunch with me,” he said out of the blue, studying her slender figure in faded jeans and a striped pullover shirt.
She realized as she stared down at him that he looked different, and then she noticed what he was wearing. She’d never seen J.D. in anything but neat suits or jungle fatigues. But now he was wearing blue jeans as worn and faded as her own, with a Western-style blue chambray shirt and boots. She stood there staring at him because she couldn’t help it. He was so devastatingly handsome and masculine that he made her feel weak-kneed—from a distance, at least. She was still a little uneasy being alone with him.
“I won’t pounce,” he said softly. “I won’t make a single move that you don’t want. I won’t even touch you, if that’s what it takes. Spend the day with me, though, Gabby.”
“Why should I?” she asked curtly.
He smiled wistfully. “Because I’m lonely.”
Something in the region of her heart gave way. It must have been her soft brain, she told herself, because there was no logic in giving in to him. It would only make it harder to leave. And she had to leave. She couldn’t bear staying around him, feeling the way she felt.
“You’ve got friends,” she said evasively.
“Sure,” he said, standing. He stuck his hands into his pockets, stretching the jeans flat across his muscular stomach and powerful thighs. “Sure, I’ve got friends. There’s Shirt, and Apollo…”
“I mean…friends here in the city,” she said hesitantly.
He was silent for a moment. “I’ve got you. No one else.”
She gave