Man In Control. Diana Palmer
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the race car driver!” she exclaimed softly. “Kirry mentioned you were coming.”
“Kirry.” His lips curled distastefully and he glanced across the room into a pair of cold, angry green eyes above the head of Kirry Dane. “She was last year’s diversion,” he murmured. “She wanted to be seen at Monaco.”
Jodie was surprised by his lack of inhibition. She wondered if Alexander knew about this relationship, or if he cared. She’d never thought whether he bothered asking about his date’s previous entanglements.
“Her boyfriend doesn’t like me,” he murmured absently, and smiled icily, lifting his glass.
Jodie looked behind her. Kirry had turned away, but Alexander was suddenly making a beeline across the room toward them.
Francisco made a face. “There’s one man you don’t want to make an enemy of,” he confided. “Are you a relation of his, by any chance?”
Jodie laughed a little too loudly. “Good Lord, no.” She chuckled. “I’m the cook!”
“I beg your pardon?” he asked.
By that time, Alexander was facing her. He took the crystal champagne flute from her hands and put it gingerly on a nearby table.
“I wasn’t going to break it, Alexander,” she muttered. “I do know it’s Waterford crystal!”
“How many glasses have you had?” he demanded.
“I don’t like your tone,” she retorted, moving clumsily, so that Francisco had to grab her arm to keep her upright. “I had three glasses. It’s not that strong, and I’m not drunk!”
“And ducks don’t have feathers,” Alexander replied tersely. He caught her other arm and pulled her none too gently from Francisco’s grasp. “I’ll take care of Jodie. Hadn’t you better reacquire your wife?” he added pointedly to the younger man.
Francisco sighed, with a long, wistful appraisal of Jodie. “It seems so,” he replied. “Nice to have met you—Jodie, is it?”
Jodie grinned woozily. “It’s Jordana, actually, but most people call me Jodie. And I was glad to meet you, too, Francisco! I never met a real race car driver before!”
He started to speak, but it was too late, because Alexander was already marching her out of the room and down the hall.
“Will you stop dragging me around?!” she demanded, stumbling on her high heels.
He pulled her into the dark-paneled library and closed the door with a muted thud. He let go of her arm and glared down at her. “Will you stop trying to seduce married men?” he shot back. “Gomez and his wife are on the cover of half the tabloids in Texas right now,” he added bluntly.
“Why?”
“Her father just died and she inherited the car company. She’s trying to sell it and her husband is fighting her in court, tooth and nail.”
“And they’re still married?”
“Apparently, in name, at least. She’s pregnant, I hear, with another man’s child.”
She looked up at him coldly. “Some circles you and Margie travel in,” she said with contempt.
“Circles you’d never fit into,” he agreed.
“Not hardly,” she drawled ungrammatically. “And I wouldn’t want to. In my world, people get married and have kids and build a home together.” She nodded her head toward the closed door. “Those people in there wouldn’t know what a home was if you drew it for them!”
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