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Man In Control
Diana Palmer


Ever since DEA agent Alexander Cobb had given Jodie Clayburn a Texas-size brush-off, they'd been sworn enemies.But eight years later, an undercover operation brought them back together again. This cynical Long, Tall Texan couldn't believe the baby-faced schoolgirl was now an understated beauty who electrified his senses and his heart. Or that she'd help him crack the drug-smuggling case that threatened all of Jacobsville.Tantalized to the core, Alexander would risk everything to possess–and protect–the untouched young woman. This fearless secret agent always got his man–or in this case, woman. But this time, would the man in control get caught in his own web of danger…and desire?Diana Palmer's 100th book!







Dear Reader,

I can hardly believe that Man in Control is my 100


book. In 1979, when I sold my first romance, I had very modest ambitions of being able to sell even one novel to a publisher. Beyond that, I assumed I would go on working as a newspaper reporter for the rest of my life.

You can’t imagine my astonishment when I queried Silhouette Books in 1980 and they accepted one of my novels for publication. This was before Silhouette merged with Harlequin Books, and it was one of the biggest milestones in my life. Heather’s Song, my Silhouette Special Edition novel published in 1982, followed two years after my greatest creative effort, our son, Blayne, who was born in 1980. Now it is twenty-three years later, and I have a hundred books under my belt.

There are a lot of people I have to thank for my success, besides God, my family and friends. First, my readers, who buy my books and make me feel as if I have talent. Second, my wonderful editors at Silhouette Books and MIRA Books, most especially my friend Tara Gavin, whose idea it was to create my own town in Texas and populate it with my characters. Third, the unsung heroes behind the scenes at Harlequin and Silhouette, which includes the associate editors and copy editors and artists and publicists who make me look so good. Fourth, Frank Yerby, one of the greatest historical novelists of the twentieth century, a fellow Georgian who encouraged me to follow my ambitions to publication. Last, but not least, bookstore owners and employees all over the world who stocked and recommended my books, and the tech reps who sell them to the bookstores and the distributors who send them out.

It takes a lot more than talent to get a hundred books in print. It takes a team of people. I am most fortunate to have Silhouette Books and MIRA Books and Harlequin Books as my publishers, and their wonderful employees who make me look better than I really am.

As I mark this great milestone in my career, I do it humbly and with great delight that I have found so many friends and fans in the world. As always, I am your greatest fan.

Love,









Man In Control

Diana Palmer











www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


In loving memory of Diana Galloway




Contents


Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven




Prologue


Alexander Tyrell Cobb glared at his desk in the Houston Drug Enforcement Administration office with barely contained frustration. There was a photograph of a lovely woman in a ball gown in an expensive frame, the only visible sign of any emotional connections. Like the conservative clothes he wore to work, the photograph gave away little of the private man.

The photograph was misleading. The woman in it wasn’t a close friend. She was a casual date, when he was between assignments. The frame had been given to him with the photo in it. He’d never put a woman’s photo in a frame. Well, except for Jodie Clayburn. She and his sister, Margie, were best friends from years past. Most of the family photos he had included Jodie. She wasn’t really family, of course. But there was no other Cobb family left, just as there was no other Clayburn family left. The three survivors of the two families were a forced mixture of different lifestyles.

Jodie was in love with Alexander. He knew it, and tried not to acknowledge it. She was totally wrong for him. He had no desire to marry and have a family. On the other hand, if he’d been seriously interested in children and a home life, Jodie would have been at the top of his list of potential mates. She had wonderful qualities. He wasn’t about to tell her so. She’d been hung up on him in the past to a disturbing degree. He’d managed to keep her at arm’s length, and he had no plans to lessen the space between them. He was married to his job.

Jodie, on the other hand, was an employee at a local oil corporation which was being used in an international drug smuggling operation. Alexander was almost certain of it. But he couldn’t prove it. He was going to have to find some way to investigate one of Jodie’s acquaintances without letting anyone realize they were being watched.

In the meantime, there was a party planned at the Cobb ranch in Jacobsville, Texas, on Saturday. He dreaded it already. He hated parties. Margie had already invited Jodie, probably because their housekeeper, Jessie, refused to work that weekend. Jodie cooked with a masterful hand, and she could make canapГ©s. Kirry had been invited, too, because Margie was a budding dress designer who needed a friend in the business. Kirry was senior buyer for the department store where she worked. She was pretty and capable, but Alexander found her good company and not much more. Their relationship had always been lukewarm and even now, it was slowly fizzling out. She was demanding. He had enough demands on the job.

He put the picture facedown on his desk and pulled a file folder closer, opening it to the photograph of a suspected drug smuggler who was working out of Houston. He had his work cut out for him. He wished he could avoid going home for the party, but Margie would never forgive him. If he didn’t show up, neither would Kirry, and Alexander would never hear the end of it. He put the weekend to the back of his mind and concentrated on the job at hand.




One


There was no way out of it. Margie Cobb had invited her to a party on the family ranch in Jacobsville, Texas. Jodie Clayburn had gone through her entire repertoire of excuses. Her favorite was that, given the right incentive, Margie’s big brother, Alexander Tyrell Cobb, would feed her to his cattle. Not even that one had worked.

“He hates me, Margie,” she groaned over the phone from her apartment in Houston, Texas. “You know he does. He’d be perfectly happy if I stayed away from him for the rest of my natural life and he never had to see me again.”

“That’s not true,” Margie defended. “Lex really likes you, I know he does,” she added with forced conviction, using the nickname that only a handful of people on earth were allowed to use. Jodie wasn’t one of them.

“Right. He just hides his affection for me in bouts of bad temper laced with sarcasm,” came the dry reply.

“Sure,” Margie replied with failing humor.

Jodie lay back on her sofa with the freedom phone at her ear and pushed back her long blond hair. It was getting too long. She really needed to have it cut, but she liked the feel of it. Her gray eyes smiled as she remembered how much Brody Vance liked long hair. He worked at the Ritter Oil Corporation branch office in Houston with her, and was on the management fast track. As Jody was. She was administrative assistant to Brody, and if Brody had his way, she’d take his job as Human Resources generalist when he moved up to Human Resources manager. He liked her. She liked him, too. Of course he had a knockout girlfriend who was a Marketing Division manager in Houston, but she was always on the road somewhere. He was lonely. So he had lunch frequently with Jodie. She was trying very hard to develop a crush on him. He was beginning to notice her. Alexander had accused her of trying to sleep her way to the executive wash-room…

“I was not!” she exclaimed, remembering his unexpected visit to her office with an executive of the company who was a personal friend. It had played havoc with her nerves and her heart. Seeing Alexander unexpectedly melted her from the neck down, despite her best efforts not to let him affect her.

“Excuse me?” Margie replied, aghast.

Jodie sat up quickly. “Nothing!” she said. “Sorry. I was just thinking. Did you know that Alexander has a friend who works for my company?”

There was a long pause. “He does?”

“Jasper Duncan, the Human Resources manager for our division.”

“Oh. Yes. Jasper!” There was another pause. “How do you know about that?”

“Because Mr. Duncan brought him right to my desk while I was talking to a…well, to a good friend of mine, my boss.”

“Right, the one he thinks you’re sleeping with.”

“Margie!” she exploded.

There was an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry. I know there’s nothing going on. Alexander always thinks the worst of people. You know about Rachel.”

“Everybody knows about Rachel,” she muttered. “It was six years ago and he still throws her up to us.”

“We did introduce him,” Margie said defensively.

“Well, how were we to know she was a female gigolo who was only interested in marrying a rich man? She should have had better sense than to think Alexander would play that sort of game, anyway!”

“You do know him pretty well, don’t you?” Margie murmured.

“We all grew up together in Jacobsville, Texas,” Jodie reminded her. “Sort of,” she added pensively. “Alexander was eight years ahead of us in school, and then he moved to Houston to work for the DEA when he got out of college.”

“He’s still eight years ahead of us,” Margie chuckled. “Come on. You know you’ll hate yourself if you miss this party. We’re having a houseful of people. Derek will be there,” she added sweetly, trying to inject a lure.

Derek was Margie’s distant cousin, a dream of a man with some peculiar habits and a really weird sense of humor.

“You know what happened the last time Derek and I were together,” Jodie said with a sense of foreboding.

“Oh, I’m sure Alexander has forgotten about that by now,” she was assured.

“He has a long memory. And Derek can talk me into anything,” Jodie added worriedly.

“I’ll hang out with both of you and protect you from dangerous impulses. Come on. Say yes. I’ve got an opportunity to show my designs. It depends on this party going smoothly. And I’ve made up this marvelous dress pattern I want to try out on you. For someone with the body of a clotheshorse, you have no sense of style at all!”

“You have enough for both of us. You’re a budding fashion designer. I’m a lady executive. I have to dress the part.”

“Baloney. When was the last time your boss wore a black dress to a party?”

Jodie was remembering a commercial she’d seen on television with men in black dresses. She howled, thinking of Alexander’s hairy legs in a short skirt. Then she tried to imagine where he’d keep his sidearm in a short skirt, and she really howled.

She told Margie what she was thinking, and they both collapsed into laughter.

“Okay,” she capitulated at last. “I’ll come. But if I break a tree limb over your brother’s thick skull, you can’t say you weren’t forewarned.”

“I swear, I won’t say a word.”

“Then I’ll see you Friday afternoon about four,” Jodie said with resignation. “I’ll rent a car and drive over.”

“Uh, Jodie…”

She groaned. “All right, Margie, all right, I’ll fly to the Jacobsville airport and you can pick me up there.”

“Great!”

“Just because I had two little bitty fender benders,” she muttered.

“You totaled two cars, Josie, and Alexander had to bail you out of jail after the last one…”

“Well, that stupid thickheaded barbarian deserved to be hit! He called me a…well, never mind, but he asked for a punch in the mouth!” Josie fumed.

Margie was trying not to laugh. Again.

“Anyway, it was only a small fine and the judge took my side when he heard the whole story,” she said, ignoring Margie’s quick reminder that Alexander had talked to the judge first. “Not that your brother ever let me forget it! Just because he works for the Justice Department is no reason for him to lecture me on law!”

“We just want you to arrive alive, darling,” Margie drawled. “Now throw a few things into a suitcase, tell your boss you have a sick cousin you have to take care of before rush hour, and we’ll…I’ll…meet you at the airport Friday afternoon. You phone and tell me your flight number, okay?”

“Okay,” Josie replied, missing the slip.

“See you then! We’re going to have a ball.”

“Sure we are,” Josie told her. But when she hung up, she was calling herself all sorts of names for being such a weak-ling. Alexander was going to cut her up, she just knew it. He didn’t like her. He never had. He’d gotten more antagonistic since she moved to Houston, where he worked, too. Further, it would probably mean a lot of work for Jodie, because she usually had to prepare meals if she showed up. The family cook, Jessie, hated being around Alexander when he was home, so she ran for the hills. Margie couldn’t cook at all, so Jodie usually ended up with KP. Not that she minded. It was just that she felt used from time to time.

And despite Margie’s assurances, she knew she was in for the fight of her life once she set foot on the Cobb ranch. At least Margie hadn’t said anything about inviting Alexander’s sometimes-girlfriend, Kirry Dane. A weekend with the elegant buyer for an exclusive Houston department store would be too much.

The thing was, she had to go when Margie asked her. She owed the Cobbs so much. When her parents, small Jacobsville ranchers, had been drowned in a riptide during a modest Florida vacation at the beach, it had been Alexander who flew down to take care of all the arrangements and comfort a devastated seventeen-year-old Jodie. When she entered business college, Alexander had gone with her to register and paid the fees himself. She spent every holiday with Margie. Since the death of the Cobbs’ father, and their inheritance of the Jacobsville ranch property, she’d spent her vacation every summer there with Margie. Her life was so intertwined with that of the Cobbs that she couldn’t even imagine life without them.

But Alexander had a very ambiguous relationship with Jodie. From time to time he was affectionate, in his gruff way. But he also seemed to resent her presence and he picked at her constantly. He had for the past year.

She got up and went to pack, putting the antagonism to the back of her mind. It did no good to dwell on her confrontations with Alexander. He was like a force of nature which had to be accepted, since it couldn’t be controlled.



The Jacobsville Airport was crowded for a Friday afternoon. It was a tiny airport compared to those in larger cities, but a lot of people in south Texas used it for commuter flights to San Antonio and Houston. There was a restaurant and two concourses, and the halls were lined with beautiful paintings of traditional Texas scenery.

Jodie almost bowed under the weight of her oversized handbag and the unruly carry-on bag whose wheels didn’t quite work. She looked around for Margie. The brunette wouldn’t be hard to spot because she was tall for a woman, and always wore something striking—usually one of her own flamboyant designs.

But she didn’t see any tall brunettes. What she did see, and what stopped her dead in her tracks, was a tall and striking dark-haired man in a gray vested business suit. A man with broad shoulders and narrow hips and big feet in hand-tooled leather boots. He turned, looking around, and spotted her. Even at the distance, those deep-set, cold green eyes were formidable. So was he. He looked absolutely furious.

She stood very still, like a woman confronted with a spitting cobra, and waited while he approached her with the long, quick stride she remembered from years of painful confrontations. Her chin lifted and her eyes narrowed. She drew in a quick breath, and geared up for combat.

Alexander Tyrell Cobb was thirty-three. He was a senior agent for the Drug Enforcement Administration. Usually, he worked out of Houston, but he was on vacation for a week. That meant he was at the family ranch in Jacobsville. He’d grown up there, with Margie, but their mother had taken them from their father after the divorce and had them live with her in Houston. It hadn’t been until her death that they’d finally been allowed to return home to their father’s ranch. The old man had loved them dearly. It had broken his heart when he’d lost them to their mother.

Alexander lived on the ranch sporadically even now, when he wasn’t away on business. He also had an apartment in Houston. Margie lived at the ranch all the time, and kept things running smoothly while her big brother was out shutting down drug smugglers.

He looked like a man who could do that single-handed. He had big fists, like his big feet, and Jodie had seen him use them once on a man who slapped Margie. He rarely smiled. He had a temper like a scalded snake, and he was all business when he tucked that big .45 automatic into its hand-tooled leather holster and went out looking for trouble.

In the past two years, he’d been helping to shut down an international drug lord, Manuel Lopez, who’d died mysteriously in an explosion in the Bahamas. Now he was after the dead drug lord’s latest successor, a Central American national who was reputed to have business connections in the port city of Houston.

She’d developed a feverish crush on him when she was in her teens. She’d written him a love poem. Alexander, with typical efficiency, had circled the grammatical and spelling errors and bought her a supplemental English book to help her correct the mistakes. Her self-esteem had taken a serious nosedive, and after that, she kept her deepest feelings carefully hidden.

She’d seen him only a few times since her move to Houston when she began attending business college. When she visited Margie these days, Alexander never seemed to be around except at Christmas. It was as if he’d been avoiding her. Then, just a couple of weeks ago, he’d dropped by her office to see Jasper. It had been a shock to see him unexpectedly, and her hands had trembled on her file folders, despite her best efforts to play it cool. She wanted to think she’d outgrown her flaming crush on him. Sadly, it had only gotten worse. It was easier on her nerves when she didn’t have to see him. Fortunately it was a big city and they didn’t travel in the same circles. But she didn’t know where Alexander’s office or apartment were, and she didn’t ask.

In fact, her nerves were already on edge right now, just from the level, intent stare of those green eyes across a crowded concourse. She clutched the handle of her wheeled suitcase with a taut grip. Alexander made her knees weak.

He strode toward her. He never looked right or left. His gaze was right on her the whole way. She wondered if he was like that on the job, so intent on what he was doing that he seemed relentless.

He was a sexy beast, too. There was a tightly controlled sensuality in every movement of those long, powerful legs, in the way he carried himself. He was elegant, arrogant. Jodie couldn’t remember a time in her life when she hadn’t been fascinated by him. She hoped it didn’t show. She worked hard at pretending to be his enemy.

He stopped in front of her and looked down his nose into her wide eyes. His were green, clear as water, with dark rims that made them seem even more piercing. He had thick black eyelashes and black eyebrows that were as black as his neatly cut, thick, straight hair.

“You’re late,” he said in his deep, gravelly voice, throwing down the gauntlet at once. He looked annoyed, half out of humor and wanting someone to bite.

“I can’t fly the plane,” she replied sarcastically. “I had to depend on men for that.”

He gave her a speaking glance and turned. “The car’s in the parking lot. Let’s go.”

“Margie was supposed to meet me,” she muttered, dragging her case behind her.

“Margie knew I had to be here anyway, so she had me wait for you,” he said enigmatically. “I never knew a woman who could keep an appointment, anyway.”

The carry-on bag fell over for the tenth time. She muttered and finally just picked the heavy thing up. “You might offer to help me,” she said, glowering at her companion.

His eyebrows arched. “Help a woman carry a heavy load? My God, I’d be stripped, lashed to a rail and carried through Houston by torchlight!”

She gave him a seething glance. “Manners don’t go out of style!”

“Pity I never had any to begin with.” He watched her struggle with the luggage, green eyes dancing with pure venom.

She was sweating already. “I hate you,” she said through her teeth as she followed along with him.

“That’s a change,” he said with a shrug, pushing back his jacket as he dug into his slacks pocket for his car keys.

A security guard spotted the pistol on his belt and came forward menacingly. With meticulous patience, and very carefully, Alexander reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat and produced his badge and ID. He had it out before the guard reached them.

The man took it. “Wait a minute,” he said, and moved aside to check it out over the radio.

“Maybe you’re on a wanted list somewhere,” Jodie said enthusiastically. “Maybe they’ll put you in jail while they check out your ID!”

“If they do,” he replied nonchalantly, “rent-a-cop over there will be looking for another job by morning.”

He didn’t smile as he said it, and Jodie knew he meant what he was saying. Alexander had a vindictive streak a mile wide. There was a saying among law enforcement people that Cobb would follow you all the way to hell to get you if you crossed him. From their years of uneasy acquaintance, she knew it was more than myth.

The security guard came back and handed Alexander his ID. “Sorry, sir, but it’s my job to check out suspicious people.”

Alexander glared at him. “Then why haven’t you checked out the gentleman in the silk suit over there with the bulge in his hatband? He’s terrified that you’re going to notice him.”

The security guard frowned and glanced toward the elegant man, who tugged at his collar. “Thanks for the tip,” he murmured, and started toward the man.

“You might have offered to lend him your gun,” she told Alexander.

“He’s got one. Of a sort,” he added with disgust at the pearl-handled sidearm the security guard was carrying.

“Men have to have their weapons, don’t they?” she chided.

He gave her a quick glance. “With a mouth like yours, you don’t need a weapon. Careful you don’t cut your chin with that tongue.”

She aimed a kick at his shin and missed, almost losing her balance.

“Assault on a law enforcement officer is a felony,” he pointed out without even breaking stride.

She recovered her balance and went out the door after him without another word. If they ever suspended the rules for one day, she knew who she was going after!



Once they reached his car, an elegant white Jaguar S-type, he did put her bags in the trunk—but he left her to open her own door and get in. It wasn’t surprising to find him driving such a car, on a federal agent’s salary, because he and Margie were independently wealthy. Their late mother had left them both well-off, but unlike Margie, who loved the social life, Alexander refused to live on an inheritance. He enjoyed working for his living. It was one of many things Jodie admired about him.

The admiration didn’t last long. He threw down the gauntlet again without hesitation. “How’s your boyfriend?” he asked as he pulled out into traffic.

“I don’t have a boyfriend!” she snapped, still wiping away sweat. It was hot for August, even in south Texas.

“No? You’d like to have one, though, wouldn’t you?” He adjusted the rearview mirror as he stopped at a traffic light.

“He’s my boss. That’s all.”

“Pity. You could hardly take your eyes off him, that day I stopped by your office.”

“He’s handsome,” she said with deliberate emphasis.

His eyebrow jerked. “Looks don’t get you promoted in the Drug Enforcement Administration,” he told her.

“You’d know. You’ve worked for it half your life.”

“Not quite half. I’m only thirty-three.”

“One foot in the grave…”

He glanced at her. “You’re twenty-five, I believe? And never been engaged?”

He knew that would hurt. She averted her gaze to the window. Until a few months ago, she’d been about fifty pounds overweight and not very careful about her clothing or makeup. She was still clueless about how to dress. She dressed like an overweight woman, with loose clothing that showed nothing of her pretty figure. She folded her arms over her breasts defensively.

“I can’t go through with this,” she said through her teeth. “Three days of you will put me in therapy!”

He actually smiled. “That would be worth putting up with three days of you to see.”

She crossed her legs under her full skirt and concentrated on the road. Her eyes caressed the silky brown bird’s-eye maple that graced the car’s dash and steering wheel.

“Margie promised she’d meet me,” she muttered, repeating herself.

“She told me you’d be thrilled if I did,” he replied with a searing glance. “You’re still hung up on me, aren’t you?” he asked with faint sarcasm.

Her jaw fell. “She lied! I did not say I’d be thrilled for you to meet me!” she raged. “I only came because she promised that she’d be here when I landed. I wanted to rent a car and drive!”

His green eyes narrowed on her flushed face. “That would have been suicide,” he murmured. “Or homicide, depending on your point of view.”

“I can drive!”

“You and the demolition derby guys,” he agreed. He accelerated around a slow-moving car and the powerful Jaguar growled like the big cat it was named for. She glanced at him and saw the pure joy of the car’s performance in his face as he slid effortlessly back into the lane ahead of the slow car. He enjoyed fast cars and, gossip said, faster women. But that side of his life had always been concealed from Jodie. It was as if he’d placed her permanently off-limits and planned to keep her there.

“At least I don’t humiliate other drivers by streaking past them at jet fighter speed!” she raged. She was all but babbling, and after only ten minutes of his company. Seething inwardly, she turned toward the window so that she wouldn’t have to look at him.

“I wasn’t streaking. I’m doing the speed limit,” he said. He glanced at the speedometer, smiled faintly and eased up on the accelerator. His eyes slid over Jodie curiously. “You’ve lost so much weight, I hardly recognized you when I stopped by to talk to Jasper.”

“Right. I looked different when I was fat.”

“You were never fat,” he shot back angrily. “You were voluptuous. There’s a difference.”

She glanced at him. “I was terribly overweight.”

“And you think men like to run their hands over bones, do you?”

She shifted in her seat. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You had a low self-image. You still have it. There’s nothing wrong with you. Except for that sharp tongue,” he added.

“Look who’s complaining!”

“If I don’t yell, nobody listens.”

“You never yell,” she corrected. “You can look at people and make them run for cover.”

He smiled without malice. “I practice in my bathroom mirror.”

She couldn’t believe she’d heard that.

“You need to start thinking about a Halloween costume,” he murmured as he made a turn.

“For what? Are you going to hire me out for parties?” she muttered.

“For our annual Halloween party next month,” he said with muted disgust. “Margie’s invited half of Jacobsville to come over in silly clothes and masks to eat candy apples.”

“What are you coming as?”

He gave her a careless glance. “A Drug Enforcement Agency field agent.”

She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling of the car.

“I make a convincing DEA field agent,” he persisted.

“I wouldn’t argue with that,” she had to agree. “I hear that Manuel Lopez mysteriously blew up in the Bahamas the year before last, and nobody’s replaced him yet,” she added. “Did you have anything to do with his sudden demise?”

“DEA agents don’t blow up drug lords. Not even one as bad as Lopez.”

“Somebody did.”

He glanced at her with a faint smile. “In a manner of speaking.”

“One of the former mercs from Jacobsville, I heard.”

“Micah Steele was somewhere around when it happened. He’s never been actually connected with Lopez’s death.”

“He moved back here and married Callie Kirby, didn’t he?. They have a little girl now.”

He nodded. “He’s practicing medicine at Jacobsville General as a resident, hoping to go into private practice when he finishes his last semester of study.”

“Lucky Callie,” she murmured absently, staring out the window. “She always wanted to get married and have kids, and she was crazy about Micah most of her life.”

He watched her curiously. “Didn’t you want to get married, too?”

She didn’t answer. “So now that Lopez is out of the way, and nobody’s replaced him, you don’t have a lot to do, do you?”

He laughed shortly. “Lopez has a new successor, a Peruvian national living in Mexico on an open-ended visa. He’s got colleagues in Houston helping him smuggle his product into the United States.”

“Do you know who they are?” she asked excitedly.

He gave her a cold glare. “Oh, sure, I’m going to tell you their names right now.”

“You don’t have to be sarcastic, Cobb,” she said icily.

One thick eyebrow jerked. “You’re the only person I know, outside work, who uses my last name as if it were my first name.”

“You don’t use my real name, either.”

“Don’t I?” He seemed surprised. He glanced at her. “You don’t look like a Jordana.”

“I never thought I looked like a Jordana, either,” she said with a sigh. “My mother loved odd names. She even gave them to the cats.”

Remembering her mother made her sad. She’d lost both parents in a freak accident during a modest vacation in Florida after her high school graduation. Her parents had gone swimming in the ocean, having no idea that the pretty red flags on the beach warned of treacherous riptides that could drown even experienced swimmers. Which her mother and father were not. She could still remember the horror of it. Alexander had come to take care of the details, and to get her back home. Odd how many tragedies and crises he’d seen her through over the years.

“Your mother was a sweet woman,” he recalled. “I’m sorry you lost her. And your father.”

“He was a sweet man, too,” she recalled. It had been eight years ago, and she could remember happy times now, but it still made her sad to think of them.

“Strange, isn’t it, that you don’t take after either of them?” he asked caustically. “No man in his right mind could call you �sweet.’”

“Stop right there, Cobb,” she threatened, using his last name again. It was much more comfortable than getting personal with the nickname Margie used for him. “I could say things about you, too.”

“What? That I’m dashing and intelligent and the answer to a maiden’s prayer?” He pursed his lips and glanced her way as he pulled into the road that led to the ranch. “Which brings up another question. Are you sleeping with that airheaded boss of yours at work yet?”

“He is not airheaded!” she exclaimed, offended.

“He eats tofu and quiche, he drives a red convertible of uncertain age, he plays tennis and he doesn’t know how to program a computer without crashing the system.”

That was far too knowledgeable to have come from a dossier. Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve had him checked out!” she accused with certainty.

He only smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.




Two


“You can’t go around snooping into people’s private lives like that,” Jodie exclaimed heatedly. “It’s not right!”

“I’m looking for a high-level divisional manager who works for the new drug lord in his Houston territory,” he replied calmly. “I check out everybody who might have an inkling of what’s going on.” He turned his head slightly. “I even checked you out.”

“Me?” she exclaimed.

He gave her a speaking look. “I should have known better. If I had a social life like yours, I’d join a convent.”

“I can see you now, in long skirts…”

“It was a figure of speech,” he said curtly. He pulled into the road that led up to the ranch house. “You haven’t been on a date in two years. Amazing, considering how many eligible bachelors there are in your building alone, much less the whole of Houston.” He gave her a penetrating stare. “Are you sure you aren’t still stuck on me?”

She drew in a short breath. “Oh, sure, I am,” she muttered. “I only come down here so that I can sit and moon over you and think of ways to poison all your girlfriends.”

He chuckled in spite of himself. “Okay. I get the idea.”

“Who in my building do you suspect, exactly?” she persisted.

He hesitated. His dark brows drew together in a frown as the ranch house came into view down the long, dusty road. “I can’t tell you that,” he said. “Right now it’s only a suspicion.”

“I could help you trap him,” she volunteered. “If I get a gun, that is. I won’t help you if I have to be unarmed.”

He chuckled again. “You shoot like you drive, Jodie.”

She made an angry sound in her throat. “I could shoot just fine if I got enough practice. Is it my fault that my landlord doesn’t like us busting targets in my apartment building?”

“Have Margie invite you down just to shoot. She can teach you as well as I can.”

It was an unpleasant reminder that he wasn’t keen on being with her.

“I don’t remember asking you to teach me anything,” she returned.

He pulled up in front of the house. “Well, not lately, at least,” he had to agree.

Margie heard the car drive up and came barreling out onto the porch. She was tall, like Alexander, and she had green eyes, too, but her dark hair had faint undertones of auburn. She was pretty, unlike poor Jodie, and she wore anything with flair. She designed and made her own clothes, and they were beautiful.

She ran to Jodie and hugged her, laughing. “I’m so glad you came!”

“I thought you were going to pick me up at the airport, Margie,” came the droll reply.

Margie looked blank for an instant. “Oh, gosh, I was, wasn’t I? I got busy with a design and just lost all track of time. Besides, Lex had already gone to the airport to pick up Kirry, but she couldn’t get his cell phone, so she phoned me and said she was delayed until tomorrow afternoon. He was right there already, so I just phoned him and had him bring you home.”

Kirry was Alexander’s current girlfriend. The fashion buyer had just returned home recently from a buying trip to Paris. It didn’t occur to Margie that it would have been pure torture to have to ride to the ranch with Alexander and his girlfriend. But, then, Margie didn’t think things through. And to give her credit, she didn’t realize that Jodie was still crazy about Alexander Cobb.

“She’s coming down tomorrow to look at some of my new designs,” Margie continued, unabashed, “and, of course, for the party in her honor that we’re giving here. She leads a very busy life.”

Jodie felt her heart crashing at her feet, and she didn’t dare show it. A weekend with Kirry Dane drooling over Alexander, and vice versa. Why hadn’t she argued harder and stayed home?

Alexander checked his watch. “I’ve got to make a few phone calls, then I’m going to drive into town and see about that fencing I ordered.”

“That’s what we have a foreman for,” Margie informed him.

“Chayce went home to Georgia for the weekend. His father’s in the hospital.”

“You didn’t tell me that!”

“Did you need to know?” he shot right back.

Margie shook her head, exasperated, as he just walked away without a backward glance. “I do live here, too,” she muttered, but it was too late. He’d already gone into the house.

“I’m going to be in the way if the party’s for Kirry,” Jodie said worriedly. “Honestly, Margie, you shouldn’t have invited me. No wonder Alexander’s so angry!”

“It’s my house, too, and I can invite who I like,” Margie replied curtly, intimating that she and Alexander had argued about Jodie’s inclusion at the party. That hurt even more. “You’re my best friend, Jodie, and I need an ego boost,” Margie continued unabashed. “Kirry is so worldly and sophisticated. She hates it here and she makes me feel insecure. But I need her help to get my designs shown at the store where she works. So, you’re my security blanket.” She linked her arm with Jodie’s. “Besides, Kirry and Lex together get on my nerves.”

What about my nerves? Jodie was wondering. And my heart, having to see Alexander with Kirry all weekend? But she only smiled and pretended that it didn’t matter. She was Margie’s friend, and she owed her a lot. Even if it was going to mean eating her heart out watching the man she loved hang on to that beautiful woman, Kirry Dane.

Margie stopped just before they went into the house. She looked worried. “You have gotten over that crush you had on my brother…?” she asked quickly.

“You and your brother!” Jodie gasped. “Honestly, I’m too old for schoolgirl crushes,” she lied through her teeth, “and besides, there’s this wonderful guy at the office that I like a lot. It’s just that he’s going with someone.”

Margie grimaced. “You poor kid. It’s always like that with you, isn’t it?”

“Go right ahead and step on my ego, don’t mind me,” Jodie retorted.

Margie flushed. “I’m a pig,” she said. “Sorry, Jodie. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. Yes, I do,” she added at once. “Cousin Derek arrived unexpectedly this morning. Jessie’s already threatened to cook him up with a pan of eggs, and one of the cowboys ran a tractor through a fence trying to get away from him. In fact, Jessie remembered that she could have a weekend off whenever she wanted, so she’s gone to Dallas for the weekend to see her brother. And here I am with no cook and a party tomorrow night!”

“Except me?” Jodie ventured, and her heart sank again when she saw Margie’s face. No wonder she’d been insistent. There wouldn’t be any food without someone to cook it, and Margie couldn’t cook.

“You don’t mind, do you, dear?” Margie asked quickly. “After all, you do make the most scrumptious little canapés, and you’re a great cook. Even Jessie asks you for recipes.”

“No,” Jodie lied. “I don’t mind.”

“And you can help me keep Derek out of Alexander’s way.”

“Derek.” Jodie’s eyes lit up. She loved the Cobbs’ renegade cousin from Oklahoma. He was a rodeo cowboy who won belts at every competition, six foot two of pure lithe muscle, with a handsome face and a modest demeanor—when he wasn’t up to some horrible devilment. He drove housekeepers and cowboys crazy with his antics, and Alexander barely tolerated him. He was Margie’s favorite of their few cousins. Not that he was really a cousin. He was only related by marriage. Of course, Margie didn’t know that. Derek had told Jodie once, but asked her not to tell. She wondered why.

“Don’t even think about helping him do anything crazy while you’re here,” Margie cautioned. “Lex doesn’t know he’s here yet. I, uh, haven’t told him.”

“Margie!” came a thunderous roar from the general direction of Alexander’s office.

Margie groaned. “Oh, dear, Lex does seem to know about Derek.”

“My suitcase,” Jodie said, halting, hoping to get out of the line of fire in time.

“Lex will bring it in, dear, come along.” She almost dragged her best friend into the house.

Derek was leaning against the staircase banister, handsome as a devil, with dancing brown eyes and a lean, good-looking face under jet-black hair. In front of him, Alexander was holding up a rubber chicken by the neck.

“I thought you liked chicken,” Derek drawled.

“Cooked,” Alexander replied tersely. “Not in my desk chair pretending to be a cushion!”

“You could cook that, but the fumes would clear out the kitchen for sure,” Derek chuckled.

Cobb threw it at the man, turned, went back into his office and slammed the door. Muttered curses came right through two inches of solid mahogany.

“Derek, how could you?” Margie wailed.

He tossed her the chicken and came forward to lift her up and kiss her saucily on the nose. “Now, now, you can’t expect me to be dignified. It isn’t in my nature. Hi, sprout!” he added, putting Margie down only to pick up Jodie and swing her around in a bear hug. “How’s my best girl?”

“I’m just fine, Derek,” she replied, kissing his cheek. “You look great.”

“So do you.” He let her dangle from his hands and his keen dark eyes scanned her flushed face. “Has Cobb been picking on you all the way home?” he asked lazily.

“Why can’t you two call him Lex, like I do?” Margie wanted to know.

“He doesn’t look like a Lex,” Derek replied.

“He always picks on me,” Jodie said heavily as Derek let her slide back onto her feet. “If he had a list of people he doesn’t like, I’d lead it.”

“We’d tie for that spot, I reckon,” Derek replied. He gave Margie a slow, steady appraisal. “New duds? I like that skirt.”

Margie grinned up at him. “I made it.”

“Good for you. When are you going to have a show of all those pretty things you make?”

“That’s what I’m working on. Lex’s girlfriend Kirry is trying to get her store to let me do a parade of my designs.”

“Kirry.” Derek wrinkled his straight nose. “Talk about slow poison. And he thought Rachel was bad!”

“Don’t mention Rachel!” Margie cautioned quickly.

“Kirry makes her look like a church mouse,” Derek said flatly. “She’s a social climber with dollar signs for eyes. Mark my words, it isn’t his body she’s after.”

“He likes her,” Margie replied.

“He likes liver and onions, too,” Derek said, and made a horrible face.

Jodie laughed at the byplay.

Derek glanced at her. “Why doesn’t he ever look at you, sprout? You’d be perfect for him.”

“Don’t be silly,” Jodie said with a forced smile. “I’m not his type at all.”

“You’re not mercenary. You’re a sucker for anyone in trouble. You like cats and dogs and children, and you don’t like night life. You’re perfect.”

“He likes opera and theater,” she returned.

“And you don’t?” Derek asked.

Margie grabbed him by the arm. “Come on and let’s have coffee while you tell us about your latest rodeo triumph.”

“How do you know it was?” he teased.

“When have you ever lost a belt?” she replied with a grin.

Jodie followed along behind them, already uneasy about the weekend. She had a feeling that it wasn’t going to be the best one of her life.



Later, Jodie escaped from the banter between Margie and her cousin and went out to the corral near the barn to look at the new calves. One of the older ranch hands, Johnny, came out to join her. He was missing a tooth in front from a bull’s hooves and a finger from a too-tight rope that slipped. His chaps and hat and boots were worn and dirty from hard work. But he had a heart of pure gold, and Jodie loved him. He reminded her of her late father.

“Hey, Johnny!” she greeted, standing on the top rung of the wooden fence in old jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved blue checked shirt. Her hair was up in a ponytail. She looked about twelve.

He grinned back. “Hey, Jodie! Come to see my babies?”

“Sure have!”

“Ain’t they purty?” he drawled, joining her at the fence, where she was feeding her eyes on the pretty little white-faced, red-coated calves.

“Yes, they are,” she agreed with a sigh. “I miss this up in Houston. The closest I get to cattle is the rodeo when it comes to town.”

He winced. “You poor kid,” he said. “You lost everything at once, all them years ago.”

That was true. She’d lost her parents and her home, all at once. If Alexander hadn’t gotten her into business college, where she could live on campus, she’d have been homeless.

She smiled down at him. “Time heals even the worst wounds, Johnny. Besides, I still get to come down here and visit once in a while.”

He looked irritated. “Wish you came more than that Dane woman,” he said under his breath. “Can’t stand cattle and dust, don’t like cowboys, looks at us like we’d get her dirty just by speaking to her.”

She reached over and patted him gently on the shoulder. “We all have our burdens to bear.”

He sighed. “I reckon so. Why don’t you move back down here?” he added. “Plenty of jobs going in Jacobsville right now. I hear tell the police chief needs a new secretary.”

She chuckled. “I’m not going to work for Cash Grier,” she assured him. “They said his last secretary emptied the trash can over his head, and it was full of half-empty coffee cups and coffee grounds.”

“Well, some folks don’t take to police work,” he said, but he chuckled.

“Nothing to do, Johnny?” came a deep, terse voice from behind Jodie.

Johnny straightened immediately. “Just started mucking out the stable, boss. I only came over to say howdy to Miss Jodie.”

“Good to see you again, Johnny,” she said.

“Same here, miss.”

He tipped his hat and went slowly back into the barn.

“Don’t divert the hired help,” Alexander said curtly.

She got down from the fence. It was a long way up to his eyes in her flat shoes. “He was a friend of my father’s,” she reminded him. “I was being polite.”

She turned and started back into the house.

“Running away?”

She stopped and faced him. “I’m not going to be your whipping boy,” she said.

His eyebrows arched. “Wrong gender.”

“You know what I mean. You’re furious that Derek’s here, and Kirry’s not, and you want somebody to take it out on.”

He moved restlessly at the accusation. His scowl was suddenly darker. “Don’t do that.”

She knew what he meant. She could always see through his bad temper to the reason for it, something his own sister had never been able to do.

“Derek will leave in the morning and Kirry will be here by afternoon,” she said. “Derek can’t do that much damage in a night. Besides, you know how close he and Margie are.”

“He’s too flighty for her, distant relation or not,” he muttered.

She sighed, looking up at him with quiet, soft eyes full of memories. “Like me,” she said under her breath.

He frowned. “What?”

“That’s always been your main argument against me—that I’m too flighty. That’s why you didn’t like it when Derek was trying to get me to go out with him three years ago,” she reminded him.

He stared at her for a few seconds, still scowling. “Did I say that?”

She nodded then turned away. “I’ve got to go help Margie organize the food and drinks,” she added. “Left to her own devices, we’ll be eating turkey and bacon roll-ups and drinking spring water.”

“What did you have in mind?” he asked amusedly.

“A nice baked chicken with garlic-and-chives mashed potatoes, fruit salad, homemade rolls and biscuits, gravy, fresh asparagus, and a chocolate pound cake for dessert,” she said absently.

“You can cook?” he asked, astonished.

She glared at him over one shoulder. “You didn’t notice? Margie hasn’t cooked a meal any time I’ve been down here for the weekend, except for one barbecue that the cowboys roasted a side of beef for.”

He didn’t say another word, but he looked unusually thoughtful.



The meal came out beautifully. By the time she had it on the table, Jodie was flushed from the heat of the kitchen and her hair was disheveled, but she’d produced a perfect meal.

Margie enthused over the results with every dish she tasted, and so did Derek. Alexander was unusually quiet. He finished his chocolate pound cake and a second cup of coffee before he gave his sister a dark look.

“You told me you’d been doing all the cooking when Jessie wasn’t here and Jodie was,” he said flatly.

Margie actually flushed. She dropped her fork and couldn’t meet Jodie’s surprised glance.

“You always made such a fuss of extra company when Jessie was gone,” she protested without realizing she was only making things worse.

Alexander’s teeth ground together when he saw the look on Jodie’s face. He threw down his napkin and got noisily to his feet. “You’re as insensitive as a cactus plant, Margie,” he said angrily.

“You’re better?” she retorted, with her eyebrows reaching for her hairline. “You’re the one who always complains when I invite Jodie, even though she hasn’t got any family except us…oh, dear.”

Jodie had already gotten to her own feet and was collecting dirty dishes. She didn’t respond to the bickering. She felt it, though. It hurt to know that Alexander barely tolerated her; almost as much as it hurt to know Margie had taken credit for her cooking all these years.

“I’ll help you clear, darlin’,” Derek offered with a meaningful look at the Cobbs. “Both of you could use some sensitivity training. You just step all over Jodie’s feelings without the least notice. Some �second family’ you turned out to be!”

He propelled Jodie ahead of him into the kitchen and closed the door. For once, he looked angry.

She smiled at him. “Don’t take it so personally, Derek,” she said. “Insults just bounce off me. I’m so used to Alexander by now that I hardly listen.”

He tilted her chin up and read the pain in her soft eyes. “He walks on your heart every time he speaks to you,” he said bluntly. “He doesn’t even know how you feel, when a blind man could see it.”

She patted his cheek. “You’re a nice man, Derek.”

He shrugged. “I’ve always been a nice man, for all the good it does me. Women flock to hang all over Cobb while he glowers and insults them.”

“Someday a nice, sweet woman will come along and take you in hand, and thank God every day for you,” she told him.

He chuckled. “Want to take me on?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “You’re very sweet, but I’ve got my eye on a rather nice man at my office. He’s sweet, too, and his girlfriend treats him like dirt. He deserves someone better.”

“He’d be lucky to get you,” Derek said.

She smiled.

They were frozen in that affectionate tableau when the door opened and Alexander exploded into the room. He stopped short, obviously unsettled by what he thought he was seeing. Especially when Jodie jerked her hand down from Derek’s cheek, and he let go of her chin.

“Something you forgot to say about Jodie’s unwanted presence in your life?” Derek drawled, and for an instant, the smiling, gentle man Jodie knew became a threatening presence.

Alexander scowled. “Margie didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he returned.

“Margie never means things the way they sound,” Derek said coldly, “but she never stops to think how much words can hurt, either. She walks around in a perpetual Margie-haze of self-absorption. Even now, Jodie’s only here because she can make canapés for the party tomorrow night—or didn’t you know?” he added with absolute venom.

Margie came into the room behind her brother, downcast and quiet. She winced as she met Derek’s accusing eyes.

“I’m a pig,” she confessed. “I really don’t mean to hurt people. I love Jodie. She knows it, even if you don’t.”

“You have a great way of showing it, honey,” Derek replied, a little less antagonistic to her than to her brother. “Inviting Jodie down just to cook for a party is pretty thoughtless.”

Margie’s eyes fell. “You can go home if you want to, Jodie, and I’m really sorry,” she offered.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, I don’t mind cooking!” Jodie went to Margie and hugged her hard. “I could always say no if I didn’t want to do it! Derek’s just being kind, that’s all.”

Margie glared at her cousin. “Kind.”

Derek glared back. “Sure I am. It runs in the family. Glad you could come, Jodie, want to wash and wax my car when you finish doing the dishes?” he added sarcastically.

“You stop that!” Margie raged at him.

“Then get in here and help her do the dishes,” Derek drawled. “Or do your hands melt in hot water?”

“We do have a dishwasher,” Alexander said tersely.

“Gosh! You’ve actually seen it, then?” Derek exclaimed.

Alexander said a nasty word and stormed out of the kitchen.

“One down,” Derek said with twinkling eyes and looking at Margie. “One to go.”

“Quit that, or she’ll toss you out and I’ll be stuck here with them and Kirry all weekend,” Jodie said softly.

“Kirry?” He gaped at Margie. “You invited Kirry?”

Margie ground her teeth together and clenched her small hands. “She’s the guest of honor!”

“Lord, give me a bus ticket!” He moved toward the door. “Sorry, honey, I’m not into masochism, and a night of unadulterated Kirry would put me in a mental ward. I’m leaving.”

“But you just got here!” Margie wailed.

He turned at the door. “You should have told me who was coming to the party. I’d still be in San Antonio. Want to come with me, Jodie?” he offered. “I’ll take you to a fiesta!”

Margie looked murderous. “She’s my friend.”

“She’s not, or you wouldn’t have forced her down here to suffer Kirry all weekend,” he added.

“Give me a minute to get out of the line of fire, will you?” Jodie held up her hands and went back to the dining room to scoop up dirty dishes, forcibly smiling.

Derek glanced at the closed door, and moved closer to Margie. “Don’t try to convince me that you don’t know how Jodie feels about your brother.”

“She got over that old crush years ago, she said so!” Margie returned.

“She lied,” he said shortly. “She’s as much in love with him as she ever was, not that either of you ever notice! It’s killing her just to be around him, and you stick her with Kirry. How do you think she’s going to feel, watching Kirry slither all over Cobb for a whole night?”

Margie bit her lower lip and looked hunted. “She said…”

“Oh, sure, she’s going to tell you that she’s in love with Cobb.” He nodded. “Great instincts, Marge.”

“Don’t call me Marge!”

He bent and brushed an insolent kiss across her parted lips, making her gasp. His dark eyes narrowed as he assayed the unwilling response. “Never thought of me like that, either, huh?” he drawled.

“You’re…my…cousin,” she choked.

“I’m no close relation to you at all, despite Cobb’s antagonism. One day I’m going to walk out the door with you over my shoulder, and Cobb can do his worst.” He winked at her. “See you, sweetheart.”

He turned and ambled out the door. Margie was still staring after him helplessly and holding her hand to her lips when Jodie came in with another stack of dishes.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jodie asked.

“Derek kissed me,” she said in a husky tone.

“He’s always kissing you.”

Margie swallowed hard. “Not like this.”

Jodie’s eyebrows went up and she grinned. “I thought it was about time.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jodie said at once. “Here, can you open the dishwasher for me? My hands are full.”

Margie broke out of her trance and went to help, shell-shocked and quiet.

“Don’t let Derek upset you,” Jodie said gently. “He thinks he’s doing me a favor, but he’s not. I don’t mind helping out, in any way I can. I owe you and Cobb so much…”

“You don’t owe us a thing,” Margie said at once. “Oh, Jodie, you shouldn’t let me make use of you like this. You should speak up for yourself. You don’t do that enough.”

“I know. It’s why I haven’t advanced in the company,” she had to admit. “I just don’t like confrontations.”

“You had enough of them as a kid, didn’t you?” Margie asked.

Jodie flushed. “I loved my parents. I really did.”

“But they fought, too. Just like ours. Our mother hated our father, even after he was dead. She drank and drank, trying to forget him, just the same. She soured my brother on women, you know. She picked on him from the time he was six, and every year it got worse. He had a roaring inferiority complex when he was in high school.”

“Yes? Well, he’s obviously got over it now,” Jodie said waspishly.

Margie shook her head. “Not really. If he had, he’d know he could do better than Kirry.”

“I thought you liked her!”

Margie looked shamefaced. “I do, sort of. Well, she’s got an important job and she could really help me get my foot in the door at Weston’s, the exclusive department store where she works.”

“Oh, Margie,” Jodie said wearily, shaking her head.

“I use people,” Margie admitted. “But,” she added brightly, “I try to do it in a nice way, and I always send flowers or presents or something afterward, don’t I?”

Jodie laughed helplessly. “Yes, you do,” she admitted. “Here, help me load up the dishes, and then you can tell me what sort of canapés you want me to make for tomorrow.”

She didn’t add that she knew she’d spend the whole day tomorrow making them, because the party was for almost forty people, and lunch had to be provided as well. It was a logistical nightmare. But she could cope. She’d done it before. And Margie was her best friend.




Three


Jodie was up at dawn making biscuits and dough for the canapés. She’d only just taken up breakfast when Alexander came into the kitchen, wearing jeans and boots and a long-sleeved chambray shirt. He looked freshly showered and clean-shaven, his dark hair still damp.

“I’ve got breakfast,” Jodie offered without looking too closely at him. He was overpowering in tight jeans and a shirt unbuttoned to his collarbone, where thick curling black hair peeked out. She had to fight not to throw herself at him.

“Coffee?” he murmured.

“In the pot.”

He poured himself a cup, watching the deft motions of her hands as she buttered biscuits and scooped eggs onto a platter already brimming over with bacon and sausages.

“Aren’t you eating?” he asked as he seated himself at the table.

“Haven’t time,” she said, arranging a layer of canapés on a baking sheet. “Most of your guests are coming in time for lunch, so these have to be done now, before I get too busy.”

His sensuous lips made a thin line. “I can’t stand him, but Derek is right about one thing. You do let Margie use you.”

“You and Margie were there when I had nobody else,” she said without seeing the flinch of his eyelids. “I consider that she’s entitled to anything I can ever do for her.”

“You sell yourself short.”

“I appreciate it when people do things for me without being asked,” she replied. She put the canapés in the oven and set the timer, pushing back sweaty hair that had escaped from her bun.

His eyes went over her figure in baggy pants and an oversize T-shirt. “You dress like a bag lady,” he muttered.

She glanced at him, surprised. “I dress very nicely at work.”

“Like a dowager bag lady,” he corrected. “You wear the same sort of clothes you favored when you were overweight. You’re not anymore. Why don’t you wear things that fit?”

It was surprising that he noticed her enough to even know what she was wearing. “Margie’s the fashion model, not me,” she reminded him. “Besides, I’m not the type for trendy stuff. I’m just ordinary.”

He frowned. She had a real ego problem. He and Margie hadn’t done much for it, either. She accepted anything that was thrown at her, as if she deserved it. He was surprised how much it bothered him, to see her so undervalued even by herself. Not that he was interested in her, he added silently. She wasn’t his type at all.

“Kirry’s coming this morning,” he added. “I have to pick her up at the airport at noon.”

Jodie only smiled. “Margie’s hoping she’ll help her with a market for her designs.”

“I think she’ll try,” he said conservatively. “Eat breakfast,” he said. “You can’t go all day without food.”

“I don’t have time,” she repeated, starting on another batch of canapés. “Unless you want to sacrifice yourself in a bowl of dough?” she offered, extending the bowl with a mischievous smile.

His green eyes twinkled affectionately in spite of himself. “No, thanks.”

“I didn’t think so.”

He watched her work while he ate, nebulous thoughts racing through his mind. Jodie was so much a part of his life that he never felt discomfort when they were together. He had a hard time with strangers. He appeared to be stoic and aloof, but in fact he was an introvert who didn’t quite know how to mix with people who weren’t in law enforcement. Like Jodie herself, he considered. She was almost painfully shy around people she didn’t know—and tonight, she was going to be thrown in headfirst with a crowd she probably wouldn’t even like.

Kirry’s friends were social climbers, high society. Alexander himself wasn’t comfortable with them, and Jodie certainly wouldn’t be. They were into expensive cars, European vacations, diamonds, investments, and they traveled in circles that included some of the most famous people alive, from movie stars to Formula 1 race car drivers, to financial geniuses, playwrights and authors. They classified their friends by wealth and status, not by character. In their world, right and wrong didn’t even exist.

“You’re not going to like this crowd,” he said aloud.

She glanced at him. “I’ll be in the kitchen most of the time,” she said easily, “or helping serve.”

He looked outraged. “You’re a guest, not the kitchen help!”

“Don’t be absurd,” she murmured absently, “I haven’t even got the right clothes to wear to Kirry’s sort of party. I’d be an embarrassment.”

He set his coffee cup down with muted force. “Then why the hell did you come in the first place?” he asked.

“Margie asked me to,” she said simply.

He got up and went out without another word. Jodie was going to regret this visit. He was sorry Margie had insisted that she come.



The party was in full swing. Alexander had picked up Kirry at the airport and lugged her suitcases up to the second guest room, down the hall from Jodie’s. Kirry, blond and svelte and from a wealthy background was like the Cobbs, old money and family ties. She looked at Jodie without seeing her, and talked only to Margie and Alexander during lunch. Fortunately there were plenty of other people there who didn’t mind talking to Jodie, especially an elderly couple apparently rolling in wealth to judge by the diamonds the matron was decked out in.

After lunch, Kirry had Alexander drive her into town and Jodie silently excused herself and escaped to the kitchen.

She had a nice little black dress, off the rack at a local department store, and high heels to match, which she wore to the party. But it was hidden under the big apron she wore most of the evening, heating and arranging canapГ©s and washing dishes and crystal glasses in between uses.

It was almost ten o’clock before she was able to join Margie and her friends. But by then, Margie was hanging on to Kirry like a bat, with Alexander nearby, and Jodie couldn’t get near her.

She stood in a corner by herself, wishing that Derek hadn’t run from this weekend, so that she’d at least have someone to talk to. But that wasn’t happening. She started talking to the elderly matron she’d sat beside at lunch, but another couple joined them and mentioned their week in Paris, and a mutual friend, and Jodie was out of her depth. She moved to another circle, but they were discussing annuities and investments, and she knew nothing to contribute to that discussion, either.

Alexander noticed, seething, that she was alone most of the evening. He started to get up, but Kirry moved closer and clung to his sleeve while Margie talked about her latest collection and offered to show it to Kirry in the morning. Kirry was very possessive. They weren’t involved, as he’d been with other women. Perhaps that was why she was reluctant to let him move away. She hated the very thought of any other woman looking at him. That possessiveness was wearing thin. She was beautiful and she carried herself well, but she had an attitude he didn’t like, and she was positively rude to any of his colleagues that spoke to him when they were together. Not that she had any idea what Alexander actually did for a living. He was independently wealthy and people in his and Margie’s circle of friends assumed that the ranch was his full-time occupation. He’d taught Jodie and Margie never to mention that he worked in Drug Enforcement. They could say that he dabbled in security work, if they liked, but nothing more. When he’d started out with the DEA, he’d done a lot of undercover work. It wasn’t politic to let people know that.

Jodie, meanwhile, had discovered champagne. She’d never let herself drink at any of the Cobb parties in the past, but she was feeling particularly isolated tonight, and it was painful. She liked the bubbles, the fragrance of flowers that clung to the exquisite beverage and the delicious taste. So she had three glasses, one after the other, and pretty soon she didn’t mind at all that Margie and Alexander’s guests were treating her like a barmaid who’d tried to insert herself into their exalted circles.

She noticed that she’d had too much to drink when she walked toward a doorway and ran headfirst into the door facing. She began to giggle softly. Her hair was coming down from its high coiffure, but she didn’t care. She took out the circular comb that had held it in place and shook her head, letting the thick, waving wealth of hair fall to her shoulders.

The action caught the eye of a man nearby, a bored race car driver who’d been dragged to this hick party by his wife. He sized up Jodie, and despite the dress that did absolutely nothing for her, he was intrigued.

He moved close, leaning against the door facing she’d hit so unexpectedly.

“Hurt yourself?” he asked in a pleasant deep drawl, faintly accented.

Jodie looked up at the newcomer curiously and managed a lopsided grin. He was a dish, with curly black hair and dancing black eyes, an olive complexion and the body of an athlete.

“Only my hard head,” she replied with a chuckle. “Who are you?”

“Francisco,” he replied lazily. He lifted his glass to her in a toast. “You’re the first person tonight who even asked.” He leaned down so that he was eye to eye with her. “I’m a foreigner, you see.”

“Are you, really?”

He was enchanted. He laughed, and it wasn’t a polite social laugh at all. “I’m from Madrid,” he said. “Didn’t you notice my accent?”

“I don’t speak any foreign languages,” she confessed sadly, sipping what was left of her champagne. “I don’t understand high finance or read popular novels or know any movie stars, and I’ve never been on a holiday abroad. So I thought I’d go sit in the kitchen.”

He laughed again. “May I join you, then?” he asked.

She looked pointedly at his left hand. There was no ring.

He took a ring out of his slacks pocket and dangled it in front of her. “We don’t advertise our commitment at parties. My wife likes it that way. That’s my wife,” he added with pure disdain, nodding toward a blond woman in a skintight red dress that looked sprayed on. She was leaning against a very handsome blond man.

“She’s beautiful,” she remarked.

“She’s anybody’s,” he returned coldly. “The man she’s stalking is a rising motion picture star. He’s poor. She’s rich. She’s financing his career in return for the occasional loan of his body.”

Her eyes almost popped out of her eyelids.

He shook his head. “You’re not worldly, are you?” he mused. “I have an open marriage. She does what she pleases. So do I.”

“Don’t you love her?” she asked curiously.

“One marries for love, you think.” He sighed. “What a child you are. I married her because her father owned the company. As his son-in-law, I get to drive the car in competition.”

“You’re 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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