Untameable: Merciless. Diana Palmer

agreed. He kissed her forehead. “I know you miss Dad,” he said gently. “So do all of us. But you’re going overboard with plans for my future. You have to let life happen. You can’t force people to do things they don’t want to do.”

      “You’d like Charlene if you gave her a chance,” she argued.

      “She’s the most opinionated woman I’ve met recently,” he said gruffly.

      “You’re only upset because she said you’d have to stop playing so many video games,” Cammy replied. “And she’s right.”

      “She is not.”

      “We can agree to differ. You should get out more. You spend too much time in this office with that woman out there,” she muttered.

      “Joceline is my administrative assistant,” Jon replied. “She’s also a competent paralegal. Who do you think found the link that solved the murder of Mac’s little girl?”

      Cammy frowned. “I thought it was McKuen.”

      He shook his head. “Joceline dug out the information that broke the case.”

      Cammy was evidently surprised, and not pleasantly. She shifted her feet. “She’s disrespectful.”

      “I haven’t noticed that.”

      “And she’s got a child. She’s not married.”

      “She was going to be. Her fiancé died overseas in the military before he could marry her,” he said with faint defensiveness.

      “She told you that?”

      He nodded.

      “How do you know it’s the truth?” she asked with a cold smile. “Women tell all sorts of stories.”

      “Why are you so antagonistic toward her?”

      She didn’t answer him. “If you won’t come to supper, how about to lunch tomorrow?”

      “It’s a long drive to the ranch,” he began.

      “I’m staying at the apartment in town,” she replied. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

      He wanted a way out, but he was reluctant to refuse. Cammy was his mother. He didn’t spend a lot of time with her, and he felt guilty.

      “I suppose I could. If it’s going to be just the two of us,” he added firmly.

      “Of course,” she replied. She smiled. “Just us two.”

      “Now, I have work to do,” he reminded her, opening the door.

      “I’ll have something nice for you to eat,” she promised. She smiled at him and impulsively hugged him. “That’s my good boy. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She kissed him, shot a cool look at Joceline and breezed out the front door.

      “They do make Bengal tiger traps,” Joceline said thoughtfully. “Although you would have to dig a deep hole in the office.”

      He wouldn’t smile, he wouldn’t smile …

      She heard a muffled sound from behind his closed door, and she grinned.

      THAT NIGHT SHE TOOK Markie to a local restaurant that featured a video game arcade. It was filled to capacity.

      “Let’s try this one,” she said enthusiastically after they’d had chicken fingers and iced tea. “Here!”

      “I like this one,” Markie agreed with a grin.

      It was piloting fighter planes and shooting at an enemy on a huge movie screen. Markie laughed uninhibitedly, and so did Joceline. She enjoyed the once-a-month outing as much as he did. They had little money for frivolous things like this, but she didn’t want Markie to miss out on entertainment that other children had access to. For a four-year-old, he had an amazing dexterity and skill at the game.

      She was aware of movement behind her. Suddenly there were three other people in the compartment, parked on either side of her and Markie, putting game cards into the slots.

      “Think you’re good, do you?” Mac Kilraven chided. “Let’s see!”

      “Don’t let him bait you, Joceline,” a very pregnant Winnie Sinclair said and laughed from beside him. “I can outshoot him! So can you!”

      “A likely story,” Jon Blackhawk scoffed as he manned the console next to Joceline’s.

      “I thought you were having dinner with them at home,” she said to Jon, indicating his brother and sister-in-law.

      “We did, but this is our favorite hangout,” Jon said. “We like the games.”

      “If we had a bigger apartment, I’d import some like this.” Mac chuckled. “It will be great for the kids.”

      “Your son seems to like it,” Jon commented to Joceline as Markie took down another fighter.

      “Look! I hit it!” He laughed.

      “Good shot, there,” Jon agreed, smiling at the child, who smiled back.

      “Get in much practice in real life, do you?” Mac asked the boy with a wink.

      “I don’t get out much,” Markie said in a very adult tone, and with rolled eyes at his mother.

      Joceline laughed. “He’s not allowed to carry antiaircraft weapons in public,” she said, tongue-in-cheek.

      “Aw, Mom.” Markie sighed. “I never get to have any fun!”

      “Tell you what, first enemy fighter jet that dives on you, I’ll get you the best missile launcher I can find,” Joceline told him.

      “Wow,” Markie said with pure worship in his eyes. “Thanks, Mom!”

      She shrugged. “Nothing’s too good for my boy,” she said, and winked at him. She fought down her discomfort at having Markie around her boss. She didn’t want any problems to crop up, and Jon Blackhawk’s mother would be livid if she knew he was even playing video games with his administrative assistant outside work. But she wouldn’t know. Hopefully.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      JOCELINE AND MARKIE walked toward the exit an hour later. They’d spent the balance on their game cards, although Mac and Jon had subsidized them, in a nice way.

      “Thanks,” she told Jon at the door. “Markie had so much fun. So did I,” she added, but with averted eyes.

      “It’s all right to admit that you like something I do,” he murmured dryly. “You so rarely approve of my actions.”

      “We wouldn’t want you to get a superiority complex, would we, sir?” she asked.

      “Why do you call him ‘sir’?” Markie asked.

      “He’s my boss,” she replied.

      “Oh. Like those guys in the military call their bosses ‘sir.’”

      “Something like that,” Joceline agreed.

      “Does he put you in ‘time-out’ if you do something bad?” Markie persisted.

      “I would never do such a thing,” Jon assured him. “And your mother has never done anything bad.” He hesitated. “Nothing really bad,” he amended, giving her a speaking look.

      “Menial tasks are not part of my job description, sir,” she reminded him. She smiled.

      “Making decent coffee isn’t menial.” He sighed.

      “That depends on your definition,” she retorted.

      “You shoot real good,” Markie told the tall man. He was looking pointedly at the bulge under Jon’s jacket. “You got a gun.”

      “That’s