Diana Palmer Collected 1-6. Diana Palmer

course there were!” she shot back. “You wanted to make sure that I didn’t get any ideas about you just because you made a pass at me. Okay! I got the message and I’m going, just as fast as I can!” she said. “Do you really think I could forget what happened in Guatemala and go on working for you?”

      He studied his fingers. “Maybe I’ll settle down,” he said after a minute.

      “Maybe you will, but what concern is that of mine?” she asked. “You’re my employer, not my lover.”

      He turned just as the phone on her desk rang. She rushed to answer it, grateful for the diversion. Fortunately, it was an angry, long-winded client. She smiled wickedly as she transferred the call to J.D.’s phone. While he was talking, she escaped to lunch, leaving him listening helplessly to the venomous divorcée on the other end of the line.

      But once she was out of the office and eating a hamburger at a local fast-food restaurant, the smile vanished and gloom set in. She’d read about men who couldn’t marry, who were too freedom-loving for marriage. But until J.D. came along, she hadn’t known what anguish there could be in loving someone like that. Now she did, and her nights would be plagued with nightmares about hearing someday he’d died in combat. Or worse, that he was serving time in some filthy foreign jail for interfering in the internal politics of another nation.

      If Martina had known the truth, maybe she could have helped talk some sense into him. But Gabby hadn’t dared to tell her. J.D. would never forgive Gabby if she did.

      An hour later, she dragged herself back into the office, only to find J.D. gone. There was a terse note on her desk, informing her that he’d gone to meet a client and that she was to cancel his appointments; he wouldn’t be in until the next day.

      She picked up the phone and started dialing. Was he really seeing a client? The thought tormented her, even after she left the office. Perhaps he’d already packed his bag and gone off in search of the sun. She cried herself to sleep, hating herself for worrying. If this was any indication of the future, she’d do well to hurry about finding another job.

      The next day she forced herself to search the want ads for positions in between answering the phone, using the copier and running the computer. J.D. still hadn’t come in, and she was grateful for Dick’s dictation and the hectic rush of the office. It kept her from thinking about J.D.

      When he walked in the door just before lunch, it was all she could do not to jump up and throw herself into his arms. But she remembered that he didn’t want ties so she forced herself to greet him calmly and hand him his messages.

      “Worried about me?” he asked with apparent carelessness, but his eyes were watchful.

      She looked up with hard-won composure, her eyebrows arched behind her reading glasses. “Worried? Why?”

      He drew in a slow breath and turned on his heel to walk into his office. He slammed the door behind him.

      She stuck out her tongue at it and picked up her purse. “Going to lunch,” she said into the intercom and started out the door.

      “Gabby.”

      She turned. He was standing in his office doorway, looking lonely and hesitant.

      “Have lunch with me,” he said.

      “Sorry. I have interviews.”

      His face hardened, his eyes narrowed. “Don’t.”

      Her soft heart almost melted under that half-pleading stare. But she couldn’t give in, not now. In the long run, it would be easier to eat her heart out from a safe distance. She’d die working with him, knowing that all he was capable of giving her was lust or a business relationship.

      “I have to,” she said quietly. “It’s for the best.”

      “For whom?” he demanded.

      “For both of us!” she burst out. “I can’t bear to be in the same office with you!”

      Something indescribable happened to his face. And because it hurt to see him that way, she turned and all but ran out the door. It didn’t occur to her until much later how he might have taken her remark. She’d meant she couldn’t bear to be with him because she loved him so, but he probably thought it was because of his harsh treatment of her at the finca. Well, he had been harsh. But he’d apologized, and some part of her understood why he’d acted that way. He was just trying to open her eyes to the futility of loving him. To spare her more hurt. Anyway, she told herself, her remark wouldn’t faze him. He didn’t care about her, so how in the world could she hurt him?

      She applied for two jobs in offices a few blocks away, neither terribly exciting.

      When she went back to the office, J.D. was gone again. Just as well, she thought. She had to get used to not seeing him. The thought was excruciatingly painful, but she was realistic enough to know that the pain would pass one day. After all, as J.D. himself had said, there was no future for her with him. He’d gone to elaborate lengths to make sure she knew that. And since she couldn’t spend the day crying, she forced herself to keep her mind strictly on the job.

       Chapter Eight

      J.D. was so reserved after that day that he barely spoke to Gabby at all, except when absolutely necessary for business. And all the time he scowled and snapped, like a wounded animal.

      “Have you heard anything from your job interviews yet?” he asked Friday morning, glaring at her over a piece of correspondence to which he had just dictated an answer.

      “I hope to hear Monday about one of them,” she said quietly. “The other one didn’t work out.”

      He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “So it may not be all that easy to find something else,” he commented.

      She met his level stare. “If nothing pans out in Chicago, I’m going home.”

      He didn’t move. He studied her intently. “To Texas.”

      She lowered her gaze to her steno pad. “That’s right.”

      “What would you do in Texas?”

      “I’d help Mama.”

      He put down the letter. “‘Help Mama,’” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Your mother would drive you to drink in less than a week, and you know it.”

      “How dare you…!” she began hotly.

      “Gabby, your mother is a sweet lady,” he said, “but her lifestyle and yours are worlds apart. You’d fight all the time, or you’d find yourself being led around like a lamb.”

      Her breasts rose and fell softly. “Yes, I know,” she said after a minute. “But it’s better than the unemployment line, isn’t it?”

      “Stay with me,” he said. “I think, if you’ll just give it time, it will work out. Can’t you forget how I treated you that one time?”

      “Don’t make it harder for me,” she said.

      “Is it hard, to walk out that door and never see me again?” he asked bluntly.

      Her chin trembled just a little. “You’ve got nothing to give—you told me so. You’ve left me no choice but to leave.”

      “Yes, that was what I said,” he agreed. “I went to impossible lengths to show you just how uncommitted I was, to make sure that you didn’t try to cling too closely.” He sighed heavily and his hands moved restlessly on the desk. “And now I can’t look myself in the mirror, thinking about the way you cringe every time I come near you.” He got up from the desk and stared out of the window, stretching as if he were stiff all over. “I’ve never needed anyone,” he said after a minute, without turning. “Not even when I was a boy. I was always looking out for Martina and Mama. There was never anyone who gave