Books By Diana Palmer

by Palmer, Diana

  "You said you weren't having an affair with my mother," she accused as she folded a pair of slacks and put them in her case.

  "I'm not. I never have." His chest rose and fell heavily. "But you're not in any mood to listen, are you, baby?"

  Baby. She frowned. Baby. Why did that word make her uneasy? She looked at him with honest curiosity.

  "I called you that," he said quietly. "You don't remember when, do you?"

  She sighed, shaking her head.

  "It may be just as well," he said, almost to himself. "For now, it's safe for you to go home. Lopez is dead. His top lieutenants died with him. There's no longer any threat to you or to Dad."

  "Yes. What a lucky explosion it was," she added, busy with her case.

  "It wasn't luck, Callie," he said shortly. "I swam out to the yacht and planted a block of C-4 next to his propeller shaft."

  She turned, gasping. Her hands shook as she fumbled the case closed and sat down heavily on the bed.

  So that was what they'd been talking about the night before, when Micah had said that "it might work." He could have been killed!

  "It was a close call," he added, watching her. "I let myself get caught like a rank beginner. I was too tired to make it back in a loop, so I stopped to rest. One of Lopez's men caught me. Lopez made a lot of threats about what he planned to do to you and Dad, and then he got stupid and had me tied up down below." He extended his arm, showed her his watch, pressed a button, and watched her expression as a knife blade popped out. "Pity his men weren't astute enough to check the watch. They knew what I do for a living, too."

  Her eyes were full of horror. Micah had gone after Lopez alone. He'd been captured. If it hadn't been for that watch, he'd be dead. She stared at him as if she couldn't get enough of just looking at him. What difference did it make if he'd had a full-blown affair with her mother? He could be out there with Lopez, in pieces...

  She put her face in her hands to hide the tears that overflowed.

  He went to the bed and knelt beside her, pulling her wet face into his throat. He smoothed her hair while she clung to him and let the tears fall. It had been such a traumatic week for her. It seemed that her whole life had been uprooted and stranded. Micah could have been dead. Or, last night, she could have been dead. Pride seemed such a petty thing all of a sudden.

  "You could have died," she whispered brokenly.

  "So could you." He moved, lifting her into his arms. He dropped into a wide cushioned rattan chair and held her close while the anguish of the night before lanced through her slender body like a tangible thing. She clung to him, shivering.

  "I wish I'd known what you were planning," she said. "I'd have stopped you, somehow! Even if it was only to save you so you could go to my...my mother."

  He wrapped her up even closer and laid his cheek against her hair with a long sigh. "You still don't trust me, do you, honey?" he murmured absently. "I suppose it was asking too much, considering the way I've treated you over the years." He kissed her dark hair. "You go back home and settle into your old routine. Soon enough, this will all seem like just a bad dream."

  She rubbed her eyes with her fists, like a small child. Curled against him, she felt safe, cherished, treasured. Odd, to feel like that with a man who was a known playboy, a man who'd already told her that freedom was like a religion to him.

  "You'll be glad to have your house to yourself again," she said huskily. "I guess it really cramped your style having me here. With Lisse, I mean."

  He chuckled. "I lied."

  "Wh...what?"

  "I lied about Lisse being my lover now. What was between us was over years ago." He shrugged. "I brought her over here when you arrived as a buffer."

  She sat up, staring at him like a curious cat. "A buffer?"

  He smiled lazily. His fingers brushed away the tears that were wetting her cheeks. "Bachelors are terrified of virgins," he commented.

  "You don't even like me," she protested.

  His dark eyes slid down to her mouth, and even farther, over her breasts, down to her long legs. "You have a heart like marshmallow," he said quietly. "You never avoid trouble or turn down people in need. You take in all sorts of strays. Children love you." He smiled. "You scared me to death."

  "Past tense?" she asked softly.

  "I'm getting used to you." He didn't smile. His dark eyes narrowed. "It hurt me that Lopez got two men onto my property while I was lying in bed asleep. You could have been kidnapped or killed, no thanks to me."

  "You were tired," she replied. "You aren't superhuman, Micah."

  He drew in a slow breath and toyed with the arm-hole of her tank top. His fingers brushed against soft, warm flesh and she had to fight not to lean toward them. "I didn't feel comfortable resting while we were in so much danger. It all caught up with me last night."

  She was remembering something he'd said. "You were almost too tired to swim back from Lopez's yacht, you said," she recalled slowly. She frowned. "But you'd just been asleep," she added. "How could you have been tired?"

  "Oh, that's not a question you should ask yet," he said heavily. "You're not going to like the answer."

  "I'm not?"

  He searched her eyes for a long moment. All at once, he stood up, taking her with him. "You'd better finish getting your stuff together. I'll put you on a commercial flight home."

  She didn't want to go, but she didn't have an excuse to stay. She looked at him as if she were lost and alone, and his face clenched.

  "Don't do that," he said huskily. "The idea is to get you out of here as smoothly as possible. Don't invite trouble."

  She didn't understand that taut command. But then, she didn't understand him, either. She was avoiding the one question she should be asking. She gave in and asked it. "Why was my mother here?"

  "Her husband has cancer," he said simply. "She phoned here and begged for help. It seems the earl is penniless and she does actually seem to love him. I arranged for him to have an unorthodox course of treatment from a native doctor here. They both stayed with me until he got through it." He put his hands in his slacks pockets. "As much as I hate to admit it, she's not the woman she was, Callie," he added. "And she did one other thing that I admired. She phoned your father and told him the truth about you."

  Her heart skipped. "What father? What truth?" she asked huskily.

  "Your father was going to phone you and ask you to meet him. Did he?"

  She moved restlessly back to her packing. "He phoned and left a message. I didn't have anything to say to him, so I didn't call him back."

  "He knows that you're his child," he told her. "Your mother sent him your birth certificate. That's why he's trying to contact you. I imagine he wants to apologize. Your mother does, too, to you and Dad, but she told me she wasn't that brave."

  Her eyes met his, haunted. "I went through hell because of her and my father," she said in a tight tone. "You don't know...you can't imagine...what it was like!"

  "Yes, I can," he said, and he sounded angry. "He's apparently counting his regrets. He never remarried. He doesn't have any children, except you."

  "Then he still doesn't have a child," she said through her teeth.

  He didn't reply for several long seconds. "I can understand why you feel that way, about him and your mother. I don't blame you. I just thought I'd tell you what I know. It's up to you, what you do or don't do about it."

  She folded one last shirt and put it into the case. "Thanks for telling me." She glanced at him. "Lisse wanted to make trouble."

  "Yes, she did, and she was entitled. She's right. I did use her, in a way. Your mother left me very embittered about women," he confessed. "I loved my own mother, but I lost her when I was still in grammar school. In later years, your mother was the very worst example of what a wife should be. She made a very bad impression on me."

  "On me, too." She closed the case and turned back to him, her eyes trying to memorize his lean face. "I wish you'd liked me, when I lived in your house," s
he said abruptly. "It would have meant more than you know."

  His eyes narrowed. "I couldn't afford to like you, Callie," he said quietly. "Every time I looked at you, I burned like fire inside. You were just a teenager, a virgin. I couldn't take advantage of you that way."

  "We could have been friends," she persisted.

  He shook his head. "You know we couldn't. You know why."

  She grimaced, averting her face. "It's always sex with you, isn't it?"

  "Not anymore." His voice was quiet, solemn. "Those days are past. I'm looking ahead now. I have a future to build."

  A bigger army of mercenaries, she decided, and more money. She smiled to herself. Once a mercenary, always a mercenary. He'd be the last mercenary who would ever be able to give up the lifestyle.

  "I wish you well," she said. She picked up her case and looked around to make sure she hadn't left anything. "Thanks for saving my life. Twice," she added with a forced grin.

  “You're welcome." He moved forward to take the case from her. He studied her face for a long time with narrowed eyes. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time. "It's amazing," he murmured involuntarily, "that it took me so long."

  "What took you so long?"

  "Never mind," he murmured, and he smiled. "You'll find out soon enough. Come on. I'll drive you into Nassau to the airport."

  "Bojo could..."

  He put his fingers against her soft mouth, and he didn't smile. "I'll drive you."

  She swallowed. The tip of his finger was tracing her upper lip, and it was making her knees weak. "Okay," she said.

  He took her hand and led her out to the car.

  Chapter Twelve

  Two weeks later, Callie was back at work and it was as if she'd never been kidnapped by Lopez's men or gone to Nassau with Micah. Despite the excitement and adventure, she hadn't told anyone except Mr. Kemp the truth about what had happened. And she let him think that Lopez had died in a freak accident, to protect Micah.

  Micah had walked her to the concourse and kissed her goodbye in such a strange, breathlessly tender way that it had kept her from sleeping much since she'd been back. The look in his eyes had been fascinating, but she was still trying to decide what she'd seen there. He'd said he'd see her soon. She had no idea what he meant. It was like leaving part of herself behind when she got on the plane. She cried all the way to Miami, where she got on a plane to San Antonio and then a charter flight to Jacobsville from there.

  Micah's father was much better, and so glad to see her that he cried, too. She dismissed the nurse who'd been staying with him with gratitude and a check, but the nurse refused the check. She'd already been paid her fee, in advance, she told a mystified Callie. She left, and Callie and Jack Steele settled back into their comfortable routine.

  "I feel better than I have in years," Jack Steele told her with a grin at supper one evening. "It makes me proud that my son wanted to protect me as well as you."

  "Micah loves you terribly," she assured him. "He just has a hard time showing it, that's all."

  "You really think so?"

  "I do. I'm sure he'll come and see you, if you'll let him."

  He gave her a peculiar look and pursed his lips. "I'll let Micah come here if you'll do something for me."

  "What?"

  He leaned back in his chair, and his features reminded her of Micah in a stubborn mood. "If you'll make peace with your father," he said.

  She let out a surprised gasp.

  "I knew you'd take it like that," he said. "But he's phoned here every single day since you left. He told me some cock-and-bull story about a drug dealer named Lopez. He said he'd heard from a friend in law enforcement that Lopez had kidnapped you and taken you to Mexico. I thought he was full of bull and I told him so. But he kept phoning. I guess it was a good excuse to mend fences. A man that persistent should at least have a hearing."

  She gaped at him. "You...didn't believe him, about Lopez?"

  Her tone surprised him. "No, of course not." Her expression was very disturbing. He scowled. "Cal-lie...it wasn't true? You really did go to take care of that aunt Micah told me about?"

  "Jack, I don't have a aunt," she said heavily. "Lopez did kidnap me. Micah came and got me out himself. He went right into Lopez's house and rescued me."

  "My son, storming drug dealers' lairs?" he exclaimed. "Are you kidding?"

  "Oh, I didn't want you to have to find out like this," she groaned. "I should have bitten my tongue through!"

  He was shocked. "Micah got you out," he repeated.

  She leaned across the table and took his arthritic hands in hers and held them tight. "There's no easy way to say this, but you'll have to know. I'm not sure Micah wants you to know, but I don't have a choice anymore. Dad, Micah is a professional mercenary," she told him evenly. "And he's very good at it. He rappelled from Lopez's roof right into a bedroom and rescued me from a man who was going to kill me. We're both fine. He got me away and out of the country, and took me home with him to Nassau. He lured Lopez in, and...Lopez's boat was blown up in a freak accident."

  Jack let out the breath he'd been holding. "The things you learn about people you thought you knew. My own son, and he never told me."

  She grimaced. "I'm not sure he ever would. He's very brave, Jack. He isn't really money-hungry, although it sounds as if he is. I'd never have survived without him. His men are just the same, dedicated professionals who really care about what they do. They're not a gang of thugs."

  Jack sat back in his chair again, scowling. "You know, it does make some sort of sense. He came home bandaged, you remember that time? And he said he'd had a bad fall. But I saw him accidentally without the bandage and it looked like a bullet wound to me."

  "It probably was," she said. "He has scars on his back, too."

  She frowned, trying to understand how she knew that. She'd seen Micah with his shirt unbuttoned in Nassau, but never with it off completely. How would she know he had scars down his back?

  She put that thought out of her mind. "There's something else I found out," she added. "My mother was there last year, staying with him."

  Jack's face hardened at once.

  "No, it's not what you're thinking," she said quickly. "That was my thought, too, but she asked Micah for help. She's married to a British earl who has cancer. There was a clinic near Micah and he let them stay with him while the earl was treated. He's impoverished, and I suspect that Micah paid for the treatments, too, although he didn't admit it." She smiled. "He says Mother is really in love this time. She wanted to make peace with both of us as well, but she didn't think it would be possible."

  "Not for me," Jack said quietly. "She cost me a lot."

  "She cost me more," she agreed. "But you can't hate people forever. It only hurts you in the end. You have to forgive unless you want to live in torment forever."

  "How did you get so wise, at your age?" he asked, smiling as he tried to lighten the mood.

  "I had a lot of hard knocks. I learned early how terrible a thing hatred is." She touched his hand gently. "Micah loves you so much. You can't imagine how it hurt him when we thought he'd betrayed you with Mother. He's been bitter, too."

  "I wouldn't let him talk about it," he said. "I should have listened. He's never lied to me, except maybe by omission." He sighed with a wry smile. "I never would have guessed he'd have been in such a profession."

  She laughed. "Neither would I." She sighed. "He can't give it up, of course. He told me he had no ambition whatsoever to settle down and have a family. I never really saw him as a family man."

  He studied her curiously. "But you wish he was," he said perceptibly.

  Her gaze fell to the table. "I love him," she said heavily. "I always have. But he's got all the women in his life that he needs already. Beautiful women. One of them took me shopping when we first got to Nassau."

  "You have ties with him that no other woman will ever have. If he didn't care about you, he certainly wouldn't have risked his own life
to rescue you," he remarked.

  "He did it for you, because he knows you love me," she said. "That's why."

  He pursed his lips and his eyes narrowed as he studied her. "Think so? I wonder."

  She got up. "I'll fix dinner. Then I guess I'll try to phone my father."

  "Remember what you said, about forgiving people, Callie," he reminded her. "Your mother told him a lot of lies. He believed her, but maybe it was easier to believe her, when he knew she was taking you away. He was going to lose you anyway."

  "She didn't take me away," she said coldly. "He threw me out, and she put me in foster care immediately."

  He grimaced. "Yes, I know. Your father told me. He'd only just found out."

  "Found out, how?" she exclaimed.

  "Apparently he hired a private detective," he said gently. "He was appalled at how you'd been treated, Callie. He blames himself."

  She moved restlessly, her eyes glancing at him. "You're the only father I've ever known."

  He grinned. "You'll always have me. But give the man a chance. He's not as bad as you remember him being." The smile faded. "Maybe, like your mother, he's found time to face himself and his mistakes."

  She turned away. "Okay. I guess it wouldn't hurt to talk to him."

  She phoned, but her father was out of the country. She left a message for him on his answering machine, a stumbling sort of greeting and her phone number. If he hadn't given up on her, he might try again.

  The next week dragged. She missed Micah. She felt tired. She wondered if all the excitement of the past few weeks wasn't catching up with her. She also seemed to have stopped having a period. She'd always been regular and never skipped, and then she remembered that odd spotting in Nassau. She grimaced. It must be some sort of female problem. She'd have to make an appointment to see Dr. Lou Coltrain.

  She made the appointment from work, just after she got back from lunch. When she hung up, her boss, Blake Kemp, was speaking to someone in his office, the door just having opened so that he could show his client out.