Hard to Handle

by Diana Palmer

  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.

  2

  “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.