Hard to Handle

by Diana Palmer

  Uh-oh, she thought, but she pinned the smile firmly to her face and moved to Cara’s table.

  “I thought it was you,” she said cheerily. “I didn’t know you ever came here! Brody never mentioned it to me.”

  Cara gave her a very suspicious look. “This is not your normal evening entertainment, surely?”

  “But I come here all the time,” Jodie replied honestly. “Johnny’s one of my fans.”

  “Fans.” Cara turned the word over on her tongue as if she’d never heard it.

  “Aficionados,” Jodie persisted. “I write poetry.”

  “You?”

  The other woman made it sound like an insult. The woman beside her, an even older woman with a face like plate steel, only looked.

  Jodie felt a chill of fear and worked to hide it. Her palm sweated against the weight of the pen hidden in her hand. As she hesitated, Johnny came walking over in his apron.

  “Hey, Jodie!” he greeted. “Now don’t worry, there’s only these two unfamiliar ladies in here, you know everybody else. You just get up there and give it your best. It’ll be great!”

  “Johnny, you make me feel so much better,” she told the man.

  “These ladies friends of yours?” he asked, noticing them—especially Cara—with interested dark eyes.

  “Cara’s boyfriend is my boss at work,” Jodie said.

  “Lucky boyfriend,” Johnny murmured, his voice dropping an octave.

  Cara relaxed and smiled. “I am Cara Dominguez,” she introduced herself. “This is my amiga, Chiva.”

  Johnny leaned over the table to shake hands and Jodie pretended to be overbalanced by him. In the process of righting herself and accepting his apology, she managed to let the pen drop under the table where it lay unnoticed several inches from either woman’s foot.

  “Sorry, Jodie, meeting two such lovely ladies made me clumsy.” He chuckled.

  She grinned at him. “No harm done. I’m not hurt.”

  “Okay, then, you go get on that stage. Want your usual French Vanilla cappuccino?”

  “You bet. Make it a large one, with a croissant, please.”

  “It’ll be on the house,” he informed her. “That’s incentive for you.”

  “Gee, thanks!” she exclaimed.

  “My treat. Nice to meet you ladies.”

  “It is for us the same,” Cara purred. She glanced at Jodie, much less suspicious now. “So you write poetry. I will enjoy listening to it.”

  Jodie chuckled. “I’m not great, but people here are generally kind. Good to see you.”

  Cara shrugged. The other woman said nothing.

  Jodie pulled off her coat and went up onto the stage, trying to ignore her shaking knees. Meanwhile she prayed that Alexander could hear what the two women were saying. Because the minute she pulled the microphone closer, introduced herself, and pulled out the folded sheet of paper that contained her poem, Cara leaned toward the other woman and started speaking urgently.

  Probably exchanging fashion tips, or some such thing, Jodie thought dismally, but she smiled at the crowd, unfolded the paper, and began to read.

  Apparently her efforts weren’t too bad, because the small crowd paid attention to every line of the poem. And when she finished reading it, there was enthusiastic applause.

  Cara and her friend, however, were much too intent on conversation to pay Jodie any attention. She went back to her seat, ate her croissant and drank her cappuccino with her back to the table where Cara and the other woman were sitting, just to make sure they knew she wasn’t watching them.

  A few minutes later, Johnny came by her table and patted her on the back. “That was some good work, girl!” he exclaimed. “I’m sorry your friend didn’t seem to care enough to listen to it.”

  “She’s not into poetry,” she confided.

  “I guess not. She and that odd-looking friend of hers didn’t even finish their coffee.”

  “They’re gone?” she asked without turning.

  He nodded. “About five minutes ago, I guess. No great loss, if you ask me.”

  “Thanks for the treat, Johnny, and for the encouragement,” she added.

  “Um, I sure would like to have a copy of that poem.”

  Her eyes widened. “You would? Honestly?”

  He shrugged. “It was really good. I know this guy. He works for a small press. They publish poetry. I’d like to show it to him. If you don’t mind.”

  “Mind!” She handed him the folded paper. “I don’t mind! Thanks, Johnny!”

  “No problem. I’ll be in touch.” He turned, and then paused, digging into his apron pocket. “Say, is this yours? I’m afraid I may have stepped on it. It was under that table where your friend was sitting.”

  “Yes, it’s mine,” she said, taking it from him. “Thanks a lot.”

  He winced. “If I broke it, I’ll buy you a new one, okay?”

  “It’s just a pen,” she said with determined carelessness. “No problem.”

  “You wait, I’ll call you a cab.”

  “That would be great!”

  She settled back to wait, her head full of hopeful success, and not only for Alexander.

  “Is it broken?” she asked Alexander when she was back at her apartment, and he was examining his listening device.

  “I’ll have the lab guys check it out,” he told her.

  “Could you hear anything?”

  He grinned hugely. “Not only did I hear plenty, I taped it. We’ve got a lead we’d never have had without you. There’s just one bad thing.”

  “Oh?”

  “Cara thinks your poetry stinks,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

  “She can think what she likes, but Johnny’s showing it to a publisher friend of his. He thought it was wonderful.”

  He searched her face. “So did I, Jodie.”

  She felt a little nervous, but certainly he couldn’t have known that he was the subject of it, so she just thanked him offhandedly.

  “Now I’m sure I’m cut out for espionage,” she murmured.

  “You may be, but I don’t know if my nerves could take it.”

  “You thought I’d mess up,” she guessed.

  He shook his head, holding her hand firmly in his. “It wasn’t that. I don’t like having you at risk, Jodie. I don’t want you on the firing line ever again, even if you did save my skin last night.”

  She searched his green eyes hungrily. “I wouldn’t want to live in a world that didn’t contain you, too,” she said. Then, backtracking out of embarrassment, she laughed and added, “I really couldn’t live without the aggravation.”

  He laughed, as he was meant to. “Same here.” He checked his watch. “I don’t want to go,” he said unexpectedly, “but I’ve got to get back to my office and go through this tape. Tomorrow, I’ll be in conference with my drug unit. You pretend that nothing at all was amiss, except you saw Cara at your favorite evening haunt. Right?”

  “Right,” she assured him.

  “I’ll call you.”

  “That’s what they all say,” she said dryly.

  He paused at the door and looked at her. “Who?” “Excuse me?”

  “Who else is promising to call you?” he persisted.

  “The president, for my advice on his foreign policy, of course,” she informed him.

  He laughed warmly. “Incorrigible,” he said to himself, winked at her, and let himself out. “Lock it!” he called through it.

  She snicked the lock audibly and heard him chuckle again. She leaned back against the door with a relieved sigh. It was over. She’d done what he asked her, and she hadn’t fouled it up. Most of all, he was pleased with her.

  She was amazed at the smiles she got from him in recent weeks. He’d always been reserved, taciturn, with most other people. But he enjoyed her company and it showed.

  The next day, Brody seemed very preoccupied. She took dictation, which he gave haltingly, and almost absently.

  “Are you okay?” she w
anted to know.

  He moved restively around his office. He turned to stare at her curiously. “Are you involved in some sort of top secret operation or something?”

  Her eyes popped. “Pardon?”

  He cleared his throat. “I know you were at a coffeehouse where Cara went last night with a friend. I wondered if you were spying on her…?”

  “I go to The Beat all the time, Brody,” she told him, surprised. “Alexander’s idea of an evening out is a concert or the theater, but my tastes run to bad poetry and bongos. I’ve been going there for weeks. It’s no secret. The owner knows me very well.”

  He relaxed suddenly and smiled. “Thank goodness! That’s what Cara told me, of course, but it seemed odd that you’d be there when she was. I mean, like you and your boyfriend showed up at the restaurant where we had lunch that day, and then you were at the concert, too. And your friend does work for the DEA…”

  “Coincidences,” she said lazily. “That’s all. Unless you think I’ve been following you,” she added with deliberate emphasis, demurely lowering her eyes.

  There was a long, shocked pause. “Why, I never thought…considered…really?”

  She crossed her legs. “I think you’re very nice, Brody, and Cara treats you like a pet dog,” she said with appropriate indignation. She peered at him covertly. “You’re too good for her.”

  He was obviously embarrassed, flattered, and uncertain. “My gosh…I’m sorry, but I knew about Cobb working for the DEA, and then the drug bust came so unexpectedly. Well, it seemed logical that he might be spying on Cara with your help…”

  “I never dreamed that I looked like a secret agent!” she exclaimed, and then she chuckled. “As if Alexander would ever trust me with something so dangerous,” she added, lowering her eyes so that he couldn’t see them.

  He sighed. “Forgive me. I’ve had these crazy theories. Cara thought I was nuts, especially after she told me the owner of that coffeehouse knew you very well and encouraged you to read…well…very bad poetry. She thought maybe he had a case on you.”

  “It was not bad poetry! And he had a case on Cara, not me,” she replied with just the right amount of pique.

  “Did he!”

  “I told him she was your girlfriend, don’t worry,” she said, and managed to sound regretful.

  “Jodie, I’m very flattered,” he faltered.

  She held up a hand. “Let’s not talk about it, Brody, okay? You just dictate, and I’ll write.”

  He sighed, studying her closely. After a minute, he shrugged, and began dictating. This time, he was concise and relaxed. Jodie felt like collapsing with relief, herself. It had been a close call, and not even because Cara was suspicious. It was Brody who seemed to sense problems.

  10

  It was a relief that Cara didn’t suspect Jodie of spying, but it was worrying that Brody did. He was an intelligent man, and it wouldn’t be easy to fool him. She’d have to mention that to Alexander when she saw him.

  He came by the apartment that evening, soon after Jodie got home from work, taciturn and worried.

  “Something happened,” she guessed uneasily.

  He nodded. “Got any coffee?”

  “Sure. Come on into the kitchen.”

  He sat down and she poured him a cup from the pot full she’d just made. He sipped it and studied her across the table. “Kennedy came back to town today. He’s Cara’s contact.”

  “Oh, dear,” she murmured, sensing that something was very wrong.

  He nodded. “I called him into my office and told him I was firing him, and why. I have sworn statements from two witnesses who are willing to testify against him in return for reduced sentences.” He sighed. “He said that he knew you were involved, that you’d helped me finger Cara, and that he’d tell her if I didn’t back down.”

  “Don’t feel bad about it,” she said, mentally panicking while trying not to show it. “You couldn’t let him stay, after what he did.”

  He looked at her blankly. “You’re a constant surprise to me, Jodie. How did you know I wouldn’t back down?”

  She smiled gently. “You wouldn’t be Alexander if you let people bluff you.”

  “Yes, baby, but he’s not bluffing.”

  The endearment caught her off guard, made her feel warm inside, warm all over. “So what do we do now?” she asked, a little disconcerted.

  He noted her warm color and smiled tenderly. “You go live with Margie for a few days, until I wrap up this case. Our cover’s blown now for sure.”

  “Margie can shoot a gun, but she’s not all that great at it, Alexander,” she pointed out.

  “Our foreman, Chayce, is, and so is cousin Derek,” he replied. “He was involved in national security work when he was just out of college. He’s a dead shot, and he’ll be bringing his two brothers with him.” He chuckled. “Funny. All I had to say was that Margie might be in danger along with you, and he volunteered at once.”

  “You don’t like him,” she recalled.

  He shrugged. “I don’t like the idea of Margie getting involved with a cousin. But Derek seemed to know that, too, and he told me something I didn’t know before when I phoned him. He wasn’t my uncle’s son. His mother had an affair with an old beau and he was the result. It was a family secret until last night. Which means,” he added, “that he’s only related to us by marriage, not by blood.”

  “He told you himself?” she asked.

  “He told me. Apparently, he told you, too. But he didn’t tell Margie.”

  “Have you?” she wondered.

  “That’s for him to do,” he replied. “I’ve interfered enough.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got to go. I have a man watching the apartment,” he added. “The one I told you about. But tomorrow, you tell Brody you’re taking a few days off to look after a sick relative and you go to Margie. Got that?”

  “But my job…!”

  “It’s your life!” he shot back, eyes blazing. “This is no game. These people will kill you as surely as they killed those children. I am not going to watch you die, Jodie. Least of all for something I got you into!”

  She caught her breath. This was far more serious than she’d realized.

  “I told you,” he emphasized, “Cara knows you were involved. The secret’s out. You leave town. Period.”

  She stared at him and knew she was trapped. Her job was going to be an afterthought. They’d fire her. She was even afraid to take a day off when she was sick, because the company policy in her department was so strict.

  “If you lose that job, it will be a blessing,” Alexander told her flatly. “You’re too good to waste your life taking somebody else’s dictation. When this is over, I’ll help you find something better. I’ll take you to classes so that you can get your expert computer certification, then I’ll get an employment agency busy to find you a better job.”

  That was a little disappointing. Obviously he didn’t have a future with her in mind, or he wouldn’t be interested in getting her a job.

  He leaned back in his chair, sipping coffee. “Although,” he added suddenly, his gaze intent, “there might be an alternative.”

  “An alternative?”

  “We’ll talk about that later,” he said. He finished his coffee. “I have to go.”

  She got up and walked him to the door. “You be careful, too,” she chided.

  He opened his jacket and indicated the .45 automatic in its hand-tooled leather holster.

  “It won’t shoot itself,” she reminded him pertly.

  He chuckled, drew her into his arms, and kissed her until her young body ached with deep, secret longings.

  He lifted his head finally, and he wasn’t breathing normally. She felt the intensity of his gaze all the way to her toes as he looked at her. “All these years,” he murmured, “and I wasted them sniping at you.”

  “You seemed to enjoy it at the time,” she remarked absently, watching his mouth hover over hers.

  “I didn’t want a ma
rriage like my parents had. I played the field, to keep women from getting serious about me,” he confessed. He traced her upper lip with his mouth, with breathless tenderness. “Especially you,” he added roughly. “No one else posed the threat you did, with your old-fashioned ideals and your sterling character. But I couldn’t let you see how attracted to you I was. I did a pretty good job. And then you had too much champagne at a party and did what I’d been afraid you’d do since you graduated from high school.”

  “You were afraid…?”

  He nibbled her upper lip. “I knew that if you ever got close, I’d never be able to let you go,” he whispered sensuously. “What I spouted to Margie was a lot of hot air. I ached from head to toe after what we did together. I wanted you so badly, honey. I didn’t sleep all night thinking about how easy it would have been.”

  “I didn’t sleep thinking that you hated me,” she confessed.

  He sighed regretfully. “I didn’t know you’d overheard me, but I said enough when I left you at your bedroom. I felt guilty when I went downstairs and saw your face. You were shamed and humiliated, and it was my fault. I only wanted a chance to make amends, but you started backing away and you wouldn’t stop. That was when I knew what a mistake I’d made.”

  She toyed with his shirt button. “And then you needed help to catch a drug smuggler,” she mused.

  There was a pause long enough to make her look up. “You’re good, Jodie, and I did need somebody out of the agency to dig out that information for me. But…”

  “But?”

  He smiled sheepishly. “Houston P.D. owes me a favor. They’d have been glad to get the information for me. So would the Texas Rangers, or the county sheriff.”

  “Then why did you ask me to do it?” she exclaimed.

  His hands went to frame her face. They felt warm and strong against her soft skin. “I was losing you,” he whispered as he bent again to rub his lips tenderly over her mouth. “You wouldn’t let me near you any other way.”

  His mouth was making pudding of her brain. She slid her arms up around his neck and her hands tangled in the thick hair above his nape. “But there was Kirry…”

  “Window dressing. I didn’t even like her, especially by the time my birthday rolled around. I gave Margie hell for inviting her to my birthday party, did she tell you?”