Books By Diana Palmer

by Palmer, Diana

  "When they catch those two men, I'll have to go home."

  He frowned slightly. He didn't want to think about that, either. It made him feel empty. The past few days with her here had been magic, and not just because they'd become lovers. He enjoyed being with her.

  "You'll probably be glad," she said, trying to brighten up. "No more lingerie drying in the bathroom, no more shoes under the couch...."

  "That isn't quite true," he said. "I'll miss you. I think you'll miss me, too. But we adjusted to being apart a long time ago."

  She searched his eyes. "You mean, just after you got shot and I took care of you."

  He nodded. “We were almost this close then, until I made a dead set at you and scared you off."

  She smiled tenderly. "I'm not scared anymore," she reminded him, and her face colored.

  He moved closer, pulling her against him. His head bent over hers and he rocked her gently. "It has to end," he said bitterly. "I told you, I don't want commitment."

  Her arms slid under his and she lay her cheek on his broad chest, against his warm white shirtfront. She didn't argue because there was no use. She drew in a breath, savoring every second she had with him. The memories would be sweet, at least. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"

  He stiffened. "I want that," he said huskily. "But, no. It will only make it worse when you have to leave."

  "That's like not driving a car because it will be irritating when it breaks down."

  He chuckled despite himself. "I suppose so." He lifted his head. "It isn't a good idea to get any closer than we already have," he said finally. "It's going to hurt like hell as it is."

  She started to speak, but he put his thumb over her lips.

  "I know you think you love me," he said. "That will pass, once you're back in your own apartment and resuming your own life. This will seem like a bad dream."

  "Last night won't," she replied.

  "I know." He kissed her forehead with breathless tenderness. "But it was only one night. You'll forget, in time."

  "Will you?"

  He let her go and stretched, pretending he didn't hear her. "Who cooks, and what?" he asked. "I feel like a hamburger. Several hamburgers," he amended. "That slice of pizza at lunch wasn't filling."

  "Hamburgers it is. I'll cook," she volunteered.

  "You always cook. That isn't fair division of labor."

  "It is, considering how you cook hamburgers," she said under her breath as she went toward the kitchen.

  "Female chauvinism."

  "Contradiction in terms."

  He made a huffy sound and went into the bedroom to change.

  She made hamburgers and sliced some Swiss cheese to go on them, along with chives and onions and mustard and mayonnaise. Dane stared at his suspiciously when she put it before him.

  "Try it before you say terrible things about it," she coaxed.

  He narrowed one eye and glared at it. Eventually, he picked it up and tasted it, and his eyebrows arched. "Different," he said.

  "Kit taught me," she said. "She learned from her boss."

  "The office has missed them," Dane said dryly as he washed down bites of hamburger with rich black coffee. “Logan Deverell is one of my biggest accounts. His mother, Tansy, keeps me in the black."

  She laughed. "She's a wild woman, isn't she? Always into something, mostly trouble. We spend a lot of time looking for her. Mr. Deverell worries too much."

  "Not really," he mused. "Not since she got arrested in Mexico for drug trafficking."

  "But she wasn't," she argued. "She bought a colorful purse from a vendor who mistook her for a mule."

  "Mistaken identity has landed saner people than Tansy in jail," he reminded her. "If Logan could tie her to a post, he'd stop worrying."

  "Yes, but we'd lose his business," she pointed out.

  "Perish the thought."

  "I miss having lunch with Kit," she sighed. She glanced at him. "She'd have a flying fit if she knew we were living together."

  "We aren't," he pointed out.

  "We are so. Temporarily, anyway," she replied.

  He finished his hamburger and made himself another one. This time he sliced onions and spread mustard on one bun and catsup on another.

  "Purist," she muttered.

  "I'm conventional," he explained as he sat down again. "I like a downtown hamburger."

  She laughed. Her gray eyes sparkled as she looked at him, so enthralled by the sight of him across a table that she couldn't hide it. Even in an old T-shirt and jeans, he was something to see.

  "I don't guess we could go down to the ranch for the weekend?" she asked wistfully.

  He shook his head, his eyes wary. "We can't risk it."

  "Because of the drug dealers." She nodded.

  "No, Tess," he replied quietly. "Because we've been lovers. Beryl isn't blind. The way we look at each other would give the show away."

  "Oh."

  "She's old-fashioned in her attitudes." He grimaced at her blush.

  "I know. So are you. So am I, for that matter." His eyes darkened.“And despite that, it made me feel ten feet tall to know I was the first. I'll treasure that night as long as I live."

  "So will I," she said softly, searching his eyes. "You said you'd never been tender with anyone. But you were patient and gentle, and I know you didn't feel like being that way. You wanted me very badly."

  "I wanted to cherish you," he said huskily. "I wanted to give you a sweet memory, something to wipe out the fear I'd kindled in you the first time I kissed you." He shrugged. "Maybe I wanted to know if I was capable of tenderness, as well."

  She cleared her throat. "I don't think there's much doubt about that anymore," she said demurely.

  His eyes softened as he looked at her. "You were everything I used to dream you would be," he said quietly. "Soft and loving, gently abandoned in my arms. I exhausted you because I couldn't manage to stop. I couldn't get enough of you."

  She colored, remembering. She wrapped her hands around her coffee cup and sipped the hot black liquid. She met his eyes evenly. "I'm not sorry," she said. "Not if I died of it, I wouldn't be sorry!"

  His jaw tautened. He had to drag his gaze back to his hamburger. He could have said the same to her, but he was getting aroused all over again. "I've got some work to do in the study. Can you amuse yourself?"

  "There's a National Geographic special on," she replied. "About lizards. I thought I'd watch it."

  His eyebrows arched. "Lizards?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know why, but I've always been fascinated by them. Especially the Komodo dragons. Have you seen pictures of them? They're huge, and they have forked tongues...."

  "And a very well developed Jacobsen's organ," he added, smiling at her surprise. "They interest me, too. So does most wildlife."

  "You like cattle and horses. I guess wildlife is wildlife," she mused.

  “I’d have liked taking you back to the ranch," he confessed, searching her face quietly. "But Beryl would make you feel uncomfortable."

  She looked down at the empty plate. "Is there such a thing as happily ever after these days?" she asked.

  "For some people, maybe. I can't forget how my marriage failed, Tess. Maybe it never had a chance, but in the beginning, things were bright for Jane and me. Somewhere along the way, we stopped caring about each other." He looked up. "There aren't any guarantees. If I could give you a child, I might think differently. But I can't. I don't think we could make it work. I'm afraid to take the chance, can you understand that?"

  "You think I'm too young," she sighed. Her eyes coveted him shyly. "I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted. I loved you when I was nineteen, and I love you now." She smiled sadly. "How do I stop, Dane?"

  His teeth clenched. He couldn't handle questions like that. He swallowed the last of his coffee and put the mug down. “Leave the dishes," he said as he rose. "I'll take care of them, since you did the cooking."

  "I don't mind...."

  "This
is my apartment," he reminded her coolly. "I'm used to doing dishes. And cooking. I've lived alone for years."

  He went off in the general direction of the study and she got up after a minute and cleared things away.

  "You really must feel like you have a shadow," Helen remarked a couple of days later at work. "Dane never takes his eyes off you, and if he has to be out of the office, it's Adams or me or Nick. You poor thing, I know you'll be glad when this is finally over. Living with Dane must be pure hell. It's a good thing you don't have a social life, or you'd be screaming."

  Tess controlled her expression, just barely. "I suppose so."

  "Dane would have been your stepbrother, wouldn't he?" Helen asked. “Everyone knows that your respective parents were going to be married. I don't suppose it feels funny to you at all, being that close to him. After all, he's almost family."

  She murmured her agreement, but it was a lie. Dane wasn't family. He was the light of her life, except that she wanted something he didn't. She wanted marriage and togetherness. Dane was afraid that she'd turn out like Jane, harping on his inability to make her pregnant, making his life hell.

  She wouldn't, though. It was a disappointment, surely, that he couldn't give her a child, but it wasn't the end of the world. She cared about him too much. If it could be only the two of them for fifty years, she'd have leaped at the chance. She couldn't bear to even think of how life was going to be without him, now that she'd known him so intimately.

  He didn't seem to be having similar problems. If he was worried about their relationship, his expression gave nothing away. In the evenings, he was pleasant and kind, but he never looked at her too long or came too close. He spent most of his time in his study, working, and when he wasn't in there, he was in bed.

  Tess was alone these days at the apartment, and the distance between Dane and herself was growing. He was determined to put her out of his mind. She fought to keep the wonderful closeness they'd attained, but she did it with no help from him.

  "Tess, come in here a minute, please," he said the next morning, motioning her into his office.

  Nick Reed was in there, too, tall and blond and carelessly attractive. He was Helen's brother, an ex-FBI agent whom Dane had coaxed away from the government agency, and if Tess hadn't been so hopelessly in love with Dane, she'd have gotten weak-kneed every time she saw Nick. He had that kind of good looks. He smiled at her as she sat down on the sofa and waited for Dane to close the door.

  "We're going to force their hand," Dane told her abruptly. "Nick's been to see a man I got a tip about. He got some information we can use, and I had him deposit a few clues about your movements in the process. We're going to set you up, honey, and let the bad boys come after you."

  "Thanks," she sighed. "I always knew you loved me, really."

  Nick chuckled at what he thought was a joke. Dane didn't. His face closed up.

  "You'll be quite safe," Dane told her. "We're going to back you to the hilt, the whole damned staff and two off-duty cops. It's the only way I've been able to find that wouldn't give them the advantage. We can't sit and wait until they try for you again. It's too dangerous."

  "What do you want me to do?" she asked calmly.

  "First they shoot you, then they try to nab you, and you break free and evade them," Nick murmured. "Pity Dane won't let you on the staff, Tess, you're a natural."

  "Tell him, tell him," she muttered, pointing at Dane. "He thinks I'm hopeless at detective work."

  "Getting shot doesn't require ability as a detective," Dane informed her.

  "No, but getting away from a potential killer does," Nick told him. "Some of our best operatives wouldn't have been able to manage—"

  "Let's keep to the topic at hand," Dane said tersely, glaring at Nick. "Tess, this is what we want to do," he began.

  He told her when, where and how they were going to set the trap. She was afraid and nervous, but she reminded herself that she'd been both when she evaded the men in the first place. She could keep her head under fire. She knew that now. It would be all right.

  At least she'd be out of danger when it was over. She'd be out of Dane's life, too. He seemed to be in a hurry to accomplish that, even if she wasn't. What did they say about a quick cut being kindest in the long run? Maybe she could get her life back together when she was out of Dane's, but she'd never be the same without him. Nothing was going to change that.

  That weekend at the apartment, Dane was unusually restless. He couldn't sit still long enough to watch television.

  "Let's go out," he said tersely, glancing at her. "Put something on."

  "I've got something on," she began, indicating her jeans and T-shirt.

  "Then add a jacket and some sneakers to it. I feel like riding."

  "Where?"

  "At the ranch," he muttered. He saw her flush. "It's Beryl's day off," he told her. "Even so, we manage the facade in public. Helen actually asked me if I'd ease up on you. She thinks I've been giving you hell."

  "Haven't you?" she asked pertly.

  He turned away. "Come on. Sitting around here all day isn't going to do a thing for us."

  Probably not, since he wouldn't touch her, she thought bitterly. But a whole day in his company wasn't anything to sneer at. In the years to come, every minute would be a precious memory.

  She grabbed her denim jacket, slipped into her pink sneakers and followed him out the door.

  It was a cool day, and she was glad of the jacket when she and Dane rode across the lower part of his ranch, which lay along the boundary of the Big Spur. Her efforts to get on the horse had amused Dane, bringing a rare smile to his lips. The old mare he'd given her to ride was gentle, though, and after a while she felt quite at home on the animal. It wasn't nearly the ordeal she'd thought it would be, learning how to ride. She was enjoying it.

  She stared curiously at the red-coated cattle in the distance.

  “They're the same color as yours," she remarked, nodding toward them. "Are they the same breed?"

  "Santa Gertrudis," he agreed. He eased back in the saddle, grimacing a little.

  "Is your back all right?" she asked with concern.

  He glance at her with a wry smile. "It was until a few nights ago."

  She actually gasped out loud.

  He chuckled helplessly. "My God."

  "Do you mind?" she asked breathlessly, her color flaring.

  "My back is all right," he assured her "A little stiff, but it gets that way from routine work. I can assure you," he added in a soft tone, "that I'd much rather have a stiff back from what we did together than from going on stakeout."

  She cleared her throat. "I see."

  "Coward. You were the one who brought it up last time." He caught her hand in his and brought it to his mouth. "Thank you for the gift you gave me that night."

  She really colored then. She couldn't manage words.

  He stopped his horse, and hers, and clasped her hand against him until she looked his way.

  "I felt like a whole man," he said slowly. "Even if I couldn't give you a child."

  She winced. "Dane, a child isn't the only reason two people marry."

  "Perhaps not," he said wearily. "But it can destroy a marriage." His face went hard. "God knows, it destroyed mine."

  "I'm not Jane!" she cried.

  He looked at her hungrily. "There's no doubt about that," he said quietly. "She could barely suffer having me in bed." His high cheekbones went ruddy. "You didn't, though. My God, you..." He couldn't even find the words. He pressed his mouth hard into her palm, his eyes closed on an anguished scowl. "I've never had it like that," he said in a rough tone.

  She flushed, too, at the unfamiliar emotion in his deep voice. "I thought it was always good for the man."

  His dark eyes caught hers. "I all but passed out in your arms," he said huskily. "Just thinking about how it was arouses me."

  Her lips parted. It aroused her, too. She sensed his vulnerability, and just for an instant she thought h
e might be weakening.

  The sudden sound of approaching horses distracted him, too soon. He let go of her hand and his eyes narrowed under the wide brim of his hat.

  "Two peas in a pod," he mused, watching two tall riders approach.

  Tess shaded her eyes. "Who are they?"

  "Cole Everett and King Brannt." He kicked his boot out of the stirrup and looped his leg around his saddle horn while he lit a cigarette. He grinned as the two men galloped up beside him and stopped. He knew they'd seen him with Tess and had moved in for a better look. It was, as they knew, unusual for him to bring a woman to the ranch.

  "Nice day," the older of the two remarked, his narrow silvery eyes appraising Tess's flushed face.

  "Good weather, too," the other man agreed, his dark eyes twin-kling in a lean, formidable countenance.

  "Her name is Teresa Meriwether," Dane told them with exaggerated patience. "Tess for short. Her father was going to marry my mother until the wreck, so she's...family. She's my secretary at the agency."

  Cole Everett pushed back his creamy Stetson and eyed Dane curiously, his silver eyes quiet and steady. "Do tell." He glanced at Tess. "Nice to meet you," he said, smiling. He had a warm smile, not sarcastic or mocking.

  "Same here," King Brannt agreed. He was pleasant enough, but he had a cutting edge to his personality that intimidated Tess. She smiled shyly in his direction, wondering absently how his Shelby had ever gotten up enough nerve to marry such a wildcat.

  Everett, too, had an untamed look, but he was older than the other two men, graying at the temples.

  "How's Heather?" Dane asked Cole. "Still teaching voice?"

  "And writing songs," Cole replied. "She sold one last year to a group called Desperado, based up in Wyoming, and their lead singer won another Grammy with it. Heather was over the moon. So were our boys." He chuckled. "They're just at the age where they like pop music."

  "My kids like it, too," King mused. "Dana's got a keyboard and Matt has drums." He held a hand to his ear. "Shelby spends a lot of time working in the kitchen garden while they practice. They're all in high school. His three hang out with my two," he muttered, glaring at Cole. "God knows, I'll go insane one day and start howling at the moon from the noise."