Hard to Handle

by Diana Palmer

  “It’s wonderful,” Jodie said.

  “I understand the Houston ballet is doing The Nutcracker starting in November,” Cara purred, smiling at Alexander. “If you like ballet, perhaps we will meet again.”

  “Perhaps we will,” Alexander replied. “Do you live in Houston, also, Miss Dominguez?”

  “Yes, but I travel a great deal,” she said with careless detachment. “My contacts are far reaching.”

  “She’s only just come back from Mexico,” Brody said with a nervous laugh.

  “Yes, I’ve been helping my mother move,” Cara said tightly. “After my father…died, she lost her home and had nowhere to go.”

  “I’m very sorry,” Jodie told her. “I lost my parents some years ago. I know how it feels.”

  Cara turned back to Brody. “We need to get back to our seats. Nice to have met you both,” she added with a social smile as she took Brody’s hand and drew him along with her. He barely had time to say goodbye.

  Alexander glanced down at Jodie. “Your boss looked shocked when I told him what I did.”

  She shook her head. “You told me never to do that, but you told them everything!”

  “I told them nothing Cara didn’t know already,” he said enigmatically. He slid his hand into hers and smiled secretively. “Let’s go back.”

  “It’s a very nice concert,” she commented.

  “Is it? I hate Debussy,” he murmured unsurprisingly.

  The comment kept her quiet until they were out of the theater and on their way back to her apartment in his car.

  “Why did you ask me out if you don’t like concerts?” she asked.

  He glanced at her. “I had my reasons. What do you think of your boss’s girlfriend?”

  “She’s nice enough. She leads Brody around like a child, though.”

  “Most women would,” he said lazily. “He’s not assertive.”

  “He certainly is,” she defended him. “He has to fire people.”

  “He’s not for you, Jodie, girlfriend or not,” he said surprisingly. “You’d stagnate in a relationship with him.”

  “It’s my life,” she pointed out.

  “So it is.”

  They went the rest of the way in silence. He walked her to her apartment door and stood staring down at her for a long moment. “Buy a new dress.”

  “Why?” she asked, surprised.

  “I’ll take you to see The Nutcracker next month. As I recall, it was one of your favorite ballets.”

  “Yes,” she stammered.

  “So I’ll take you,” he said. He checked his watch. “I’ve got a late call to make, and meetings the first of the week. But I’ll take you to lunch next Wednesday.”

  “Okay,” she replied.

  He reached out suddenly and drew her against him, hard. He held her there, probing her eyes with his until her lips parted. Then he bent and kissed her hungrily, twisting his mouth against hers until she yielded and gave him what he wanted. A long, breathless moment later, he lifted his head.

  “Not bad,” he murmured softly. “But you could use a little practice. Sleep well.”

  He let her go and walked away while she tried to find her voice. He never looked back once. Jodie stood at her door watching until he stepped into the elevator and the doors closed.

  She usually left at eleven-thirty to go to lunch, and Alexander knew it. But he was late the following Wednesday. She’d chewed off three of her long fingernails by the time he showed up. She was in the lobby where clients were met, along with several of her colleagues who were just leaving for lunch. Alexander came in, looking windblown and half out of humor.

  “I can’t make it for lunch,” he said at once. “I’m sorry. Something came up.”

  “That’s all right,” she said, trying not to let her disappointment show. “Another time.”

  “I’ll be out of town for the next couple of days,” he continued, not lowering his voice, “but don’t you forget my birthday party on Saturday. Call me from the airport and I’ll pick you up. If I’m not back by then, Margie will. All right?”

  Amazing how much he sounded as if he really wanted her to come. But she knew he was only putting on an act for the employees who were listening to him.

  “All right,” she agreed. “Have a safe trip. I’ll see you Saturday.”

  He reached out and touched her cheek tenderly. “So long,” he said, smiling. He walked away slowly, as if he hated to leave her, and she watched him go with equal reluctance. There were smiling faces all around. It was working. People believed they were involved, which was just what he wanted.

  Later, while Brody was signing the letters he’d dictated earlier, she wondered where Alexander was going that would keep him out of town for so long.

  “You look pensive,” Brody said curiously. “Something worrying you?”

  “Nothing, really,” she lied. “I was just thinking about Alexander’s birthday party on Saturday.”

  He sighed as he signed the last letter. “It must be nice to have a party,” he murmured. “I stopped having them years ago.”

  “Cara could throw one for you,” she suggested.

  He grimaced. “She’s not the least bit sentimental. She’s all business, most of the time, and she never seems to stop working. She’s on a trip to Arizona this week to try to land a new client.”

  “You’ll miss her, I’m sure,” Jodie said.

  He shrugged. “I’ll try to.” He flushed. “Sorry, that just popped out.”

  She smiled. “We all have our problems, Brody.”

  “Yes, I noticed that your friend, Cobb, hardly touches you, except when he thinks someone is watching. He must be one cold fish,” he added with disgust.

  Jodie flushed then, remembering Alexander’s ardor.

  He cleared his throat and changed the subject, and not a minute too soon.

  Jodie was doing housework in her apartment when the phone rang Saturday morning.

  “Jodie?” Margie asked gently.

  “Yes. How are you, Margie?” she asked, but not with her usual cheerful friendliness.

  “You’re still angry at me, aren’t you?” She sighed. “I’m so sorry for making you do all the cooking…”

  “I’m not angry,” Jodie replied.

  There was a long sigh. “I thought Kirry would help me arrange a showing of my designs at her department store,” she confessed miserably. “But that’s never going to happen. She only pretended to be my friend so that she could get to Alexander. I guess you know she’s furious because he’s been seen with you?”

  “She has nothing to be jealous about,” Jodie said coldly. “You can tell her so, for me. Was that all you wanted?”

  “Jodie, that’s not why I called!” Margie exclaimed. She hesitated. “Alexander wanted me to phone you and make sure you were coming to his birthday party.”

  “There’s no chance of that,” Jodie replied firmly.

  “But…but he’s expecting you,” Margie stammered. “He said you promised to come, but that I had to call you and make sure you showed up.”

  “Kirry’s invited, of course?” Jodie asked.

  “Well…well, yes, I assumed he’d want her to come so I invited her, too.”

  “I’m invited to make her jealous, I suppose.”

  There was a static pause. “Jodie, what’s going on? You won’t return my calls, you won’t meet me for lunch, you don’t answer notes. If you’re not mad at me, what’s wrong?”

  Jodie looked down at the floor. It needed mopping, she thought absently. “Alexander told you that he was sick of tripping over me every time he came back to the ranch, and that you were especially not to ask me to his birthday party.”

  There was a terrible stillness on the end of the line for several seconds. “Oh, my God,” Margie groaned. “You heard what he said that night!”

  “I heard every single word, Margie,” Jodie said tightly. “He thinks I’m still crazy about him, and it…disgusts him. He said I’m not in y
our social set and you should make friends among your own social circle.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “Maybe he’s right, Margie. The two of you took care of me when I had nobody else, but I’ve been taking advantage of it all these years, making believe that you were my family. In a way I’m grateful that Alexander opened my eyes. I’ve been an idiot.”

  “Jodie, he didn’t mean it, I know he didn’t! Sometimes he just says things without thinking them through. I know he wouldn’t hurt you deliberately.”

  “He didn’t know I could hear him,” she said. “I drank too much and behaved like an idiot. We both know how Alexander feels about women who get drunk. But I’ve come to my senses now. I’m not going to impose on your hospitality…”

  “But Alexander wants you to come!” Margie argued. “He said so!”

  “No, he doesn’t, Margie,” Jodie said wistfully. “You don’t understand what’s going on, but I’m helping Alexander with a case. He’s using me as a blind while he’s surveilling a suspect, and don’t you dare let on that you know it. It’s not personal between us. It couldn’t be. I’m not his sort of woman and we both know it.”

  Margie’s intake of breath was audible. “What am I going to tell him when you don’t show up?”

  “You won’t need to tell him anything,” Jodie said easily. “He isn’t expecting me. It was just for show. He’ll tell you all about it one day. Now I have to go, Margie. I’m working in the kitchen, and things are going to burn,” she added, lying through her teeth.

  “We could have lunch next week,” the other woman offered.

  “No. You need to find friends in your class, Margie. I’m not part of your family, and you don’t owe me anything. Now, goodbye!”

  She hung up and unplugged the phone in case Margie tried to call back. She felt sick. But severing ties with Margie was the right thing to do. Once Alexander was through with her, once he’d caught his criminal, he’d leave her strictly alone. She was going to get out of his life, and Margie’s, right now. It was the only sensible way to get over her feelings for Alexander.

  The house was full of people when Alexander went inside, carrying his bag on a shoulder strap.

  Margie met him at the door. “I’ll bet you’re tired, but at least you got here.” She chuckled, trying not to show her worry. “Leave your bag by the door and come on in. Everybody’s in the dining room with the cake.”

  He walked beside her toward the spacious dining room, where about twenty people were waiting near a table set with china and crystal, punch and coffee and cake. He searched the crowd and began to scowl.

  “I don’t see Jodie,” he said at once. “Where is she? Didn’t you phone her?”

  “Yes,” she groaned, “but she wouldn’t come. Please, Lex, can’t we talk about it later? Look, Kirry’s here!”

  “Damn Kirry,” he said through his teeth, glaring down at his sister. “Why didn’t she come?”

  She drew in a miserable breath. “Because she heard us talking the last time she was here,” she replied slowly. “She said you were right about her not being in our social class, and that she heard you say that the last thing you wanted was to trip over her at your birthday party.” She winced, because the look on his face was so full of pain.

  “She heard me,” he said, almost choking on the words. “Good God, no wonder she looked at me the way she did. No wonder she’s been acting so strangely!”

  “She won’t go out to lunch with me, she won’t come here, she doesn’t even want me to call her anymore,” Margie said sadly. “I feel as if I’ve lost my own sister.”

  His own loss was much worse. He felt sick to his soul. He’d never meant for Jodie to hear those harsh, terrible words. He’d been reacting to his own helpless loss of control with her, not her hesitant ardor. It was himself he’d been angry at. Now he understood why Jodie was so reluctant to be around him lately. It was ironic that he found himself thinking about her around the clock, and she was as standoffish as a woman who found him bad company when they were alone. If only he could turn the clock back, make everything right. Jodie, so sweet and tender and loving, Jodie who had loved him once, hearing him tell Margie that Jodie disgusted him…!

  “I should be shot,” he ground out. “Shot!”

  “Don’t. It’s your birthday,” Margie reminded him. “Please. All these people came just to wish you well.”

  He didn’t say another word. He simply walked into the room and let the congratulations flow over him. But he didn’t feel happy. He felt as if his heart had withered and died in his chest.

  That night, he slipped into his office while Kirry was talking to Margie, and he phoned Jodie. He’d had two straight malt whiskeys with no water, and he wasn’t quite sober. It had taken that much to dull the sharp edge of pain.

  “You didn’t come,” he said when she answered.

  She hadn’t expected him to notice. She swallowed, hard. “The invitation was all for show,” she said, her voice husky. “You didn’t expect me.”

  There was a pause. “Did you go out with Brody after all?” he drawled sarcastically. “Is that why you didn’t show up?”

  “No, I didn’t,” she muttered. “I’m not spending another minute of my life trying to fit into your exalted social class,” she added hotly. “Cheating wives, consciousless husbands, social climbing friends…that’s not my idea of a party!”

  He sat back in his chair. “You might not believe it, but it’s not mine, either,” he said flatly. “I’d rather get a fast food hamburger and talk shop with the guys.”

  That was surprising. But she didn’t quite trust him. “That isn’t Kirry’s style,” she pointed out.

  He laughed coldly. “It would become her style in minutes if she thought it would make me propose. I’m rich. Haven’t you noticed?”

  “It’s hard to miss,” she replied.

  “Kirry likes life in the fast lane. She wants to be decked out in diamonds and taken to all the most expensive places four nights a week. Five on holidays.”

  “I’m sure she wants you, too.”

  “Are you?”

  “I’m folding clothes, Alexander. Was there anything else?” she added formally, trying to get him to hang up. The conversation was getting painful.

  “I never knew that you heard me the night of our last party, Jodie,” he said in a deep, husky, pained sort of voice. “I’m more sorry than I can say. You don’t know what it was like when my mother had parties. She drank like a fish…”

  So Margie had told him. It wasn’t really a surprise. “I had some champagne,” she interrupted. “I don’t drink, so it overwhelmed me. I’m very sorry for the way I behaved.”

  There was another pause. “I loved it,” he said gruffly.

  Now she couldn’t even manage a reply. She just stared at the receiver, waiting for him to say something else.

  “Talk to me!” he growled.

  “What do you want me to say?” she asked unsteadily. “You were right. I don’t belong in your class. I never will. You said I was a nuisance, and you were ri—”

  “Jodie!” Her name sounded as if it were torn from his throat. “Jodie, don’t! I didn’t mean what I said. You’ve never been a nuisance!”

  “It’s too late,” she said heavily. “I won’t come back to the ranch again, ever, Alexander, not for you or even for Margie. I’m going to live my own life, make my own way in the world.”

  “By pushing us out of it?” he queried.

  She sighed. “I suppose so.”

  “But not until I solve this case,” he added after a minute. “Right?”

  She wanted to argue, but she kept seeing the little boys’ faces in that photograph he’d shown her. “Not until then,” she said.

  There was a rough sound, as if he’d been holding his breath and suddenly let it out. “All right.”

  “Alexander, where are you?!” That was Kirry’s voice, very loud.

  “In a minute, Kirry! I’m on the phone!”

  “We’re goi
ng to open the presents. Come on!”

  Jodie heard the sound Alexander made, and she laughed softly in spite of herself. “I thought it was your birthday?” she mused.

  “It started to be, but my best present is back in Houston folding clothes,” he said vehemently.

  Her heart jumped. She had to fight not to react. “I’m nobody’s present, Alexander,” she informed him. “And now I really do have to go. Happy birthday.”

  “I’m thirty-four,” he said. “Margie is the only family I have. Two of my colleagues just had babies,” he remarked, his voice just slightly slurred. “Their desks are full of photographs of the kids and their wives. Know what I’ve got in a frame on my desk, Jodie? Kirry, in a ball gown.”

  “I guess the married guys would switch places with you…”

  “That’s not what I mean! I didn’t put it there, she did. Instead of a wife and kids, I’ve got a would-be debutante who wants to own Paris.”

  “That was your choice,” she pointed out.

  “That’s what you think. She gave me the framed picture.” There was a pause. “Why don’t you give me a photo?”

  “Sure. Why not? Who would you like a photo of, and I’ll see if I can find one for you.”

  “You, idiot!”

  “I don’t have any photos of myself.”

  “Why not?”

  “Who’d take them?” she asked. “I don’t even own a camera.”

  “We’ll have to do something about that,” he murmured. “Do you like parks? We could go jogging early Monday in that one near where you live. The one with the goofy sculpture.”

  “It’s modern art. It isn’t goofy.”

  “You’re entitled to your opinion. Do you jog?”

  “Not really.”

  “Do you have sweats and sneakers?”

  She sighed irritably. “Well, yes, but…”

  “No buts. I’ll see you bright and early Monday.” There was a pause. “I’ll even apologize.”

  “That would be a media event.”

  “I’m serious,” he added quietly. “I’ve never regretted anything in my life more than knowing you heard what I said to Margie that night.”