Diana Palmer Collected 1-6. Diana Palmer
J.D. forever, of finding another job and getting on with her life.
At last she reached the front of the terminal and stepped out into the breezy night air that carried the sound of distant car horns and city smells that had become so familiar. There was no cab in sight, but Gabby wasn’t daunted. She’d just call one.
“Come on,” J.D. said tersely, appearing just behind her. “I’ll drive you.”
She glared at him. “I’d rather be mugged.”
“You might be, at this hour, alone,” he said matter-of-factly. “What’s the matter, afraid of me?” he taunted.
She was; he’d made her afraid. But she was too proud to let him see how much.
After a minute, she turned and followed him toward the parking lot. A little later, they were winding their way back into Chicago.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” he asked.
She knew instinctively what he meant. “Yes. I’m going to try to find a job in the IT field. I like working with computers.”
He glanced toward her. “I thought you enjoyed legal work. It’s too bad, to let that paralegal training go to waste.”
“I’m tired of legal work,” she said noncommittally. What she meant was that she couldn’t take the risk of running into J.D. accidentally after she’d quit. It would be too painful.
He shrugged, driving calmly. “It’s your life. You’d better call that agency Monday morning and have them send over some applicants. I’ll let Dick do the interviewing this time,” he added with a cold laugh.
Her fingers clenched on her purse. She stared out of the window at the river.
“No comment?” he prodded.
“About what?” she asked indifferently.
He sighed. One more turn and he pulled the car into a parking spot in front of her apartment building.
She got out and waited for him to get her carry-on bag. “Don’t bother walking me up,” she said.
He glared down at her. “I wasn’t aware that I’d offered.”
Her anger exploded. “I hate you,” she said in a venomous whisper.
“Yes, I know you do,” he said with a cold smile.
She whirled on her heel and started toward the door of the building.
“Gabby,” he called curtly.
She stopped with her hand on the door, but didn’t turn. “What?”
“You’ll work a two-week notice. Every day of it. Or I’ll make sure you don’t work again. Clear?”
She’d been thinking about not showing up at all on Monday. But when she turned and saw his eyes, she realized, not for the first time, what a formidable adversary he made. She hated to give in, but the necessity of finding a new job made her do so gracefully.
“Why, Mr. Brettman, I wouldn’t miss a minute of it,” she said with sweet mockery. “See you Monday.”
The last thing she felt like doing Monday morning was going into the office. To make things worse, her shoulder was aching like mad. But that didn’t stop Gabby. She put on a beige suit with a brightly colored blouse, pinned up her hair, and went to work. Might as well get it over with, she told herself. She’d go back to the office, work out her notice, and get another job. Sure. Simple.
Explaining that to her mother back home in Lytle, Texas, had not been quite so simple.
“But I thought you loved your job!” her mother had gasped. “Why are you quitting? Listen, Gabby, what’s happened?”
“Nothing, Mama,” she’d said quickly. “It’s just that Mr. Brettman may not be in Chicago much longer.” She lied on impulse. “You see, he has prospects in another area, and I don’t really want to relocate.”
“Where would he go?”
“Now, Mama,” she said, “you know I don’t like to pry into Mr. Brettman’s business.”
“That Mr. Dice, his partner, why couldn’t you still work for him?” her mother demanded gruffly. “Better yet, why don’t you come home and get married?”
Gabby chewed on her lip so that she wouldn’t say anything hasty. She had visions of her mother providing a groom, a minister and a loaded gun for motivation. It made her want to giggle, which would have infuriated her mother.
“Gabby, you aren’t in trouble?” her mother had added in a strange tone.
“No, Mama, I’m not in trouble. Now don’t get upset. It may all fall through anyway.”
“I like Mr. Brettman,” her mother said roughly. “That one time I met him when I visited you, he seemed like a nice man to me. Why does he want to move anyway? He isn’t getting married?”
“J.D.? Get married?” Gabby laughed mirthlessly. “That would make the world record books.”
“He’ll have to get married someday,” came the curt reply.
“Think so?” Already Gabby could picture him in fatigues rushing some stronghold with Shirt and Apollo. But she couldn’t tell her mother that!
“Of course. It happens to everybody. He’ll get tired of living alone someday. Your father did. That’s when I nabbed him.” Gabby could almost see her grin.
“Are you tired of living alone?” Gabby asked suddenly. It had been ten years since her father’s death. Yet her mother didn’t even date.
“I don’t live alone, baby. I live with my memories. I had the best man God ever made. I don’t want second best.”
“You’re just fussy,” Gabby said accusingly.
“Yes, I am. You’d be be fussy, too. Honey, think about coming home. That Chicago place is pretty big, and if Mr. Brettman isn’t going to be around, I’d worry about you.”
“I’ll think about it,” Gabby promised.
She hated thinking about it. It made her face the fact that she wouldn’t be seeing J.D. again. Whether or not he went back to the old life, he’d made it impossible for her to work for him anymore. He’d forced her into resigning, whether consciously or unconsciously. And now here she was losing her boss, her job, and her heart all in the space of three days. So little time to change so much of her future. It might have been better if she’d stayed behind and never known the truth about J.D.
When she got to the office, it was clear that J.D. had not yet come in. Richard Dice was sitting on her desk with his arms folded across his chest, looking murderous.
“Morning, Dick,” she said with a forced smile.
“Thank God you’re back.” He sighed. “That temporary girl didn’t work out, and the agency hasn’t called me about a replacement. Where’s J.D.?”
“Don’t ask me,” she replied, calmly shedding her jacket and putting her purse in the desk drawer. She tucked her glasses on top of her head while she searched through the calendar for appointments that had been made by both the temporary girl and herself.
“Didn’t he come back?” Dick persisted.
“Yes.” She stared at him. “You mean he hasn’t been in touch with you?”
“Not yet. Well?” he burst out. “What happened? How’s Martina? Did they pay the ransom?”
“You’re chock-full of questions.” She sighed in turn. “Yes, Martina’s