Diana Palmer Hutton & Co 05 Desperado

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assumed she was out of town. She hadn't been able to find anyone who knew where she was. The
tragedy didn't reveal itself until Cord was released from the hospital, and he'd found her body. It had
changed him terribly. After that, he quit the FBI and took freelance jobs that most other mercenaries
wouldn't have touched-mostly involving demolitions. He was an expert at defusing bombs.
He felt her inner turmoil. "You don't like what I do for a living, do you?" he asked.
"No," she said honestly.
She stopped for a red light and he studied her stoic expression. "I've never thought seriously about
giving it up.
Those adrenaline rushes are addictive. The greater the danger, the bigger the rush."
"I noticed that myself." She laughed shortly. "But you've never been family man material."
He frowned. "Why do you say that?"
"I can see it now, you, with a wife and baby, rushing off to defuse a ticking bomb somewhere," she
said with no real mirth. "I don't think there's a sane woman on earth who could live with that sort of
uncertainty. It would kill a marriage at the outset."
He was silent while they waited for the light to change. His lean, strong fingers traced the dash
absently. "I've never thought about my job in that light."
"No reason to," she said easily. "You have no one to consider except yourself. You can do what you
please without worrying about anyone else's reactions."
His eyes narrowed as he looked at her averted face. She was speaking conversationally, but her body
was giving away secrets. She was rigid. Her hands were tightly clenched in her lap, the nails biting
into her palms. It occurred to him that she'd known about some of his more dangerous exploits, and
that she'd worried about him-worried a lot. He thought he didn't have to consider her feelings, but if
she cared about him, certainly she'd brood on the dangerous chances he took. He reversed their
positions and thought how he'd react if Maggie defused bombs and took mercenary jobs in high risk
cases. Amazing, how sick it made him.
He noticed that the light had changed. She stepped on the gas a little too heavily, jerking the car. He
was thrown off balance by his worried thoughts and barely kept from pitching forward against the
seat belt.
"Sorry," she said tersely.
Cord never made ungraceful movements. She wondered what he'd been thinking to unsettle him.
Probably about Patricia, she thought miserably. Poor Patricia, who'd loved him, too.
When they got to the Lassiter-Deverell Building, Cord walked beside Maggie into the elevator,
sunglasses in place and holding her arm as if he needed it to guide him. He stood beside her without
speaking as they rode up to her floor. His lack of conversation made her uneasy. He was brooding.
They got off on her floor and walked down the deserted hall to the wooden door with a brass plate
announcing that this was the office of Deverell Investments.
"Thanks for coming in with me," she began.
He touched her cheek gently. "There's an old saying, about not judging people until we've walked in
their shoes," he said out of the blue. "I've gone through life without considering how I affected other
peoples' lives with my actions."
"We just agreed that you didn't need to," she pointed out.
His face was drawn. "How many sleepless nights have you spent over the years, worrying about me?"
Her eyebrows shot up. "I'll have to check my diary," she said lightly.
His fingertips went to her mouth and traced the upper lip. "I wish you wouldn't wear red lipstick," he
murmured quietly. "If I kiss you, they'll think I landed the lead in Cabaret."
Her heart skipped wildly. "What did you drink for breakfast?" she asked wryly.
"Coffee, just like you." His fingers didn't move. He scowled at her mouth with visible curiosity, with a
growing hunger to bend and catch her lips under his. He felt his breath choking him as he recalled
unwanted memories of her soft breast under his lips, her faint moans like music to his ears...
He jerked his hand back and looked more formidable than ever. "I could retire on what I've got in the
bank," he said absently. "Demolition work isn't much more than a hobby these days. I like breeding
purebred bulls."
"Are we having the same conversation?" she asked. "We were talking about coffee, as I recall?" she
prompted.
He smiled at her, with genuine warmth. It made his eyes soft, crinkly at the corners. It made his hard
mouth look sensuous.
"You look elegant with your hair in a braid," he remarked, "but I like it long and soft around your
shoulders."
"I work here," she pointed out. "I don't want to divert the clients by flaunting my sexy hair. Think of
the complications if I had to toss someone out the window for getting fresh over AT&T preferred!"
He chuckled deeply. "You don't resort to those methods with me."
She shrugged. "You're special."
The smile faded. His eyes darkened, as if the glib remark touched a sensitive spot. "So are you," he
said in a rough, husky tone. "More special than I ever knew."
"Stop it," she chided, trying to ward off more complications. "You'll make me blush."
He bent unexpectedly and brushed his lips tenderly over her eyelids, closing them in a flutter of long
lashes.
"You don't leave the office unless someone goes with you," he whispered. "You wait for me to come
and get you when you get off work. I'll have Davis drive me, to make it look good. If anything
happens in between that worries you, you call Lassiter's office or you call me. Or else."
"Or else what?" she asked huskily.
"Or I'll carry you down to the car and take you home right now." He lifted his head to search her
misty eyes.
"Considering the state I'm in just at the moment, that might not be my best idea to date."
"The state you're in?" she murmured drowsily.
He glanced up and down the hall, found it deserted, took her by the waist and gently pulled her against
him.
"This state." He smiled ruefully.
She jerked her hips back from his and a film of color lay along her high cheekbones.
He shrugged. "Think of it as an unavoidable response to an attractive woman," he murmured with
helpless pride.
"More likely, it's a response to enforced abstinence!" she shot back.
His eyebrows lifted. "How do you know I've abstained?"
She colored even more. "Your private life is none of my business!" she muttered, glaring up at him. "I
don't care how many women you have sex with! You can sleep with every woman in the building for
all I care, from the cleaning lady up!"
He was suddenly looking over her shoulder with unholy amusement.
She groaned inwardly and turned. Logan Deverell was standing in the open office door with a
speaking glance.
Logan cleared his throat. "The, uh, cleaning lady is fifty-two, twice married," he remarked, "and she
only has three teeth..."
"Lead me to her," Cord enthused. "Experienced women turn me on!"
Maggie choked back laughter, dashed past Logan and shot into her own office with a speed that left
Cord chuckling merrily.
Cord was shown into Lassiter's office by the secretary. Dark-eyed, dark-headed Dane Lassiter rose
from behind his desk and moved around it with traces of a limp to shake hands.
"As you might notice," Lassiter said dryly, "I've had my own share of physical trauma. I let my
attention wander during a shootout when I was a Texas Ranger and got shot to pieces. I lost my job, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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