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Minutes later, J.D. joined her, presumably to get his own things packed. He had slept downstairs with the men the night before, but his case was still in the bedroom. Gabby had considered packing for him, but she was nervous about antagonizing him any more.
She looked up from her suitcase when he closed the door. His face was still hard as granite, and his eyes glanced off hers coldly. He didn’t say a word as he began to fill the small bag on the chair across from the bed.
“Are you all right?’ she asked finally, when the silence became uncomfortable.
“Yes, I’m all right,” he said gruffly. “Are you?”
She shrugged and smiled wanly. “It was the experience of a lifetime.”
“Wasn’t it, though?” he asked curtly. His eyes blazed as he studied her flushed face.
“Why are you so angry?” she asked.
He dropped his eyes to the bag and shoved his combat fatigues into it. “What makes you think I am?”
“You’ve barely spoken to me since we came back.” She moved around the bed to stand beside him, her emotions in turmoil, her mind confused. She looked at his big body and remembered with staggering clarity how it looked without clothing, how it felt to be held by those hard arms and kissed by that mouth.
“Jacob, what have I done?” she asked softly, and touched his arm.
His hard muscles tensed beneath her touch, and when he looked down at her she had to fight the urge to back away.
“What the hell did you think you were playing at out there?” he asked coldly. “Didn’t you realize that the bullets weren’t blanks, that we weren’t acting out some scenario from a television show? You’re a dull little secretary, not a professional soldier, and if the force of the recoil hadn’t knocked you down, you’d have been killed, you stupid child!”
So that was it. Shirt had been right, his pride was hurt because Gabby had seen a threat and he hadn’t. “J.D., if I hadn’t shot him, he’d have killed you,” she said, trying to reason with him.
He slammed the bag back down. “Am I supposed to thank you?”
Her temper was blazing now, too. “Don’t strain yourself,” she told him icily. “And I am not a dull little secretary!”
“Don’t kid yourself,” he said, staring at her. “You aren’t Calamity Jane and you’re never likely to be. You’ll get married to some desk jockey and have a dozen kids.”
Her face paled and his eyes narrowed when he saw it. “What’s wrong, honey?” he taunted. “Were you expecting a proposal from me?”
She turned away. “I expect nothing from you.”
“Liar.” He caught her arm and swung her around. Seconds later, she was flat on her back on the bed and he was looming over her, holding her down.
“Let me up, Jacob!” she burst out, struggling.
He threw a long, powerful leg across hers and pinned her, his hands on her wrists. “Now fight,” he said coldly, “and see how far you get.”
She gave up finally and lay breathing heavily, glaring up at him. “What’s this supposed to prove, that you’re stronger than I am? Okay, I’m not arguing.”
His dark eyes wandered slowly over her body, lingering on the curves outlined by her tight jeans and the expanse of bare skin where her shirt had ridden up during the struggle. Her breath caught, because she wasn’t wearing a bra, and the hem of the garment was just below the curve of her breasts.
“I wanted you yesterday morning,” he said bluntly. “And if you hadn’t been a virgin, I’d have taken you. But you were just a body to me, so if you’ve been weaving me into your future, forget it.”
Her heart leaped in her chest. It was true, she had, but she couldn’t let him see just how involved she was emotionally. Very obviously, that wasn’t what he wanted from her.
“I haven’t asked you for any promises, have I?” she asked quietly, searching his dark eyes. “You’re safe, Jacob. I’m not trying to tie you down.”
His fingers contracted. “For your sake I hope that’s true,” he said in a menacing tone. “Make damned sure that you don’t ever try.”
Her lips parted to ask a question, but he moved suddenly. One hand imprisoned both of hers above her head. The other pulled up the shirt, baring her taut breasts to his eyes.
“Now, Gabby, let me show you how a real mercenary treats women.”
She lay still, feeling half-afraid of him as he covered her with his own taut body. His hands touched and gripped and his body moved suggestively, making a travesty of everything she felt for him.
Then his hands moved lower on her body and contracted, grinding her hips against his. “I’m not a soft man. This is how it would be between us, quick and rough. And if you’re remembering yesterday morning, don’t,” he added. “Because that was a flash in the pan. This is the reality.”
The crush of his mouth was as suggestive as the motion of his hard body. She tried to make her own body move—whether to push him away or pull him closer—but his assault on her senses paralyzed her.
“Are you shocked? Come on, honey.” And he kissed her again, oblivious to the confusion and growing panic in her eyes.
She must have tensed because he stopped and looked at her. He cursed and rolled away, but she couldn’t move. She lay there, her face pale, her eyes closed. The fear subsided, but it left her sick and empty. Tears ran in a flood down her cheeks and her body shook with sobs.
“Damn you, J.D.,” she wept, flushed with fury. “Damn you!”
“That’s how I am with a woman,” he said coldly, ignoring the trembling of her body, the terrible hurt in her eyes. “That’s how it would have been yesterday. I wanted you. But I wanted you because I needed to forget what was ahead, the same way I’ve forgotten it a hundred times before with a hundred other women.” His voice was bitter and he turned away. “So set your sights on some other man, and don’t weave romantic daydreams around me. I’ve just shown you the reality. Remember it.”
She didn’t move. She couldn’t. She was trembling too much. Her eyes looked up into his, bright with furious anger. Something of her pain must have shown in them, because he turned away and, grabbing up his suitcase, went to the door without another glance.
“Bring your bag and let’s go,” he said in a harsh tone.
She watched him close the door and then she managed to get to her feet. His taunting voice would haunt her as long as she lived. She would resign, of course, but she didn’t know how she was going to manage to look at him while she worked out a two-week notice. Maybe he’d let her go immediately. The only problem was that she didn’t have another job to go to. Her rent and car payments wouldn’t wait while she went without work.
Minutes later, wearing a fresh green pullover blouse with a matching sweater and the same jeans, and with her hair carefully pulled back in a bun, she left the bedroom, her suitcase in hand. She was still pale, but makeup helped conceal the shock of what J.D. had done to her.
He didn’t even glance in her direction as she came back into the living room. Apparently, he’d shut her out of his mind already, and she wished she had the ability to do the same with him. The scars he had left on her emotions would be a long time healing. She’d loved him. How could he hurt her that way? How could he?
She tried to disguise her anguish and hoped that she succeeded. She said goodbye to Laremos and got into the van with First Shirt while J.D. said his own farewells.
Shirt gave her a brief but thorough scrutiny and laid one lean, wiry hand over the steering wheel. “What did he do to you?” he asked.
She lifted a startled face. “Why…nothing.”
“Don’t lie,” he said gently. “I’ve known him a long time. Are you okay?”
She shifted restlessly in the seat, refusing to let her eyes go past Shirt to J.D., who was standing apart with Laremos. “Yes, I’m okay,” she said. “Of course, I’ll be a lot better once I get out of his life.”
“Whew.” He whistled ruefully. “That bad?”
“That bad.” She gripped her purse tightly in her lap.
“Gabby,” he said gently, with a tiny smile, “have you ever known a fighting fish to lie down when he hit the bait? Don’t expect to draw him in without a little effort.”
She glared at him. “I’d like to put a hook in him, but not to land him.”
“Give it a little time,” he said. “He’s been alone most of his life. It’s new to him, needing someone.”
“He doesn’t need me,” she said shortly.
“I’m not convinced of that,” he replied. He studied her affectionately. “I think he’s met his match. You’re a pretty damned good shot for a lady who’s never used an automatic weapon before. Laremos said you learned fast.”
She pursed her lips, studying her purse. “It wasn’t a hard weapon to learn,” she told him. “And actually, I have shot a .22-caliber rifle before. Mama and I used to hunt rabbits. But it didn’t have a kick like that gun.”
He smiled as she rubbed her shoulder. “I don’t imagine so. Is your mother still alive?”
She nodded, smiling back. “She lives in Lytle, Texas. There’s a small ranch, and she has a few head of cattle. It’s not nearly as big as the one she and Daddy had, but when he died, she decided to retire. Sort of.”
“And she hunts?” he asked.
“Hunts, rides, ropes, and can outcuss most veteran cowboys,” she told him. “She’s quite a character.”
“You’re a character yourself,” he said. “When J.D. told me he took you along on secret meetings, I began to realize that he had an unusual relationship with you. J.D. doesn’t trust anybody except his sister and me.”
That wasn’t bragging, either, she realized. Just a statement of fact. “He doesn’t trust Laremos.”
“Neither do I,” he whispered, smiling.
She burst out laughing, but the amusement faded immediately as J.D. started toward the car, and she felt herself freezing up. But she needn’t have worried. J.D. climbed into the backseat and slammed the door, waving to Laremos.
“Be back in a few hours, boss,” Shirt called to him. Laremos grinned and waved, and they were under way.
It was a long trip to the airport, not because of distance but because of the tension between Gabby and J.D. Despite First Shirt’s efforts to keep things casual, Gabby drew into herself and didn’t say a word all the way.
It was like that during the flight back as well. Gabby was relieved to find that their seats were not together. She was sandwiched between a businessman and a young girl. J.D.’s seat was farther back. Not one word had passed between them when they landed at O’Hare airport in the wee hours of the morning.
It took her a long time to find a place in the swollen ranks of departing passengers. She didn’t look back to see where J.D. was, either. Her only thought was to get back to her apartment. After that she’d face the thought of leaving 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.”
Chapter Seven (#ulink_948ea51d-c421-5b31-9fbc-2bb8b7d8f8f1)
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.
