Diana Palmer - Man In Control

Margie bit her lower lip and looked hunted. “She said…”

“Oh, sure, she’s going to tell you that she’s in love with Cobb.” He nodded. “Great instincts, Marge.”

“Don’t call me Marge!”

He bent and brushed an insolent kiss across her parted lips, making her gasp. His dark eyes narrowed as he assayed the unwilling response. “Never thought of me like that, either, huh?” he drawled.

“You’re…my…cousin,” she choked.

“I’m no close relation to you at all, despite Cobb’s antagonism. One day I’m going to walk out the door with you over my shoulder, and Cobb can do his worst.” He winked at her. “See you, sweetheart.”

He turned and ambled out the door. Margie was still staring after him helplessly and holding her hand to her lips when Jodie came in with another stack of dishes.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jodie asked.

“Derek kissed me,” she said in a husky tone.

“He’s always kissing you.”

Margie swallowed hard. “Not like this.”

Jodie’s eyebrows went up and she grinned. “I thought it was about time.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jodie said at once. “Here, can you open the dishwasher for me? My hands are full.”

Margie broke out of her trance and went to help, shell-shocked and quiet.

“Don’t let Derek upset you,” Jodie said gently. “He thinks he’s doing me a favor, but he’s not. I don’t mind helping out, in any way I can. I owe you and Cobb so much…”

“You don’t owe us a thing,” Margie said at once. “Oh, Jodie, you shouldn’t let me make use of you like this. You should speak up for yourself. You don’t do that enough.”

“I know. It’s why I haven’t advanced in the company,” she had to admit. “I just don’t like confrontations.”

“You had enough of them as a kid, didn’t you?” Margie asked.

Jodie flushed. “I loved my parents. I really did.”

“But they fought, too. Just like ours. Our mother hated our father, even after he was dead. She drank and drank, trying to forget him, just the same. She soured my brother on women, you know. She picked on him from the time he was six, and every year it got worse. He had a roaring inferiority complex when he was in high school.”

“Yes? Well, he’s obviously got over it now,” Jodie said waspishly.

Margie shook her head. “Not really. If he had, he’d know he could do better than Kirry.”

“I thought you liked her!”

Margie looked shamefaced. “I do, sort of. Well, she’s got an important job and she could really help me get my foot in the door at Weston’s, the exclusive department store where she works.”

“Oh, Margie,” Jodie said wearily, shaking her head.

“I use people,” Margie admitted. “But,” she added brightly, “I try to do it in a nice way, and I always send flowers or presents or something afterward, don’t I?”

Jodie laughed helplessly. “Yes, you do,” she admitted. “Here, help me load up the dishes, and then you can tell me what sort of canapés you want me to make for tomorrow.”

She didn’t add that she knew she’d spend the whole day tomorrow making them, because the party was for almost forty people, and lunch had to be provided as well. It was a logistical nightmare. But she could cope. She’d done it before. And Margie was her best friend.

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