Diana Palmer - Diana Palmer Collected 1-6 - Soldier of Fortune / Tender Stranger / Enamored / Mystery Man / Rawhide and Lace / Unlikely Lover

“It must have been awful,” the taller girl said quietly. “I’m so sorry, Martina.”

“My own stupidity,” came the reply. “Roberto warned me, but I take after Jacob, I’m afraid. I’m bullheaded and I like my own way.” She sat down on the bed and studied Gabby for a long moment. “He will not speak to you, and that hurts, doesn’t it?”

Gabby shrugged, taking a long time to fold a T-shirt. “A little.”

“If you could only have seen his face in that split second before the recoil threw you to the ground,” Martina said solemnly. “It would have been a revelation to you. In all the years of my life, I can only recall once or twice when I’ve seen that expression in his eyes. Once,” she added quietly, “was just after our mother died.”

Gabby stared at the pale garment in her hand. “I was so afraid for him,” she confided. “I saw that man level his rifle at Jacob, and…” She shivered. “It all happened so quickly.”

“Yes, I know.” Martina stood up. “Gabby, he isn’t an easy man. And he’s been very restless the past few years. But I think perhaps in you he has found his future. Did you know,” she added with a wicked grin, “that you’re all I hear about when he calls me these days?”

Gabby laughed nervously, desperate even for crumbs. Her green eyes glowed softly as she looked at Martina. “I’d give anything to be his future,” she said quietly. “But he’s already said he doesn’t want ties or commitment. And I’m dreadfully old-fashioned. Everybody else sleeps around and thinks nothing of it, but I’m just not built for loose affairs.”

Martina pursed her lips and then grinned. “Well, well. Poor Jacob.”

“Anyway,” Gabby said, sighing, “it’s probably just a flash in the pan. I’ve worked for him over two years and he’s never looked twice at me until this came up.” She glanced at Martina and smiled. “I’m just so glad that you came out of it all right. We were all worried about you, not just J.D.”

“Roberto and I must go home today,” Martina said. “But you will come and visit us one day. I believe that, even if you don’t.” Impulsively, she hugged Gabby. “Take care of Jacob for me. He doesn’t know that he needs taking care of, so we mustn’t let on. But he’s so alone, Gabby.”

Gabby felt as if she were choking. “Yes,” she said. “I know.” And it hurt to think just how alone he was, and how much it affected her.

Later, as she wandered around the house restlessly, she met First Shirt coming down the hall, and he stopped to talk to her. “Why the long face, little lady?” he asked with an affectionate smile.

“Work is going to seem like peeling onions from now on,” she lied, smiling impishly at him.

He laughed heartily. “Now you know why the guys and I don’t retire. Hell, I’d rather die on my feet than deteriorate behind a desk.” He shrugged. “But it seems to suit Archer.”

Her eyes fell. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Hey.”

She looked up, and he smiled at her.

“He doesn’t like being helped out,” he said knowingly. “I ought to know. He threw a punch at me one time when I spotted a guy with a grenade and got to him first. He doesn’t like making mistakes. He’ll get over what happened out there.”

“Will he?” she asked, her eyes wide and sad. “He won’t even talk to me.”

“Reaction. You have to remember, Gabby, he’s been out of action for a while. This sort of thing—” he waved his hand “—you don’t forget, but sometimes it brings back bad memories. He got shot up pretty bad once.”

“He told me,” she said absently.

His eyes narrowed. “Now, that’s interesting.”

“Just to satisfy my curiosity,” she added.

“I used to wonder if he was ever going to settle down,” he said enigmatically. “But there was never a special woman.”

“I suppose he liked leaving his doors open,” she murmured, “in case he couldn’t adjust to a desk job.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought,” First Shirt said. His chest rose and fell on a deep breath. “None of us have ties. They’re too much of a luxury in this kind of work.” He searched her wide eyes. “I’m glad our paths crossed. Take care of Archer. He’s gone too far to come back to us, but maybe he doesn’t realize it yet.”

“I wish you were right, First Shirt,” she said with a sad smile.

“My name—my given name—is Matthew.”

She smiled. “Matthew.”

“Keep in touch once in a while, will you?” he asked as he turned. “Archer’s a damned bad correspondent.”

“I’ll do that,” she promised, flattered.

Her eyes followed his lean figure down the hall. She was already thinking about Christmas. Socks, she decided. Lots of socks and gloves. She started back toward the bedroom.

It was deathly quiet after Martina and Roberto left, and one by one the men seemed to vanish. Later she learned that everybody except First Shirt had already left the country for other places, just as secretively as they’d come. She’d grown attached to them in that short space of time. Of course, the circumstances were unusual, to say the least.

Laremos was his charming self at the evening meal, but J.D. was still brooding and he wouldn’t look at Gabby.

“When are we going back?” she asked J.D. finally, in desperation.

“Tonight.” He bit the words off.

“I’ll double-check to make sure I’ve packed everything.” She stood up. “Señor Laremos, thank you for your hospitality. Under different circumstances, it would have been lovely. I’m sorry we didn’t get to see the Mayan ruins.”

“So am I, Gabby,” he said sincerely. “Perhaps you may return someday, and it will be my pleasure to show them to you.” He made her a handsome bow and she smiled at him as she left the room.

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.