Hard to Handle (22 page)

“Thinking deep thoughts?” he asked her as he registered her expression.

“Not really. This flan is delicious.”

“No wonder your boss frequents the place. The food is good, too.”

“I really like the way they make coffee…”

“Kennedy!” Alexander called to a man just entering the restaurant, interrupting Jodie’s comment.

An older man glanced his way, hesitated, and then smiled broadly as he joined them. “Cobb!” he greeted. “Good to see you!”

“I thought you were in New Orleans,” Alexander commented.

“I was. Got through quicker than I thought I would. Who’s this?” he added with a curious glance at Jodie.

“Jodie’s my girl,” Alexander said carelessly. “Jodie, this is Bert Kennedy, one of my senior agents.”

They shook hands.

“Glad to meet you, Mr. Kennedy.”

“Same here, Miss…?”

Alexander ignored the question. Jodie just smiled at him.

“Uh, any luck on the shipyard tip?” Kennedy asked.

Alexander shook his head. “Didn’t pan out.” He didn’t meet the older man’s eyes. “We may put a man at Thorn Oil next week,” he said in a quiet tone, glancing around to make sure they weren’t subject to eavesdroppers. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

Kennedy had been nervous, but now he relaxed and began to grin. “Great! I’d love to be in on the surveillance,” he added. “Unless you have something bigger?”

“We’ll talk about it later. See you.”

Kennedy nodded, and walked on to a table by the window.

“Is he one of your best men?” she asked Alexander.

“Kennedy is a renegade,” he murmured coolly, watching the man from a distance. “He’s the bird who brought mercenaries into my drug bust in Jacobsville the year before last, without warning me first. One of their undercover guys almost got killed because we didn’t know who he was.”

“Eb Scott’s men,” she ventured.

He nodded. “I was already upset because Manuel Lopez had killed my undercover officer, Walt Monroe. He was my newest agent. I sent him to infiltrate Lopez’s organization.” His eyes were bleak. “I wanted Lopez. I wanted him badly. The night of the raid, I had no idea that Scott and his gang were even on the place. They were running a Mexican national undercover. If Kennedy knew, he didn’t tell me. We could have killed him, or Scott, or any of his men. They weren’t supposed to be there.”

“I expect Mr. Kennedy lived to regret that decision.”

He gave her a cool look. “Oh, he regretted it, all right.”

She wasn’t surprised that Mr. Kennedy was intimidated by Alexander. Most people were, herself included.

She finished her coffee. “Thanks for lunch,” she said. “I really enjoyed it.”

He studied her with real interest. “You have exquisite manners,” he commented. “Your mother did, too.”

She felt her cheeks go hot. “She was a stickler for courtesy,” she replied.

“So was your father. They were good people.”

“Like your own father.”

“I loved him. My mother never forgave him for leaving her for
a younger woman,” he commented in a rare lapse. “She drank like a fish. Margie and I were stuck with her, because she put on such a good front in court that nobody believed she was a raging alcoholic. She got custody and made us pay for my father’s infidelities until she finally died. By then, we were almost grown. We still loved him, though.”

She hadn’t known the Cobbs’ mother very well. Margie had been reluctant to invite her to their home while the older woman was still alive, although Margie spent a lot of time at Jodie’s home. Margie and Alexander were very fond of Mr. and Mrs. Clayburn, and they brought wonderful Christmas presents to them every year. Jodie had often wondered just how much damage his mother had done to Alexander in his younger, formative years. It might explain a lot about his behavior from time to time.

“Did you love your mother?” she asked.

He glared at her. “I hated her.”

She swallowed. She thought back to the party, to her uninhibited behavior when she’d had those glasses of champagne. She’d brought back terrible memories for Alexander, of his mother, his childhood. Only now did she understand why he’d reacted so violently. No wonder she’d made him sick. He identified her behavior with his mother’s. But he’d said other things, as well, things she couldn’t forget. Things that hurt.

She dropped her eyes and looked at her watch. “I really have to get back,” she began.

His hand went across the table to cover hers. “Don’t,” he said roughly. “Don’t look like that! You don’t drink normally, not ever. That’s why the champagne hit you so hard. I overreacted. Don’t let it ruin things between us, Jodie.”

She took a slow breath to calm herself. She couldn’t meet his
eyes. She looked at his mouth instead, and that was worse. It was a chiseled, sensuous mouth and she couldn’t stop remembering how it felt to be kissed by it. He was expert. He was overwhelming. She wanted him to drag her into his arms and kiss her blind, and that would never do.

She withdrew her hand with a slow smile. “I’m not holding grudges, Alexander,” she reassured him. “Listen, I really have to get back. I’ve got a diskette full of letters to get out by quitting time.”

“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Kennedy raised his hand and waved as they went out. Alexander returned the salute, sliding his hand around Jodie’s waist as they left the building. But she noticed that he dropped it the minute they entered the parking lot. He was putting on an act, and she’d better remember it. She’d already been hurt once. There was no sense in inviting more pain from the same source.

He left her at the front door of her building with a curious, narrow-eyed gaze that stayed with her the rest of the day.

The phone on her desk rang early the following morning and she answered it absently while she typed.

“Do you still like symphony concerts?” came a deep voice in reply.

Alexander! Her fingers flew across the keys, making errors. “Uh, yes.”

“There’s a special performance of Debussy tomorrow night.”

“I read about it in the entertainment section of the newspaper,” she said. “They’re doing ‘Afternoon of a Faun’ and ‘La Mer,’ my two favorites.”

He chuckled. “I know.”

“I’d love to see it,” she admitted.

“I’ve got tickets. I’ll pick you up at seven. Will you have time to eat supper by then?” he added, implying that he was asking her to the concert only, not to dinner.

“Of course,” she replied.

“I have to work late, or I’d include dinner,” he said softly.

“No problem. I have leftovers that have to be eaten,” she said.

“Then I’ll see you at seven.”

“At seven.” She hung up. Her hands were ice cold and shaking. She felt her insides shake. Alexander was taking her to a concert. Mentally her thoughts flew to her closet. She only had one good dress, a black one. She could pair it with her winter coat and a small strand of pearls that Margie and Alexander had given her when she graduated from college. She could put her hair up. She wouldn’t look too bad.

She felt like a teenager on her first date until she realized why they were going out together. Alexander hadn’t just discovered love eternal. He was putting on an act. But why put it on at a concert?

The answer came in an unexpected way. Brody stopped by her office a few minutes after Alexander’s call. He came into the cubicle, looking nervous.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

He drew in a long breath. “About next Saturday…” he began.

“I can’t go,” she blurted out.

His relief was patent. “I’m so glad you said that,” he replied, relief making him limp. “Cara’s going to be home and she wants to spend the day with me.”

“Alexander’s having a birthday party that day,” she replied, painfully aware that she wouldn’t be invited, although Alexander would surely want her coworkers to think that she was.

“I, uh, couldn’t help but notice that he took you out to lunch yesterday,” he said. “You’ve known him for a long time.”

“A very long time,” she confessed. “He just phoned, in fact, to invite me to a concert of Debussy…”

“Debussy?” he exclaimed.

“Well, yes…?”

“I’ll see you there,” he said. “Cara and I are going, too. Isn’t
that
a coincidence?”

She laughed, as he did. “I can’t believe it! I didn’t even know you liked Debussy!”

He grimaced. “Actually, I don’t,” he had to confess. “Cara does.”

She smiled wickedly. “I don’t think Alexander’s very keen on him, either, but he’ll pretend to be.”

He smiled back. “Forgive me, but he doesn’t seem quite your type,” he began slowly, flushing a little. “He’s a rather tough sort of man, isn’t he? And I think he was wearing a gun yesterday, too…Jodie?” he added when she burst out laughing.

“He’s sort of in security work, part-time,” she told him, without adding where he worked or what he did. Alexander had always made a point of keeping his exact job secret, even among his friends, for reasons Jodie was only beginning to understand.

“Oh. Oh!” He laughed with sheer relief. “And here I thought maybe you were getting involved with a mobster!”

She’d have to remember to tell Alexander that. Not that it would impress him.

“No, he’s not quite that bad,” she assured him. “About next Saturday, Brody, I would have canceled anyway. It didn’t feel right.”

“No, it didn’t,” he seconded. “You and I are too conventional, Jodie. Neither of us is comfortable stepping out of bounds. I’ll bet you never had a speeding ticket.”

“Never,” she agreed. “Not that I drive very much anymore. It’s so convenient to take buses,” she added, without mentioning that she’d had to sell her car months ago. The repair bills, because it was an older model, were eating her alive.

“I suppose so. Uh, I did notice that your friend drives a new Jaguar.”

She smiled sedately. “He and his sister are independently wealthy,” she told him. “They own a ranch and breed some of the finest cattle in south Texas. That’s how he can afford to run a Jaguar.”

“I see.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and watched her. “Debussy. Somehow I never thought of you as a classical concert-goer.”

“But I am. I love ballet and theater, too. Not that I get the opportunity to see much of them these days.”

“Does your friend like them, too?”

“He’s the one who taught me about them,” she confided. “He was forever taking me and his sister to performances when we were in our teens. He said that we needed to learn culture, because it was important. We weren’t keen at the time, but we learned to love it as he did. Except for Debussy,” she added on a chuckle. “And I sometimes think I like that composer just to spite him.”

“It’s a beautiful piece, if you like modern. I’m a Beethoven man myself.”

“And I don’t like Beethoven, except for the Ninth Symphony.”

“That figures. Well, thanks for understanding. I, uh, I guess we’ll see you at the concert tonight, then!”

“I guess so.”

They exchanged smiles and then he left. She turned her attention back to her computer, curious about the coincidence.

Had Alexander known that Brody and his girlfriend Cara were going to the same performance? Or had it really been one of those inexplicable things?

Then another thought popped into her mind. What if Alexander was staking out her company because he suspected Brody of being in the drug lord’s organization?

T
he suspicion that Alexander was after Brody kept Jodie brooding for the rest of the day. Brody was a gentle, sweet man. Surely he couldn’t be involved in anything as unsavory as drug smuggling!

If someone at the corporation was under investigation, she couldn’t blow Alexander’s cover by mentioning anything to her boss. But, wait, hadn’t Alexander told his agent, Kennedy, that they were investigating a case at Thorn Oil Corporation? Then she remembered why Alexander wanted to pretend to be interested in Jodie. Something was crazy here. Why would he lie to Kennedy?

She shook her head and put the questions away. She wasn’t going to find any answers on her own.

She’d been dressed and ready for an hour when she buzzed Alexander into her apartment building. By the time he got to her room and knocked at the door, she was a nervous wreck.

She opened the door, and he gave her a not very flattering scrutiny. She thought she looked nice in her sedate black dress and high heels, with her hair in a bun. Obviously he didn’t. He was
dashing, though, in a dinner jacket and slacks and highly polished black shoes. His black tie was perfectly straight against the expensive white cotton of his shirt.

“You never wear your hair down,” Alexander said curtly. “And you’ve worn that same dress to two out of three parties at our house.”

She flushed. “It’s the only good dress I have, Alexander,” she said tightly.

He sighed angrily. “Margie would love to make you something, if you’d let her.”

She turned to lock her door. Her hands were cold and numb. He couldn’t let her enjoy one single evening without criticizing something about her. She felt near tears…

She gasped as he suddenly whipped her around and bent to kiss her with grinding, passionate fervor. She didn’t have time to respond. It was over as soon as it had begun, despite her rubbery legs and wispy breathing. She stood looking up at him with wide, misty, shocked eyes in a pale face.

His own green eyes glittered into hers as he studied her reaction. “Stop letting me put you down,” he said unexpectedly. “I know I don’t do much for your ego, but you have to stand up for yourself. You’re not a carpet, Jodie, stop letting people walk on you.”

She was still trying to breathe and think at the same time.

“And now you look like an accident victim,” he murmured. He pulled out a handkerchief, his eyes on her mouth. “I suppose I’m covered with pink lipstick,” he added, pressing the handkerchief into her hand. “Clean me up.”

“It…doesn’t come off,” she stammered.

He cocked an eyebrow and waited for an explanation.

“It’s that new kind they advertise. You put it on and it lasts all day. It won’t come off on coffee cups or even linen.” She handed him back the handkerchief.

He put it up, but he didn’t move. His hands went to the pert bun on the top of her head and before she could stop him, he loosed her hair from the circular comb that held the wealth of hair in place. It fell softly, in waves, to her shoulders.

Alexander caught his breath. “Beautiful,” he whispered, the comb held absently in one hand while he ran the other through the soft strands of hair.

“It took forever…to get it put up,” she protested weakly.

“I love long hair,” he said gruffly. He bent, tilting her chin up, to kiss her with exquisite tenderness. “Leave it like that.”

He put the comb in her hand and waited while she stuck it into her purse. Her hands shook. He saw that, too, and he smiled.

When she finished, he linked her fingers into his and they started off down the hall.

The concert hall was full. Apparently quite a few people in Houston liked Debussy, Jodie thought mischievously as they walked down the aisle to their seats. She knew that Alexander didn’t like it at all, but it was nice of him to suffer through it, considering her own affection for the pieces the orchestra was playing.

Of course, he might only be here because he was spying on Brody, she thought, and then worried about that. She couldn’t believe Brody would ever deal in anything dishonest. He was too much like Jodie herself. But why would Alexander be spending so much time at her place of work if he didn’t suspect Brody?

It was all very puzzling. She sat down in the reserved seat next to Alexander and waited for the curtain to go up. They’d gotten into a traffic jam on the way and had arrived just in the nick of time. The lights went out almost the minute they sat down.

In the darkness, lit comfortably by the lights from the stage where the orchestra was placed, she felt Alexander’s big, warm
hand curl into hers. She sighed helplessly, loving the exciting, electric contact of his touch.

He heard the soft sound, and his fingers tightened. He didn’t let go until intermission.

“Want to stretch your legs?” he invited, standing.

“Yes, I think so,” she agreed. She got up, still excited by his proximity, and walked out with him. He didn’t hold her hand this time, she noticed, and wondered why.

When they were in the lobby, Brody spotted them and moved quickly toward them, his girlfriend in tow.

She was pretty, Jodie noted, very elegant and dark-haired and long-legged. She wished she was half as pretty. Brody’s girlfriend looked Hispanic. She was certainly striking.

“Well, hello!” Brody said with genuine warmth. “Sweetheart, this is my secretary, Jodie Clayburn…excuse me,” he added quickly, with an embarrassed smile at Jodie’s tight-lipped glance, “I mean, my administrative assistant. And this is Jodie’s date, Mr., uh, Mr….”

“Cobb,” Alexander prompted.

“Mr. Cobb,” Brody parroted. “This is my girlfriend, Cara Dominguez,” he introduced.

“Pleased to meet you,” Cara said in a bored tone.

“Same here,” Jodie replied.

“Cara’s in marketing,” Brody said, trying to force the conversation to ignite. “She works for Bradford Marketing Associates, down the street. They’re a subsidiary of Ritter Oil Corporation. They sell drilling equipment and machine parts for oil equipment all over the United States. Cara is over the southwestern division.”

“And what do you do, Mr. Cobb?” Cara asked Alexander, who was simply watching her, without commenting.

“Oh, he’s in security work,” Brody volunteered.

Cara’s eyebrows arched. “Really!” she asked, but without much real interest.

“I work for the Drug Enforcement Administration,” Alexander said with a faint smile, his eyes acknowledging Jodie’s shock. “I’m undercover and out of the country a lot of the time,” he added with the straightest face Jodie had ever seen. “I don’t have to work at all, of course,” he added with a cool smile, “but I like the cachet of law enforcement duties.”

Jodie was trying not to look at him or react. It was difficult.

“How nice,” Cara said after a minute, and she seemed disconcerted by his honesty. “You are working on a case now?” she fished.

One of the first things Jodie and Margie had learned from Alexander when he went with the DEA was not to mention what he did for a living, past the fact that he did “security work.” She’d always assumed it had something to do with his infrequent undercover assignments. And here he was spilling all the beans!

“Sort of,” Alexander said lazily. “We’re investigating a company with Houston connections,” he added deliberately.

Cara was all ears. “That would not be Thorn Oil Corporation?”

Alexander gave her a very nice shocked look.

She laughed. “One hears things,” she mused. “Don’t worry, I never tell what I know.”

“Right,” Brody chuckled, making a joke of it. He hadn’t known what Alexander did for a living until now.

Alexander laughed, too. “I have to have the occasional diversion,” he confessed. “My father was wealthy. My sister and I were his only beneficiaries.”

Cara was eyeing him with increased interest. “You live in Houston, Mr. Cobb?”

He nodded.

“Are you enjoying the concert?” Brody broke in, uncomfortable at the way his girlfriend was looking at Alexander.

“It’s wonderful,” Jodie said.

“I understand the Houston ballet is doing
The Nutcracker
starting in November,” Cara purred, smiling at Alexander. “If you like ballet, perhaps we will meet again.”

“Perhaps we will,” Alexander replied. “Do you live in Houston, also, Miss Dominguez?”

“Yes, but I travel a great deal,” she said with careless detachment. “My contacts are far reaching.”

“She’s only just come back from Mexico,” Brody said with a nervous laugh.

“Yes, I’ve been helping my mother move,” Cara said tightly. “After my father…died, she lost her home and had nowhere to go.”

“I’m very sorry,” Jodie told her. “I lost my parents some years ago. I know how it feels.”

Cara turned back to Brody. “We need to get back to our seats. Nice to have met you both,” she added with a social smile as she took Brody’s hand and drew him along with her. He barely had time to say goodbye.

Alexander glanced down at Jodie. “Your boss looked shocked when I told him what I did.”

She shook her head. “You told me never to do that, but you told them everything!”

“I told them nothing Cara didn’t know already,” he said enigmatically. He slid his hand into hers and smiled secretively. “Let’s go back.”

“It’s a very nice concert,” she commented.

“Is it? I hate Debussy,” he murmured unsurprisingly.

The comment kept her quiet until they were out of the theater and on their way back to her apartment in his car.

“Why did you ask me out if you don’t like concerts?” she asked.

He glanced at her. “I had my reasons. What do you think of your boss’s girlfriend?”

“She’s nice enough. She leads Brody around like a child, though.”

“Most women would,” he said lazily. “He’s not assertive.”

“He certainly is,” she defended him. “He has to fire people.”

“He’s not for you, Jodie, girlfriend or not,” he said surprisingly. “You’d stagnate in a relationship with him.”

“It’s my life,” she pointed out.

“So it is.”

They went the rest of the way in silence. He walked her to her apartment door and stood staring down at her for a long moment. “Buy a new dress.”

“Why?” she asked, surprised.

“I’ll take you to see
The Nutcracker
next month. As I recall, it was one of your favorite ballets.”

“Yes,” she stammered.

“So I’ll take you,” he said. He checked his watch. “I’ve got a late call to make, and meetings the first of the week. But I’ll take you to lunch next Wednesday.”

“Okay,” she replied.

He reached out suddenly and drew her against him, hard. He held her there, probing her eyes with his until her lips parted. Then he bent and kissed her hungrily, twisting his mouth against hers until she yielded and gave him what he wanted. A long, breathless moment later, he lifted his head.

“Not bad,” he murmured softly. “But you could use a little practice. Sleep well.”

He let her go and walked away while she tried to find her voice. He never looked back once. Jodie stood at her door watching until he stepped into the elevator and the doors closed.

She usually left at eleven-thirty to go to lunch, and Alexander knew it. But he was late the following Wednesday. She’d chewed off three of her long fingernails by the time he showed up. She was in the lobby where clients were met, along with several of her colleagues who were just leaving for lunch. Alexander came in, looking windblown and half out of humor.

“I can’t make it for lunch,” he said at once. “I’m sorry. Something came up.”

“That’s all right,” she said, trying not to let her disappointment show. “Another time.”

“I’ll be out of town for the next couple of days,” he continued, not lowering his voice, “but don’t you forget my birthday party on Saturday. Call me from the airport and I’ll pick you up. If I’m not back by then, Margie will. All right?”

Amazing how much he sounded as if he really wanted her to come. But she knew he was only putting on an act for the employees who were listening to him.

“All right,” she agreed. “Have a safe trip. I’ll see you Saturday.”

He reached out and touched her cheek tenderly. “So long,” he said, smiling. He walked away slowly, as if he hated to leave her, and she watched him go with equal reluctance. There were smiling faces all around. It was working. People believed they were involved, which was just what he wanted.

Later, while Brody was signing the letters he’d dictated earlier, she wondered where Alexander was going that would keep him out of town for so long.

“You look pensive,” Brody said curiously. “Something worrying you?”

“Nothing, really,” she lied. “I was just thinking about Alexander’s birthday party on Saturday.”

He sighed as he signed the last letter. “It must be nice to have a party,” he murmured. “I stopped having them years ago.”

“Cara could throw one for you,” she suggested.

He grimaced. “She’s not the least bit sentimental. She’s all business, most of the time, and she never seems to stop working. She’s on a trip to Arizona this week to try to land a new client.”

“You’ll miss her, I’m sure,” Jodie said.

He shrugged. “I’ll try to.” He flushed. “Sorry, that just popped out.”

She smiled. “We all have our problems, Brody.”

“Yes, I noticed that your friend, Cobb, hardly touches you, except when he thinks someone is watching. He must be one cold fish,” he added with disgust.

Jodie flushed then, remembering Alexander’s ardor.

He cleared his throat and changed the subject, and not a minute too soon.

Jodie was doing housework in her apartment when the phone rang Saturday morning.

“Jodie?” Margie asked gently.

“Yes. How are you, Margie?” she asked, but not with her usual cheerful friendliness.

“You’re still angry at me, aren’t you?” She sighed. “I’m so sorry for making you do all the cooking…”

“I’m not angry,” Jodie replied.

There was a long sigh. “I thought Kirry would help me arrange
a showing of my designs at her department store,” she confessed miserably. “But that’s never going to happen. She only pretended to be my friend so that she could get to Alexander. I guess you know she’s furious because he’s been seen with you?”