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

“You aren’t Mr. Playboy yourself,” she muttered.

“Aren’t you glad?” he asked, turning to look at her. “Would you like a man who had a different woman every night?”

The question shocked her. She struggled for an answer, but he’d already opened the door of the rental car and was helping her in.

The rest of the day went by in a haze. She went back to the hotel with him, her eyes full of ruins and Romans and maddening traffic. She had a bouquet of flowers that J.D. had bought from an old woman near the Fountain of Trevi. She couldn’t wait to get into her room and press one of the flowers, to keep forever. She buried her nose in them lovingly.

Across the room, J.D. was speaking fluent Italian with someone on the phone. He hung up and turned back to her.

“I have to go out for a little while,” he said. “Lock the door and let no one in, not even room service, until I get back. Okay?”

She studied him quietly. “You won’t go getting into trouble while I’m not around to rescue you, will you?” she said, teasing him.

He shook his head. “Not a chance. Watch yourself.”

“You, too. Oh, Jacob!”

He turned with his hand on the doorknob. “What?”

“Thank you for the flowers.”

“They suit you.” He studied her face and smiled. “You look like one of them. Ciao, Gabby.”

And he was gone. She stared at the door for a long time before she went to put her flowers in some water.

Chapter Three

J.D. didn’t come back until late that afternoon, and he was strangely taciturn. He shared a silent supper with Gabby and then went out again, telling her tersely to get some sleep. She knew he’d found out something, but whatever it was, he wasn’t sharing it. Apparently his trust in her had limits. And that was disappointing. She climbed into bed and slept soundly and without interruption. Part of her had hoped for a nightmare or an earthquake that would bring him running into her room. All her wild fantasies ended with him running into her room and catching her up in his hard arms. She sighed. This was certainly not the trip she’d envisioned. It was turning into a wild tangle of new emotions. A week before, she couldn’t have imagined that he would tell her he wanted her.

* * *

They flew to Mexico the following morning. Several hours into the flight Gabby shot a worried glance at J.D. He’d hardly moved in his seat since takeoff, and she’d busied herself looking at clouds and reading the emergency instructions and even the label on her jacket out of desperation.

He seemed to sense her searching gaze and turned his head to look down at her. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

She made an odd little gesture. “I don’t know,” she said inadequately.

His eyebrows lifted. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I know that.” She let her eyes fall to the vest of his gray suit. “Will we stay in Mexico City?”

“Probably not. We’re supposed to be met at the airport.” He reached over and took her slender hand in his big one. The contact was warm and wildly disturbing, especially when she felt his thumb moving slowly, sensuously, against her moist palm. “Nervous?” he taunted.

“Oh, no. I always go running off into the dark unafraid,” she replied with a grimace. She glanced up. “I come from a long line of idiots.”

He smiled at her. It was a shock to realize that he’d smiled more at her in these two days than he had in two months back at the office. Her eyes searched the deep brown of his, and the airplane seemed to disappear. He returned the look, his smile fading. His nostrils flared and the hand holding hers began to move slowly, his fingers probing, easing between hers. It was so sensuous she felt herself tremble. His hand was pressed against hers, palm to palm, fingers tightly interlocked, and when it contracted it was almost an act of possession.

Her lips parted in a soft gasp, and his eyes narrowed.

“Bodies do that,” he whispered under his breath, watching her reactions intently. “Just as slowly, just as easily.”

“Don’t,” she protested brokenly, averting her face.

“Gabby,” he chided gently, “don’t be afraid.”

She ground her teeth together and struggled for composure. It wasn’t easy, because he wouldn’t let go of her hand despite her token protest.

“You’re out of my league, Mr. Brettman,” she said unsteadily, “as I’m sure you know. Don’t…don’t amuse yourself with me, please.”

“I’m not.” He sighed and turned sideways so that his head rested against the back of the seat. Then he coaxed her face around to his. “You’ve never known the kind of men you’ll meet when we get where we’re going. I thought,” he continued, smiling at her stunned look, “that it might be easier for you if we got in a little practice along the way.”

“What do you mean? What will we have to do…?” she began nervously.

“I mean, as I told you in Rome, that we’ll have to be inseparable for the most part. We have to look as if we can’t keep our hands off each other.”

She stopped breathing, she knew she did. Her eyes wandered quietly over his face. “Is that why, at the Forum…?”

He hesitated for an instant. “Yes,” he said deliberately. “You were far too jumpy with me to be taken for my lover. It has to look convincing to do us any good.”

“I see,” she said, fighting to keep her disappointment from showing.

He studied her eyes, her cheeks, and then her mouth. “You have the softest lips, Gabby,” he murmured absently. “So full and tempting; and I like the taste of them all too much…” He caught himself and lifted his eyes. “You’d better remind me at intervals that you’re off-limits.”

She was so aware of him that she tingled, and the thought that he might kiss her again made her go hot all over. She smiled strangely and looked away.

“What was that about, that tiny little smile?” he asked curiously.

“I never used to think of you that way,” she confessed without thinking.

“How? As a lover?” he probed.

She lowered her eyes quickly. “Yes,” she said shyly.

She felt his long fingers brush her cheek and then her neck, where the pulse was beating wildly.

“Oddly enough, I’ve hardly thought of you any other way,” he said in a deep, gruff whisper.

Her lips opened as she drew a sharp breath, and she looked straight into his eyes. “J.D….?” she whispered uncertainly.

His thumb brushed across her mouth, a tiny whisper of sensation that made her ache in the oddest places. His own breath wasn’t quite steady, and he frowned, as if what was happening wasn’t something he’d counted on or expected.

His eyes dropped to her parted lips and she heard him catch his breath. In a burst of nervousness, her tongue probed moistly at her dry upper lip and he made a rough sound in his throat. “Gabby, don’t do that,” he ground out. His thumb pressed hard against her mouth, and his head bent. “Let me…”

In a starburst of sensation, she felt the first tentative brush of his hard lips against her own.

And just as it began, it was suddenly over. The speakers blared out a warning for passengers to fasten their seat belts, and the delicate spell was broken.

J.D. lifted his head reluctantly, his eyes almost black with frustration, his face pale. “The next time,” he whispered gruffly, “I’ll kiss the breath out of you, the way I wanted to at the Forum.”

She couldn’t answer him. She was swimming in deep waters, hungry for him in an unexpectedly desperate way. Her hands fumbled with her seat belt and she couldn’t look at him. What was happening to them? she wondered, shaken. Just the morning before, they’d been employer and employee. And in a flash, they were something else, something frightening.

His hand caught hers, enfolding it. “Don’t, please, be frightened of me,” he said under his breath. “I won’t hurt you. Not in any way, for any reason.”

She glanced at him. “I’m all right,” she said. “I’m just…just…”

“Stunned?” he asked wryly. “Join the crowd. It shocked me, too.”

Her eyes locked on their clasped hands. “But I thought you kissed me to—how did you put it—make it look better for the men?”

“I did. And to satisfy my own curiosity about you. And yours about me.” He tilted her face up to his. “Now we know, don’t we?”

“I think I’d be better off not knowing,” she muttered.

“Really? At least now you’ve learned how to kiss.”

“You have the diplomacy of a tank!” she shot at him.

He smiled, his teeth white against that olive tan. “You’re spunky, Gabby. I’m glad. You’re going to need spunk.”

His words brought back the reason for their trip, and she frowned. The plane started to descend and she clung to J.D.’s strong fingers, wondering if in a few weeks this would all be nothing more than a memory. He’d said they’d have to seem involved; was this just a practice session? The frown deepened. She realized quite suddenly that she didn’t want it to be. She wanted J.D. to kiss the breath out of her, as he’d threatened, and mean it.

They landed in Mexico City, and Gabby’s eyes widened as they walked into the terminal. She smiled, dreams of Aztecs and ancient ruins going through her mind—until she remembered poor Martina, and the fact that they weren’t here to look at tourist attractions.

She looked at J.D., standing tall and quiet at her side. He stared slowly around the terminal while Gabby shifted restlessly beside him, their two small carry-on cases beside her.

After what seemed like a long time, J.D. began to smile as a tall, devastatingly attractive man strode toward them. He was wearing a beige suit and leather boots, and he looked debonair and a little dangerous—like J.D.

“Laremos.” J.D. grinned as they shook hands.

“Did you think I’d forgotten you?” the other man asked in softly accented English. “You look well, Archer.”

Gabby’s eyebrows lifted curiously.

“Archer,” the man explained, “is the name to which he answered many years ago, during our…acquaintance. You are Gabby Darwin, no?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “And you are Señor Laremos?”

“Diego Laremos, a sus ordenes,” he said formally, bowing. He grinned. “A beauty, Archer.”

“Yes, I think so myself,” J.D. said casually, smiling at her as he drew her unresisting body close to his side. “Did Dutch phone you?”

The smile faded and Laremos was at once something else, something out of Gabby’s experience. “Sí. Drago and Semson and Apollo are here now.”

“Good. How about my equipment?”

“Apollo got it from Dutch,” Laremos said, his voice low and intent. “An Uzi and a new AKM.”

J.D. nodded while Gabby tried to decide what in the world they were talking about. “We’ll need some RPGs.”

“We have two,” Laremos said. “And eight blocks of C-4, rockets for the RPGs, assorted paraphernalia, jungle gear, and plenty of ammo. The border is a hotbed for drug and human traffickers these days—you can get anything if you have the money and the contacts.”

J.D. smiled faintly. “Dutch said First Shirt has both. You made a smart move when you put him in charge of your ranch security.”

“Sí,” Laremos agreed. “It is why I survive and many of my neighbors have not. The finca above mine was burned to the ground a month ago, and its owner…” He glanced at Gabby. “Forgive me, señorita. Such talk is not for the ears of women.”

“I don’t even understand it,” she said, studying both men. “What is an RP…whatever it was? And what do you mean, rockets?”

“I’ll tell you all about it later,” J.D. promised. “Got the plane?” he asked Laremos.

The other man nodded. “We will have to go through customs. I assume you have nothing on you that it would be embarrassing to declare when we land, otherwise you would not have made it through Mexican customs.”

J.D. chuckled. “Even with you along, I doubt they’d look the other way if I boarded with an Uzi slung around my neck and clips of ammunition hanging out of my pockets.”

Laremos laughed too. “Doubtless they would not. Come. We are gassed up and ready to go.”

“Uzi?” Gabby queried as they followed him.

J.D. pulled her against him briefly. “An Uzi is an Israeli-made weapon. It’s classified as a submachine gun.”

“Did you use one in the Special Forces?”

He laughed softly. “No.”

“Then how do you…and why…and what…?”

He bent suddenly and pressed a hard, warm kiss on her startled mouth. “Shut up, Gabby, before you get us into trouble.”

As if she could talk at all, after that. Her lips felt as though they’d been branded. If only they’d been alone, and it could have been longer…

Laremos had a twin-engine plane and a pilot to fly it. He settled into one of the comfortable seats in front of Gabby and J.D., and another man, small and young, brought them cups of coffee as the plane headed toward Guatemala City.

“I have told the appropriate people that you and your friend here are visiting me,” Laremos said to J.D. and laughed. “It will put you under immediate suspicion I fear, because my past is no secret. But it will spare you the illegality of having to smuggle yourself across the border. I have friends high in government who will help. Oddly enough, the terrorists who have your sister attempted to kidnap me only weeks ago. First Shirt was nearby and armed.”

“First Shirt doesn’t miss,” J.D. recalled.

“Neither did you, my friend, in the old days.” Laremos studied the older man unsmilingly.

“How many men are there in the terrorist group?” J.D. asked. “Hard core, Laremos, not the hangers-on who’ll cut and run at the first volley.”

“About twelve,” came the reply. “Maybe twenty more who will, as you say, cut and run. But the twelve are veteran fighters. Very tough, with political ties in a neighboring country. They are just part of an international network, with members in Italy who saw a chance to make some fast money to finance their cause. Your brother-in-law is an important man, and a wealthy one. And the decision to bring your sister here was most certainly devised by one of those twelve. They took over the finca only a month ago. I have little doubt that the kidnapping has been planned for some time.” He shrugged. “Also, it is known that the Italian authorities have been successful in dealing with this sort of kidnapping. There is less risk here, so they smuggled her out of Italy.”

“Roberto is trying to borrow enough to bargain with,” J.D. said. “He’s determined not to go to the authorities.”

“He does not know about you, does he?” Laremos asked quietly.

J.D. shook his head. “I covered my tracks very well.”

“You miss it, the old life?”

J.D. sighed. “At times. Not often anymore.” He glanced at Gabby absently. “I have other interests now. I was getting too old for it. Too tired.”

“For the same reasons, I became an honest man.” Laremos laughed. “It is by far the better way.” He stretched lazily. “But sometimes I think back and wonder how it would have been. We made good amigos, Archer.”

“A good team,” J.D. agreed. “I hope we still do.”

“Have no fear, amigo. It is like swimming—one never forgets. And you, do you keep in condition?”

“Constantly. I can’t get out of the habit,” J.D. said. “Just as well that I have. Cutting through that jungle won’t be any easy march. I’ve been keeping up with the situation down here, politically and militarily.”

“What about this lovely one?” Laremos asked, frowning as he studied Gabby. “Is she a medic?”

“She’ll handle communications,” J.D. said shortly. “I want her at the ranch with you so that there’s no chance she might get in the line of fire.”

“I see.” Laremos’s dark eyes narrowed and he laughed. “Trust still comes hard to you, eh? You will never forget that one time that I let my mind wander…”

“No hard feelings,” J.D. said quietly. “But Gabby runs the set.”

Laremos nodded. “I understand. And I take no offense. My conscience still nags me about that lapse.”

“Will somebody tell me, please, what’s going on?” Gabby asked when she could stand it no longer.

“I’ve gotten together a group to get Martina out,” J.D. said patiently. “That’s all you need to know.”

“The mercs! They’re already here?”

“Yes,” he murmured, watching her with a tiny smile on his face.

“Ah, I think the line of work of our amigos fascinates this one.” Laremos grinned handsomely.

“Can I actually talk to them?” Gabby said, persisting, all eyes and curiosity. “Oh, J.D., imagine belonging to a group like that, going all over the world to fight for freedom.”

“A lot of them do it for less noble reasons, Gabby,” he said, searching her face with an odd intensity. “And you may be disappointed if you’re expecting a band of Hollywood movie stars. There’s nothing glamorous about killing people.”

“Killing…people?”

“What in God’s name did you think they did, turn water hoses on the enemy?” he asked incredulously. “Gabby, in war men kill each other. In ways you wouldn’t like to know about.”

“Well, yes, I realize that.” She frowned. “But it’s a very dangerous way to live, it’s…” She stopped and searched for words. “Before I came to work for you I lived a quiet, kind of dull life, J.D.,” she said, trying to explain. “Sometimes I thought that I’d probably never do anything more exciting than washing clothes at the Laundromat. Those men…they’ve faced death. They’ve learned the limits of their courage, they’ve tested themselves until the secrets are all gone.” She looked up. “I don’t suppose it makes sense, but I think I envy them in a way. They’ve taken all the veneer off civilization and come away with the reality of what they are. In a terrible way, they’ve seen the face of life without the mask. I never will. I don’t think I really want to. But I’m curious about people who have.”

He brushed the hair back from her face with a gentle hand. “When you see First Shirt, you won’t have to ask questions. You’ll be able to read the answers in his face. Won’t she, Laremos?”

“But indeed.” He chuckled.

“Is he a friend of yours?” she asked J.D.

He nodded. “One of the best I ever had.”

“When you were in the Special Forces?” she asked.

He turned away. “Of course.” He glanced at Laremos, and they exchanged a level gaze that Gabby didn’t understand.

“You didn’t want mines, did you?” Laremos asked suddenly.

“No. The RPGs will be enough, and Drago can jury-rig a mine if he has to. I want to get in and get out fast.”

“The rainy season hasn’t started, at least,” Laremos said. “That will be a bonus.”

“Yes, it will. Have you still got my crossbow?”

“Above the mantel in my study.” Laremos smiled. “It is a conversation piece.”

“To hell with that, does it still work?”

“Yes.”

“A crossbow?” Gabby laughed. “Is it an antique?”

J.D. shook his head. “Not quite.”

“Is it easier to shoot than a bow and arrow?” she asked, pursuing the subject.

He looked uncomfortable. “It’s just a memento,” he said. “Gabby, did you pack some jeans and comfortable shoes?”

“Yes, as you saw in Italy.” She sighed, beginning to feel uneasy. “How long will we be here?”

“Probably no more than three days, if things go well,” he replied. “We need a little time to scout the area and make a plan.”

“The hospitality of my finca is at your disposal,” Laremos said. “Perhaps we might even make time to show Gabby some of the Maya ruins.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Don’t mention archaeological ruins around her, please,” J.D. muttered. “She goes crazy.”

“Well, I like old things,” she retorted. “Why else would I work for you?”

J.D. looked shocked. “Me? Old?”

She studied his face. It wasn’t heavily lined, but there was a lot of silver at his temples mingling with his black hair. She frowned. She’d always assumed he was pushing forty, but now she wondered.

“How old are you, J.D.?” she asked.

“Thirty-six.”

She gasped.

“Not what you expected?” he asked softly.

“You…seem older.”

He nodded. “I imagine so. I’ve got thirteen years on you.”

“You needn’t sound so smug,” she told him. “When I’m fifty, you’ll hate those extra thirteen years.”

“Think so?” he murmured, smiling.

She glanced away from that predatory look. “Tell me about Guatemala, Señor Laremos.”

“Diego, please,” he said, correcting her. “What would you like to know?”

“Anything.”

He shrugged. “Things have been better since the peace agreement in ’96 and the increase in foreign trade, but the people are still poor and the crime high. Guatemala has become a major transport route for drugs and human smuggling, which has not earned us a good reputation on the international stage.”

She looked shocked. “Will things get better?”

“We hope so. But in the meantime, those who wish to secure their land and loved ones must have security. Mine is excellent. But many do not have the financial wherewithal to hire guards. I have a neighbor who gets government troops to go with him every afternoon to check his cattle and his holdings. He is afraid to go alone.”

“I’ll never grumble about paying income taxes again,” Gabby said. “I guess we tend to take it for granted that we don’t have to defend our property and families with guns.”

“Perhaps someday we will be able to say the same thing.”

Gabby was quiet for the rest of the trip, while J.D. and Laremos discussed things she couldn’t begin to understand. Military terms. Logistics. She studied her taciturn employer with new eyes. There was more than he was telling her. It had something to do with the past he never discussed, and he was obviously reluctant to share any of it with her. Trust, again. At least he trusted her enough to let her handle the communications for this insane rescue attempt. If only he’d let those men go into the jungle and stay behind himself. Maybe she could talk him into it. It was a job for a professional soldier, not a lawyer. She closed her eyes and began to think up things to say, knowing in her heart that J.D. wasn’t going to be swayed by any of them.

Chapter Four

Despite Gabby’s unvoiced fears, they went through customs with no hitches, and minutes later were met by a man J.D. obviously knew.

The man was short and sandy-blond, with a face like a railroad track and a slight figure. He was much older than the other two men, probably nearing fifty. He was wearing jungle fatigues with laced up boots. At his side was a holstered pistol; over his shoulder, a mean-looking rifle.

“Archer!” The short man chuckled, and they embraced roughly. “Damn, but I’m glad to see you, even under the circumstances. No sweat, amigo—we’ll get Martina out of there. Apollo came like a shot when I told him what was on.”

“How are you, First Shirt?” J.D. replied. “You’ve lost weight, I see.”

“Well, I’m not exactly in the right profession for getting lazy, am I, boss?” he asked Laremos, who agreed readily enough.

“Laremos said Apollo and Drago were here, but how about Chen?” J.D. asked.

The short man sighed. “He bought it in the Middle East, amigo.” He shrugged. “That’s the way of it.” His eyes were sad and had a faraway look. “It was how he’d have wanted it.”

“Tough,” J.D. said, agreeing. “Maps and radios, Shirt—we’ll need those.”

“All taken care of. Plus about twenty vaqueros for backup—the boss’s men, and I trained ’em,” he added with quiet pride.

“That’s good enough for me.”

“Shall we get under way?” Laremos asked, helping Gabby into a large car. He stood back to let J.D. slide in after her. They were joined by First Shirt, who drove, and another man with a rifle.

The topography was interesting. It reminded Gabby of photos of Caribbean islands, very lush and tropical and studded with palm trees. But after they drove for a while, it began to be mountainous. They passed a burned-out shell of what must have been a house, and Gabby shuddered.