Man In Control

There was an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry. I know there’s nothing going on. Alexander always thinks the worst of people. You know about Rachel.”

“Everybody knows about Rachel,” she muttered. “It was six years ago and he still throws her up to us.”

“We did introduce him,” Margie said defensively.

“Well, how were we to know she was a female gigolo who was only interested in marrying a rich man? She should have had better sense than to think Alexander would play that sort of game, anyway!”

“You do know him pretty well, don’t you?” Margie murmured.

“We all grew up together in Jacobsville, Texas,” Jodie reminded her. “Sort of,” she added pensively. “Alexander was eight years ahead of us in school, and then he moved to Houston to work for the DEA when he got out of college.”

“He’s still eight years ahead of us,” Margie chuckled. “Come on. You know you’ll hate yourself if you miss this party. We’re having a houseful of people. Derek will be there,” she added sweetly, trying to inject a lure.

Derek was Margie’s distant cousin, a dream of a man with some peculiar habits and a really weird sense of humor.

“You know what happened the last time Derek and I were together,” Jodie said with a sense of foreboding.

“Oh, I’m sure Alexander has forgotten about that by now,” she was assured.

“He has a long memory. And Derek can talk me into anything,” Jodie added worriedly.

“I’ll hang out with both of you and protect you from dangerous impulses. Come on. Say yes. I’ve got an opportunity to show my designs. It depends on this party going smoothly. And I’ve made up this marvelous dress pattern I want to try out on you. For someone with the body of a clotheshorse, you have no sense of style at all!”

“You have enough for both of us. You’re a budding fashion designer. I’m a lady executive. I have to dress the part.”

“Baloney. When was the last time your boss wore a black dress to a party?”

Jodie was remembering a commercial she’d seen on television with men in black dresses. She howled, thinking of Alexander’s hairy legs in a short skirt. Then she tried to imagine where he’d keep his sidearm in a short skirt, and she really howled.

She told Margie what she was thinking, and they both collapsed into laughter.

“Okay,” she capitulated at last. “I’ll come. But if I break a tree limb over your brother’s thick skull, you can’t say you weren’t forewarned.”

“I swear, I won’t say a word.”

“Then I’ll see you Friday afternoon about four,” Jodie said with resignation. “I’ll rent a car and drive over.”

“Uh, Jodie…”

She groaned. “All right, Margie, all right, I’ll fly to the Jacobsville airport and you can pick me up there.”

“Great!”

“Just because I had two little bitty fender benders,” she muttered.

“You totaled two cars, Josie, and Alexander had to bail you out of jail after the last one…”

“Well, that stupid thickheaded barbarian deserved to be hit! He called me a…well, never mind, but he asked for a punch in the mouth!” Josie fumed.

Margie was trying not to laugh. Again.

“Anyway, it was only a small fine and the judge took my side when he heard the whole story,” she said, ignoring Margie’s quick reminder that Alexander had talked to the judge first. “Not that your brother ever let me forget it! Just because he works for the Justice Department is no reason for him to lecture me on law!”

“We just want you to arrive alive, darling,” Margie drawled. “Now throw a few things into a suitcase, tell your boss you have a sick cousin you have to take care of before rush hour, and we’ll…I’ll…meet you at the airport Friday afternoon. You phone and tell me your flight number, okay?”

“Okay,” Josie replied, missing the slip.

“See you then! We’re going to have a ball.”

“Sure we are,” Josie told her. But when she hung up, she was calling herself all sorts of names for being such a weak-ling. Alexander was going to cut her up, she just knew it. He didn’t like her. He never had. He’d gotten more antagonistic since she moved to Houston, where he worked, too. Further, it would probably mean a lot of work for Jodie, because she usually had to prepare meals if she showed up. The family cook, Jessie, hated being around Alexander when he was home, so she ran for the hills. Margie couldn’t cook at all, so Jodie usually ended up with KP. Not that she minded. It was just that she felt used from time to time.

And despite Margie’s assurances, she knew she was in for the fight of her life once she set foot on the Cobb ranch. At least Margie hadn’t said anything about inviting Alexander’s sometimes-girlfriend, Kirry Dane. A weekend with the elegant buyer for an exclusive Houston department store would be too much.

The thing was, she had to go when Margie asked her. She owed the Cobbs so much. When her parents, small Jacobsville ranchers, had been drowned in a riptide during a modest Florida vacation at the beach, it had been Alexander who flew down to take care of all the arrangements and comfort a devastated seventeen-year-old Jodie. When she entered business college, Alexander had gone with her to register and paid the fees himself. She spent every holiday with Margie. Since the death of the Cobbs’ father, and their inheritance of the Jacobsville ranch property, she’d spent her vacation every summer there with Margie. Her life was so intertwined with that of the Cobbs that she couldn’t even imagine life without them.

But Alexander had a very ambiguous relationship with Jodie. From time to time he was affectionate, in his gruff way. But he also seemed to resent her presence and he picked at her constantly. He had for the past year.

She got up and went to pack, putting the antagonism to the back of her mind. It did no good to dwell on her confrontations with Alexander. He was like a force of nature which had to be accepted, since it couldn’t be controlled.

The Jacobsville Airport was crowded for a Friday afternoon. It was a tiny airport compared to those in larger cities, but a lot of people in south Texas used it for commuter flights to San Antonio and Houston. There was a restaurant and two concourses, and the halls were lined with beautiful paintings of traditional Texas scenery.

Jodie almost bowed under the weight of her oversized handbag and the unruly carry-on bag whose wheels didn’t quite work. She looked around for Margie. The brunette wouldn’t be hard to spot because she was tall for a woman, and always wore something striking—usually one of her own flamboyant designs.

But she didn’t see any tall brunettes. What she did see, and what stopped her dead in her tracks, was a tall and striking dark-haired man in a gray vested business suit. A man with broad shoulders and narrow hips and big feet in hand-tooled leather boots. He turned, looking around, and spotted her. Even at the distance, those deep-set, cold green eyes were formidable. So was he. He looked absolutely furious.

She stood very still, like a woman confronted with a spitting cobra, and waited while he approached her with the long, quick stride she remembered from years of painful confrontations. Her chin lifted and her eyes narrowed. She drew in a quick breath, and geared up for combat.

Alexander Tyrell Cobb was thirty-three. He was a senior agent for the Drug Enforcement Administration. Usually, he worked out of Houston, but he was on vacation for a week. That meant he was at the family ranch in Jacobsville. He’d grown up there, with Margie, but their mother had taken them from their father after the divorce and had them live with her in Houston. It hadn’t been until her death that they’d finally been allowed to return home to their father’s ranch. The old man had loved them dearly. It had broken his heart when he’d lost them to their mother.

Alexander lived on the ranch sporadically even now, when he wasn’t away on business. He also had an apartment in Houston. Margie lived at the ranch all the time, and kept things running smoothly while her big brother was out shutting down drug smugglers.

He looked like a man who could do that single-handed. He had big fists, like his big feet, and Jodie had seen him use them once on a man who slapped Margie. He rarely smiled. He had a temper like a scalded snake, and he was all business when he tucked that big .45 automatic into its hand-tooled leather holster and went out looking for trouble.

In the past two years, he’d been helping to shut down an international drug lord, Manuel Lopez, who’d died mysteriously in an explosion in the Bahamas. Now he was after the dead drug lord’s latest successor, a Central American national who was reputed to have business connections in the port city of Houston.

She’d developed a feverish crush on him when she was in her teens. She’d written him a love poem. Alexander, with typical efficiency, had circled the grammatical and spelling errors and bought her a supplemental English book to help her correct the mistakes. Her self-esteem had taken a serious nosedive, and after that, she kept her deepest feelings carefully hidden.

She’d seen him only a few times since her move to Houston when she began attending business college. When she visited Margie these days, Alexander never seemed to be around except at Christmas. It was as if he’d been avoiding her. Then, just a couple of weeks ago, he’d dropped by her office to see Jasper. It had been a shock to see him unexpectedly, and her hands had trembled on her file folders, despite her best efforts to play it cool. She wanted to think she’d outgrown her flaming crush on him. Sadly, it had only gotten worse. It was easier on her nerves when she didn’t have to see him. Fortunately it was a big city and they didn’t travel in the same circles. But she didn’t know where Alexander’s office or apartment were, and she didn’t ask.

In fact, her nerves were already on edge right now, just from the level, intent stare of those green eyes across a crowded concourse. She clutched the handle of her wheeled suitcase with a taut grip. Alexander made her knees weak.

He strode toward her. He never looked right or left. His gaze was right on her the whole way. She wondered if he was like that on the job, so intent on what he was doing that he seemed relentless.

He was a sexy beast, too. There was a tightly controlled sensuality in every movement of those long, powerful legs, in the way he carried himself. He was elegant, arrogant. Jodie couldn’t remember a time in her life when she hadn’t been fascinated by him. She hoped it didn’t show. She worked hard at pretending to be his enemy.

He stopped in front of her and looked down his nose into her wide eyes. His were green, clear as water, with dark rims that made them seem even more piercing. He had thick black eyelashes and black eyebrows that were as black as his neatly cut, thick, straight hair.

“You’re late,” he said in his deep, gravelly voice, throwing down the gauntlet at once. He looked annoyed, half out of humor and wanting someone to bite.