A Man for All Seasons by Diana Palmer Page A

all, you just ask.”
    â€œI may need more than you want to give,” Josette said quietly. “This is a high-profile case, involving a member of state government. That’s one reason we’ve got Marc Brannon of the Texas Rangers involved. We’re going to have to cross a lot of jurisdictional lines. With luck, we may get our hands on your local mob boss, Jake Marsh. But it may also involve prosecuting someone pretty high up.”
    Linda nodded. “None of us here are afraid of bad publicity.”
    Josette let out a sigh of relief. “That’s just what I wanted to hear. Thanks.”
    Linda stood up. “You’ll have to share an office with Cash Grier, but he’s not so bad, despite what you’ll hear about him from Brannon. They used to work together. Sort of.”
    â€œI’ll remember. Thanks for the help.”
    Linda smiled. “That’s what we’re here for—doing the job.”
    Â 
    By the end of the day, Josette knew several people on the staff and felt vaguely comfortable in her new office. She hadn’t met Grier and she hadn’t seen Brannon. She assumed he’d be working out of the local Ranger office. That was a relief. She didn’t know how she was going to manage being close to him day after day.
    But when she got back to the room she’d rented at the Madison Hotel for her stay in San Antonio, she had a surprise waiting. Brannon was sitting in a late-model unmarked sport utility vehicle, black, with antennae all over it.
    She hugged her purse to her chest as she stood beside her car and waited for him to get out of his own vehicle, watching him with a carefully noncommittal expression. That was difficult, when her heart was trying to escape through her ribs.
    He leaned against her car, his arms folded, and stared down at her in that arrogant manner of his. He was the most attractive man she’d ever known. He was also sensually intimidating, and in her case, she was certain he did it on purpose. He knew very well how she’d felt about him before she accused his best friend of murder. He was rubbing it in.
    â€œI thought the Rangers issued you a car,” she drawled.
    â€œI’d rather drive my own,” he replied shortly. “How’d your day go?”
    â€œI moved in with an assistant district attorney,” she said without preamble. “I assume you’ll be working out of your own office?” He nodded.
    â€œDid you get the files I sent?”
    He nodded again.
    She lifted an eyebrow and cocked her head at him. Her dark eyes twinkled. “I speak sign language, if you’d rather not answer me directly.”
    He chuckled. “You haven’t changed.”
    She adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses. “Oh, I’ve changed, Brannon,” she said. “But I try not to let it show.” She turned. “If you’d like to discuss the case…”
    â€œI would. But not in a hotel room,” he added coldly, stung by her remoteness.
    She didn’t look at him. “Fine. I’ll take a minute to check my messages and be right back.”
    That irritated him. He couldn’t seem to make her angry. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to. Her calm demeanor made him uncomfortable. She was so damned self-confident.
    Ignoring him, she went into her room, called the desk and found no messages, refreshed her makeup andwent right back outside, locking the door behind her. She’d taken barely five minutes.
    Brannon was obviously surprised. “Five minutes. For a woman, that’s a world record.”
    â€œFor a man, it would be a miracle,” she murmured dryly. “Where do you want to go, and I’ll meet you there.”
    â€œDon’t be absurd.” He opened the passenger door of the SUV.
    She gave it a doubtful look. “Got a ladder?”
    â€œIt’s not that high to climb up into,” he said shortly.
    She shrugged and got in with as much grace