Wyoming True - Diana Palmer Page 0,94
turned back. “Thanks. For listening. Nobody else ever did.”
She went down the hall to her room before Gaby could say another word.
* * *
NICHOLAS CHANDLER CAME home late and in a temper. Jackie had long since gone to her room, and Gaby was in hers. She heard the boss muttering curses in the living room.
She put on a robe, her long hair trailing down her back over it, and padded barefoot into the living room.
“Good heavens, what bit you?” she asked.
He turned. “What the hell are you doing up?” he shot at her, and he looked fierce, with his dark eyes blazing.
“It’s hard to sleep with people turning the air blue. The walls aren’t that thick.”
He glared at her.
She held up both hands. “I didn’t do whatever it is that you’re raging about.”
He put down his briefcase, hard. “My firm is representing a millionaire whose wife attempted to kill for his inheritance.” His lips made a thin line. “So tonight she came to his front door all in tears, begging for forgiveness, and he let her in.”
She let out a breath. “So which hospital did they take him to?”
He glared at her.
She lifted her hands and let them fall. “Simple deduction. Was he raised by morons?”
“No. By a saintly woman who taught him that anything can be forgiven.”
“And most everything can, but some things shouldn’t,” she replied. “I guess she didn’t tell him that.”
“He’s on life support,” he said thinly. “There were no witnesses, and she says he had a horrible fall, all by himself, from the second-story balcony.”
“Did they look for fingerprints on his back?”
“This is not funny!” he bit off.
She lifted both eyebrows. “No, but it’s predictable. Will he live, do they think?”
“He was doing well until someone disconnected his oxygen.”
“Let me guess. She was the only person in the room.”
“Her and three hospital personnel. Just not all at the same time.” He ran a hand through his thick black hair. “I should have been a vacuum cleaner salesman.”
She burst out laughing.
Her twinkling eyes drained some of the fury out of him. He shook his head. “You think reasonable people will act reasonably,” he said. “They never do.”
“You should hire him a bodyguard.”
“I just did,” he replied. “She’s going to spend every night and day in his room until he dies or gets released.”
“You hired a female bodyguard?”
“Men are too easy to get around,” he pointed out.
She laughed. “I’m so glad you said that instead of me.”
“It’s sadly true.” He went to the bar and poured himself a scotch, with one cube of ice from the small fridge that flanked it. “It’s been a hell of a night.”
“Who called you?” she asked. “Not the ex-wife, I assume?”
“No. The police detective assigned to the case. He’s a distant cousin. We keep in touch.”
“Probably saved his life,” she guessed.
“No doubt.” He sat down, one big hand going to loosen his tie and the top buttons of his spotless white shirt.
“I don’t suppose they could arrest the ex-wife on suspicion?”
“She’s not an ex,” he pointed out. “And not without probable cause. It’s a he-said, she-said situation.”
“I’m truly happy that nobody has tried to kill me yet,” she murmured, hands in the pockets of her thick, very concealing bathrobe.
“Why would they want to?” he asked and seemed really curious. “You’re obviously not rich or you wouldn’t be working for me.”
Appearances could be deceiving, she almost said, but then she smiled instead. “Right on,” she told him. “I guess money brings its own issues.”
“It does. I avoid parties like the plague unless I’m required to go to one. I’m on several spinster most-wanted lists around town.”
“Obviously because of your intensely seductive and pleasant manner,” she murmured.
He glared at her. “You’re not my type,” he said at once.
Her eyes opened wide. “I’m not? Thank you! I was really worried!”
The glare got worse.
“Well, if you’re quite through turning the air blue, I’m going back to bed.”
“You might as well,” he returned with a surly glance. “Unless you think Prince Charming might ring the doorbell looking for you.”
“Princes are a figment,” she pointed out. “Besides that, they live this regimented, routine life that shackles them to public appearances and charity causes. I’d never be able to adjust to that sort of imprisonment.”
He wondered how she knew about the lives of princes, but then he realized that the internet was a great source of information and he dismissed it from his mind.
“You don’t want to be a princess and have servants and a Ferrari and your very