Colby was quietly shocked to find Tate not only at his door the next morning, but smiling. He was expecting an armed assault following their recent telephone conversation. "I'm here with a job offer."
Colby's dark eyes narrowed. "Does it come with a cyanide capsule?" he asked warily.
Tate clapped the other man on the shoulder. "I'm sorry about the way I've treated you. I haven't been thinking straight. I'm obliged to you for telling me the truth about Cecily."
"You know the baby's yours, I gather?"
Tate nodded. "I'm on my way to Tennessee to bring her home," he replied.
Colby's eyes twinkled. "Does she know this?"
"Not yet. I'm saving it for a surprise."
"I imagine you're the one who's going to get the surprise," Colby informed him. "She's changed a lot in the past few weeks."
"I noticed." Tate leaned against the wall near the door. "I've got a job for you."
"You want me to go to Tennessee?" Colby murmured dryly.
"In your dreams, Lane," Tate returned. "No, not that. I want you to head up my security force for Pierce Hutton while I'm away."
Colby looked around the room. "Maybe I'm hallucinating."
"You and my father," Tate muttered, shaking his head. "Listen, I've changed."
"Into what?"
"Pay attention. It's a good job. You'll have regular hours. You can learn to sleep without a gun under your pillow. You won't lose any more arms." He added thoughtfully, "I've been a bad friend. I was jealous of you."
"But why?" Colby wanted to know. "Cecily is special. I look out for her, period. There's never been a day since I met her when she wasn't in love with you, or a time when I didn't know it."
Tate felt warmth spread through his body at the remark. "I've given her hell. She may not feel that way, now."
"You can't kill love," Colby said heavily. "I know. I've tried."
Tate felt sorry for the man. He didn't know how to put it into words.
Colby shrugged. "Anyway, I've learned to live with my ghosts, thanks to that psychologist Cecily pushed me into seeing." He scowled. "She keeps snakes, can you imagine? I used to see mine crawling out of whiskey bottles, but hers are real."
"Maybe she's allergic to fur," Tate pointed out.
Colby chuckled. "Who knows. When do I start?" he added.
"Today." He produced a mobile phone and dialed a number. "I'm sending Colby Lane over. He's my relief while I'm away. If you have any problems, report them to him."
He nodded as the person on the other end of the line replied in the affirmative. He closed up the phone. "Okay, here's what you need to do…
Colby's dark eyes narrowed. "Does it come with a cyanide capsule?" he asked warily.
Tate clapped the other man on the shoulder. "I'm sorry about the way I've treated you. I haven't been thinking straight. I'm obliged to you for telling me the truth about Cecily."
"You know the baby's yours, I gather?"
Tate nodded. "I'm on my way to Tennessee to bring her home," he replied.
Colby's eyes twinkled. "Does she know this?"
"Not yet. I'm saving it for a surprise."
"I imagine you're the one who's going to get the surprise," Colby informed him. "She's changed a lot in the past few weeks."
"I noticed." Tate leaned against the wall near the door. "I've got a job for you."
"You want me to go to Tennessee?" Colby murmured dryly.
"In your dreams, Lane," Tate returned. "No, not that. I want you to head up my security force for Pierce Hutton while I'm away."
Colby looked around the room. "Maybe I'm hallucinating."
"You and my father," Tate muttered, shaking his head. "Listen, I've changed."
"Into what?"
"Pay attention. It's a good job. You'll have regular hours. You can learn to sleep without a gun under your pillow. You won't lose any more arms." He added thoughtfully, "I've been a bad friend. I was jealous of you."
"But why?" Colby wanted to know. "Cecily is special. I look out for her, period. There's never been a day since I met her when she wasn't in love with you, or a time when I didn't know it."
Tate felt warmth spread through his body at the remark. "I've given her hell. She may not feel that way, now."
"You can't kill love," Colby said heavily. "I know. I've tried."
Tate felt sorry for the man. He didn't know how to put it into words.
Colby shrugged. "Anyway, I've learned to live with my ghosts, thanks to that psychologist Cecily pushed me into seeing." He scowled. "She keeps snakes, can you imagine? I used to see mine crawling out of whiskey bottles, but hers are real."
"Maybe she's allergic to fur," Tate pointed out.
Colby chuckled. "Who knows. When do I start?" he added.
"Today." He produced a mobile phone and dialed a number. "I'm sending Colby Lane over. He's my relief while I'm away. If you have any problems, report them to him."
He nodded as the person on the other end of the line replied in the affirmative. He closed up the phone. "Okay, here's what you need to do…
( Diana Palmer )
[ Paper Rose ]
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