Betrayed by Love. Diana Palmer

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      She looked at the receiver blankly. Well, so much for being cool and poised and keeping her head, she thought ruefully. She might as well have taken an ad in her own paper, a display ad that read: I’m yours, Jacob!

      It took her only ten minutes to shower and blow-dry her hair, but finding the right dress took fifteen. She went through everything in her closet, dismissing one outfit as too demure, another as too brassy, and still another as dull and disgustingly old. The only thing left was a silky black dress with no sleeves and a deeply slit bodice that laced up. It was midknee, just a cocktail dress, but she liked its sophistication. She wore the garment with black velvet pumps and a glittering rhinestone necklace. And even if she did say so herself, she looked sharp. She left her hair long, letting it fall naturally around her shoulders like black satin, and she didn’t wear much makeup. Jacob didn’t like cosmetics.

      He was prompt. The buzzer rang at precisely seven o’clock, and with trembling hands she pushed the button that would unlock the front door of the apartment building.

      Minutes later, he was at the door. She opened it, shaking all over, while she tried to pretend that she was poised. And there he was, resplendent in a black dinner jacket and trousers, with a pleated white shirt and elegant black tie, the polish on his shoes glossy enough to reflect the carpet.

      “Nice,” he murmured, taking in the black dress. “I’m glad you didn’t want a fast-food hamburger.”

      She flushed. It sounded as though he had expected her tastes not to be simple. “I…”

      “Get your purse and let’s go,” he said tersely. “I’ve booked a table for seven-thirty.”

      She didn’t argue. She felt on the sofa for her purse, locked the door behind her and followed him into the elevator.

      “You didn’t say what to wear,” she faltered, stopping short of admitting that she’d dressed to the teeth just to please him, not because she expected to go anywhere fancy.

      He leaned against the rail inside the elevator and stared down at her with easy sophistication. He looked like a predator tonight, and she realized with a start that she’d never been alone with him before. It was an entirely new kind of relationship, being a woman in his eyes. Everything was different suddenly, and her heart was beating like thunder.

      “You’re nervous around me,” he said finally. “Why?”

      Her slender shoulders rose and fell. “I always have been,” she said quietly. “You’re very intimidating.”

      “You’re not a child anymore,” he replied, his dark eyes narrowing in that bronzed face. “For tonight, you’re my date, not Margo’s best friend. I don’t expect to have to quote etiquette or tie a bib on you.”

      He was being frankly insulting now, and she felt her pride reassert itself. “If you’d rather go alone…?”

      He glared at her. “I might wish I had, if you don’t stop this shrinking-violet act. If I’d wanted a shy little virgin, I’d have found one.”

      But she was! She almost told him so, too, and then she realized that it might ruin her whole evening. For years she’d wanted to be with him, to have one magical night to live on. And here she was about to send it up in smoke.

      She managed a smile for him, hoping it was coquettish enough. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”

      He accepted her excuse after a cursory appraisal. They got off the elevator and he took her arm to lead her to his car. He’d rented a Mercedes, silvery and elegant.

      “It’s like yours,” she said slowly as he helped her into the car. The Cade family had two cars—a black Lincoln and a silver Mercedes—as well as other ranch vehicles.

      “It is mine,” he corrected her. “You know I hate airplanes. I drove here.”

      “It must have taken all day,” she faltered.

      He got in beside her. “Two days,” he said. “But that was because I stopped in Wisconsin. I had some business with a dairy farmer there.”

      Knowing how Jacob drove, she was surprised that he’d made it to Chicago alive. She peeked at him. “No speeding tickets?”

      His eyebrows arched. “I beg your pardon?” he asked coolly.

      She stared at the purse in her lap. “How many cars was it you wrecked during college?”

      “I am not a bad driver,” he replied arrogantly. He moved out into the traffic, barely missing a passing car. The driver sat down on his horn and Jacob glared at him. “Idiots,” he muttered. “Nobody in this city can drive worth beans. I’ve had five close calls tonight already, just like that one.”

      Kate was trying not to double over laughing. It wouldn’t do, it really wouldn’t.

      “And it wasn’t three cars,” he added. “It was two.”

      She glanced up to find a frankly amused gleam in his dark eyes. She smiled at him in spite of herself, marveling at the way the motion drew his eyes briefly to her lips.

      “Who did you think I was when you answered the phone?” he asked carelessly.

      “My city editor,” she told him. “I get stuck with all the terrible assignments because the other reporters hide out when he wants a victim.”

      “You mentioned you were out covering a story,” he recalled, pausing at a traffic light. He drew a cigarette from the pack in the glove compartment and lit it lazily. “What was it?”

      She told him, outlining the alderman’s plan for the neighborhood and the mayor’s successful program of revitalization in problem areas of the city. “Cities seem pretty impersonal, and then something like this happens. It makes me feel better about urban areas,” she said with a smile. “I like Chicago.”

      He glanced at her curiously, but he didn’t say anything.

      Her eyes sought his dark face, noticing how handsome he looked as the colorful city lights played over his features. “You’ve never asked me out before. In fact,” she said softly, “I used to think that you hated me.”

      He pulled the car into a vacant space in front of a plush downtown restaurant, cut the engine and turned to look at her, his dark eyes steady and faintly glimmering. “Hate and desire are different sides of the same coin,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t very well seduce my niece’s best friend.”

      Her heart went wild. “I…didn’t realize,” she faltered.

      “I made damned sure you didn’t realize,” he said softly, watching her intently. “I’ve tried to protect Margo. That’s why I never brought women home. You were a tough proposition, anyway—the first woman I ever wanted who was completely off-limits.”

      He said wanted, not loved. She had to remember to make the distinction as Tom had warned. Careful, girl, she told herself, don’t let him get under your skin.

      The trouble was, he was already there, very deep. She loved him too much.

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