His Girl Friday by Diana Palmer Read Free Book Online Page A

potted plants and curtains?"
    Danet a glared at her. "I am not imitating inanimate objects. I'm just into self-preservation, that's al ."
    "Knowing your dishy Mr. Rit er, I can understand that," Jenny said with a dry glance. "He'd turn on a brick. But he isn't the only man on earth, Dina. And you're nearing twentyfour already. Don't bury yourself in that office and spend your life eating your heart out for your handsome boss," she added gendy. Danet a's lips parted suddenly. "I'm not eating my heart out for Cabe Rit er!"
    "Aren't you?" Jenny got out mayonnaise and bread and put them on the table, pausing to set it with silverware and plates and napkins before she sat down to watch Danet a wielding a knife at the counter. Her blue eyes were soft and concerned. "He's al you ever talk about when I'm home. You haven't dated anyone for over a year, remember."
    "I don't want to have to fight off men," Danet a faltered.
    "That isn't it. You're besotted with Mr. Rit er." "That's ridiculous!" she laughed nervously. "Here, have some ham." Jenny's eyebrows rose as Danet a picked up a plate of cake she'd already sliced and absently offered it to her cousin.
    "Uh, Dina, that isn't ham," she said.
    The younger woman frowned, glancing from the ham she was slicing to the cake she'd handed her cousin. She could feel her face flaming.
    "It's my dull life making me crazy," Danet a sighed. She took back the cake and offered the sliced ham. "Maybe I do need to kis Norman and see if he turns into a prince."
    "That's frogs, not iguanas," Jenny corrected. "But you could use a prince," her cousin added. "A nice tal one who'l treat you like royalty. You'd look right at home in a cottage with a white picket fence and pret y lit le girls playing around your skirts."
    "We both used to dream about that, remember?" Danet a recal ed with a smile as she paused long enough to heat up some spinach quiche for Norman and put it in his dog dish. She wondered if anybody made bowls for iguanas. She glanced at Jenny, noticing the withdrawn, sad look on the older woman's face. "Jenny, what's wrong?"
    "Nothing," Jenny said quietly. "I'm just tired." She caught the other woman's curious look and smiled. "Nothing's wrong, real y. How are Uncle Rob and Aunt Helen?" Danet a al owed herself to be sidetracked, reluctantly. "Mom and Dad are fine," she said. "They're organizing a youth program back in Mis ouri that caters to teens on the edge of drug addiction, and they said that your mom is taking up break dancing."
    Jenny laughed. "So she wrote me. I hope she doesn't break anything doing it. It's so nice to be home, Dina," she sighed. "Even if it's only for a night." And it was barely a whole night; when Danet a woke, Jenny was already gone. The twin bed where Jenny had slept was neatly made, and there was a note on it, a very brief one, saying that Jenny had to catch an early flight and would write.
    Danet a fed Norman some bananas and avocado and leftover spinach quiche and went to work worrying. Something was going on, and judging by Jenny's look and distracted presence, it was something big.
    Jenny had worked on that hush-hush project for the past few months. Her mother, who was Danet a's Aunt Doris, and Danet a's own parents had been uneasy about her taking the job. But Jenny wasn't a homebody, and she seemed to thrive on the excitement.
    The thing was, nobody knew or understood what Jenny did. And maybe it was bet er that way.
    Danet a had an office full of people as the day began, which gave her the advantage of not having to spend any time alone with the disturbing Mr. Rit er. After yesterday, she had every intention of walking wide around him. She could have choked herself senseles for let ing him get that close, for let ing him see how vulnerable she was. But he was, again, al busines , even if she did feel the heat of his gaze more often than usual as the day wore on. Lunchtime came, and Danet a got her purse to run down to the smal Chinese restaurant at the