The Texas Ranger by Diana Palmer Read Free Book Online Page A

on the sofa and watch a good black-and-white movie with her cat Barnes. But she’d have to pack instead. Tomorrow, she had to go back to San Antonio and face not only a murder investigation, but the pain of her own past.
    Josette walked back into her office and stopped dead. Marc Brannon was still around and he was now occupying her desk chair. His Stetson was sitting on one of the chairs in front of her desk. Marc was sitting behind her desk, in her swivel chair, with his size thirteen highly polished brown boots propped insolently on her desk. Her heart jumped up into her throat for the second time in less than an hour. Despite the years in between, she still reacted to his presence like a starstruck fan. It madeher angry that she had so little resistance to a man who’d helped ruin her life. His angry words from two years ago still blistered her pride, in memory.
    â€œI thought you left,” she said shortly. “And I don’t remember inviting you into my office,” she added, slamming the door behind her.
    â€œI didn’t think I needed an invitation. We’re partners,” Brannon drawled, watching her with those glittery gray eyes that didn’t even seem to blink.
    â€œNot my idea,” she replied promptly. She put the files down beside his boots and stood staring at him. He didn’t look a day older than he had when she’d first met him. But he was. There were silver threads just visible at his temples where his thick blond-streaked brown hair waved just a little over his jutting brow. His long legs were muscular. She knew how fast he could run, because she’d seen him chase down horses. She’d seen him ride them, too. He was a champion bronc buster.
    â€œYou think Bib Webb hired a hit man to kill Jennings,” he said at once.
    â€œI think somebody did,” Josette corrected. “I don’t rush to judgment.”
    â€œInsinuating that I do?” he asked with an arrogant slide of his eyes down her body. He frowned suddenly as it occurred to him that she was dressed like an aging spinster. Every inch of her was covered. The blouse had a high collar and the jacket was loose enough to barely hint at the curves beneath it. The skirt was slightly flared at the hips, so that it didn’t pull tight when she walked. Her hair was in a tight bun, despite the faint wisps of blond curls that tumbled down over her exquisite complexion. She wasn’t even wearing makeup, unless he missed his guess. Her lips, he recalled, were naturally pink, like the unblemished skin over her high cheekbones.
    â€œNo need to check out my assets. I haven’t gone on sale,” she pointed out.
    Brannon raised both thick eyebrows. That sounded like banked-down humor, but her face was deadpan.
    Josette moved closer to the desk. “I’ve just explained my theory to Simon.”
    â€œWould you care to share it with me?” he invited.
    â€œSure,” she said. “The minute you get your dirty boots off my desk and behave with some semblance of professional respect.” She didn’t smile as she said it, either.
    Brannon pursed his lips, laughed softly and threw his feet to the floor. He’d only done it to get a rise out of her.
    He got up and offered her the swivel chair with a flourish. He sank down gracefully into the chair next to the one his hat was resting on and crossed his long legs.
    She sat down in her own chair with a long sigh.It had been a hard day and she only wanted to go home. Fat chance of that happening now, she thought.
    â€œAnytime,” he invited.
    â€œDale Jennings’s mother was in serious trouble,” Josette said without preamble. “She’s sick and living on a small disability check. She’s only in her mid-fifties, not old enough to draw other benefits.” She leaned back in the chair, frowning as she considered the evidence. “She’d lost her small savings by listening to a fast-talking scam