Free The Phantom by Rob MacGregor Page B

Bird.”
    He smiled. “Keep up with that and I’ll change it to Commander Byrd, and we’ll fly off together to the North Pole.”
    If nothing else, Jimmy always had a quick comeback to her gentle prodding. “You’d hate the North Pole. You’d find it too cold.”
    He grinned. “Not with you there to keep me warm.”
    Diana avoided a reply; she didn’t want to get him going. But Jimmy apparently wasn’t finished.
    “You know,” he said, “I had the strangest urge a few weeks ago to charter a plane, track you down up there in the frozen North, charge into your hut, or tent, or log cabin, or whatever, sweep you off your feet, and bring you back here to New York.”
    “Really, Jimmy? Why didn’t you?”
    He shrugged. “I’m not sure exactly, but after a few sets of tennis and a cold gin fizz, the urge just seemed to pass.”
    She laughed. “Immediate pleasures are so much more fun.”
    Her sarcasm seemed to fly right over his head. He was looking her over, as if seeing her outfit for the first time. “You look awfully pretty in those woodsy flannels. You must have been driving those poor lonely lumberjacks out of their minds.”
    “I didn’t see any lumberjacks.”
    He moved closer to her. She was about to take a bite of her sandwich, but he pushed her arm down, cupped her chin in his palm, and kissed her on the mouth.
    Diana didn’t resist, but she didn’t participate, either. When the kiss ended, her expression was completely passive. She barely resisted the urge to rub the back of her hand across her mouth.
    He touched her chin with the tip of his finger, tilting her head upward, so she had to look at him. “You have to admit, Diana, there’s magic there.”
    She simply took a big bite of her sandwich in response.
    “What’s in the sandwich?”
    “Baloney,” she replied.

TEN
    A s publisher of The New York Tribune, David Palmer often found himself socializing with people whose names and activities were the topic of articles in his paper, and they weren’t always mentioned in the best light.
    That made for some uncomfortable dealings, but Palmer was used to easing the hurt feelings of the town’s politicians, celebrities, and assorted power brokers. On rare occasions, however, he spoke bluntly at social affairs, and tonight would be one of them.
    Waiters were pushing carts laden with food, setting up the buffet, as he walked over to Mayor Krebs and Police Commissioner Farley. Both men were eyeing the ample buffet. He needed to talk with them, and he might as well get it over with before dinner. “Mayor. Commissioner. Are you enjoying yourselves this evening?”
    “As much as I can in this monkey suit,” Farley griped, tugging at the lapels of his tuxedo.
    A waiter arrived with a fresh supply of cocktails. He picked up the empty glasses and moved on.
    “Wonderful affair, Dave. You’ve outdone yourself,” Krebs said jovially, and patted him on the back. He held up his drink. “To the Palmer Foundation and all such worthy causes.”
    “Thank you,” Palmer said, clicking glasses. He was about to sip his drink when he glimpsed Xander Drax moving across the room toward the trio.
    Drax extended a hand to Palmer and smiled congenially. “Now, here’s the man I want to see!”
    “You’re not welcome here, Mr. Drax.”
    It wasn’t Palmer’s style to insult dinner guests, but in this case he intended to let Drax, as well as the mayor and police commissioner, know his exact sentiments. He found Drax’s business dealings repugnant, and the last thing he wanted was for any of his guests to think he had invited him here.
    Drax lowered his hand, his eyes narrowed, his jaw settled in a defiant pose. Then he smiled again. “I see the police commissioner is right here. Why don’t you have me arrested?”
    “Be sure to sample the buffet on your way out, Mr. Drax.”
    “For God’s sake, Dave,” Krebs interjected. “That isn’t necessary.”
    “Thank you, Mayor, but I can speak for myself.” A