by Diana Palmer
“Is he really that bad?”
Abby nodded. “He was always difficult. But his father’s remarriage, and then his death, left scars. These days, he’s a dangerous man to be around, even for other men. Calhoun leaves the office when he’s due to check on his stock. Justin seems to like him, but Calhoun almost came to blows with him once.”
“Is he here very often?” Fay asked with obvious reluctance.
“Every other week, like clockwork.”
“Then I’m very glad I won’t be around long,” she said with feeling.
Abby laughed. “Not to worry. He’ll barely notice you. It’s Calhoun and Justin who get the range language.”
“I feel better already,” she said.
Her first day was tiring, but by the end of it she knew how many records had to be compiled each day on the individual lots of cattle. She learned volumes about weight gain ratios, feed supplements, veterinary services, daily chores and form filing. If it sounded simple just to feed cattle, it wasn’t. There were hundreds of details to be attended to, and printouts of daily averages to be compiled for clients.
As the days went by and she fell into the routine of the job, Fay couldn’t help but wonder if Donavan ever came here. He was foreman for a ranch, he’d told her. If that ranch had feeder cattle, this was probably where they’d be brought. But from what she’d learned, it was subordinates who dealt with the logistics of the transporting of feeder cattle, not the bosses.
She wanted badly to see him, to tell him how big an impact he’d had on her life with his pep talk that night she’d gone to the bar. Her horizons had enlarged, and she was independent for the first time in her life. She’d gone from frightened girl to confident woman in a very short time, and she wanted to thank him. She’d almost asked Abby a dozen times if she knew anyone named Donavan, but Abby would hardly travel in those circles. The Ballengers were high society now, even if they weren’t social types. They wouldn’t hang out in country bars with men who treed them.
Her uncle had tried to get her to come back to his house when word got out that she was working for a living, but she’d stood firm. No, she told Uncle Henry firmly. She wasn’t going to be at his mercy until she inherited. And, she added, Mr. Holman was going to expect an accounting in the near future. Her uncle had looked very uncomfortable when she’d said that and she’d called Barry Holman the next morning to ask about her uncle’s authority to act on her behalf.
His reply was that her uncle’s power of attorney was a very limited one, and it was doubtful that he could do much damage in the short time he had left. Fay wondered about that. Her uncle was shrewd and underhanded. Heaven knew what wheeling and dealing he might have done already without her knowledge.
Pressure of work caught her attention and held it until the early afternoon. She took long enough to eat lunch at a nearby seafood place and came back just in time to catch the tail end of a heated argument coming from Calhoun’s office.
“You’re being unreasonable, J.D., and you know it!” Calhoun’s deep voice carried down the hall.
Unreasonable, hell,” an equally deep voice drawled. “You and I may never see eye to eye on production methods, but while you’re feeding out my cattle, you’ll do it my way.”
“For God’s sake, you’d have me out there feeding the damned things with a fork!”
“Not at all. I only want them treated humanely.”
“They are treated humanely!”
“I wouldn’t call an electric cattle prod that. And stressed animals aren’t healthy animals.”
“Have you ever thought about joining an animal rights lobby?” came the exasperated reply.
“I belong to two, thanks.”
The door opened and Fay couldn’t drag her eyes away from it. That curt voice was so familiar…
Sure enough, the tall, lithe man who came out of the office in front of Calhoun was equally familiar. Fay couldn’t help the radiance of her face, the softness of her eyes as they adored his lean, dark face under the wide brim of his hat.
Donavan. She could have danced on her desk.
But when he turned and saw her, he frowned. His silvery eyes narrowed, glittered. He paused by her desk, his head cocked slightly to one side, a lit cigar dangling from his fingers.
“What are you doing here?” he asked her bluntly.
“I’m filling in for Nita,” she began.
“Don’t tell me you have to work for a living now, debutante?” he asked in a mocking tone.
She hesitated. He sounded as if he disliked her. But she knew he’d enjoyed the fiesta as much as she had. His behavior puzzled her, intimidated her.
“Well, yes,” she stammered. “I do.” And she did. For the time being.
“What a hell of a comedown,” he murmured with patent disbelief. “Still driving the Mercedes?”
“You know each other?” Calhoun asked narrowly.
Donavan lifted the cigar to his mouth and blew out thick smoke. “Vaguely.” He glanced at Calhoun until the other man sighed angrily and went back to his office with a muttered goodbye.
“You’ve been driving by the bar fairly regularly,” he remarked curtly, and she blushed because she couldn’t deny it. She’d been looking for him, hoping to have a chance to tell him how he’d helped her turn her life around. But he seemed to be putting a totally different connotation on her actions. “Is that where you found out I did business with the Ballengers?” He didn’t even give her time to deny it. “Well, no go, honey. I told you that night, no bored debutante is going to try to make a minor amusement out of me. So if you came here hoping for another shot at me, you might as well quit right now and go home to your caviar and champagne. You’re not hard on the eyes, but I’m off the market, is that clear?”
She stared at him in quiet confusion. “Mr. Holman told me about the job,” she said with what dignity she had left. “I don’t have a dime until my twenty-first birthday, and I’m living on my own so I have to pay rent. This was the only job available.” She dropped her gaze to her computer. “I drove by the bar a time or two, yes. I wanted to tell you that you’d changed my life, that I was learning to stand on my own feet. I wanted to thank you.”
His jaw tautened and he looked more dangerous than ever. “I don’t want thanks, teenage adulation, hero worship or misplaced lust. But you’re welcome, if it matters.”
He sounded cynical and mocking. Fay felt chastised. She’d only been grateful, but he made her feel stupid. Maybe she was. She’d spun a few midnight dreams about him. Except for some very innocent dates with boys, she’d never had much attention from the opposite sex. His protective attitude that night in the bar, his quiet handling of what could have become a bad incident, had made her feel feminine and hungry for more of his company. He was telling her that she’d made too much of it, that she was offering him affection that he didn’t want or need. It was probably a kindness, but it hurt all the same.
She forced a smile. “You needn’t worry. I wasn’t planning to follow you around with a wedding band on a hook or anything. I just wanted to thank you for what you did.”
“You’ve done that. So?”
“I…have a lot of work to get through. I’m only temporary,” she added quickly. “Just until Nita comes back. When I get my legacy, I’ll be on the first plane back to Georgia. Honest.”
His dark eyebrows plunged above the straight bridge of his nose. “I don’t remember asking for any explanations.”
“Excuse me, then.” She turned her attention back to her keyboard; her hands were cold and numb. She forced them to work. She didn’t look up, either. He’d made her feel like what came out of a sausage grinder.
He didn’t reply. He didn’t linger, either. His measured footsteps went out the door immediately, leaving the pungent scent of cigar smoke in their wake.
Calhoun came back out five minutes later, checking his watch. “I have to be out of the office for an hour or so. Tell Justin when he comes back, will you?”
&nbs
p; “Yes, sir,” she said, smiling.
He hesitated, his narrowed eyes registering the hurt on her face that she couldn’t hide. “Listen, Fay, don’t let him upset you,” he added quietly. “He doesn’t really mean things as personally as they sound, but he rubs everybody the wrong way except Justin.”
“He saved me from a bad situation,” she began. “I only wanted to thank him, but he seemed to think I had designs on him or something. My goodness, he thought I came to work here because he did business with you!”
He laughed. “Can’t blame him. Several have, and no, I’m not kidding. The more he snarls, the harder some women chase him. He’s a catch, too. He makes good money with Mesa Blanco, and his own ranch is nothing to laugh at.”
“Mesa…Blanco?” she stammered, as puzzle pieces began to make a pattern in her mind.
“Sure. Didn’t he introduce himself before?” He smiled ruefully. “I guess not. Well, that was J. D. Langley.”
Chapter 3
Fay got through the rest of the day without showing too much of her heartache. She’d had hopes that Donavan might have felt something for her, but he’d dashed those very efficiently. He couldn’t have made it more obvious that he wanted no part of her or her monied background. He wouldn’t believe that she had to work. Well, of course, she didn’t, really. But he might have given her the benefit of the doubt.
It hadn’t been a terrible shock to learn that he was J. D. Langley. He did live down to his publicity. Later, she’d found out that Donavan was his middle name and what he was called locally, except by people who did business with him. She certainly understood why the Ballengers hated to see him coming.
She was sorry about his hostility, because the first time she’d ever seen him, there had been a tenderness between them that she’d never experienced. It must have all been on one side, though, she decided miserably.
Well, she told herself as she lay trying to sleep that night, she’d do better to stop brooding and concentrate on her own problems. She had enough, without adding the formidable Mr. Langley to them.
But fate was conspiring against her. The next day, she tried a new cafeteria in Jacobsville and came face-to-face with J. D. Langley as she sat down with her tray.
He gave her a glare that would have stopped traffic. He’d obviously just finished his meal. He was draining his coffee cup. Fay turned her chair so that she wasn’t looking directly at him and, with unsteady hands, took her food off the tray.
“I told you yesterday,” Donavan said at her shoulder, “that I don’t like being chased. Didn’t you listen?”
The whip of his voice cut. Not only that, it was loud enough to attract attention from other diners in the crowded room.
Fay’s face went red as she glanced at him apprehensively, her green eyes huge as they met the fierce silvery glitter of his.
“I didn’t know you were going to be here…” she began uneasily.
“No?” he challenged, his smile an insult in itself. “You didn’t recognize my car sitting in the parking lot? Give it up, debutante. I don’t like bored little rich girls, so stop following me around. Got that?”
He turned and left the cafeteria. Fay was too humiliated by the unwanted attention to enjoy much of her meal. She left quickly and went back to work.
Following him around, indeed, she muttered to herself while she fed data into her computer. She didn’t know what kind of car he drove. The only vehicle she’d seen him in was a battered gray pickup truck, had he forgotten? Perhaps he thought she’d seen his car when he’d come to the feedlot, but she hadn’t. The more she saw of him the less she liked him, and she’d hardly been hounding him. She certainly wouldn’t again, he could bank on that!
Abby came in the next afternoon with an invitation. “Calhoun and I have to go to a charity ball tonight. I know it’s spur-of-the-moment, but would you like to come?”
“Will my uncle be there, do you think?” Fay asked.
“I hardly think so.” Abby grinned. “Come on. You’ve been moping around here for two days, it will be good for you. You can ride with us, and there’s a very nice man I want to introduce you to when we get there. He’s unattached, personable and rich enough not to mind that you are.”
“Uh, Mr. Langley…?”
“I heard what happened in Cole’s Café.” Abby grimaced. “J.D. doesn’t go to charity balls, so you aren’t likely to run into him there.”
“Thank God. He was so kind to me the night I met him, but he’s been terrible to me ever since. I only wanted to thank him. He thinks I have designs on him.” She shuddered. “As if I’d ever chased a man in my life…!”
“You’re not J.D.’s kind of woman, Fay,” the older woman said gently. “Your wealth alone would keep him at bay, without the difference in your ages. J.D.’s in his early thirties, and he doesn’t like younger women.”
“I don’t think he likes any women,” Fay replied with a sigh. “Especially me. But I wasn’t chasing him, honestly!”
“Don’t let it worry you.”
“You’re sure he won’t be there tonight?”
“Absolutely positive,” Abby assured her.
Prophetic words. Abby and Calhoun picked Fay up at her apartment house, and drove her to the elegant Whitman estate where the charity ball was already in progress. Fay was wearing a long, white silk dress with one shoulder bare and her hair in a very elegant braided bun atop her head. She looked young and fragile…and very rich.
They went through the receiving line and Fay moved ahead of Calhoun and Abby to the refreshment table while they spoke to an acquaintance. She bumped into someone and turned to apologize.
“Again?” J. D. Langley asked with a vicious scowl. “My God, do you have radar?”
Fay didn’t say a word. She turned and went back toward Abby and Calhoun, her heart pounding in her chest.
Abby spotted J.D. and grimaced. “I didn’t know,” she told a shattered Fay. “I swear I didn’t. Here, you stick close to us. He won’t bother you. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Bart and that will solve all your problems. I’m sorry, Fay.”
“It wasn’t your fault. It’s fate, I guess,” she said dryly, although her eyes were troubled.
“Arrogant beast,” Abby muttered, sparing the tall, elegant man in the dinner jacket a speaking glance. “If he were a little less conceited, you wouldn’t have this problem.” She drew Fay forward. “Here he is. Bart!”
A thin, lazy-looking man with wavy blond hair and mischievous blue eyes turned as his name was called. He greeted Abby warmly and glanced at Fay with open curiosity and delight.
“Well, well, Greek goddesses are back in style again, I see. Do favor me with a waltz before you set off for Mount Olympus, fair damsel.”
“This is our newest employee, Fay York,” she introduced them. “Fay, this is Bartlett Markham. He’s president of the local cattlemen’s association.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, extending a hand. “Do you know cattle?”
“I grew up on a ranch. I work for a firm of accountants now, but my family still has a pretty formidable Santa Gertrudis purebred operation.”
“I don’t know much, but I’m learning every day,” Fay laughed.
“I’ll leave her with you, Bart,” Abby said. “Do keep her away from J.D., will you? He seems to think she’s stalking him.”
“Do tell?” His eyebrows levered up and he grinned. “Why not stalk me instead? I’m a much better catch than J.D., and you won’t need preventive shots if you go out with me, either.”
Insinuating that she would with J.D., she thought. Rabies probably, she mused venomously, in case he bit her. She smiled at Bart, feeling happier already.
“Consider yourself on the endangered species list, then,” she said.
He laughed. “Gladly.” He glanced toward the band. “Would you like to dance?”
“Charmed.” She gave him her hand and let him lead her to the dance floor, where a live band was playing a bluesy two-step. She knew
exactly where J. D. Langley was, as if she really did have radar, so she was careful not to look in that direction.
He noticed. It was impossible not to, when she was dancing with one of his bitterest enemies. He stood quietly against a wall, his silver eyes steady and unblinking as he registered the fluid grace with which she followed her partner’s steps. He didn’t like the way Markham was holding her, or the way she was responding.
Not that he wanted her, he assured himself. She was nothing but another troublesome woman. A debutante, at that, and over ten years his junior. He had no use for her at all, and he’d made sure she knew it. Their one evening together had sent him tearing away in the opposite direction. She appealed to him terribly. He couldn’t afford an involvement with a society girl. He knew he was better off alone, so keeping this tempting little morsel away from him became imperative. If he had to savage her to do it, it was still the best thing for both of them. She was much too soft and delicate for a man like himself. He’d break her spirit and her heart, because he had nothing to give. And his father’s reputation in the community made it impossible for him to be seen in public with her in any congenial way. He’d accused her of stalking him, but gossip would have it the other way around. Another money-crazy Langley, critics would scoff, out to snare himself a rich wife. He groaned at just the thought.
He didn’t like seeing her with Markham, but there was nothing he could do about it. He shouldn’t have come tonight.
He turned away to the refreshment table and poured himself a glass of Scotch.
“You aren’t really after Donavan, are you?” Bart asked humorously.
“He flatters himself,” she said haughtily.