by Janet Dailey
Jonni knew that and had become resigned to it. "Daddy will want to show you the operation. He's quite proud of what the Starr family has built."
"I promise you I'll be dutifully attentive and interested when he does," Trevor assured her in a dryly mocking tone.
"You absolutely can't stay longer?" She repeated the statement as a question.
"I absolutely can't." Trevor took hold of her hand and carried it to his lips. "We haven't even arrived and you're already missing me before I leave. No wonder I'm in love with you!"
"I love you, too, Trevor," Jonni murmured.
Her hand curved itself to his strong jaw. His skin was tanned brown by the rays of a sunlamp he kept in his apartment. She knew he had a sunlamp because she had made use of it herself on one two occasions. Leaning over, she placed a lingering kiss on his mouth.
The changing pitch of the engine's drone informed her that they were losing altitude, beginning their descent. She straightened back to her own seat, exchanging a warm look with Trevor as the pilot partially glanced over his shoulder.
"We'll be coming up on the airstrip soon," he told them.
After rechecking her seat belt to be certain it was securely fastened, Jonni glanced out the window. She was positive they were flying over Starr acreage even though it had been six years since last she saw it.
"Do you know what kind of condition this private runway is in?"
"It's a grass runway, but you can be sure it's in the best condition. My father has always insisted on that," Jonni replied with quiet authority. "It's on that plateau just beyond the buildings coming up on the right."
"I hope your parents are home," Trevor remarked. "I'd hate to think we've come all this way only to find out they're on vacation."
"Don't worry, I talk to them every week. Last Sunday they were very definite they wouldn't be going anywhere until the heat of the summer," she reassured him.
The white, two-story building of the main house stood like a quiet sentinel of the plateau. The branches of the towering trees that surrounded it looked bare from the plane's height, but a new carpet of green grass was on the ground. Hay was stacked in great mounds near the barns and equipment sheds. The red hides of Hereford cattle dotted the rugged land around the ranch yard.
The pilot cautiously made a pass at the landing strip to inspect its condition. A warmth of pride spread through Jonni as the statement she had made echoed true. The grass strip was in flawless condition, freshly mowed as if they were expected. The wind sock on the small metal hangar was barely moving. Painted on he roof of the hangar was a large star, to signify Starr Ranch. The next time around, the pilot set up for the actual landing.
"It's quite a walk from the airstrip to the main house," Trevor observed. "I hope you aren't planning a late-afternoon stroll."
"Someone will hear the plane land and come to investigate. We'll have a ride," Jonni stated prophetically.
With flaps down for a soft field landing, the pilot slowed the aircraft to near stall speed and gently set it down on the grass runaway. Short of the end of the strip, he turned the plane and taxied it to the hangar, cutting the engines. As the pilot climbed out to help his two passengers disembark, a pickup truck braked to a stop at the building and a tall man dressed in Levi's, Stetson and a denim jacket stepped out.
"You've landed on a private airstrip," he announced in a low-pitched voice that could border on a growl with the right intonation. At the moment it was only a politely worded demand to state their business or be gone. "There are several municipal fields in the area I can direct you to — unless you're having mechanical problems."
"I have chartered passengers for the Starr Ranch," the pilot replied evenly.
"Passengers?" The word was snapped out in wary disbelief.
At that moment Jonni stepped out of the plane onto the wing's steps. A throaty laugh came from her, rich with happiness to be home, yet controlled in its jubilation.
"Stop trying to order me off before I've even had a chance to set foot on home ground, Gabe," she declared in mock reproof.
She was met with silence as she negotiated her way off the wing. Standing on Starr grass, she lifted her gaze to the man standing near the wing tip. It was Gabe Stockman, who managed the ranch for her father.
Accustomed to being around men of her stature or only slightly taller, Jonni discovered she had to look up to meet his gaze, a fact she had forgotten in the passage of six years. Broad-shouldered, with a tautly muscled stomach and hips, Gabe Stockman was on the wrong side of thirty. The sun had weathered his hard-bitten features to the color of finely-grained leather, tanned and smooth, with wavy lines at the corners of his dark eyes from squinting into the Kansas sun. A neatly-trimmed mustache, as black as the hair beneath his dusty hat, grew above his upper lip, neatly trimmed and clipped.
The steady gaze of his eyes boring into hers, inspecting and appraising the changes of six years, was disconcerting to Jonni. There was something so frankly sensual about the way he was studying her that it made her nervous.
"Aren't you going to say something, Gabe?" she prompted to end the silence, which was beginning to make her uneasy.
His mouth quirked in that familiar, hard way, a corner disappearing into the edge of his black mustache. "It's about time you came back."
That warm feeling of coming home enveloped Jonni again. Gabe wasn't a stranger. He was a comfortable friend from the past, someone who had taunted her unmercifully about the boys she dated, who had mocked her ambition to become a famous model, but who had always listened to all her troubles, no matter how large or small.
"Is that any way to say welcome home after six years?" She laughed and crossed the space that separated them.
Her arms curved naturally around his neck as she rose on tiptoe to kiss him. Automatically his large hands reached to grasp her waist, their size spanning her rib cage. Her lips had hardly touched the smooth mouth beneath the black velvet strip of hair when his grip tightened fiercely on her ribs, nearly cracking a bone. She exhaled a faint gasp pain, feeling her breath mingle with the warmth of his. Her heels rocked onto the ground as Gabe relaxed his grip, his face losing all its expression.
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what was wrong. Too late, she realized her mistake. She was no longer in New York where people who were practically strangers hugged and kissed in greeting. Gabe's inbred aloofness would not permit so demonstrative a greeting. She smiled and tried to ignore the incident.
That was easy, because Trevor was walking toward her. Taking a step away from Gabe, Jonni turned to include him, stretching out a hand to be enclosed in Trevor's grip.
"Gabe, I want you to meet Trevor Martin, my fiancé," she introduced him, and saw Gabe's dark eyes narrow in piercing inspection. "Trevor, this is Gable Stockman, the manager of Starr Ranch."
"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Stockman. Jonni has mentioned you often," Trevor lied smoothly. He hadn't learned of Gabe's existence until that day.
He offered to shake hands but Gabe was already turning to look at Jonni. She couldn't tell if Gabe was deliberately ignoring the outstretched hand of her fiancé or didn't see it. But she had never been able to read his expression. His was the perfect poker face, masked and unblinking in its regard.
"I suppose he's the reason you finally came home," Gabe observed with a grimness that implied censure.
Anger flashed in Jonni that Gabe could be rude as to talk about Trevor as if he wasn't standing right there. "Trevor is the main reason I've come home now," she admitted. "He only proposed to me last week." She moved closer to Trevor's side. "Naturally I wanted mom and dad to meet him right away."
"I tried to persuade Jonni that we should call ahead to let them know we were coming," Trevor explained, "but she insisted on surprising them. I hope Mr. and Mrs. Starr are here. They haven't gone away for the weekend, have they?"
"No, they're at the house." It was a clipped, precise answer, without elaboration or comment.
"Aren't
you going to offer us your congratulations?" Jonni challenged, irritated and off balance because of his attitude.
"Congratulations," Gabe responded in a flat voice, devoid of emotion. His gaze flicked to the huge diamond in her engagement ring. "Don't wear that around the animals, it's liable to spook them." He issued the warning with a straight face, minus any humor, even the derisive kind.
Gabe brushed past Jonni and Trevor to take charge of the situation. "We'll load them in the back of the pickup." He picked up one of the heavier cases and started to reach for the second, of an equal size, when he glanced back to see Trevor still standing beside Jonni, making no move to help. Gabe altered his choice to one of the lighter bags. With a nod of his head toward the remaining heavy bag, he said, "You can bring that one, Mr. Martin."
Jonni felt Trevor stiffen in resentment. A second later, he changed his mind and walked over to take the second suitcase. Her lips thinned into a straight line as her gaze met Gabe's shuttered look.
She was caught in the middle, aware of both sides of the situation. Trevor had been accustomed all his life to having someone else do the heavy work. It was a natural oversight on his part to let Gabe and the pilot carry the bags.
On the other hand, Gabe was not a hired hand. He was the ranch manager, in total authority. He carried no man's luggage and would not assume the role of servant for anyone, not even a guest. He was Trevor's equal, willing to help but not to do it all.
What bothered Jonni was the terse way Gabe had put across his point. It could have been accomplished with a bit more finesse, less bluntness. If Gabe had used friendlier wording Trevor would not have bristled. Jonni suspected Trevor might have even apologized for his oversight. Now there was an open breach between the two men. Jonni blamed Gabe, knowing he could have been more tolerant.
With the luggage arranged in the back of the pickup the pilot climbed back into the plane. Its twin engines were revving up as Jonni slid into the cab of the truck. She sat in the middle between the two men, her shoulders rubbing against theirs. Trevor held her hand in his, affectionately winding their fingers together. When Gabe reached forward to start the engine, his gaze flicked to their entwined hands. Jonni noticed the way his square jaw hardened in disapproval.
"Where are you from, Mr. Martin? New York?" Gabe shot out the question, making the foregone conclusion become a condemnation. There was a harsh, abrasive thrust to his voice that reminded Jonni of the serrated edge of a knife blade.
"Manhattan, yes," Trevor replied, and added deliberately, "Manhattan is in New York City."
Gabe shifted the truck into gear and parried the gibe, coldly smiling. "I've heard that. What do you do for a living?"
"I have several interests — investments in real estate, office and apartment buildings and the like, as well as some stocks and a few Broadway productions."
"It sounds as if you won't have too much trouble taking on the added responsibilities of a wife." The remark sounded offhand and indifferent as Gabe slowed the truck to make the curve in the dirt road ahead.
"I doubt that I'll have any trouble," Trevor said with blatant arrogance. "It will be a case where two can live as cheaply as one, since we won't have two apartment payments along with food and utilities."
"Do you mean you aren't living together already?" Gabe issued the question with the lazy surprise of someone expecting to hear differently.
"No, we are not!" Jonni's cheeks flamed as his gaze slid slowly over the two of them. Jonni blamed the heat on outraged anger and Gabe's total lack of tact, rather than embarrassment, which was usually alien to her.
She shifted in her seat, trying to inch closer to Trevor before the curve in the road slid her toward Gabe. Pain stabbed in the area of her rib cage. By morning, her flesh would probably be marked with bruises where Gabe's hands had gripped her for the punishing instant.
"I don't think you know Jonni very well, Mr. Stockman," Trevor stated, coming to her defense.
"I don't think you know Jon very well." Gabe abbreviated her name, the glint in his dark eyes indicating an inner secret not to be shared with Trevor. "'Johnny be good' used to be the catch-word for Jonni around here. It was more often a plea."
What Gabe said was true, but not the way he implied it. She had always been too curious, eager to explore new territory, riding farther afield on the ranch than she was usually allowed. She was bold, not wild.
The bend in the road was negotiated without Jonni sliding into Gabe. Ahead of them was the house, her childhood home. The skeletal branches of the trees were dotted with green buds. Spring was only a few warm days from bursting out in a tide of green. Gabe stopped the truck at the end of a stone path leading to the house.
"How long are you planning to stay?" He addressed the question to Trevor as he swung his long frame out of the cab.
"I'll have to leave on Monday. Jonni is staying for two weeks." This time Trevor didn't need to be prompted, and walked to the rear of the truck to remove two of the suitcases.
Without the pilot to assist them, Jonni offered to help. "I'll carry some."
Gabe handed her the two lightest ones. "Two weeks isn't a very long time, compared with six years." There was condemnation in his brooding look. "What does that break down to? Two and a half days for every year you've been gone?"
"I was lucky to arrange that," she defended.
"That face is very much much in demand." Trevor smiled at her with pride.
Lifting the last of the bags over the tailgate of the truck, Gabe appeared unimpressed by the statement. "I don't think the world would come to an end if she took a couple of months off."
"It could seriously affect her career, though," Trevor murmured with faint arrogance.
"So what?" Gabe said with an offhand shrug. "She'll be marrying you. Or are you going to continue working after you're married?" The question was directed at Jonni.
"Well, yes, naturally." She glanced at Trevor, who smiled encouragingly. "Why shouldn't I?"
"I wouldn't dream of suggesting that Jonni give up her very successful career simply because she's marrying me," Trevor inserted.
Gabe's gaze raked Trevor from the top of his head to the polished tips of his shoe, as if doubting his manhood. There was something dismissive about the way Gabe turned away from him, a disgusted sound coming from his throat.
Rage flared in Trevor's expression. He took a step toward Gabe as if to challenge him. "Don't." Jonni whispered the warning. She knew who would be the victor in a fight, and it wouldn't be Trevor. He had neither the muscle nor the experience. And for all his determination, Jonni questioned that he could be as ruthless as Gabe was.
With remarkable restraint, Trevor schooled his expression to blandness. He cast Jonni a stiff smile and indicated with a nod of his head that she should precede the two of them to the house. As she walked along the stone path she visualized the two men walking behind her. She was struck by the startling contrast between the two.
Both were tall and dark, but Gabe was rough with all blunt edges; Trevor was smooth and polished, like a fine gemstone. Trevor was dressed in an expensive, hand-tailored suit and topcoat and fine leather shoes; Gabe wore ever durable denims and boots worn down at the heel. Trevor was sophisticated and well mannered, fully aware of which fork to use at the most elaborate table setting.
Gabe said what he thought, leaving no one in doubt of his opinion. Shrewd and uncannily intelligent, he had obtained most of his education from life while Trevor had attended the best schools available, including two years at a European university. Both were unmistakably men, one refined and the other the raw product. Jonni felt slightly shaken by the comparison and didn't know why.
Before Jonni reached the steps to the porch the front door opened and her father walked out, tall and slim, his blond hair silvering to gray. A look of incredulous delight beamed from his handsome face.
"I saw you coming up the walk and couldn't believe my eyes!" he declared.
"Surprise!" she laughed.
Chapter Two
THE NEXT FEW MINUTES were lost in a confusion of laughter and hugs. Everyone was trying to talk at once with no one understanding what anyone else was saying. If her father hadn't noticed Trevor standing quietly beside Gabe, the chaos might have continued longer.
"Who's the young man you brought with you?" he asked, drawing her mother's gaze to Trevor as well.
Before Jonni had a chance to make the introduction, Gabe identified Trevor. "This is her fiancé."
Jonni hurried to fill the sudden silence that followed his announcement. "Mom, dad, this is Trevor Martin, my fiancé," she acknowledged Gabe's statement. "Trevor, this is my mother, Caroline, and my dad, John Starr."
Trevor shook hands with each of them, exhibiting his charm as he lingered over her mother's hand. "Now I understand where Jonni inherited her looks. It was obviously from you, Mrs. Starr. May I call you Caroline? Mrs. Starr seems too formal. Mother Caroline might be appropriate, but you don't look old enough to be my mother — or my mother-in-law, for that matter."
"Flattery will get you anywhere with me, Trevor." Her mother laughed at the lavish compliment. "And please, feel free to call me Caroline."
"Thank you, Caroline." Trevor made a mocking half bow over her hand.
Jonni accidentally glanced at Gabe during the exchange between her mother and Trevor. She saw the look of disgust that flashed across his expression, quickly concealed by a shuttered mask falling into place. Damn him, she thought angrily.
"I can't get over it, John. Our little girl is engaged." Caroline shook her head in disbelief, smiling and catching her lower lip between her teeth as if expecting it to quiver.
"Now don't go crying over this, Caroline," John Starr ordered, putting an arm around his wife's shoulders and giving them an affectionate shake.
"I'm not. I'm happy," was the reply. A questing pair of blue eyes turned their attention to Jonni, their shade the same vivid blue as her own. "You do love him, don't you? What kind of a question is that?" Caroline Starr remonstrated with herself for asking it. "Of course you do, otherwise you wouldn't be marrying him."