by Janet Dailey
"I wanted to surprise you," Gabe admitted, hardly taking his eyes off her.
"You succeeded. It was the best surprise I've ever had." She found herself drowning in the black pool of his gaze. She kept remembering how he had said that he once intended to come to New York to bring her home. That had to be why he was here now. It had to be! And her heart soared at the heady implications of that. The shimmer of untold happiness was in her returning look.
Gabe moved closer until there was barely the width of a hand between them. His hands rested in light possession on the curve of her slender waist. They stood in the midst of the party, but Jonni was deaf and blind to everything but him.
"Your father mentioned that you'd broken your engagement to Trevor," he said.
"Yes." Jonni nodded once. "I did."
"I didn't love him." How could she, when she had fallen with love with Gabe? She would have told Gabe that, but a guest intruded into their intimate conversation … a female guest.
"Leave it to you, Jonni, to snare the handsomest hunk of man at the party," the woman chided. She turned to Gabe, her red mouth curving into an alluring smile. "I'm Cynthia Sloane."
"It's a pleasure, Miss Sloane." Gabe nodded politely to the woman and slid an arm around Jonni's waist to curve her to his side.
"Aren't you going to introduce him to me, Jonni?" the woman prompted.
"This is Gabe Stockman. He's — "Jonni was unsure how to identify him " — the general manager of my father's ranch and other holdings" Jonni settled on a generalized introduction.
"Gabe." The brunet repeated the name, rolling it over as if tasting, it. "Is that short for Gabriel — as in Gabriel, come blow my horn?" she asked with deliberate suggestiveness.
"No, it's Gabe, short for Gable as in Clark," Gabe stated in a tone that wasn't amused. "You'll have to excuse us, Miss Sloane. I have some family business to discuss with Jonni."
"Lucky Jonni," the woman replied with a pout of envy before she moved away.
Jonni did feel lucky — extraordinarily so. And proud, too. Cynthia had made her aware of the admiring looks Gabe was receiving from the other, less bold female guests at the party. She'd never seen him in a group before. All the other men paled in comparison, lacking that inborn air of command.
"Is there someplace we can talk where we won't be interrupted?" Gabe asked, bending his head to speak low in her ear. "I'd suggest the dance floor, but — an eyebrow quirked in mockery of his own suggestion " — what I had in mind was slow dancing where you just sway to the music. It won't work with that choice of songs."
"Hardly," Jonni agreed. The pounding of drums vibrated through the room like the magnified sound of a heartbeat. Her own pulse was matching the song's tempo. "We could try the kitchen," she suggested.
"Lead the way." Gabe's hand remained on the curve of her waist as Jonni moved ahead of him through the crowd. Once they were inside the kitchen the closed door muffled most of the loud party sounds. "Aren't you worried that one of the neighbors will complain about the noise?"
"It's all taken care of." Jonni smiled mischievously. "I invited all the neighbors to the party. If they're making the noise, they can't very well complain about it."
"Very clever." He chuckled.
"Yes." Her smile faded into wonderment as she surveyed Gabe anew. He looked so self-assured and relaxed in the clothes that seemed so out of character. "I've never seen you dressed like that before. You look different. Natural, but …" Jonni couldn't explain it.
"When in Rome." Gabe shrugged away the rest of the cliché.
It was Jonni who was unsure. She glanced around the kitchen, feeling the smallness of the room — and the privacy. "Would you like something to drink?" She assumed her role as hostess since she wasn't sure what other one to play. "The refrigerator is stocked with just about everything."
"I'm thirsty." He drew her toward him, his gaze shifting to her moist lips. "Like a man in the desert sun."
With a moan of surrender Jonni met his descending mouth. Her arms wound around his neck while his encircling arms crushed her against his length. The buttons of his vest made tiny imprints on her skin, but the pain and pleasure were inseparable. Gabe's thirst was unslakable. Jonni didn't care how much he drank from the fountain of her love. It was bottomless.
"Jonni!" The kitchen door opened and a blonde came bouncing in. "Oops! Sorry," she apologized as the pair broke apart.
Flushed and glowing, Jonni ran a self-conscious hand along her neck. "Was there something you wanted, Babs?"
"Mac is almost out of ice at the bar. He sent me out here to get some. You just tell me where to find it and you two can go back to doing your thing," the girl assured them with a knowing look.
The embrace had been too torrid for Jonni to resume it in front of someone else, even if that someone else did look the other way. Besides, she felt an odd shyness about behaving so boldly with Gabe. Being with him robbed her of her poise. She slipped the rest of the way out of his arms. Her gaze skittered away from the brief contact with glittering amusement of his dark eyes.
"The bags of ice are in the coolers." Jonni walked to the insulated ice chests sitting on the floor near the table. "I'll help you. How many do you need?"
"I'd better take three." Long, blond hair swung forward as the girl bent over while Jonni started dragging the bags of cubed ice from the cooler. Babs nearly dropped the third one Jonni handed her, but rescued it at the last instant.
"Can you make it?" Jonni frowned.
"Sure," the girl insisted, and winked, "Have fun, you two!"
It wasn't that easy to walk back to Gabe after the woman had left. He was standing by the counter where she'd left the plate of wafers topped with caviar. He had sampled one and was staring at the bite size piece still left in his hand.
"What is this?" He flashed her a wary look.
"Caviar."
"That's what caviar tastes like." A raised eyebrow indicated that he had expected something better. "You might have warned me that fish eggs are salty."
"The next time I will," she promised, relaxing slightly at the banter. "Caviar is an acquired taste, I think, like snails. Vickie, my roommate, loves caviar. I prefer peanut butter on my crackers."
"I'll remember that," said Gabe in a voice that made her heart completely skip a beat. But he didn't pursue that happy vein of implication. Instead he walked toward the refrigerator. "I think I'll take you up on that offer of a drink."
"Help yourself," Jonni said, even though he was already doing so.
Holding the refrigerator door open, he held up a bottle of Perrier. "What's this?"
"Water," she told him.
"Imported from France?" He frowned the question in skeptical amusement.
"It's very popular," Jonni grinned. "It's usually served with a twist."
"And that's all?" he mocked, and twisted off the cap.
"That's all."
"It's water all right," Gabe said after taking a swallow. "Perrier and caviar."
"That's real uptown," she laughed, then found herself wondering. "When did you get here? Why didn't you let me know you were coming?"
"I wanted to surprise you." Gabe answered the last question first. "My plane arrived three days ago."
An astonished and confused breath was expelled. "I hope you don't expect me to believe that you've been lost for three days, because you never get lost. Where have you been? Why haven't you come to see me before now?" To think he had been in New York three whole days, and she hadn't known. It was something Jonni didn't understand.
"No, I haven't been lost." He studied the bottle for a moment before lifting his black gaze to her. "I've been touring New York, visiting all the places you mentioned in your letters home — Wall Street, the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, Central Park. I've been to a couple of Broadway shows, a concert at Carnegie Hall, the museums, eaten at the best restaurants."
"And?" Jonni prompted when he paused.
"And I've come to the conclusion that it's a great place to v
isit." Gabe set the bottle on the counter. There was something final about the gesture.
"But you wouldn't want to live here," Jonni finished the common ending to his statement. "No, I don't think you would, either."
"I need space around me," said Gabe, and she could almost see his broad shoulders trying to make room in the small kitchen. "I need room to breathe. I want dirt beneath my boots, red Kansas dirt, not concrete. I don't belong here, Jonni. It's as simple as that."
"I know what you mean." There was an air of serenity about her expression. It was the same discovery she had made since returning to New York. This wasn't the place she wanted to live for the rest of her life, and not just because Gabe wasn't here. She started to tell him that. "I —
"Hey, Jonni, there you are!" The kitchen door burst open and a couple hurried in. The man was short and fairly stout. The girl with him was beanpole-tall and coltishly attractive. She was the one doing the talking, "We've been looking all over for you. Come on!"
The urgency in her demand moved Jonni toward them. "What's wrong? Has something happened?"
"Nothing's wrong," the girl sighed with exasperation. "Vickie is getting ready to open her presents and she won't do it until you're there. So come on."
Jonni glanced helplessly at Gabe. "I'm the one who's giving the party for her. I should be there," she offered in defense of the request. "Are you coming in, too?"
"No, you go ahead," he suggested with a nod, indicating that it was all right with him. "It's where you belong."
Unwilling but feeling obligated by the friendship with her roommate, Jonni allowed herself to be marched into the living room by the oddly matched pair. She was immediately pushed into the center of the party to join in the fun of watching her roommate open presents that were sometimes outrageous, sometimes practical and often imaginative.
Nearly an hour had passed before Jonni could steal away and return to the kitchen. She stopped abruptly inside the empty room. With the possibility that Gabe might have joined the party after all, she went back inside the living room and searched through the crowd of people.
There wasn't any sign of Gabe. A wave of desolation washed over her. She pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back the sob of panic and scanned the party-happy throng. There wasn't anyone that she could even mistake for Gabe.
"Hey, Jonni, what's wrong?" Babs, the girl who had come into the kitchen for the ice, was frowning at her with concern. "Don't you feel well?"
"It's Gabe, the man who was in the kitchen with me," Jonni explained, lighting to keep her voice calm. "Have you seen him?"
"No."
"I can't believe he'd leave without telling me," Jonni protested.
"When did you see him last?" Babs asked.
"In the kitchen. I came out here when Vickie opened her presents. I went back there after she was done and he wasn't there." Jonni's voice broke slightly on the last.
"Did he say he'd wait for you? Or tell you anything?" the other woman quizzed.
"No, he just said for me to go ahead and join the party," Jonni recalled. "He said it was where I belonged."
"Meaning what?" Babs smiled wryly. "That you didn't belong with him? That's a strange thing to say."
"He didn't mean that." Jonni started to shake her head to say that the idea was foolish, then a frightening thought struck her. "Did he? Just few minutes before that we were talking about New York and he said he didn't belong here. Babs, he has left," Jonni said. "He's left to go home, home to Kansas."
"Jonni, I'm sorry," the girl sympathized, and laid a consoling arm on Jonni's shoulders. But Jonni had already come to a decision and was moving away. "Hey, where are you going?"
"Give my apologies to everyone at the party. I'm going to be busy packing," Jonni told her. "I'm going home, too."
BY THE TIME she had packed what she would need Jonni had missed the last plane for Kansas City that night. The next day's planes were all booked. Two days had gone by before she finally obtained a flight and made the connection to the charter company. Below her now were the red hills of the Starr Ranch.
Jonni leaned forward to tap the pilot on the shoulder. "Buzz the house."
He banked the plane toward the ranch buildings. "This run is becoming a regular thing for us," he shouted back to her. "Maybe the company should start a commuter airline service!"
"This is my last trip here," she told him. "I'm coming to a full stop this time."
The plane flew low over the buildings. The horses in the corral shied and bolted in circles around the enclosure. As the plane climbed up to landing pattern altitude Jonni saw a familiar figure step out of the barn. A smile began lighting her face.
When the plane turned on its final approach, the pickup truck was racing and bouncing over the rutted track to the airfield. Jonni's heart was thumping so loudly she could hear it above the drone of the motors. The wheels touched down and she was home.
She was sitting on the edge of her seat as the plane taxied to the metal hangar. Gabe was standing beside the pickup, waiting. There were tears of unabashed happiness in Jonni's eyes. She could barely see to climb out of the aircraft. The pilot helped her to the ground.
Gabe continued to stand there. He didn't come forward to meet her. Jonni took the first hesitant step toward him, then another and another. Then she heard his voice, his rich, vibrant voice say, "It's about time you came home."
Jonni broke into a run, flinging herself into his arms to be lifted high in the air while Gabe kissed her and whirled her around in boundless joy.
A sparrow twittered from its perch on the gutter of the metal shed. Its mate flew in to land beside it, a twig in its beak. In the drain trough was a partially built nest. The first phase of nature's cycle was beginning.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1980 by Janet Dailey
Cover design by Open Road Integrated Media
ISBN 978-1-4976-1866-4
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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