by Valerie Parv
The good times had lasted for seven glorious months. Then Neil had started to talk about getting a place of their own. Moving in together. Domesticity. He’d dreamed of owning a cattle property; their time together had convinced him she was the woman who would share his dream.
She could still remember the alarm tinged with sadness she’d felt when she told him she didn’t share his vision of their future. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but she wasn’t cut out for raising children and cattle in the dust and heat of the Kimberley. There wasn’t enough compensation for what love demanded of an outback woman.
Ryan was watching her, she saw, pulling herself back from the memories with an effort. “Don’t look so grim. I’m happy with my life,” she assured him without much conviction.
“You may not be a nun, but you’re not the type to give your heart lightly,” he observed. “Some man must have hurt you pretty badly to put that look of sadness in your eyes.”
She lifted her shoulders. “The man isn’t always to blame. I was the one who hurt him.”
“Yes, you would.”
She waited for Ryan to elaborate. When he didn’t, she went on, “Why must men always want more from me than I’m willing to give?”
He settled himself on a corner of the table, one leg swinging free. “You might equally ask yourself if what you’re willing to give is enough for what you would gain?”
“I have, and my decision stands. I won’t trade control over my life for love.”
“So I’m hearing that sex is okay?”
Uncertainty rocked her until she pushed it away. “What you’re hearing is the call of your own masculine ego.”
“You think?”
The grin touching his mouth and the twinkle she saw in his gaze filled her with relief. He wasn’t going to force any admissions out of her. Not tonight, anyway. Later might be a different story. Before that she’d have time to shore up her mental defenses against what he made her feel. They’d have to be strong barricades, she suspected. In a few days Ryan had unsettled her more than Neil had done in months. And she already knew Ryan was harder to get out of her system. Hadn’t she been trying since the day they met?
“More wine?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I never drink much.”
“Worried about losing control?”
This time there was no mistaking the teasing note. “You wouldn’t want me dancing on the table.”
“Might be entertaining.”
“In your dreams, buster.” She moved purposefully back inside. “We have more pressing concerns, like how to get you onto Max’s payroll tomorrow.
As far as Ryan was concerned, he was halfway to being hired by Max already. He hadn’t missed the gleam in the other man’s eye when Ryan had said he was prepared to do anything for money. He’d been speaking Horvath’s language. Now all Ryan had to do was let Horvath’s desperation take care of the rest.
“If he’s to keep your family off balance long enough to find the diamond mine, he’ll need help.”
“Yours,” she agreed. “I’d still like to know how you did that.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Did what?”
“Managed to look so shifty. When we ran into Max outside the hospital, you seemed to change before my eyes.”
He let a slow grin develop. “Maybe it’s the real me coming out.”
“I hope not, or Diamond Downs is doomed.”
“Not while I have breath in me to prevent it.”
Picking up the wine bottle and glasses, she headed for the kitchen. Over her shoulder she said, “I’m glad you’re on our side.”
The refrigerator door swung wide as she corked the bottle and put it away. Over the top of the door, he said, “Never doubt that for a second, Judy.”
Her gaze lifted. “My, you sound serious.”
“I’m good at what I do. Starting tomorrow, I’m going to convince Horvath I’m his man, no questions asked. I don’t want you doubting what side I’m on.”
In the glow from the refrigerator light, her eyes brightened. “You are serious, aren’t you?”
“Never more so. You believed I was a drifter for long enough.”
When she didn’t apologize, he took it as a compliment. “And now you’re about to become the sort of sleazy bum Horvath would hire,” she said. “What if he learns the truth? With his creditors breathing down his neck, he’s desperate enough that you might be in danger.”
Giving the door a gentle push, he removed the barrier between them. “Concerned about me?”
“About Diamond Downs,” she insisted. “You can take care of yourself.”
The next morning, as they’d agreed, Ryan had moved into the bunkhouse provided for the use of the teams of contract workers who moved from place to place doing specialized work like mustering, harvesting and fencing. A few years before, the station would have accommodated large numbers of people at different times. Today, few properties could afford the luxury of many extra hands, even without the setbacks that Diamond Downs had suffered.
Without Andy Wandarra and his loyal team, they would have had no chance of keeping the place going, Judy thought as she walked past the cluster of workers’ cottages toward the bunkhouse.
All of the outbuildings were made of the same fabric, stabilized earth blocks, stone and rough-sawn timber to blend with the surrounding bush. What breezes there were flowed through louvers used in place of glass. All of the cottages boasted modern amenities, and quite a few had attractive gardens established around them.
Many of the cottages were quiet now, their occupants working out at the stock camp to complete their tasks before the wet season set in. Making the most of the cooler morning hours, a few women were working around their homes and waved a greeting as Judy passed. Some of the cottages were empty, Des having had to let many people go as he struggled to meet the payroll.
With a pang, Judy noted empty spaces where vehicles, bikes, graders and lighting plants had been sold off gradually to keep things afloat. Where once over a hundred head of horses had been kept, there were now only dozens. How long before they could no longer support those?
They would survive somehow, Judy vowed to herself, shaking off her melancholy mood. With Ryan and her foster brothers on her side, she refused to consider any other outcome.
For the moment, Ryan was the only occupant of the rambling timber building set a little away from the other houses. Built on a raised mound with concrete floor and timber framing, the bunkhouse had walls only to waist height. From there to the roof were panels of louvers that could be opened or closed to suit the weather. The inside was divided into rooms, each containing beds, lockers and chairs. A communal washroom at one end served the residents.
Judy came to the door of the washroom to find Ryan shaving. In snug-fitting jeans and his worn R.M. boots, he was bare to the waist, a towel slung around his shoulders as he leaned closer to the fly-specked mirror over a row of sinks. When her reflection loomed behind him, he nodded and finished scraping the last flecks of white from his chin.
He hadn’t done a very good job, she noticed. As he swished the razor through the water in the sink, she saw his face was still shadowed by stubble. On him, it looked like a sign of dissipation. Late nights, too much drinking, maybe the jail time he’d said he might add to his background. She looked closer. His eyes actually looked bloodshot. She said so, adding, “How do you do that?”
“I have a kit of harmless but useful chemicals that can produce almost any effect,” he explained.
She hated to admit it, even to herself, but the effect was powerfully sexy. He might look as if he slept on the streets, but he also looked as if he knew them. As if he cared nothing for social conventions. A man who would take anything—or anyone—he wanted without compunction.
She suppressed a shiver. “I’m glad Dad doesn’t have to see you like this.”
“He already knows what I do.”
Her irritation flared. “You told him, but not me?”
>
“He helped me out once with some background information for a case. I got the impression he was highly amused.”
“He’d enjoy the irony,” she observed, knowing her father’s nature. “I wondered why he was so sanguine about having a dropout around, and why he never lectured you on making something of yourself. How long has he known the truth?”
“A few years.”
“Before or after our big reunion at Sunrise Creek?” She named the cattle station where she’d run into him again after his long absence from her life.
He lifted one end of the towel and swabbed his face, then frowned at her. “Afterward. Does it matter?”
It mattered to her. She’d been proud of being the one to bring him back into the Logan fold, as she’d believed. “Plain curiosity,” she dismissed.
He touched her chin, lifting her face. His fingers felt damp and flecks of white shaving foam dotted the backs. “Or jealousy?”
She pulled away from his hand. “What do I have to be jealous about, for pity’s sake?”
“Because you want me to be your special project.”
He’d come so close to pinpointing the source of her resentment that she took a step back, coming up against the hard rim of the sink. “You flatter yourself. I have lots of special projects going. What you call my Mother Teresa act wasn’t solely for your benefit, you know? I take stuff to people who need it all the time.”
“People, as in men?” The gleam of annoyance that lit his gaze was a vindication of sorts.
“Maybe.” In fact, her special projects were mostly the women of the outback. If occasionally her plane’s payload was adjusted to include cosmetics, bathroom luxuries, the latest glossy magazines or a few rolls of beautiful material she’d picked up on her travels, that was her business. It wasn’t that the women couldn’t afford such things, but rather that they didn’t choose to. Husbands and children always had more pressing needs. But they’d never refuse her gifts.
He hooked the towel over a handy rail. “Liar.”
Automatically she straightened the damp towel. The masculine scent clinging to it rose to meet her, fogging her thought processes. She had the irrational urge to press the towel to her face and breathe deeply. “How do you know?”
“Part of my job is to know when someone’s telling the truth. Don’t worry, any admission you make won’t be taken down and used in evidence against you.”
She wished she could be sure. He’d already managed to twist her thoughts into knots, make her want things she had no business wanting. He moved toward her and she stiffened, but he reached past her and retrieved a T-shirt from a hook behind her.
The charcoal-colored garment was threadbare, with the fading logo of a long-forgotten heavy metal band in black on the front, she saw as he shrugged the T-shirt over his head. The cutoff sleeves hugged his upper arms and the body outlined his muscular torso. Her throat felt dry.
Producing a comb from a wet pack, he slicked his hair down. Water made the fiery red color look darker, like the embers of a fire. Even embers could burn, she reminded herself. She wished this was over, that they’d dealt with Max Horvath so Ryan could go back to his undercover investigations and leave her alone. The wish was surprisingly half-hearted.
She wanted the whole awful process to be over. To know that her father and her home were both secure. But she didn’t want Ryan to leave. She didn’t want to fall in love with him, but she didn’t want him not to be around. What kind of stupid sense did that make?
The sound of a car pulling up outside the house saved her from the need to analyze her motives any farther. Ryan’s head had come up a fraction of a second before hers. “Sounds as if Max has arrived. Showtime.”
A surge of fear hit her, for him she recognized. “Are you sure we have to do it this way?”
“We have to get inside his operation, keeping one step ahead of him. We also need to find out what was in that file Cade found.”
Her breath whispered out in a sigh. “I know. Be careful.”
“Always.” His smile was heart-stopping. When he wasn’t teasing her or challenging her, he was dangerously attractive, she thought. He dropped the comb and razor into his pack, zipped it closed and took a deep breath.
Again, she was unsettled by the transformation. He let himself slouch, hooded his gaze and became, before her startled eyes, someone she’d think twice about giving the time of day to.
“Weird,” she muttered.
“Something wrong, Ms. Logan?” he asked in such a weasely voice that shivers ran down her spine.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she assured him.
“Then let’s go meet the boyfriend,” he said, sounding like himself for a second, before he turned back into Mr. Down-and-out.
Max didn’t seem to find anything untoward in Judy emerging from the bunkhouse. Lounging against the side of his car, he hardly spared Ryan a second glance. “How’s your dad, today?”
Ryan cursed himself for not asking the question. He had been too preoccupied by the sight of Judy in the bunkhouse, he realized. This morning she wore snug-fitting jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt, the sunshine-yellow color making her look absurdly young and feminine despite the masculine cut.
Remembering how sexy she’d looked in a skirt last night, he found himself wishing she’d uncover those fantastic legs more often. Did she still think of herself as a stockhorse? He recalled she’d used the term self-deprecatingly, overlooking how much the men of the outback valued their horses.
Personally, he thought of her fit, muscular shape as perfect. Like the animal she claimed to resemble, she had beauty in her strength. Ryan had little time for model-thin clotheshorses. A body sculpted by hard physical activity was, to his mind, the most alluring shape in the world. Thinking of the kind of activity he’d like to explore with her made him feel hot, although the heat of the day had yet to build up.
He reined in his runaway thoughts. He needed to keep his mind on the job if he was to help her save her home.
“I called the hospital earlier,” she was saying. “Dad slept reasonably well. They’re keeping him under observation for a few more hours, then hoping to discharge him this afternoon.”
“I’d be happy to take you to the hospital to collect him,” Max offered.
“Thanks, but Cade’s already taken Dad’s things to the hospital. I’ll stay with Dad until he’s discharged, then take him to Sawtooth Park. He won’t want too many people fussing over him.”
Max made a move toward her that had Ryan tensing instinctively. He made an effort to relax his muscles and preserve his lackey persona. Max had barely acknowledged his presence. Now he said to Judy, “You have to let me help you. You can’t fly your plane and run this place without more help.”
“Cade’s doing most of the work, and I still have Andy and his team.”
“Too few hands to run a place the size of Diamond Downs. Maybe it would be a good thing if I take over the reins. Give you a graceful way out.”
“You’re assuming I want one,” she said.
The other man touched her arm, making Ryan seethe inwardly. Max said, “You’re a fighter, Jude. I admire that. But you can’t keep up this pace. You’re only…”
Max trailed off, evidently catching the warning in Judy’s expression. “Only what, Max?” she asked with seeming innocence, but Ryan heard the undercurrent of steel in her voice. “Only a woman?”
“Only one person,” Max shot in smoothly. Ryan guessed the other man knew he’d been inches from death by the offended female, and had decided a quick save was called for. “At least let me send some of my people over here to help out.”
“We’re fine as we are, thanks,” Judy said tautly. “But speaking of people, do you still want to interview Mr. Smith while you’re here?”
Belatedly, Max turned his attention to Ryan. “We’ll talk, then I’ll come in and you can give me coffee. Maybe I can persuade you to let me do more for you.”
Over her dead body, Ryan read
in her expression. But she smiled sweetly. “You can try.”
Max brightened, hearing what he wanted to hear, Ryan assumed. “Come on, Smith, let’s get this over with.”
He led the way to the office, Horvath’s familiarity with the setup at Diamond Downs making Ryan frown, although he schooled his expression to servility before being noticed.
Horvath sat down behind the desk and gestured for Ryan to sit opposite. “Now tell me why I should hire you.”
Ready for the question, Ryan reeled off previous employers and kinds of work he could do, until the other man gestured him to silence. “Judy Logan wouldn’t have bothered with you if you couldn’t do all that. What I want to know is why I should hire you.”
“I think you already know.”
Max looked startled, but his voice was steady as he said, “Humor me.”
“You have all the help you need running Willundina. I know because I called there before I came here.” He hadn’t, but Ryan doubted that Horvath paid much attention to how his property was run day-to-day. “You have no openings for stockmen.”
Horvath’s guarded nod rewarded the gamble. “So what else are you good for?”
“Anything you want done,” Ryan said, adding, “I hear you’re prospecting for diamonds.”
Horvath eyed him sharply. “You know a lot for a blow-in.”
“I’ve spent a lot of time around the area. Heard most of the stories, including the ones about Jack Logan’s lost fortune.”
“Then you must know the most likely site isn’t on my land?”
Ryan nodded. “Don’t see any problem. Word around here is that it soon will be your land anyway.”
Horvath plainly liked that, and his eyes gleamed. “As you can see, Ms. Logan and her father are struggling. The way I see it, I’d be doing them a favor by taking over.”
“And finding the diamonds will let you do even more for her, right?”
Horvath tilted the chair back. “I like the way you think.”
