Donavan

She could still remember her shock when she’d gone to Mr. Holman to ask for a living allowance until her inheritance came through, something that would give her a little independence from her overbearing uncle.

That was when the blow fell. “I’m sorry,” Holman said. “But there’s no provision for any living allowance. According to the terms of the will, you can’t inherit until you’re twenty-one. Until that time, the executor of your parents’ estate has total control of your money.”

She gasped. “You mean I don’t have any money unless Uncle Henry gives it to me?”

“I’m afraid so,” he said. “I realize it probably seems terribly unfair to you, Fay, but your parents must have thought they were doing the right thing.”

“I can’t believe it,” she said, feeling sick. She wrapped her arms around her body. “What will I do?”

“What you originally planned. Go ahead and get a job. You’ll only need it for a couple of weeks, until you get your inheritance.”

The statement helped her fight out of her misery. Involuntarily, she smiled, liking the blond attorney. He was in his early thirties, very good-looking and successful. He was married, because on his desk was a photograph of a young woman with long, brown hair holding a baby.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Oh, it’s my pleasure. Don’t worry, you won’t even have to look far for a job. I just happen to know of an opening. Know anything about cattle?”

She hesitated. “Not really.”

“Do you mind working around them?”

“Not if I don’t have to brand them,” she murmured dryly.

He laughed. “It won’t come to that. The Ballenger brothers are looking for a temporary secretary. Their full-time one was pregnant and just had a complicated delivery. She’ll be out about two months and they’re looking for someone to fill in. Calhoun Ballenger’s wife has been trying to handle it, but you’d be a godsend right now. Can you type?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “I can handle a computer, too. I took several college courses before my parents died and I had to come out here to comply with the terms of their will.”

“Good!”

“But surely they’ve found someone…”

“There aren’t that many people available for part-time work,” he said. “Mostly high-school students, and they don’t like the environment that goes with the job.”

She grinned. “I won’t care, as long as I make enough to pay my rent.”

“You will. Here.” He scribbled an address. “Go and see Justin or Calhoun. Tell them I sent you. Trust me,” he added, rising to shake hands with her. “You’ll like them.”

“I hope so. I sure don’t like my uncle much at the moment.”

He nodded. “I can understand that. But Henry isn’t a bad man, you know. And there could be more to this than meets the eye,” he added reluctantly.

That statement gave her cold chills. The way Uncle Henry had been throwing her headlong at a rich bachelor friend of his made her uneasy. “I suppose so.” She hesitated. “Do you know just how my uncle’s been managing my affairs in the past two months?”

“Not yet,” Barry Holman replied. “I’ve asked for an accounting, but he’s refused to turn over any documents to me until the day you turn twenty-one.”

“That doesn’t sound promising,” she said nervously. “I understood my father to say he had at least two million dollars tied up in trust for me. Surely Uncle Henry couldn’t have gone through that in a few weeks, could he?”

“I hardly think so,” he assured her. “Don’t worry. Everything will be all right. Go and see the Ballengers. Good luck.”

“I think I’ll need it, but thanks for your help,” she said as she left the office.

The Ballenger feedlot was a mammoth operation. During the short time she’d been in Jacobsville, Fay had never gotten a good look at it. Now, up close, the sheer enormity of it was staggering. So was the relative cleanliness of the operation and the attention to sanitation.

It was Justin Ballenger who interviewed her. He was tall and rangy, not at all handsome, but kind and courteous.

“You understand that this would only be a temporary job?” he emphasized, leaning forward. “Our secretary, Nita, is only going to be out long enough to recuperate from her C-section and have a few weeks with their new baby.”

“Yes, Mr. Holman told me about that,” Fay said. “I don’t mind. I only need something temporary until I get used to being on my own. I was living with my uncle but the situation was pretty uncomfortable.” Without meaning to, she went on to explain what had happened, finding in Justin a sympathetic listener.

Justin’s dark eyes narrowed. “Your uncle is a mercenary man. I think you did the right thing. Make sure Barry keeps a close watch on your holdings.”

“He’s doing that.” She gnawed her lower lip worriedly. “You won’t mention it to anyone…?”

“It’s nobody’s business but yours,” he agreed. “As far as we know, you’re strictly a working girl who had a minor disagreement with her kin. Fair enough?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, smiling. “I’m not really much more than a working girl, since everything is tied up in trust. But only for a few more weeks.” She smiled. “Money doesn’t really mean that much to me. Honestly I’d rather marry someone who loved me than someone who just wanted an easy life.”

“You’re a wise girl,” he replied quietly. “Shelby and I both felt like that. We’re not poor, but it wouldn’t matter if we were. We have each other, and our boys. We’re very lucky.”

She smiled, because she’d heard about Shelby Ballenger and the circumstances that had finally led to her marriage to Justin. It was a real love story. “Maybe I’ll get lucky like that one day,” she said, thinking about Donavan.

“Well, if you want the job under those conditions, it’s yours,” he said after a minute. “Welcome aboard. Come on and I’ll introduce you to my brother.”

He preceded her down the hall, where a tall blond man was poring over figures on sheets of paper scattered all over his desk.

“This is Fay York,” he said, introducing her. “Fay, my brother, Calhoun.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said sincerely, and shook hands. “I hope I can help you keep things in order while Nita’s away.”

“Abby will get down and kiss your shoes,” Calhoun assured her. “She’s been trying to keep one of our boys in school and the other two in day care and take care of the house while she worked in Nita’s place this week. She’s already threatened to open all the gates if we didn’t do something to help her.”

“I’m glad I needed a job, then,” she said.

“So are we.”

Abby came barreling in with an armload of files, her black hair askew around her face, her blue-gray eyes wide and curious when they met Fay’s green ones.

“Please be my replacement,” she said with such fervor that Fay laughed helplessly. “Do you take bribes? I can get you real chocolate truffles and mocha ice cream…”

“No need. I’ve already accepted the job while Nita is out with her baby,” Fay assured the other woman. “Oh, thank God!” she sighed, dropping the files on her husband’s desk. She grinned at Calhoun. “Thank you, too, darling. I’ll make you a big beef stew for dinner, with homemade rolls.”

“Don’t just stand there, go home!” he burst out. He grinned sheepishly at Fay. “She makes the best rolls in town. I’ve been eating hot dogs for so many days that I bark, because it’s all I can cook! This has been hard on my stomach.”

“And on my stamina.” Abby laughed. “The boys have missed me. Well, I’ll show you what to do, Fay, then I’ll rush right home and start dough rising.”

Fay followed her back to the desk out front and listened carefully and made notes while Abby briefed her on the routine and showed her how to fill in the forms. She went over the basics of feedlot operation as well, so that Fay would understand what she was doing.

“You make it sound very easy, but it isn’t, is it?”

“No,” Abby agreed. “Especially when you deal with some of our clients. J. D. Langley alone is enough to make a saint throw in the towel.”

“Is he a rancher?”

“He’s a…” Abby cleared her throat. “Yes, he’s a rancher. But most of the cattle he deals in are other people’s. He’s general manager of the Mesa Blanco ranch combine.”

“I don’t know much about ranching, but I’ve heard of them.”

“Most everybody has. J.D.’s good at his job, don’t get me wrong, but he’s a perfectionist when it comes to diet and handling of cattle. He saw one of the men use a cattle prod on some of his stock once and he jumped the man, right over a rail. We can’t afford to turn down his business, but he makes things difficult. You’ll find that out for yourself. Nobody crosses J.D. around Jacobsville.”

“Is he rich?”

“No. He has plenty of power because of the job he does for Mesa Blanco, but it’s his temperament that makes people jump when he speaks. J.D. would be arrogant in rags. He’s just that kind of man.”

Abby’s description brought to mind another man, a rangy cowboy who’d given her the most magical evening of her life. She smiled sadly, thinking that she’d probably never see him again. Walking into that bar had been an act of desperation and bravado. She’d never have the nerve to do it twice. It would look as if she were chasing him, and he’d said at the time that there was no future in it. She’d driven by the bar two or three times, but she couldn’t manage enough courage to go in again.

“Is Mr. Langley married?” Fay asked.

“There’s no woman brave enough, anywhere,” Abby said shortly. “His father’s marriage soured him on women. He’s been something of a playboy in past years, but he’s settled somewhat since he’s been managing the Mesa Blanco companies. There’s a new president of the company who’s a hard-line conservative, so J.D.’s toned down his playboy image. There’s talk of the president giving that job to a man who’s married and settled and has kids. The only child in J.D.’s life, ever, is a nephew in Houston, his sister’s child. His sister died.” She shook her head. “I can’t really imagine J.D. with a child. He isn’t the fatherly type.”

“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?”

“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.”