Outback Fire

“You’re not going surely?” Sara looked up at Luke’s handsome profile, her sweet expression registering acute disappointment.

“You heard the lady,” Luke mocked, glancing towards Storm. “I’m being shown the door.”

“Of course you aren’t.” Storm shook her head.

“No, actually, Sara, I do have things to attend to, but it’s been great seeing you.” Luke bent to kiss her cheek. “Every good wish for tomorrow. You’re going to make a beautiful bride.”

“Yes, I am!” Sara beamed. “Why don’t you come along? You’re here not a thousand miles away. We can always fit in one more friend of the bride. It would be lovely wouldn’t it, Storm?” She glanced at her friend. “You should see the dresses. They’re gorgeous. Storm, as my dearest girlfriend is chief bridesmaid. She’s wearing a beautiful gold matt satin and guipure lace gown. She’ll look out of this world.”

Luke nodded. “She’s got a talent for doing that. Don’t worry. I’ll see it in the papers and magazines. It doesn’t take all that long for them to reach us. Thank you for the thought, Sara, but I must decline. There are errands to run for the Major.” True enough but the thought of seeing Storm in her bridesmaid’s finery was more than he could bear.

“How is the Major?” Alex asked belatedly. This when he’d been shown lavish hospitality on his visits.

“Not as well as we want,” Luke said, then sketched an attractive little salute, more to Sara than Alex. “I’ll say good night. Enjoy yourselves.”

“Hurry back, Storm,” Alex pleaded.

“Bye, bye, Luke,” Sara called as he moved away with Storm at his shoulder.

“You’ll make my excuses to Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale, won’t you?” Luke double-checked as they arrived at the front door. Guests crossing from one splendid reception room to the other glanced at them with bright curiosity but Storm didn’t appear to notice.

She indicated they step outside, the night breeze lifting her hair and wafting her perfume to him, an alluring intoxicant. “Of course,” she promised, then as an afterthought. “How are you getting back into town?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he mocked, gazing back at her while he moved down a step. “Same way I got here. By cab. I’ve got my mobile or I might just keep walking. It’s a beautiful night and it’s not that far.”

“Too far for most people,” she smiled, thinking how they both had been raised. Alex fit as he was, would never have considered it. “What time Sunday?”

He shrugged his wide shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, expelling sex appeal in every pore. “I’d like to make it early but I doubt if you’ll be ready for an early-morning start. Not after the wedding.”

She responded from long habit as if she’d been challenged. “You think I’m going to get drunk?”

“No more than usual, but I think you’ll be tired. It’s a late-afternoon wedding. The reception will go on for hours. Is the ex invited?”

“What do you think?” Paradoxically she wanted to reach out and touch him. The night around them was playing tricks.

“It sounds as though it might be on again.” He launched into an excellent imitation of Alex’s well-bred languid tones. “Storm, darling! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“You always did have a gift for mimicry. Remember when you—” She broke off. “It isn’t on again with Alex. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“No more than your inquiry about Carla,” he returned directly. “We have to stop off briefly at Mingari by the way. I have some freight to unload.”

“Sure it’s not just an excuse to see Carla?” She shot him a glance; the greenest flame. “How is she anyway?”

“You’ll be able to see for yourself,” he returned mildly. “She always asks after you.”

She smiled without humour. “Do you know I think that has something to do with you? So what time in the morning?” She didn’t look at him but stared over his head at the starlit night.

He took the rest of the steps with two easy strides, looking back at her, her lovely figure silhouetted against the light from the great chandelier in the entrance hall. Such a complicated existence he led. This was one woman denied him. “I’ll be outside your apartment block at eight o’clock and that’s a concession,” he said more crisply than he intended.

“You really believe I still can’t get up at dawn?”

“A rhetorical question, Miss McFarlane.” He bowed. “Let me say instead I believe you can do anything you set your mind to. Not that it always works. To put it bluntly you’ve made as many mistakes as I have. Good night. Enjoy the big day tomorrow.”

“I will.” She remained still where she was watching him stride down the drive. Where Luke was concerned she was very, very vulnerable. It was something she had known all her life.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE was ready waiting for him at the front of her apartment building when he arrived in a hired car he must have organised the day before.

“All set?” He was out of the car moving towards her, perpetually virile, vivid, dynamic. She had to concede a glamorous figure with that superb lean body that made the most casual clothes look great.

“Two pieces of luggage,” she said, colourful enough herself in a violet silk shirt tucked into skinny black trousers, high black boots, an Armani leather jacket draped around her shoulders. It was late winter in Sydney but it would be a lot hotter where she was going; except at night when the desert gave up its heat and the temperatures dropped dramatically.

Both looked and sounded brisk. A feat for Storm because she had quite a headache from the wedding. It had gone off so wonderfully well it had turned into a bit of a circus towards the end. She told Luke this in answer to his questions while he loaded her expensive luggage into the boot, then she slipped into the front passenger seat, trying to disengage herself from all physical sensation. Luke’s aura was so powerful it scarcely let her breathe. In fact she reasoned she had spent most of her life fighting to get out of the shadow of the two most influential men in her life. Her father and Luke. God knows what she thought she had been doing getting herself engaged; first to Patrick, some ten years older and a very successful lawyer, then to Alex, more her own age who worked for his father in a leading stock broking firm. Alex couldn’t fight out from under his father’s shadow, either. She didn’t think he ever would, but she was doing all right. Her name was a current buzzword since she was a finalist in the De Beers Diamonds International Award. It had been won by a fellow Australian—a brilliant young man with his amazing diamond mask. Not bad for more than 25000 entrants worldwide. Her father had told her he was thrilled for her when she rang to tell him the exciting news. Her piece, an elaborate creation for the hair, when elaborate jewellery was the fashion, her father, strangely enough had never asked to see it. She had heard much later that Luke had told her father it was an “incredible honour and he would have loved to travel to see the piece.” He never had. A pity!

“What in the world’s wrong with you?” Luke asked eventually as they approached the freeway. It was fairly early on Sunday morning and things were blissfully quiet. No crowds, no traffic jams to contend with.

“Lost in my thoughts.” She glanced at him for a fraction of a second, not wanting him to intrude too much on them.

“You’re not interested in conversation?”

“I thought you had me under heavy fire, Luke.”

“Not at all.” He shook his head. “I just want you to see your father face-to-face. I want you to give me the benefit of your opinion. I also want you to give him the comfort only you can bring.”

“You should have been a politician,” she said dryly.

“I’ve never wanted to be anything else but a cattleman like my dad. One of these days when I’m no longer needed on Winding River I’m going to start my own operation.”

“Are you really?” she asked somewhat cynically when she knew perfectly well Luke was indispensable on Winding River. Highly intelligent, well educated, Luke at twenty-nine was no pale substitute for her father. He was an extremely astute businessman, which he had to be these days in a fiercely competitive market. As well he was a consummate cattleman, and a born communicator. Luke was Luke. Dammit, Luke was unique.

“It’s my dream to run my own show.” Luke was almost talking to himself. “The Major and I see practically eye-to-eye on most issues, but occasionally I would have preferred to back my own judgement.”

“Good grief, a criticism of Dad.” She gave a little laugh, flinging her glossy hair over her shoulder.

“Think about it, Storm,” he urged. “Don’t I always say what I think, but you have to remember the Major has been too good to me to ever forget it.”

Couldn’t Luke see her father, in lavishing so much attention on him, had taken it from her? Storm sighed and gazed down at her ringless hands. She could have Alex’s ring back anytime she wanted. “The thing is, Luke, Dad knew what he was doing. You always had that marvellous potential. That quality that sets men apart. You don’t think Dad missed it. He always had you lined up for a top job. He thinks ahead. He has to after all, but he manipulates people. He manipulates lives. I’m not trying to make him out any sort of a monster or exorcise my own personal devils but I wouldn’t need to be a genius to work Dad out.”

He frowned as though the Major could do no wrong. “Since you’re being so candid, could I say sometimes you sound like you hate your own father?”

“You’re out of your brain,” she said wearily, her equilibrium destroyed. Wasn’t that the reason she stayed away?

“Am I?” Luke asked ironically. “There’s a whole lot of angst there.”

“I have to agree with you,” she said sweetly. “Put it down to the way I was raised.” Storm put her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. She was a woman of intuition after all. She knew in her bones, even if Luke, blinded by devotion to her father, didn’t, the Major was planning something that would involve them both. Whatever it was they would be expected to obey.

After hours in the air they finally landed on Mingari Station’s airstrip, Luke making a perfect touch down despite the strong cross-winds. He was as good a pilot as he was everything else, she thought, yielding to admiration. Magnetic to women. All of her women friends had noted his brief appearance at the Drysdale party, professing their amazement some lucky woman hadn’t snaffled him up. A lot had tried, she’d replied. Storm had her pilot’s licence, too, but she hadn’t been keeping up with her weekend flying times as much as she should have been. She’s been too darn busy. The Mingari hangar was coming up.