Margaret Way - The Cattleman

Cy had responded with a practiced laugh. The reality was he’d been watching his back for years. Right from the beginning, Robyn had been a strange one. Cy had divined even as a boy that in Robyn he had an unscrupulous rival.

But for once, he and Robyn had joined forces against B.B.’s decision to hire Ms. Tennant. His decision had been based on Jessica Tennant’s age and inexperience, not her gender; his own mother, after all, had been a very creative woman. But Robyn was violently opposed to the idea of having another woman do the job she’d tried to convince B.B. she could do. She had reacted with the bitterest resentment not even bothering to conceal her hostility from B.B. A big mistake.

“Be careful, Robyn. Be careful.” B.B. had turned on her coldly. “I have hired this young woman. I don’t want second best.”

Finality in action.

THEY WERE MAKING their descent into Darwin airport when the slightly tipsy nuclear physicist beside Jessica leaned into her to confide, “We’re landing.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Darwin airport has one of the longest runways in the southern hemisphere.”

“Really? I’m not surprised to hear that.” She kept staring out the porthole. The guy had been hitting on her in an in-offensive way ever since they’d left Brisbane. At one point she’d even toyed with the idea of asking the flight attendant to move her, but the plane was full. In a few minutes she’d be able to make her getaway from Mr. Intelligence.

It was not to be. He followed her every step of the way into the terminal, making like an overzealous tour guide, pointing out areas already clearly marked. He topped it all off by offering to give her a lift to wherever she wanted to go.

“Thanks all the same, but I’m being picked up.”

“You never said that.” He turned to her with such an aggrieved look the image of Sean floated into her mind.

“No reason to,” she smiled. “Bye now.” If her luck held…

It didn’t. “At least I can help you with your luggage.”

Drat the guy! He was as hard to brush off as a bad case of dandruff.

“So what say we meet up for a drink sometime?” he suggested. “I live here. I can show you all the sights.”

“That’s kind of you, but I’ll be pretty busy.”

“Doin’ what?” He looked at her as though she were playing hard to get.

Irritation was escalating into her as much as the heat would allow when she suddenly caught sight of a stunning-looking guy, head and shoulders over the rest, maybe twenty-eight or thirty, striding purposely toward her.

It was to her, wasn’t it? She’d hate him to change his mind. What’s more, the milling crowd fell back as though to ease his path. How many men could carry that off?

“For cryin’ out loud, you know Bannerman?” Her companion did a double take, his gravelly drawl soaring toward falsetto.

Bannerman wasn’t Count Dracula surely? She nodded.

“He’s a friend?”

This was starting to belong in the too-hard basket. “He’s meeting me,” Jessica said.

“Well, I’m movin’ outta here.” Her annoying companion, a full six feet, all but reeled away. “I wouldn’t want to get in that guy’s way. Good luck!”

Jessica held her breath. So this is Cyrus Bannerman, she thought tracking his every movement. This was as good as it gets. The fact that he was so striking in appearance didn’t come as a surprise. Broderick Bannerman was an impressive-looking man—she’d seen numerous photos. Obviously good looks ran in the family. What she hadn’t been expecting was the charisma, the air of authority, that appeared entirely natural. Obviously Cyrus Bannerman was ready to take over his father’s mantle when many a son with a tycoon for a father finished up with a personality disorder. Not the case here, unless that palpable presence turned out to be a facade.

He was very tall, maybe six-three, with a great physique. The loose-limbed, long-legged stride was so graceful it was near mesmerizing. It put her in mind of the sensuous lope of a famous Pakistani cricketer she’d had a crush on as a child. Bannerman, as well he might be, given his lifestyle, was deeply tanned. In fact, he made everyone else’s tan look positively washed out. He had thick, jet-black hair, strong distinctive features, his eyes even at a distance the bluest she had ever seen. “Sapphires set in a bronze mask,” the romantically inclined might phrase it, and they’d be spot on. She knew instinctively she had better impress this guy with her professional demeanor. No contract had been signed as yet.

“Ms. Tennant?” Cyrus, for his part, saw a young woman, physically highly desirable, with a lovely full mouth and a mane of ash-blond hair springing into a riot of curls in the humid heat. Her tallish, slender body was relaxed. She had beautiful clear skin. Her large green eyes watched him coolly. Young she might be, but there was nothing diffident about her. She looked confident, clever, sizing him up as indeed he was sizing her up. They could have been business opponents facing each other across a boardroom table for the first time.

“Please, Jessica,” she said. Her voice matched her appearance, cool, confident, ever so slightly challenging.

“Cyrus Bannerman. I usually get Cy.”

“Then Cy it is.” Though every instinct shrieked a warning, she offered him her hand. It was taken in a firm, cool grip. Jessica let out her breath slowly, disconcerted by the thrill of skin on skin. “How nice of you to meet me.”

“No problem. I had business in Darwin.” The startling blue eyes continued to study her. She had already grasped the fact that, despite the smoothness of manner, he hadn’t taken to her. Was it wariness in his eyes? A trace of suspicion? More the pity! Anyone would think she had coerced his father into hiring her. Not that it mattered. She didn’t altogether like him. She did, however, like the look of him. A teeny distinction.

Baggage was already tumbling onto the carousel. He looked toward it. “If you’ll point out what’s yours, I’ll collect it. I’d like to get away as soon as possible. We’re going by helicopter. Hope that’s okay with you. You’re assured of a great view.”

So much for the big dusty Land Cruiser complete with a set of buffalo horns she’d been expecting.

THEY LIFTED OFF, climbing, climbing, into the blue June sky, climbing, climbing. Jessica tried to stay cool even though her heart was racing. This was a far cry from traveling in a Boeing 747. Outside the bubble of the cockpit, a mighty panorama opened up. Jessica caught the gasp in her throat before it escaped. Below them was the harbor. The immensity of it amazed her. She hadn’t been expecting that. Aquamarine on one arm of the rocky peninsula, glittering turquoise on the other. She knew from her history books that Darwin Harbour had seen more drama than any other harbor in Australia. The Japanese Imperial Air Force had bombed it during World War II turning the harbor into an inferno. Every ship, more than forty, including the U.S. destroyer Peary that had arrived that very morning, had been destroyed before the invaders had turned their attention to the small township itself, standing vulnerable on the rocky cliffs above the port. The invasion of Darwin had always been played down for some unknown reason. The town had been devastated again by Cyclone Tracy, Christmas Day 1974. Even her hometown of Brisbane, over a thousand miles away, had suffered the effects of that catastrophic force of nature.

Today, all was peace and calm. Jessica’s first impression was that Darwin was an exotic destination. A truly tropical city, surrounded by water on three sides, and so far as she could see the most multicultural city in the country. The Top End, as the northern coast of Australia was right on the doorstep of Southeast Asia, and there was a lot of traffic between the two. She was really looking forward to exploring the city when she had time. The art galleries, she’d heard, particularly the galleries that featured the paintings of the leading Aboriginal artists were well worth the visit.