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Authors: Gloria Bevan

Tags: #Harlequin Romance 1983

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BOOK: The Rouseabout Girl
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He ignored the questioning note in her voice. ‘You’ll enjoy a spell on the station with us. It’s big country, way back in the hills. We run sheep and cattle on the slopes and I grow maize down on the flats. Lately I’ve been having a go at growing sunflowers as well. Seems there’s a good market for that sort of crop.’

‘It all sounds fantastic!’

‘Could be just what you’re looking for. We pay good wages up at Rangimarie, well above award rates. You’d have decent quarters with a room to yourself, of
course
—’
He broke off. ‘I’ve just, had a thought.
Considering the state of your finances right now,’ his hand went to the breast pocket of his jacket, ‘how about something to go on with?’

‘No—please
—’
Lanie stopped him with a determined shake of her head.
‘I
’d rather wait until everything is settled.’ She smiled across at him. ‘Not that I can see myself needing much money where I’m going. Are there any shops in the vicinity of Rangimarie?’


Sorry, no stores, but not to worry.’ Clearly he was apprehensive that she might change her mind about accepting the position. ‘The boys are always taking a run into town for stores, stockfood, whatever. You won't be too cut off from civilisation.’

‘Bo
y
s?’ Alarm bells rang in her mind. ‘Do they live
with you?’

‘Lord no. There are a couple of young shepherds on the place,’ he explained. They’ve got single men’s quarters and look after themselves.’

‘Oh!’ She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘That’s all right, then.’

‘Right! Is one o’clock tomorrow afternoon okay for us to pick you up?’

‘Oh yes, I’ll be ready. I’ve only got my suitcase to
pack
—’
She broke off, a hand to her mouth. ‘My
electric range,
w
hat’ll I do about it?’

‘Bring it along with you. There’s swags of room in the truck. I’ll get an electrician up from town to make the connection in the kitchen and you’re away laughing! Give me the order on the warehouse and
I’ll
see to it for you,’

Lanie fished in her handbag, then handed him the long envelope.

‘Until tomorrow, then
—’
At the doorway he
paused. ‘Just one thing. About that little setback of
mine today

’ there was an odd evasive note in his
voice,
‘I
’d be just as happy if you didn’t let on to Jard about what happened today. I get these turns occasionally, but there’s no need for him to know.’

‘I understand just how you feel.’ Lanie’s eyes were sympathetic. ‘I guess,’ she hazarded, ‘that he'd worry about you?’

A grin crossed the lined features. ‘Something like that. So, not a word about my health, agreed?’

‘Oh, you can trust me,’ she assured him warmly. ‘I won’t say a thing!’

‘Goodbye, then,’ his tone deepened, ‘and thanks for what you did today. You helped me a lot.’

‘ ’Bye, Mr. Sanderson
—’

‘Make it Sandy,’ he grinned, and was gone.

Left alone, the thoughts tumbled wildly through Lanie’s mind. Events had happened so swiftly. Was this the result of throwing it over to fate? Feeling all at once extraordinarily lighthearted, she set about cancelling her occupancy of the apartment. Then she phoned the
few friends who would miss her when she’d gone. Her flatmate Mary was away on honeymoon, but the two other girls whom she contacted, although plainly astonished at Lanie’s sudden decision to take on a cooking job in the country, wished her well. They would write to her, they promised, as soon as they were made aware of her new address.

Her new address! A thrill of excitement ran through her and she began jerking tops, dresses and slacks from hangers in the wardrobe and placing them in her suitcase. Lanie Petersen, she told herself, this is your chance at
a whole new way of life! Enjoy!

 

CHAPTER
TWO

Clear
bright sunshine, streaming in at the open window, touched Lanie’s face. For a few moments she lay dreaming, then her eyes flew open and as her gaze went to the empty wardrobe, the events of the previous day came rushing back to mind and she leaped from the bed.

She took a quick shower and decided that for the job she was about to take on, clothes were no problem. All she would need would be her well-worn blue denim jeans, thonged sandals and her supply of knitwear tops. She chose a white T-shirt with its printed motif running across the chest:
t
h
e time to be happy is now.
Somehow the words seemed symbolic of the recent change in her fortunes. All at once her spirits were soaring. Could it be the golden morning, or was it the promise of an entirely new way of life, cooking meals for those two nice elderly fanners at their cosy property in the hills? Somehow she felt sure the farm would be of small acreage, just sufficient to keep both men pleasantly occupied. She imagined picture-book green paddocks surrounded by neat white paling fences enclosing a few grazing sheep and cattle, maybe a white goat to keep down the blackberries. The shabby little farm cottage would have tall hollyhocks leaning against the front fence and inside the dwelling there’d be comfortable worn chairs, old walnut chests, pipe racks along the mantel.

She decided that today she wouldn’t use any make-up except for a touch of mascara to darken pale lashes. Her freckles would just have to show. Oh well, the nice elderlies were in need of a woman to cook their meals, heaven help them, not a beauty contest entrant.

She mixed a mug of instant coffee and slid bread into the toaster. Soon she had cleared away the light meal
and went book shopping.

As she pushed the new cookery books she had bought an hour ago into her suitcase she reflected that she had everything she needed for her new position, except maybe a sun-hat. After all, it was still summer and she was bound for the country. Oh well, her denim cap would have to do. Planting it at a jaunty angle over her forehead, she pushed away tendrils of bright hair that had escaped from the knot on the top of her head.

A glance in the mirror gave her a disquieting feeling that she didn’t look one bit like a country cook. The term conjured up a plump and matronly-looking woman wearing a crisp white apron. No matter, she would just have to prove her worth, electric range and all! Think of it as a challenge, she encouraged herself. Sandy’s got faith in me and that’s a start. All I have to do now is to get on the right side of that partner of his.

At that moment, alerted by a sound on the street below, she glanced out of the window to see a sturdy utility pulling up outside. The vehicle could have nothing to do with her, she decided, for the driver was a young man, very attractive in a lean, sun-browned sort of way. She pulled aside the curtain, for a second look

she couldn’t help it, for he was the most attractive
-
looking male she had come across in a long time—that thatch of dark blond hair against the smooth tanned forehead, the strong features and deeply indented chin. But it wasn’t just the way he looked, there was something about him, a vitality, an aliveness, that she could sense even at this distance.

It took her a moment or so to notice his companion, a thin figure seated beside the tall young man. Sandy! Apparently he was putting forward an argument, for he was flinging up work-lined hands, speaking quickly and defensively. Lanie couldn’t hear what was being said, but it was evident that the two were involved in some dispute. But where, she wondered, was the nice elderly partner?

At that moment she glimpsed in the rear of the vehicle a gleam of white. So Sandy had already
collected the stove from the warehouse. Whatever the subject of the disagreement it was clear that the argument was becoming heated. Sandy’s face had turned to a deep brick-red beneath the tan and he was thumping one fist angrily on to his palm. Crikey, Lanie thought, in his state of health he’ll do himself a mischief if he goes on like that! Maybe I’d better go downstairs and do something about it. At that moment, however, the matter was resolved for her as the younger man

goodness, he was tall, and so very erect—flung out of the vehicle, his face stormy. ‘Okay, okay,’ he hadn't raised his voice, yet the vibrant deep tones reached her clearly, ‘get this straight, it’s not my idea!’

‘Right, I’ll take all responsibility!’ Sandy had got out of the utility. He was looking happier, almost smug, she thought, having apparently gained a point in the dispute with his passenger. Probably, she mused, the younger man was a neighbour whom they were taking back with them to the farming district where they all lived. She wouldn’t mind in the least being on the journey with the wildly good-looking young man if only he weren’t in that black mood! Thank goodness it wasn’t herself who was the object of his anger! All at once she caught the sound of footfalls on the stairs and hurriedly she dropped the curtain back into place. When Sandy tapped on the door a few minutes later she welcomed him in with a smile, trying to look as though she hadn’t been a witness to the brief violent clash of wills on the street below.

Sandy’s lined brown face lighted up as he eyed her suitcase. ‘Good,’ his tone was tinged with relief, ‘you haven’t changed your mind about our little business deal, then?

She wrinkled her nose as she smiled up at him. ‘Not if you haven’t had second thoughts about me.’

‘Not a chance!’

‘I’m all ready and waiting!’ She took the mauve
-
coloured orchid from its vase and bent to pick up her suitcase. It wasn’t heavy, but she knew Sandy wasn’t a fit man and there were the stairs to contend with.

‘Give that to me!' A deep peremptory voice cut across her thoughts as a sun-tanned masculine hand took the case from her grasp. She glanced up in surprise to meet the chilliest grey eyes she had ever encountered. They were like cold steel, yet a fire seemed to bum in their depths, an icy dislike especially for her.

‘Lanie Peterson,’ Sandy was saying, ‘my son Jardin.’ She was so taken aback that the words fell unbidden
from her lips. ‘But I got the idea that Mr
.
Jardin


what was she saying? she thought frantically—‘was your partner?’

‘That’s right.’ The stranger seemed to gloat over her discomfiture.
‘I’ll
tell you something right now.’ He towered above her, his muscular height intimidating enough without the taut angry set of his lips. ‘My dad took it on himself to take you on without a word to me about it. I’m warning you that as from now I’ll do the hiring,’ his off-putting expression lent significance to the words, ‘and the firing!’

All at once it came to Lanie that it was she who had been the cause of that bitter argument down there in the utility, and a flame of anger shot through her at the thought. Who did he think he was, for heaven’s sake, this arrogant young farmer from the backblocks? She didn’t
have
to do as he said.
She stood very straight and lifted her small rounded chin. ‘Your father offered me the job of cook on your farm. If you don’t want me to have the position I don’t need to come. I’m not sure that I want the job anyway!’

She saw his angry glance challenge the older man in a silent battle of wills.

‘It was only a suggestion,’ she said with spirit. ‘I happened to be on the look-out for some work in the country ’

‘Like a typing job in the outback
?
’ His lip curled contemptuously. ‘Don’t give me that!’

The low muttered words were scarcely audible. What was the matter with him? Why did he mistrust her so? A dark cloud of anger mushroomed up inside her, but she forced her voice to calmness, only the heightened colour
that had risen to her cheekbones betraying her feelings. Y
o
ur dad let me in on the job offering at your property at Rangimarie—’ Luckily she had memorised the soft Maori syllables.


That’s right,’ Sandy agreed. ‘I told Lanie the job was hers if she wanted it.’

Once again she intercepted a brief clash of glances between eyes of a lively brown and a flint-like grey. Then Jard said tightly, ‘If it’s a promise, then that’s it!’ At that moment the shrill ring of the telephone rang through the room and Lanie bent to pick up the receiver.

‘Lanie!’ Trevor’s deep tones, ragged with emotion, came ever the wire. ‘Just thought I’d give you a ring to see if you’d changed your mind about me, about us?’

‘No, I haven’t.’ She was acutely aware of the watchful silence around her. She had a suspicion that the masculine tones were all too audible to the two men in the small room with her. ‘Everything’s just the same,’ she said quickly. ‘Trevor, I’ve got to go! I’m just
leaving. I’m taking some work out of town ’

‘But you can’t go, just like that! Where can I get in
touch with you? What
—’

‘Goodbye!’ She slammed down the receiver and turned a flushed face to meet Jard’s impassive stare. He
said coolly, ‘If it’s not convenient for you ’

‘Oh, it is! It is!’ It was the way he was loo
k
ing at her, she thought hotly, that was making her feel flustered, causing her to run on quickly, nervously. ‘It was no one important. Just a man I used to be engaged to.’

His thick dark eyebrows rose and his expression was colder than ever, if that were possible.
‘I
get it.’ Lanie wondered wildly how it was that the commonplace words could convey a whole world of distrust. ‘Let’s go, shall we?’

Lanie held her ground, her green eyes shooting sparks in his direction. Somehow she managed to school her tone to a light, uncaring note. ‘If you’re quite sure you want me to come with you?’


Want you?’
The words he flung at her were aimed to hurt. His obvious reluctance to have her along today had the effect of making her all the more determined to oppose him. He had no right to order everyone around as obviously he was in the habit of doing. It was high time that this arrogant, autocratic male was taught a lesson, and after all, what had she to lose? She had half a mind to call the whole thing off, but she wanted this job and if it entailed enduring the unfounded dislike of Sandy’s overbearing son—well, she could cope! She was tempted to poke out her tongue at the sardonic, mocking face. Instead she pushed her cap further down over one eye and said cha
ll
engingly, ‘Suits me.’

If only he wasn’t so wildly attractive! The crazy thought shot through her mind as she preceded the two men down the stairs. .

Seated in the utility with its long front seat, Lanie found herself squeezed between Jard and his father. Now that the decision had been made she found a curious satisfaction in the thought that, like it or not, Jard was lumbered with her seated close beside him on the long journey ahead. She flung him a quick sideways glance, and as she took in the angry
li
ne of his lips she couldn’t resist saying, ‘Sorry I’m not fair, fat and forty!’ Her wide happy smile that invariably made immediate impact on masculine companions had no effect
on
him whatever. She tried once again. ‘Is that what you put an order in for at the employment agency?’

‘It’s not a matter of looks,’ he grated, ‘and it’s nothing to do with me!’

He shot her a glance and her soft lips Armed. She wasn’t done with him yet, she vowed silently. He deserved something in the way of retaliation, the way he was treating her.

‘Thanks for picking up the range for me,’ she murmured sweetly.

His lips twitched at the corners, but not with humour. ‘All part of the service, not my idea. There’s nothing wrong with the electric stove at home that I can see. Of all the crazy ideas! First time I ever came across a cook who carted her stove around the country with her!’

‘Maybe you haven’t met many of the species,’ she murmured. ‘Anyway, what else could I do with it?’

‘Sell the damned thing. Give it away!’

At least, she thought, she had provoked him into speech. She affected a hurt note in her voice. ‘Oh, I couldn’t do that! It’s the only prize I’ve ever won in my life!’

‘Dad put me in the picture about it.’ His voice was deadpan. ‘According to him, you’re Miss Supercook

quite a reputation to have. Let’s hope,’ he drawled, ‘you’ll be able to live up to it!’

The beast, she fumed inwardly, the hateful sarcastic beast! She would need to disillusion him on that score or she would really find herself in difficulties. She took
a deep breath. ‘Actually, I’m not really


‘Three hundred miles to go! I take it you’ve never been down to our part of the country, Lanie?’ Sandy’s voice, louder than she had previously heard it, cut across her soft tones.

‘Never.’

‘It will be all new territory to you, then. A change of scenery as well as work?’

‘I
guess so,’ she agreed. ‘A kind of holiday,’ and out of a corner of her eye caught Jard’s satirical glance. What was the matter with the man? A gorgeous-looking male like that must have been utterly spoiled by women, she mused. In view of the cooking situation on the farm, he was unmarried. Small wonder! No girl of today would put up with his autocratic ways. This particular girl loathed him, and that was just what he was in need of by the look of things, a level-headed girl like herself who happened to be immune to his forceful domination.

BOOK: The Rouseabout Girl
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