Get things straight, but the Major would never forgive him for going behind his back. He had tried to get something out of Tom, to little avail. Whatever the true state of McFarlane’s health the file was confidential. But there was the evidence of his own eyes. The Major was a sick man. He knew it. Storm knew it. Where the hell was she? Surely her concern for her father would outweigh every other consideration? Her long-running cold war with him?
“So?” McFarlane asked as the young man opposite him fell silent.
“No problem!” Luke flashed his white smile. The smile everyone waited for. “I won’t let Storm know I’m coming in case she jumps town, though I will check to see she’s in residence.”
“What about young Carla?” the Major suddenly sidetracked.
“You could give me a clue?” Luke drawled, not wanting to discuss Carla.
“Dammit, Luke, you know what I mean. You and Carla used to be close. Is it still on?”
Luke picked up a paperweight and palmed it. “On and off. Carla and I are friends.” He set the crystal paperweight down.
‘You’re a darn sight more to her than that, my boy,” the Major scoffed. “I’ve got eyes. The girl is head over heels in love with you. Her dad would be thrilled to have you for a son-in-law. Like me he only has a daughter to inherit.”
Luke, a generation younger, was very much attuned to women’s issues. “Don’t underestimate Carla,” he said. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders. She knows the business as well as her dad. She could take over.”
The Major shrugged. “It’s too hard a life for a woman, Luke. You know that. It’s tough, dangerous and you want a man as boss. Even Storm realises that. Accidents happen all the time around stations especially remote ones like ours. What woman is willing to put herself through that? I’m only trying to find out what the position is with you and Carla.”
“Why exactly?” Luke asked, with a look of dry humour.
The Major blew up. “Hell, son, you’re as close-lipped as I am. I care about you, that’s why. I like Carla, too. She’s a smart girl and a looker but I think you can do better.”
“Such as Storm?” Luke asked directly.
“Surely you can understand that,” McFarlane asked. “Your lives are entwined. No matter what, there’s that bond. Nothing in this world would make me happier than to see you and Storm together.”
Luke gave a hollow laugh, his eyes drawn to Storm’s portrait. “It would take an eternity for Storm and I to patch up our differences,” he said thinking Storm’s childhood had been damaged by the desperate need to be the only one in her father’s life. She should have had brothers and sisters. She should have had anyone, except him. In his own way, without warning, the Major had set them both up.
Now the Major was saying very seriously, “I know Storm has given you a rough time—and you’ve let her. She’s the only one who could get away with it, but she knows your worth. She knows, Luke, even if it would kill her to admit it.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Luke quipped. “It’s just a dream of yours, Major. An impossible dream.”
“But you care about her?” McFarlane challenged. “You can’t look me in the eye and tell me you don’t. I know you too well.”
“Then you’d know I would never waste time wanting a woman who didn’t want me,” Luke said emphatically. What the hell else was he doing if not that?
“Just bring her home, Luke,” McFarlane begged with overwhelming intensity. “That’s all I ask. If there’s a God in his heaven he’ll make things come right.”
CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS getting on towards late afternoon before he touched down at Sydney’s light aircraft terminal taking a cab into the city where he booked into a hotel. Storm herself had rung her father only the night before, in the course of the conversation letting it be known she wasn’t going out of town that weekend. She was to be chief bridesmaid to Sara Lambert, a young woman the Major knew from her occasional visits to the station. Luke knew Sara, too. At one stage she’d had quite a crush on him that mercifully passed. So with any luck he would find Storm at home. Or if she did happen to go out for the evening, which he was sure she would, he would sit it out until she arrived back. In a curious way he realised he was elated at the thought of seeing her again. A good idea to check the hype now. Storm could be in one of her moods. Moods or not he was certain of one thing. This time she was coming back with him before something bad happened.
When he arrived at her seriously up-market apartment block he had no difficulty getting past security. The man at the desk knew him after seeing him a few times in company with Storm and the Major. In fact the man appeared to think he was Storm’s brother.
“Go right up, Mr. McFarlane,” he said breezily. “I saw Miss McFarlane come in a couple of hours ago. Didn’t see her go out, though I’ve been away from the desk on and off.”
He waved his thanks and moved towards the lift amusing himself by thinking Storm most probably would be overjoyed to see him.
As it turned out Storm wasn’t in but a very smart-looking older woman dressed in a blue suit emerged from the adjoining apartment to tell him Storm had left for a party at the Drysdales.
“You know them?” She must have been bored because she looked as if she was ready for a chat.
“Heard of them certainly,” he replied. Every year the Drysdales made The Rich List. “I’m here on an errand for Storm’s father.” He smiled.
“Then you’ll be waiting a long time,” the woman said almost flirtatiously. “Those parties go on all night. Then there’s Sara Lambert’s wedding tomorrow.”
“Yes, I know Sara,” he said, unaware he was frowning.
“Look here, why don’t you simply turn up?” the woman said. “I’m sure the Drysdales won’t mind. Not if you’re a friend of Storm’s. They adore her.”
“Who doesn’t?” he said with the faintest edge of irony.
“You know Storm obviously.” The woman’s bright eyes were agog.
“I grew up with her.” He told her casually, then lest she got the wrong impression: “I’m the overseer on the McFarlane station, Winding River.”
The woman stared at him as if transfixed. “Really? It must keep you very busy?”
“It does. I don’t have a lot of time. I should fly back tomorrow. Sunday by the latest.”
“So go along to the party,” the woman suggested, sensing his urgency.
“What, in this?” He pulled at the sleeve of his leather bomber jacket.
“My dear, you look marvellous,” the woman breathed and gave him the address.
The Drysdale mansion was right on Sydney harbour, which was to say on one of the most beautiful sites in the world. The imposing Italianate-style house with matching landscape grounds was ablaze with lights. There again he had no difficulty
