The Ultimate Choice

CHAPTER TWO

Kelly's first impulse was to refuse. Point-blank!

A furious anger boiled through her brain. It put a volcanic edge on the outrage she had nursed for days. She wanted-very, very much-to tell Justin St John where he could go. And what he could do with his money! She felt no sympathy whatsoever for his pain. If he really needed physiotherapy, he could find someone else to do it for him. She was not about to lay one helpful hand on that… that tyrant!

'Miss Hanrahan?' the caller prompted at the other end of the telephone line. He had introduced himself as Justin St John's secretary. The new squire of Marian Park didn't waste his precious time chatting with any of the local people.

Kelly seethed, torn between her natural humanity that demanded she relieve the suffering of a human being, and the knowledge that Justin St John was not a human being!

Her teeth gritted in resistance as second thoughts forced her to acknowledge that it wasn't exactly ethical to refuse anyone an appointment. Not even Justin St John! Besides which, if she had him at her mercy, she could use the opportunity to tell him precisely what she thought of him.

But she was not going to play the role of lackey to anyone. If he wanted the relief she could give him, he could come crawling to her!

She injected a frosty dignity into her voice. 'Would you please explain to Mr St John that no matter what fee he offers me, I do not give private physiotherapy outside my office. I do not lug a specialist table around with me…'

'We can set up a suitable table for you here, Miss Hanrahan,' the secretary quickly interrupted. 'And if you need help with any other equipment, I'll come and fetch it in the van and return it for you.'

'Wouldn't it be simpler for Mr St John to come to the office himself?' Kelly sliced back, barely restraining an acid note of sarcasm.

'Miss Hanrahan, the problem is mainly in the hip-joint. From an old injury. Travelling is extremely painful for him,' he explained in a tone of sweet reasoning. 'I'm sure that, given good-will on both sides, we can come to some arrangement that will not put you out too much.'

Kelly fumed. 'Put out' hit the nail right on the head! Justin St John had refused her everything! He had refused to consider the arrangement she had had with Henry Lloyd. He had refused to allow her access to the horses she had been training for years. He had even refused to see her personally. Which was bad enough, but what he was doing to Grandpa was so mean, so cruel…

She tried to calm down. Uncle Tom reckoned they had a good case against Justin St John reclaiming Grandpa's property. Uncle Tom might not be a smart city solicitor, but he was wily in the ways of the land. All was not lost, not by a long shot. Justin St John was about to get the biggest fight he had ever had in his smug, privileged life!

And some inner voice told her that if she was ever going to get close enough to tell him what she thought of him this was her best chance.

On the other hand, Uncle Tom-who, technically speaking, was not her uncle at all-had warned her and Grandpa not to speak to Justin St John. They were to leave the matter entirely in his hands. Personal confrontations wouldn't win them anything in a case of law.

But Kelly's intuition urged that a little straight speaking was precisely what Justin St John needed. He couldn't very well order her off the premises when he had asked her to come. And, while it might not help Grandpa's case, it couldn't do any harm. It would certainly do her a powerful lot of good to get a few things off her chest!

'Very well,' she said decisively. But her inner turmoil had wiped out all recollection of the caller's introduction. 'Er… I'm sorry, I don't recall your name.'

'Farley. Roy Farley,' he supplied with brightened haste.

'I'll bring my equipment with me. You have the table ready. Will five-thirty this afternoon suit Mr St John's convenience?' She smiled as she said that, but if Roy Farley had seen the smile he might have had second thoughts about securing her services. It was a long way from being a smile of servility. Or of mercy.

'Certainly, Miss Hanrahan. I do hope Marian Park is not too far out of your way?' he added enquiringly.

'Actually, it's very close to home, Mr Farley. Very close,' Kelly repeated with secret relish. Too close for comfort, as Justin St John would very shortly discover!

'Oh, that will work out well, then,' the secretary enthused, obviously thinking that any future physiotherapy sessions would be no trouble at all. 'We'll look forward to seeing you at five-thirty, Miss Hanrahan,' he added with satisfaction, and rang off. Mission accomplished.

Kelly found it difficult to concentrate on her work for the rest of the afternoon. Justin St John was like a festering wound that gave her no peace, but at least she could let some of the pus out when she saw him this evening. It might be short-lived solace, but if she could tear into his self-centred little world the exercise would be well worth while.

Best not to tell Grandpa where she was going or what she intended to do. It would only churn him up again to no good purpose. And tonight was his chess night with Judge Moffat. Grandpa was sure to lose if he was upset over Justin St John again. Besides which, the judge was on their side, and he might come up with something to aid them in their fight.

She telephoned home in good time to warn her grandfather that she would be working late and not to wait dinner for her. There was a pre-cooked casserole in the refrigerator, and all he had to do was reheat it in the oven. Her grandfather didn't question her. This last week he seemed to have sunk into an apathy that was even more worrying to Kelly than the outbursts of rage over Justin St John.

Henry Lloyd's death had hit her grandfather hard. 'It's no good any more without Henry,' he had grumbled last night. 'The judge is a fine old friend, but it's not the same. Henry should have outlived me the way he always reckoned he would;'

'You've still got me, Grandpa,' Kelly had pointed out, trying to cheer him up.

The weary sadness only settled more deeply. 'And what good am I to you, Kelly? Only a burden. A burden that should be put to rest.'

The grief and strain and stress they had suffered since Henry Lloyd's death were telling on both of them. Tears welled in Kelly's eyes. 'Then I'd be all alone. Please don't wish that on me, Grandpa.'

He had ended up comforting her, as he had been comforting her all her life. She couldn't remember her parents. She had been only two years old when their car had hit a kangaroo, gone out of control, and slammed into a tree at the side of the road. Her mother and father were killed instantly, but Kelly had survived uninjured. There had only ever been three important people in her life: Grandpa and Noni and Henry Lloyd.

Henry had been like a second grandfather to her, and Noni like a wonderful big sister. She hadn't had parents, either. Her mother and father had divorced and were living separate lives overseas, so Noni lived with her grandfather just as Kelly lived with hers. She had taught Kelly how to ride, and played with her, and given her special treats-and Kelly had worshipped her.

But Noni had gone first-when Kelly was seven years old-and for months afterwards she had trailed around Marian Park looking for her, not believing Noni had left them all and was never coming back. It was only many years later that Kelly realised how kind and patient Henry Lloyd had been with her. But Noni's death had left him lonely, too, and the closest of bonds had grown between them.

It had been hard at first to believe he was gone, too. There had been no warning. Not the slightest premonition from Henry himself. He really had intended to outlive Grandpa. He simply went to bed one night and died in his sleep.

And if Grandpa gave up and died on her now…a terrible hollowness burrowed through Kelly's stomach. She knew it had to happen some day, but she would never be ready for it. And Justin St John was going to pay for adding injury to Grandpa's grief, making him feel worse than he had to be, so depressed and miserable that he no longer wanted to live.

Kelly saw her last patient out of the door, tidied up the office, then carefully transported the interferential and the ultrasound to the back seat of her car which was parked behind the building. She vowed that if her equipment got damaged in any way Justin St John would pay through the nose for it. But she didn't really expect any problem with it.

She returned to lock up and made a last-minute visit to the Ladies that served all the offices in the compact medical centre. Normally she was not over- concerned about her appearance, but it would be no normal meeting between her and Justin St John. She wanted to look cool, calm, composed and professional… to put him off guard before she attacked!

She pulled a brush through the thick length of her dark auburn hair, neatened the fringe that swept above the natural arch of her eyebrows, approved the sparkling light of battle in her wide green eyes, and added a dash of fresh lipstick for sheer female vanity.

She tucked the tailored white shirt more firmly into the navy blue tailored skirt, checked that her homi-ped navy sandals were shiny clean and there was no run in her tights, heaved a sigh to relieve her inner tension, then picked up her shoulder-bag and set off on her way.

Marian Park was seventeen kilometres from the township of Bowral, not a long drive and always a pleasant one for Kelly. The southern tablelands of New South Wales had a relatively cool climate, and the country was green and lush at this time of year.

If it wasn't for Justin St John, she would be rushing home to exercise the horses, getting them into peak condition for the last show-jumping venue at Dapto before the Australian Grand Prix at Wentworth Park.

As a last resort, she had contacted as many people as she thought might be able to help her out of her dilemma. She had been offered a number of rides, but only on second-string horses. They gave her no hope of winning the points she still needed to put her into the World Cup. Not that she could go overseas and leave Grandpa alone now, anyway. That dream had died with Henry Lloyd. But Justin St John had buried it! To take her horses away from her was as unfair as taking Grandpa's property. Henry Lloyd had certainly bought the stallions and the mares. He had indulged her with everything she wanted, in order to follow in Noni's footsteps. But it was Kelly's own work with them that had increased their value to such an extent that, if Justin St John sold them and pocketed the proceeds himself, it would be downright robbery.

After she had won the blue ribbon on Rasputin at the Perth Grand Prix, the visiting Koreans had offered five times the price Henry had paid for him. And Rapunzel, the palomino mare, had attracted an equal offer from the Japanese. Lady of Shallot and Sir Galahad, her second-string horses, could easily fetch triple their initial cost. And no way could Kelly afford to buy any one of them.

Show-jumping was a rich man's sport. But it made no difference to Kelly's burning sense of injustice. Any fair-minded person would have offered her a deal. Something. Anything! But Justin St John's solicitor had left her no leeway to argue her case. She had not paid for anything: not the horses or saddles or horse-truck or vet fees or hay or any other tangibles. All the prize money she won had gone on entrance fees and travelling expenses.

But it still wasn't fair!

Kelly belatedly returned the waves of a few people as she passed through the village of Crooked Creek. She spotted Uncle Tom yarning to Judge Moffat outside the courthouse, and hoped the judge wouldn't notice her car going by. He might comment on it to her grandfather-although she hadn't really lied about working late!

If it was a good chess game they wouldn't gossip much, she argued to herself, and dismissed the niggle from her mind.

The last few kilometres sped by. Kelly slowed her old Toyota as the road entered the pine forest which enclosed and sheltered the gardens of Marian Park. The avenue was dark and shadowy, and it was like going through a tunnel to another world.

The beauty and artistry of the grounds surrounding the grand old mansion were unique in Australia. When Kelly had been little it had seemed like a fairyland: the terraces of emerald lawns, magnificent specimens of imported trees-ash, elm, maple, beech, the fascinating topiary work, sunken gardens, statuary, hidden ponds, the wistaria walk, the banks of azaleas and rhododendrons. So much to delight the eye everywhere one turned.

And nothing had changed over the years. Here it was as if time stayed still. Kelly half expected to spot Henry Lloyd chatting to one of the gardeners, but the timelessness was only an illusion. The Lloyd era was over at Marian Park.

Sadness dragged at Kelly's heart as she drew the car to a halt under the ivy-covered portico which stretched over the driveway. Suddenly she didn't want to get out and go inside the house that was now occupied by a stranger. Even as she fought down the feeling, the front door opened and a man started down the steps towards her.

Too young to be Justin St John, Kelly decided, and pushed herself out of the car.

'Miss Hanrahan?' he greeted her, looking slightly surprised.

She recognised the voice from the telephone. 'Mr Farley,' she replied with a nod of acknowledgement.

He was thirtyish, sandy-haired, blue-eyed, his face too weatherbeaten to be that of a city man, and he was dressed in the khaki work-drill clothes that went with the outdoors. He gave her a slightly crooked smile which lent a softening friendliness to his rugged features. He was not unattractive, but Kelly was in no mood to appreciate the looks of any man connected to the enemy.

'I was expecting someone older,' he said. 'But it's good of you to come.'

'I expect Mr St John to make it worth my while,' Kelly reminded him with some asperity. She opened the back door of the Toyota. 'Perhaps you would carry that inside for me,' she directed, indicating the interferential which was heavy and cumbersome to handle. And, since Roy Farley was obviously Justin St John's lackey, he might as well earn his keep!

'Of course,' he said, and treated the machine with conscientious care.

Kelly picked up her handbag and the ultrasound and followed him. She steeled herself to walk through the home that would never again be a second home to her. But apparently the new broom hadn't swept through the house yet. No changes had been made to any of the furnishings that she could see. Everything was exactly the same. Kelly wasn't sure if she felt relief or resentment.

It surprised her when she was led to the guest wing. A moment's consideration made her realise that Justin St John would not be using the stairs in his condition. She was ushered into a bedroom where two tables had been arranged for her: one for the equipment, the other draped with a large bath-towel.

'I trust this is satisfactory?' Roy Farley asked anxiously as he set the interferential down and plugged it into a power-point.

'It will serve,' Kelly replied.

He threw her a relieved smile, then knocked on the door to the adjoining bathroom. 'The physiotherapist is here, Justin,' he called.

'I'll be out in a minute.'

The voice was deep, with the cultured tone that was undoubtedly the built-in product of a high-class Victorian boarding-school. Kelly might have conceded that it was pleasant, if it had not belonged to the person she had most reason to hate.

'He's in the spa bath,' Roy Farley explained as he turned back to her. 'If there's nothing else you require, I'll leave you to it.'

'Thank you,' Kelly said dismissively.

She glanced at her watch as he left the room, sourly wondering how long Justin St John's minute would be. Not that it really mattered. She would have him just where she wanted him soon enough.

Conscious that her nerves were tightening now that the confrontation she had planned was imminent, Kelly busied herself plugging in the ultrasound and taking out the bottle of oil and box of tissues from her bag. When she heard the bathroom door click open, she carefully composed an expression of professional detachment and slowly swung around.

Kelly did not know if her look of detachment remained intact. For some immeasurable length of time her.brain didn't register anything but the image of the man who stood in the bathroom doorway. He was tall and tanned and impressively male; all the more so since he wore only a brief pair of underpants. There was nothing soft about him, and his utter stillness seemed to intensify the power of his presence.

His hair was straight and black, thick and slightly spiky from the bath steam. The harsh planes of his face converged to give him a strikingly individual look that was compelling rather than handsome, feral rather than civilised. The dimple in his chin was almost incongruous, yet it added an intriguing spice to his strong animal-like quality. His eyes were deeply set and slate-grey: hard and uncompromising and intensely concentrated on her.

Kelly felt a nerve-tingling sense of familiarity, as if she had seen him somewhere before. But that wasn't possible. There had been no photograph with the fulsome biography which had been printed in the local newspaper. He had been a business leader in Sydney for the last fourteen years. Prior to that, he had lived on the vast and prosperous St John sheep property in Victoria. In his youth he had been a polo player of international standard-one of the very few with a top ten-goal handicap-until an accident had disabled him. Kelly had never moved in polo-playing circles.

However, one question was now answered. She understood why his orders were obeyed to the letter. Few men would have the nerve to stand up to him. He exuded a raw power that challenged anything and anyone, asserting by nature that victory would be his. Other people's lives might be determined by forces outside themselves, but Kelly felt certain that this man would always determine his own fate.

For one weak moment she quailed at the prospect of taking him to task for what he had done, but a fiery sense of righteousness burned up her spine, stiffening her backbone and tilting her chin with stubborn pride. No way was she going to bend her head to his might! He might beat her, but she was not going to be cowed by him. Never!

Kelly wasn't aware of the signals emanating from her-the aggressive lift of her chin, the perceptible tightening of her full, sensual lips, the slight flush that marked her delicate cheekbones, the sudden glitter of battle-readiness in the darkly fringed green eyes-but every nerve in her body bristled as Justin St John's mouth took on a sardonic twist.

'I wasn't expecting a girl. I've never had one before.'

Kelly burned at the condescension, and fiercely resented the strong sexuality he exuded. He was not young. She judged him to be in his mid-thirties. But that only made him appear more dangerous. He was too knowing and experienced, and far too self-assured to be attackable from any angle. Nevertheless, she couldn't resist one gibe.

'You're lucky to get anyone, Mr St John. You're too much of a newcomer for your name to carry any weight around here. And your money isn't the answer to everything,' she said acidly.

Kelly rued the rash words the moment they were out. They seemed to hang in the air between them for endless seconds, and her pulse did a panicky jig at the sharpened glint of speculation in his eyes. With slow deliberation he shook his head, as if he was mocking her or himself.

'You are very young,' he said flatly. 'But you're obviously qualified or you wouldn't be here.'

'Don't worry!' she shot back. 'You'll get the treatment you need.' And deserve, Kelly added privately. 'Can you manage to get up on the table by yourself?'

His face stiffened at her taunt. 'I'll manage,' he asserted grimly.

But it obviously pained him to walk. He moved his left leg stiffly, cautiously, and when he finally settled himself on the table he breathed a sigh of relief. Quite clearly he had favoured one leg for years. It was not so powerfully muscled as the other.

'You'd better tell me the whole story, so I don't get anything wrong,' Kelly said matter-of-factly.

'My left side was smashed from the waist down. The bones didn't knit properly. There's a lot of pain in the joints. The problem area just now is between hip and thigh.'

Kelly grimaced to herself. She didn't like feeling any sympathy for the enemy, but she could not bring herself to completely ignore his suffering. She had to do something about it.

'I'll start with the ultrasound,' she decided.

He nodded.

Delicately she moved his underwear away from the joint and spread oil over his taut flesh. The touch of him was oddly disturbing. Repugnant, she told herself, but knew she was shading the truth. His body was that of a superb athlete and, despite his disablement, he was in sleek condition. Her touch seemed to disturb him, too. She could feel his flesh flinching under her hand.

'Is that hurting?'

'No,' he growled.

'How did you get smashed up?' she asked, covering her unease with ordinary curiosity.

'That's irrelevant,' he answered curtly.

Kelly tried to repress her irritation over his rudeness. She turned away, using unnecessary vigour in wiping the oil from her hand with tissues before plugging in the ultrasound and switching it on. The small machine was shaped much like a Philips electric razor and about the same size. She began to move it over the joint and muscles.

'If you feel any heat, tell me,' she instructed.

'Get on with it,' he growled impatiently.

Kelly threw him a venomous look. Fortunately his eyes were closed. His whole face had a closed, tight look. Kelly decided to give him ten minutes with the ultrasound.

She couldn't remember ever seeing a more… interesting male body.

He made no sound.

She worked on in silence until the automatic timer clicked off. Then, having wiped the oil from his skin with a few tissues, she fixed the suction cups on to his body: two red, two blue. 'I'm going to switch the interferential on now. Tell me when the pins and needles start.'

'Give it to me full blast.'

You'll get it full blast, Kelly silently promised him… after she had finished the job. She turned the dials.

He made no sound.

She saw the muscles around his hip joint start to contract. 'That's far enough,' she said.

He grunted.

Ten minutes would be long enough for the first treatment, she thought. It would probably also be the last… from her!

It seemed to be only justice that some defect had been inflicted on him. Something to cut his superiority down!

Kelly took grim satisfaction in imagining him as the self-centred type who would never give enough of himself to make a relationship work. A sexy body was all he would ever offer. And he'd consider that the woman who shared a bed with him for a while was positively privileged to have the honour.

Kelly had experienced that before. When she had been at Cumberland College she had been naive enough to fall for a handsome face. But once bitten, twice shy. The sexiest guys were always egotistic and self-centred and didn't care how they hurt you. The nice guys were totally unexciting. How on earth was a girl to find someone just right?

She stared resentfully at the body stretched out in front of her. It certainly wasn't fair for Justin St John to have everything: looks and wealth and Marian Park and her horses and Grandpa's land!

Kelly's rage boiled up again. She switched off the interferential and removed the suction cups. She didn't feel like going on with the treatment, but she had principles to live up to even if Justin St John didn't!

'I'm going to do mobilisations on the hip-joint,' she informed him. 'Tell me when the pain gets bad.'

'How do you measure pain?' he rumbled.

'Imagine a scale from one to ten. How does this feel?' She pushed into the warm flesh of his left buttock, finding the top of the femur.

He grunted. 'One!'

She pushed down harder.

'You've just zoomed up to five,' he gasped.

She eased back a little. The inclination to throw her whole weight on to him was almost irresistible. 'How's that?' she bit out, thinking of her grandfather's misery and her bitter frustration over the horses.

'Better!' he croaked.

But the temptation to push on was a malevolent cloud on her mind. She pressed down a bit harder. He groaned. It was then that Kelly knew she couldn't go on. She really did want to hurt him. Horrified at her own driven urge to cruelty, she snatched her hands away from him.

He looked back at her in surprise.

'I can't! I just can't!' she cried, appalled and distressed that she could be tempted into taking such a dreadful advantage of anyone, no matter how vengeful she felt. 'That's the end of it!' she snapped, all the more angry with him because she was so upset with herself. 'If it wasn't against my own personal ethics, I'd give you every measure of pain there was, Justin St John! You deserve every bit you get. But I'm not as callous as you, so you can just go on suffering by yourself.'

His eyes were wide open now, sharply alert and diamond-hard. His arm shot out and a vice-like hand fastened around Kelly's wrist. 'You'd better explain yourself,' he said in a low, dangerous tone.

It shocked her for a moment, the electric contact of his touch… the frightening sense of being captured by him… the impact of his sudden closeness. Kelly's reaction was all the more intense because of it.

'Let go of me!' she blazed, then plunged on recklessly, desperate to repel him and his confusing effect on her. 'It's not exactly hard to work it out, is it? I can't trust myself to touch you any longer. I want to rip you apart for what you've done.'

'What I've done?' His eyes narrowed. He released her wrist and rolled on to his right side, propping himself up on his elbow with an air of suffering patience. 'I see you're bursting to enlighten me, so go ahead,' he invited, his mouth taking on a grim curve. 'This is your chance. Maybe it's the last you'll ever have.'