Right Of Possession Read online

  RIGHT OF POSSESSION

  A CORGI BOOK 0 552 12193 2 First publication in Great Britain

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Corgi edition published 1983 Copyright © 1981 by Jayne Krentz Conditions of sale

  1. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent

  in any form of binding or cover

  other than that in which it is published

  and without a similar condition including this condition

  being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  2. This book is sold subject to the Standard Conditions of Sale of Net Books and may not be re-sold in the UK below the net price fixed by the publishers for the book. All rights reserved. Published by arrangement with Del! Publishing Co. Inc., New York.

  This book is set in 10/ 12'/2pt Times

  Corgi Books are published by Transworld Publishers Ltd., Century House, 61-63 Uxbridge Road, Ealing, London W5 5SA Made and printed in Great Britain by Hunt Barnard Printing Ltd., Aylesbury, Bucks.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Reva Waring, halfway through an excellent veal a la Marsala, was pausing to take a sip of the '74 Chardonnay her escort had selected when something made her glance idly toward the restaurant entrance. Her shock at the sight of the tall, broad-shouldered man filling the doorway nearly caused her to drop the long-stemmed glass.

  "Something wrong?" Bruce Tanner's polite inquiry brought Reva's elegantly neat head around and she carefully smiled her coolly charming smile. Reva was very good at recovering her poise in an instant. It was a skill developed on the road up through management in the business world. At twenty-nine Reva felt there was little that could crack her self-possession, but the sight of the man in the doorway had done it for a few incredible seconds. She had convinced herself during the past four months that he would never really make good on his promise. She should have known better.

  "I thought I saw someone I recognized," she said smoothly to the attractive blond-haired, blue-eyed man sitting across the table. And, she added silently to herself, I can only hope he didn't recognize me. But that was a futile wish, she thought with grim honesty. The sole explanation for Josh Corbett's presence in this particular Portland, Oregon, restaurant was that he had come for her.

  Exactly as he had told her he would four months ago. That had been at dawn on a desolate airfield in a tiny South American nation the name of which Reva had consciously tried to forget. And the tall, tough man with the dark-brown hair and the lion-colored eyes hadn't asked if she wanted him to come for her. He'd simply said, "Wait for me. I'll come for you as soon as this is over."

  Then he'd helped Reva into the old DC-3, handed the expatriot, gunrunning American pilot a large amount of U.S. currency, and walked away into the rising morning heat of yet another Latin American country torn apart by revolution. Reva had sat in the copilot's seat, the plane's only passenger, and watched, with an unwarranted sense of loss, Josh Corbett disappear from her life. It was only later that the relief began to set in.

  "A business associate?" Bruce Tanner asked quickly. Bruce understood the importance of business associates. "If you catch his eye, feel free to invite him to join us for a drink later." He flicked back the silk cuff at his wrist and scanned the sophisticated, amazingly thin gold watch he was wearing. "We should be through here in another twenty minutes. I'll be quite happy to meet him." His handsome features conveyed his perfect understanding of the situation.

  One thing about Bruce, Reva thought fleetingly, he could be fully counted upon to encourage a woman in her career. He would never dream of asking her to sacrifice everything for him. Not as Hugh Tyson had done four years ago. But then, Reva reminded herself, she would never be so foolish as to agree to the sacrifice as she had agreed to Hugh's request when she was twenty-five. She'd learned her lesson!

  "That won't be necessary. If it was who I thought it was, he's not someone from the office. Just a man I met

  several months back," Reva explained quietly, bending her head to concentrate her blue-green eyes on the veal. The sea-colored eyes looked out on the world from behind a pair of chic designer frames and it occurred to Reva that Josh might be scanning the subtly lit restaurant for women wearing glasses. She seriously considered removing them but decided that would only elicit more questions from Bruce. Perhaps if she kept her head down, she thought a little desperately, the glasses wouldn't be so visible. With luck the searching man wouldn't recognize her hair. During the three days Josh had known her the sun-washed brown stuff had been a straggling, unkempt mess. Tonight the heavy shoulder-length tresses were gathered into a sleek, graceful knot at the nape of her neck.

  "Oh, well," Bruce was saying casually, losing interest in the unknown male, "if he's not someone important . . ."

  "No, he's no one important," Reva assured him. At least, she went on mentally, he's no longer important. Only for those horrible days in that damn little country had he been important. But she had deliberately tried to forget that aberration in her life and Josh Corbett along with it. She had never seriously thought he'd come looking for her. Or had she? Was that the real reason she'd taken it into her head to quietly change apartments shortly after returning from the abortive vacation to South America? She had told herself and her friends she was moving to get a better view of the Willamette River, but had she subconsciously felt a little safer changing addresses?

  Now what was she going to do, Reva asked herself grimly. There was only one rational answer, of course. She would be coolly polite if Josh spotted her in the crowd and approached the table. Yes, cool and gracious and formal. That would be the ticket. If he was at all perceptive he

  would get the hint immediately. And she had Bruce with her, didn't she? Surely that would provide a neat barrier.

  "How's the veal?" the neat barrier interrupted her chasing thoughts to ask. "This scampi is excellent. And the Chardonnay isn't bad, although it seemed to me the wine list was a bit limited." A serious, considering expression knit Bruce's handsome brow as he waited for Reva's comments.

  She risked a glance upward to meet his intent blue eyes and smiled once again. The large man she had seen in the doorway was no longer in her field of vision. Perhaps he'd left. The hopeful thought helped relax Reva's somewhat taut features. She was not a beautiful woman but the firm line of a feminine chin, the regal nose, and high cheekbones came together in an intelligent, almost striking profile. Reva had long ago learned to capitalize on that, using the bold frames of her glasses, the smooth, businesslike style of her hair and perfectly tailored clothes, to pull together an image that radiated ability, confidence, and success. If she could have taken part in the design of her own body she would have given herself more height to go with her small-boned figure. Either that, she'd decided, or less of an appreciation for good food. As it was, nearly constant dieting was necessary to keep her five-foot-five-inch frame pared to the fashionably sleek silhouette she preferred. Of course, she could have eaten better at home during the week if she didn't allow herself to splurge on the weekends with meals such as the one she was enjoying tonight. Or had been enjoying, she corrected.

  "The meal is quite perfect, Bruce, as I'm sure you know. You have a knack for picking the best places. I've thoroughly enjoyed all of our evenings out this past month." And it was the truth, Reva thought with a sense of satisfaction marred only by her inner fear that Josh

  Corbett hadn't really left the restaurant. Bruce Tanner was beginning to look like the perfect mate for her. Now, at twenty-nine, with her career firmly reestablished after the disastrous mistake she'd made at twenty-five, Reva had decided it was time to marry. Bruce was one year older a
nd offered everything she needed in a man.

  "Thanks, Reva," he began with a pleased smile. "I want you to know this past month has been very good for me, too. We seem quite suited, you and I. We're both career-oriented, we both enjoy the same things, and ..." He broke off to glance upward in surprise at the stranger who had come to a halt by Reva's shoulder.

  But Reva hadn't needed to see the politely inquiring expression on her escort's face. She had sensed the large, quiet presence an instant earlier and was already composing herself for the next few minutes. She could handle this, she told herself resolutely. She was back on her own territory and here there would be no problem dealing with Josh Corbett.

  "Hello, Reva," he said in that deep, dark, faintly southwestern drawl which brought back those three days' in South America as if they had only ended yesterday. "Still having nightmares?"

  Reva felt herself whiten at the words. In spite of all her brave knowledge of her own ability to handle unpleasant situations, she couldn't keep the blood from seeping momentarily from her face and then rushing fiercely back. How could he, after four months, have asked the one question which was perfectly calculated to remind her of that last night? It had been deliberate on his part and Reva knew of no other man who, after a long absence, would walk up to a woman in a public restaurant and issue a point-blank challenge to recall her surrender in his arms.

  With all her not inconsiderable will, Reva determined that this man should not see her reaction.

  "Hello, Josh," she smiled with a semblance of polite surprise and pleasure. She lifted her eyes to meet the lion-colored gaze and collided with the totally undisguised intent she saw there. "How nice to see you again. It's been a long time."

  She allowed herself to study the weathered, granite-hard face with the socially acceptable curiosity of casual acquaintances who chance to run into one another. Josh Corbett was thirty-eight years old and every line on his craggy face indicated that those years had not been spent pursuing the gentler side of life. His skin was deeply, probably permanently tanned. Fine lines radiated from the corners of the honey-brown eyes which reminded her so much of a lion's gaze and deeper grooves marked the edges of his hard mouth. An aggressive blade of a nose and tightly drawn, commanding cheekbones paired with the heavy dark brows and strong chin to give the man an utterly uncompromising look. The gray she had remembered flecking bis temples was still there in the deep-brown hair, a bit more noticeable now that he'd had a recent haircut. And Josh Corbett had the slightly more than six feet of height to carry off the overall impression of tough, hard-bitten male. Large, lean, and potentially lethal. Then Reva's carefully remote glance fell on the tie.

  In spite of her resolve, she blinked in astonishment. Never in a million years would she have imagined this man choosing to wear the brilliant, crimson-striped thing. The conventional dark suit, white shirt, and polished shoes, yes. They somehow added to the quiet look of subtle male menace. But the gorgeous tie was wildly out of character, she thought wryly. Or was it? There was something about it which said its owner would only go so

  far to satisfy the dictates of society. Beyond a certain point Josh Corbett didn't give a damn what others thought. Reva wrenched her gaze quickly away from the fascinating tie as Josh responded to her greeting.

  "It's been exactly four months," he noted, his gaze locking with hers. "What's the matter, Reva, didn't you think I'd remember to come and collect you when I had finished my business in South America?"

  Reva swallowed, knowing he was asking her why she was out with Bruce Tanner when she was supposed to be at home, patiently waiting to be "collected." She quelled the stirring of resentful anger which threatened to make her say something rude. She owed this man a lot. The bare truth was that he had saved her life. But that had never given him the right to assume she had any intention of going back to the real world and waiting for him! She certainly had made no commitments on that scale, in spite of what he may have concluded that last night. . . .

  "Bruce, I'd like you to meet Josh Corbett. He and I met several months ago while I was vacationing. Josh, this is Bruce Tanner, a very close friend." She let the last three words fall with the smallest of meaningful stresses.

  "Pleased to meet you, Corbett," Bruce said pleasantly, politely averting his eyes from the crimson tie and extending his hand in a genial masculine gesture. He smiled at the older man who only topped him by about three inches but who seemed to dwarf him, nevertheless. Next to Josh, Bruce looked soft and very, very civilized.

  "How do you do, Mr. Tanner," Josh said with gravelly politeness, accepting the proffered hand and shaking it once. Once was enough, Reva knew, as her escort hurriedly withdrew his white-knuckled fingers. She gritted her teeth. The small display of muscle had been entirely unnecessary and incredibly impolite. Exactly what one could

  expect from a man like Corbett. Before she could say anything to bring the small scene to a decently swift conclusion, however, Josh was continuing to speak to Bruce.

  "If you'll excuse me," he went on in a deceptively bland voice, "I'll take Reva home now." He put out a hand and closed steel fingers around one of her slender wrists.

  "Josh!" Reva stared at him, furious and still faintly disbelieving. She was painfully aware of Bruce's uncomfortable confusion. "Don't be ridiculous," she said sternly, not rising in response to the gentle tug on her hand. "I'm here with Bruce tonight. It's nice to see you again and I certainly hope you'll enjoy your stay here in Portland, but I have no intention of accompanying you anywhere. Especially not tonight when, as you can see, I have other plans." She lifted her chin and narrowed her blue-green eyes at him through the lenses of her glasses. The man belonged in that jungle where she had left him! "You can call me in the morning. . . ."

  Josh turned his attention back to her, the lion eyes resting searchingly on her tense, forbidding expression. And then the corner of his mouth quirked upward in a small flash of genuine humor combined with admonishment.

  "You really didn't think I'd come for you, did you?" he murmured chidingly. "But I'm here, Reva, and everything's going to be fine."

  He made no further move to force her to her feet, but neither did he release her wrist, and Reva had the horrifying notion that he was capable of simply picking her up and walking out of the restaurant if she proved too uncooperative. She had to get a handle on the situation immediately or risk a major scene. Bruce would never forgive that.

  "Please, Josh," she smiled with careful wry humor,

  "you're certainly not going to embarrass me, are you? Why don't you sit down and have a glass of wine with us while we finish eating and you can tell me what you've been doing lately."

  "Yes, do join us for a few minutes, Corbett," Bruce put in coolly, his eyes flicking first to Reva and then to the man standing solidly beside her. Reva could almost feel him deciding to follow her lead in dealing with the unexpected difficulty the stranger represented. She quashed the disloyal thought that wished her date for the evening were a bit more aggressive in handling the matter. "There's some of the Chardonnay left," Bruce added, indicating the wine bucket positioned at the side of the table. "I'm sure we can get the waiter to bring another glass."

  "Thank you," Josh returned with soft mockery. "But it's been four months since I last saw Reva and I have a great deal to say to her. In private." He glanced down into Reva's angrily upturned face. "Come along, honey. If you're still hungry we'll pick something up on the way home. I'm quite capable of keeping you fed, if you remember."

  Reva, whose normally healthy appetite had totally deserted her, frowned furiously up into Josh's hard expectant face. His eyes met hers in casual promise and she knew with clear resignation that he had no qualms at all about making a scene if that's what it would take to make her leave with him. Perhaps the best solution was to do exactly that and get the inevitable confrontation over. It was undoubtedly going to take some doing convincing him that she certainly had no intention of picking up where she'd left off four months ago. Those thre
e days were a totally abnormal time in her life and she did not honestly feel she could be held responsible for her behavior. She would have to make Josh Corbett understand

  that. She turned apologetically to Brace, who plainly found the situation incomprehensible.

  "I'm sorry, Bruce, but I'm afraid this is going to be a little awkward. Mr. Corbett seems to think our short acquaintance of four months ago entitles him to impose on me now." She didn't look at Josh as she said the deliberately rude words but she felt the fingers on her wrist tighten ever so slightly. Well, what did he expect? Why should she be any kinder to him than he was being to her by embarrassing her in front of Bruce?

  "There's no need for you to leave if you'd rather not, Reva," Bruce said with unexpected authority.

  She smiled at him, a genuinely appreciative smile that conveyed her thanks. "I know, Bruce, but I think it would be better if I handled the matter quietly. Mr. Corbett will soon be on his way, believe me. Forgive me for cutting the evening short. It was most delightful while it lasted. . . ." She let the sentence trail off delicately, the full implication of how Josh Corbett was ruining the evening settling nicely.

  "Vicious little thing, isn't she?" Josh observed mildly, one dark brow lifting in acknowledgment of the cut.

  "Miss Waring is never vicious!" Bruce informed him coldly.

  "Except when she's provoked, and when the provocation is sufficient you'd better hope you're not facing her when she's got a knife in her hand!"

  "Josh Corbett!" Reva flared, unable to completely repress the mental image he was forcing alive in her head. With it came remembered terror, fury, and desperation. For a ghastly instant she was again facing a young revolutionary guerrilla, his dark eyes wild with war lust. The carving knife she'd found in an abandoned kitchen had been her only defense. But in the end she'd not had to use

  it. Josh Corbett had appeared out of nowhere, a rifle slung over one shoulder and an automatic in his hand. It had been the automatic which had spoken. . . . Grimly she forced herself back to the present.