by Anne Ashby
Wilderness Liaison
by
Anne Ashby
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Wilderness Liaison
COPYRIGHT © 2012 by Anne Ashby
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Tamra Westberry
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Last Rose of Summer Edition, 2012
Print ISBN 978-1-61217-020-6
Published in the United States of America
Praise for Anne Ashby
“WORLDS APART is a beautiful romance story. All of the characters are brought to vivid life for the reader and enables them to cheer for them, roll their eyes at them and even yell at them. I found the story flowed and before I knew it I was on the last page. Anne Ashby provide touching romance that will whet the appetite and quench the thirst.”
~Delane, Coffee Time Romance & More
~*~
WORLDS APART: “This book is addictive! The initial misunderstanding between Raven and Greg is hilarious, and the comedy continues as Raven keeps up the pretense. The differences between their two cultures is highlighted in very realistic ways... There is just enough light humour to balance the serious aspects of the novel. All in all, a really great read!”
~Jane Eliot, Night Owl Reviews
~*~
DEVON’S DREAM: “I found Ashby’s writing style fresh and intriguing... I stayed on my toes throughout the entire book. I certainly didn't want the story to end... The paths her characters took were distinctive as well as emotional. The sensuality was subtle yet dynamic. The scenery of New Zealand was brought into her story quite ingeniously... I will certainly look for other books by Ashby. Great job, Ms. Ashby!"
~Brenda Talley, The Romance Studio
~*~
“TIME TO BURY THE PAST is an excellent, well-rounded story. The chemistry and romantic scenes are done well. The twists and turns kept me surprised.”
~Silvermage, Night Owl Reviews
Dedication
To my family
—both immediate and extended—
for their continuing help and support
Chapter One
Shal Gregory remained detached from the anticipation filling the small room. His glare out the window found nothing but trees—hectares and hectares of bloody trees in amongst New Zealand’s thick bush.
“Are there any more questions?” their host asked.
Irritably stretching his long jean-clad legs, Shal swung his gaze from the man behind the podium back to his companions. Why aren’t they as bored as I am at this ridiculous team-building? Dad has a lot to answer for, insisting I participate.
Repressing a grimace, he raked an impatient hand through his thick hair. Being here was a total waste of time, time he couldn’t spare. There were deals on his desk in Auckland screaming for attention.
He tilted the too-small chair onto its two back legs, absently hoping it didn’t collapse under his weight. His restless gaze flicked over the entranced faces beside him. For heaven’s sake, they actually appear interested in the second phase of this week in the wop wops.
He begrudgingly admitted Doug and Lynette Mathieson were excellent hosts, being both entertaining and informative. He frowned, rubbing the tightness across his forehead as Doug fielded some questions, eventually causing the others to erupt into laughter.
Shal didn’t even pretend to appreciate the joke. His jaw knotted and he stilled his drumming fingers as he cursed under his breath. He wasn’t delusional enough to imagine his good-for-nothing brother might have taken in some of the slack at the office. Still, as long as I get out of here on Friday...
Another burst of laughter filled the increasingly claustrophobic room. Restlessness gnawed at his shoulders and irritably he flexed them. This bonding with his staff was wearing thin. He balked at the hugging and back-slapping, which went on, feeling uncomfortable. He had no desire to complicate his hectic life by developing friendships with people that worked for him.
He let the chair fall back onto its four legs with a bang. He’d done the stupid sailing and kayaking, the exacting confidence course, and listened to the others sharing their talents and fears. Not him, though—he’d kept very quiet. No one was ever going to discover his weakness.
Attention had been focused on the girls’ fears during the high rope work, so his terror went unnoticed. His feet weren’t leaving the ground again.
He straightened in his seat. Tomorrow phase two began, a four-day hike through both the Mathieson’s private bush block and the adjoining national park. The sooner it’s over, the better.
“I’m sorry I’m not leading the tramp,” Doug’s frustrated slap at a plaster cast-encased leg along with his ever-present totara stick drew more chuckles.
“Jodie should have been here by now to take over this discussion.” He stomped over to the window for the hundredth time this afternoon, his already worried frown deepening. “Jodie and Rick are both very experienced. You can rely on them.”
Shal acknowledged the week’s activities had been well-organised. Whatever arrangements they’d been forced to change due to Doug’s broken leg would no doubt be acceptable.
Rick Mathieson, although still in his teens, had impressed them all during the last three days. It seemed safe to assume this Jodie, presumably Rick’s elder brother, would be equally knowledgeable.
As if on cue the wooden door burst open. “You can stop worrying, guys. The prodigal returns,” Rick announced.
Although they’d tried to hide it, the Mathiesons’ concern that their son had failed to arrive had mounted as the day wore on. Relief visible on her face, Lynette dived for the door and her elder son.
The second Rick’s brother entered the room Shal’s confidence in Doug’s programme vanished. Unmistakable feminine curves pressed against a faded blue shirt covered in dirt and what looked like dried blood. Thick-lashed green eyes, the colour of polished jade, briefly glanced around the room.
One of Doug’s kids is a girl. Shal’s fingers tightened on the arms of his chair as Jodie was introduced.
Doug can’t be considering putting this...this skinny girl in charge of a hazardous hike through the mountains? That’s asking for trouble.
“Sorry I’m so late, Dad.” Her voice was soft. “There was an accident at Cosgrove Crossing—a car-load of boy racers didn’t make the corner.”
Rick grasped her arm. “What sort of car?”
The girl turned to her brother. “A grey Subaru.” The hand she used to flick the curly, dark hair behind her shoulder smudged even more black soot across her cheek. “One was dead and the driver was in a pretty bad way.” Sympathy coloured her tone. “They weren’t locals, Ricky,” she reassured her brother. “According to one of the guys they’d cruised down from the coast.”
Shal watched the tension drain from the teenager’s body.
“I figured it’d be quicker to run up Mount Ikton and use my cell phone than drive for help.” She rubbed a deep scratch along her forearm. “But the track is so overgrown I’m not so sure it was.”
Did he hear right? Who ran up mountains? She did
n’t even look strong enough to walk up a flight of stairs.
“I should have called you too, Dad, Mum. I’m sorry.” As she placed her hand on her father’s shoulder, clearly defined muscles flexed on both her upper and lower arm. “I wanted to get back down and help until the ambulance arrived. It took ages.”
Doug patted her hand, then smiled dismissively at the seated group. “Why don’t we have a final briefing after tea, folks? Jodie can put in her two cents’ worth then.”
Jenny, a tall, athletic brunette from Shal’s accounts department whispered behind her hand. “I assumed Jodie was a guy.”
So did I. Shal’s fists clenched as painful, long-forgotten memories flooded his mind. This changed things. He wasn’t placing his own, nor his staff’s, safety in the hands of any woman. It was bad enough having women on the tramp at all. Women were useless in an emergency, became emotional, fell to pieces, and generally put everyone else’s life in jeopardy. He’d be damned if he’d suffer that a second time.
****
The surging adrenaline speeding throughout her body the last few hours had drained away. Jodie felt physical and emotional exhaustion begin to take hold. She sucked in a deep breath as her eyes flicked around the assembled group again. She was thankful her father was giving her some respite before he expected her to deal with these strangers.
What an awful day. What a pitiful waste of young lives. She shook her head, searching for something to dislodge the horrific pictures flashing through her head. She found it in a pair of cold, grey eyes.
Judging by the disdainful expression accompanying that stare she didn’t hold out for much improvement in the rest of her day. Allowing her own lip to curl in response, her eyes blatantly flicked up and down his taut body.
Some women might think he’s attractive, she supposed. I like men to look natural. This bloke’s perfect salon haircut and designer-label clothes looked more like an airbrushed advertisement awning than a real man. For heavens sake, he’s even got designer stubble.
If that wasn’t unattractive enough, the arrogant twist of his lip rankled enough to send adrenaline coursing back through her veins again. She refused to meet the grey eyes staring at her. Instead she allowed her own scornful gaze to flick up and down his whole length one more time before exiting the room.
Just what I need, she muttered under her breath as she caught up with her father and brother, an arrogant townie who thinks he knows everything.
****
“Doug?” As they were entering the dining room for dinner, Shal touched his host’s arm. “Could I have a word?”
Shal saw a quick flash of concern before it was masked by friendly enquiry.
“Of course.” Doug stepped aside to allow others to enter. “What can I do for you?”
“This tramp. I’m not sure your daughter’s the right person to lead it.”
Doug’s eyebrows shot up, his mouth dropping open. “What?” He shook his head. “You haven’t expressed any concern before.” Shal sensed the other man’s confusion. The harried look was back. “Our advert indicates experienced leaders”—he thumped his cast—“believe me, I wouldn’t put your team, or my business for that matter, into hands I didn’t trust one hundred percent.” He paused, thrusting his chin out. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
Clearing his throat Shal felt a twinge of unfairness, but he knew only too well how inept a woman could be in a hazardous situation. He couldn’t jeopardise his staff’s safety. He forced himself to continue. “I had assumed ‘Jodie’ was a man.”
Doug’s already cold eyes narrowed, but before he could speak, another voice quipped. “Don’t worry about it, Dad. He’s obviously from the old school, where women belong in a man’s bed or chained to the kitchen sink.”
Shal swung around, feeling his face heat up as ice-cold eyes flashed at him.
“Thank heavens you weren’t so old-fashioned, Daddy.” She patted her father’s arm even as she continued to outstare Shal, her eyes filled with contempt.
“You can’t have paid much notice to our web site, or you’d know Mum often leads the tramps.” She glanced at her father before swinging her glare back to him. “I’d love to see you telling Mum you didn’t trust her.”
Shal’s shoulders tightened. He guessed how his diminutive hostess might take exception to that.
“Don’t worry, buddy”—the daughter looked him up and down—“I’ll get you through safely, on my back if necessary.”
With a springy bounce and a flick of her hair, done to rub his nose in her feminism, no doubt, she disappeared through the door.
Of course I haven’t looked at their website. Why would I? This wasted week was Dad’s stupid idea, not mine. I don’t need any lessons in team building.
How dared she? A slip of a girl hardly out of high school, talking to me like I’m some non-entity. He felt his lips thin at the effrontery. I’m not the one likely to collapse during the tramp.
Doug was glaring at him. “This is the twenty-first century.” Shal gritted his teeth at Doug’s scathing tone. “You have no reason to doubt Jodie’s ability, Mr. Gregory”—up till now Doug had called him Shal—“or any other arrangements I see fit to make.
“We’ve been running these courses for over ten years, and do not take the safety of our clients lightly.” He cleared his throat. “However, if you can’t accept a woman’s authority, you’re welcome to cancel.” He turned away. “I’ll arrange your return to Auckland immediately—with a refund, of course.”
Shal saw the stubborn set of the other man’s jaw and knew he’d offended him, as well as his daughter.
His mind raced. This training has exceeded my expectations. The staff are benefiting from it, so the business will reap that reward. He grimaced as he imagined explaining to his father why he’d cut short the course. He’d never believe I haven’t manufactured an excuse to upstage Maz.
He ground his teeth in frustration. Doug was walking away assuming the decision had been made. But had it?
“Doug, wait.” Shal swore under his breath, I’ve no choice, I have to accept Doug’s arrangements. It just means I’ll have to take on a more dominant role to keep an eye on this girl. Damn it. Rick, at least, seems a pretty handy guy to have around. I can rely on his expertise if needed.
“We’ll continue with the tramp,” he muttered. “I’m sure I’ll be able to deal with any problems that might arise.”
****
Jodie quickly categorised the team during the noisy evening meal. Jenny, outgoing, physically fit; Georgia, a sexy bombshell with a North American accent, possibly her boss’s playmate; Kelly, overweight with low self-esteem. The men were even easier. Tony was a lightweight flirt; Michael, a quiet family man. And Shal...what kind of name was Shal anyway? Shal was an arrogant, self-righteous, chauvinistic, pompous ass.
During Lynette’s introduction his eyes had flashed a warning, which she chose to challenge with a disdainful tilt of her chin. We both know the score—neither was about to give an inch.
“You’re all happy with the clothing requirements?” Jodie’s eyes flicked across each face as she took over the briefing. She waited for concurrence from everyone. “Dad hasn’t added anything extra to make your packs heavier, although I did hear Mum complaining some of her garden rocks had mysteriously disappeared.” She rolled her eyes, waiting. Laughter, that’s good. Jodie smiled. They seem a receptive bunch...except for one stone-faced member.
“Follow the instructions to arrange your pack. It’ll make life easier if things you might need during the tramp itself are readily accessible.
“Ricky and I will be carrying everything else so you just need to worry about your own food and clothing. We’ll have a VHF radio to keep in touch with the old folks here.” More laughter followed as Doug aimed a swipe at Jodie with his walking stick.
“Some tracks are more clearly defined than others. We’ll remain as one group at all times, moving at the pace of the slowest member.”
“That’l
l be me,” Kelly moaned.
“Don’t be so sure, Kelly, the bush is a great equaliser.” Jodie smiled at the big girl. “You might surprise yourself.”
Jodie saw a little blaze of hope, before it was snuffed out. “I doubt it.”
“Amongst your gear”—she indicated the clothing and equipment sitting on a table above six empty packs—“you’ll each find a Family Radio Service handheld radio. Please leave these tuned to channel one.”
“Why not just use our cell phones if something happens?” Kelly asked.
“Using cell phones in an emergency looks great on TV, but their coverage has black spots. By all means take your cell phones—you will get reception periodically during the tramp—but we can’t rely on them as our only safety device.
“Dad’s already gone over the route with you?” Heads nodded as she traced her finger across a large map on the wall. “We weave in and out between our own land and the adjoining national park—one night in our cabin, two nights in the park. The park huts are open to the public—first in gets the best beds. Your park cabin tickets need to be displayed,” she paused as Lynette handed them out. “Attach them to the outside of your packs tonight. Then you can forget about them.”
“The second day’s a short tramp. We’ll make it by lunchtime. We might find somewhere we can go skinny-dipping, Georgia.” Jodie glanced to see the boss’ reaction to someone honing in on his territory but his expression didn’t change. Joining the laughter at Tony’s wriggling eyebrows and Georgia’s scoffed reply, Jodie corrected his assumption.
“Unless you have mountain goat in your ancestry, Tony, it’s gonna take you a little longer.”
This was met with groans, and quips about their pleasant walk in the sunshine.
“It’s not the easiest of tramps around, but it really isn’t too hard,” Jodie reassured them. “It’ll be a lot of fun if you want it to be.”
