The Temptation Test

by Meredith Webber

  Noah’s question reminded Jena of Kate’s apparent concern over hospitalisation, but she couldn’t work out what had caused it.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she had to admit. ‘Filming doesn’t start until next week so the rest of the crew won’t come until the weekend, but this lot are all booked into accommodation in the town.’

  ‘Can you find out what the complication is?’ Noah persisted, and Jena, realising liaising was a two-way street, nodded.

  ‘I’ll get back to you as soon as I can,’ she promised.

  Upstairs, she found the others working in almost total silence—a state so unusual in a film crew it worried Jena.

  ‘Hey, guys,’ she said. ‘It’s a dislocated shoulder, not the end of the world. Kate will be out of pain in half an hour and as good as new in three weeks.’

  ‘I thought we were supposed to work quietly,’ Andrew said, looking up from where he held a tape against a wall. He jotted another measurement in his notebook and waved his hand towards the others, all busy with their jobs.

  And silent.

  ‘It’s not good, having an accident before shooting even begins,’ he continued, and Jena closed her eyes and prayed for patience. Of all people on earth, theatre—and by extension film and television—people had to be the most superstitious.

  ‘Kate walked into the bracket and hurt her shoulder,’ she said, quite loudly, hoping to dispel the atmosphere straining the air in the room. ‘No ghosts, no symbol of bad luck, just an accident, pure and simple. Now, are there any obvious problems that need the involvement of the hospital authorities? Andrew, have you checked on how the hoist will work, where you’ll site it? I’ll have to let them know about any external structures we’re planning to erect.’

  ‘John’s in charge of the hoist,’ Andrew replied. ‘John, take Jena downstairs and show her what we’ve planned.’

  John was the crew member she hadn’t worked with before, so she was glad of an opportunity to spend some time with him. He looked absurdly young, but she’d realised when she’d first moved from modelling to the television world that most of the offsiders on any shoot were only in their late teens—early twenties at the most. Even Kate, with her important title of site manager, was barely twenty.

  ‘What does it mean, this dislocated shoulder?’ John asked, and Jena, thinking the question was merely a polite enquiry about an injured colleague, proceeded to explain.

  ‘No!’ he said impatiently. ‘What does it mean for her? Will they keep her in hospital and, if so, for how long? You said something about three weeks—will she be in pain all that time? Will it be hurting her?’

  He sounded genuinely concerned, so Jena tried to reassure him, explaining the pain was worst when it happened, and although it might be uncomfortable for a while, mild analgesics would counter it.

  The mention of possible hospitalisation reminded her of Noah’s question about Kate’s apparent concern. Maybe John could help.

  ‘Do you know her well?’

  They’d reached the bottom of the stairs and were walking through the hall, but even in the less than perfect light Jena saw the tide of colour wash into the young man’s cheeks.

  ‘Pretty well,’ he said gruffly, lengthening his strides so Jena had to trot to keep up with him.

  It took her another thirty minutes, in between technical discussions of where the hoist would be located and how it would be stabilised by inserting pins into the brickwork, to realise why Kate had been upset.

  ‘They’ve been going out together, she and a young carpenter called John,’ Jena explained, much later, to Noah. ‘And, for young people these days, have been very…I guess restrained would be the word—’

  ‘Young people? Are you so old that’s how they seem to you?’

  They were standing outside the recovery room, and the question made Jena smile.

  ‘I’m twenty-seven,’ she said bluntly. ‘Not that much older in years maybe, but I feel about a hundred years older in experience.’

  She felt her own cheeks heat as she realised how the phrase could have been taken, then plunged on into the explanation in the hope Noah wouldn’t notice her pinkness.

  ‘Anyway, it seems they’d had long and earnest discussions about taking their relationship further—to a more intimate level.’ She realised the heat certainly wasn’t going to go away while she discussed this subject. She’d just have to ignore it. ‘When they were both selected to go on location up here, they took it as a sign that things were meant to be.’

  Jena hesitated. She didn’t want Noah Blacklock mocking the earnest young couple, but if he was to understand why Kate was so worried…

  ‘They decided to make it a kind of trial honeymoon,’ she went on, and looked him straight in the eye, daring him to make a joke of it. ‘Though he’s more concerned about Kate and the pain she’s in than missing out on a bit of sex.’

  ‘He told you all this?’ Noah asked, disbelief warring with a desire to laugh—although the challenge in Jena’s eyes warned him that laughing would be a big mistake.

  ‘Eventually,’ she said, while the tender smile lurking in her eyes told him she’d also found the story more touching than amusing.

  Twenty-seven but not as cynical as her remark about being ‘a hundred years older in experience’ had suggested she was.

  A woman as beautiful as she had undoubtedly had her pick of lovers. The idea bothered him though he knew it shouldn’t. Jena Carpenter’s past—or future beyond these few weeks of filming—was no concern of his.

  ‘Are we keeping Kate in hospital?’

  Rhoda, who’d left the ward to assist with the operation and had been watching Kate in Recovery, emerged to ask the question.

  ‘Just overnight,’ Noah replied, ‘but I’ll tell her.’ He turned to Jena. ‘You’ll come with me?’

  ‘Sure,’ she said, moving immediately towards the door, her blonde head higher than his shoulder as they walked side by side—a tall woman as well as a beautiful one.

  ‘Just one night, Kate? To humour me?’ Noah said to his patient, who was sitting up on the edge of the bed and glowering in response to his suggestion.

  ‘Better than whoever’s rooming with you at the motel having to race you up to the hospital in the middle of the night if something does go wrong,’ Jena said, and Noah silently congratulated her on both her tact and her approach. One look at Kate’s face was enough to tell him she didn’t like the scenario at all.

  He felt a pang of sympathy for the young would-be lovers. There was always so much uncertainty in the early stages of a relationship, and it was worse when one was young.

  Wasn’t it?

  Not always, he reminded himself, thinking of his own blundering folly in seeing too much of Linda Carthew when he’d first arrived in Kareela, not realising she’d wanted more than friendship—and had expected more than that from him.

  He couldn’t use youth as an excuse for that mistake!

  Or the consequences that were now making his life difficult!

  He shook his head.

  ‘You’re sure it will only be one night?’ Kate demanded, no doubt confused by his head shake.

  ‘Unless something major goes wrong, which is most unlikely,’ Noah promised her. ‘Now, stay there and I’ll get a wardsman. I know you could walk through to the ward, but hospital regulations say you should be wheeled. Rhoda will look after you when you get there.’

  ‘I’ll get the wardsman,’ Rhoda offered, and she whisked out of the room.

  ‘Do you want me to get anything from the motel? Toilet things? Nightdress?’

  Jena asked the questions, speaking gently to the injured young woman, but Kate was recovering quickly.

  ‘No, John will do it for me. John Jansen, he’s with the crew,’ she said, looking directly at Jena to tell her more than the words had said. ‘Is it OK if he comes down to see me now?’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Jena told her, then she touched Kate lightly on her good arm. ‘I’ll let him know you’ll be in
the ward.’

  ‘On the verandah,’ Rhoda said, rejoining them, a young man in tan shirt and shorts accompanying her. ‘I’ll put you next to Mrs Nevins. She’ll keep you amused, and probably occupied as well, sorting through her coloured wools.’

  Noah watched as Jena left the room, then, feeling he wasn’t needed by either Kate or Rhoda, he followed her out.

  She was already halfway up the stairs and as he couldn’t think of any good reason to go after her he let her go, idly noticing the flash of bare legs he could see through the banisters as she took the last flight two at a time.

  No women and definitely no blondes, he reminded himself, then he turned to find the blonde who’d troubled him most recently hovering behind him.

  ‘I understood you weren’t interested in a relationship,’ Linda said, sarcasm biting so sharply through the words Noah felt himself flinch. ‘In fact, if I recall your words correctly—’

  ‘Were you looking for me?’ he interrupted, knowing the last thing he needed repeated in the hospital foyer was his stumbling explanation of why he didn’t want to get involved with her.

  ‘Yes!’ she said, scowling at him to show she understood why he’d changed the subject but going along with it anyway. ‘I heard there was trouble at your house last night.’ She didn’t bother to hide her satisfaction. ‘One of those girls injured in a fight.’

  Noah heard the personal spite in Linda’s words and hesitated before answering. Her position on the hospital board didn’t entitle her to patient information but did her ‘day job’ as a local councillor mean she’d see the police report?

  He doubted it, and once again regretted the fact the police had been called, although he couldn’t blame Suzy for alerting them. She’d have been terrified.

  ‘Well?’ Linda demanded.

  ‘I don’t see what it has to do with you,’ Noah said slowly, although he knew he was stirring up trouble by refusing to answer. ‘You made the point that you didn’t want the halfway house in the town, but now it’s here, why continue to make things difficult?’

  He didn’t say outright that he suspected it was personal. He guessed she was behind delaying his original plan to house the project in his aunt’s old place. It seemed unlikely a council inspector had called at the house by accident—or found so many minor things wrong with it. Which had resulted in the young people living temporarily in his house while he stayed out at the lake.

  ‘Surely you must believe these kids deserve a chance?’

  Linda snorted, and stormed away, no doubt to add fuel to the flames already burning in Jeff Finch’s heart, also caused by Noah Blacklock’s presence in the town. Though Linda’s animosity had only developed since Noah had backed away from a relationship with her, while Jeff’s was motivated by ambition, and had been firmly in place before Noah arrived.

  He walked back through to where Carla was recovering from the torn ligaments and concussion she’d suffered in the ‘trouble’.

  The young woman, as thin as a wraith beneath the sheet, was sleeping, tiny shudders in her body and a constant flickering of her eyelids suggesting the sleep was far from restful.

  ‘She’s dead scared the fight will spoil the chances of the town accepting the halfway house,’ Jill said, coming to stand beside Noah as he looked down at the sleeping girl.

  ‘And will it?’ Noah asked.

  The young nurse looked thoughtful, then at last she replied, ‘I think people will be more behind it now, not less. Even those who didn’t want it here wouldn’t like to think it was local lads causing trouble. I mean, at first, when the backpackers started coming, everyone in town was up in arms, now they accept them like they’re family.’

  Noah smiled.

  ‘Possibly something to do with the money they spend here,’ he reminded Jill.

  ‘I guess you’re right, but it’s brought the town alive again as well. I mean, there are dances now and bands come. Once you had to go to the city for any kind of night life.’

  Noah nodded. He knew the contribution the backpackers had made to the town’s resurgence. And now there were the television people…

  Before he could ask Jill what she thought of the television crew being there, a young man arrived.

  ‘John?’

  The lad blushed and nodded, while Noah wondered if he’d ever been young enough to blush.

  If so, it had been a long time ago.

  ‘Kate’s on the verandah,’ he said, speaking gently. ‘I think you’ll be able to pick her out among our other patients.’

  ‘I’ll show you,’ Jill volunteered, and Noah guessed the answer to the question he hadn’t asked. Jill, like most of the town’s people, would be delighted to have the television crew here. In this case, it was he who was the odd one out.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘WHY didn’t you want us here?’

  Trust Jena Carpenter to put him on the spot. They were driving out towards the lake—or rather Noah was driving and Jena was his passenger, her ancient LandCruiser having refused to start and been left to the tender mercies of the local garage.

  Noah could feel so many reasons piling up in his head that he sighed.

  Jena heard the soft exhalation.

  ‘Is it so difficult to answer?’

  She was sitting as close to the door as she possibly could, frustration at her vehicle’s untrustworthiness having given away to apprehension about having to travel to her temporary home, and consequently back to town tomorrow morning, with Noah Blacklock.

  Not that she thought he’d bite—she just didn’t want to be spending more time than necessary in his company. Neither did she want to have to analyse that particular resolve. She’d never experienced a physical attraction as instant as the one she’d felt for him. Ridiculous, when she considered she didn’t like him as a person—or not from what she’d seen of him so far. While he certainly had no liking for her.

  ‘Choose one reason and think about the rest,’ she suggested, determined not to let him guess how uncomfortable she was feeling.

  He shrugged, drawing her attention to his broad shoulders.

  ‘Drugs,’ he said, after a silence so long she’d decided he wasn’t going to answer.

  ‘Oh, great!’ she muttered at him. ‘The wonderful power of assumption. Think film or television crew and immediately the word “drugs” pops into your head.’

  ‘Into other people’s heads as well,’ he protested. ‘You must admit, there seems to be an almost accepted level of drug culture among film and television people.’

  ‘So, going on popular perception of this drug culture, you naturally assumed the entire crew would be stoned to the gills and, no doubt, pressing drugs on the innocent youth of Kareela.’

  ‘Not at all,’ he said, turning off the highway and swinging towards the little settlement. ‘But I wondered if having a television crew in town, whether they were users or not, might not attract an undesirable element.’

  ‘By which you mean pushers?’ Jena said. She thought about this for a moment, then admitted, ‘It’s a logical concern, but is it yours? Surely it’s the parents of the town’s teenagers who should be voicing it.’

  Her stomach scrunched as she realised she could well have put her foot in it. She shot a quick look at his left hand. She was sure she’d have noticed if he’d been wearing a wedding ring.

  But not all men did.

  Wasn’t he too young to have teenage children?

  ‘I doubt they gave it a thought,’ Noah admitted. ‘Most of the concern about the television crew was whether they’d buy their food locally or bring it all from the city.’

  Jena sensed he’d deliberately changed the subject, but she answered anyway.

  ‘Crews I’ve worked with always buy locally,’ she assured him. ‘A lot of film and television people are fanatical about what they eat. The word “fresh” features strongly in most of their dietary requirements.’

  He must have heard a trace of cynicism in her voice, for he asked, ‘Not into st
ar theatrics, Miss Carpenter?’

  ‘Not unnecessary ones,’ Jena told him. ‘I modelled for years and, believe me, that life is far tougher than an actor’s, so throwing a tantrum over a black spot on a banana doesn’t go down too well with me.’

  ‘Do the so-called stars still do that?’ he asked, his voice vibrant with disbelief.

  ‘Not many do,’ Jena admitted. ‘Most are sane, normal people, whose job just happens to shed a certain aura around them—and attract a lot of often unwanted publicity.’

  ‘And the same can’t be said for models?’ he asked, the grey gaze flicking sideways for a brief glance her way.

  ‘Only those at the very top—the super models. Beneath them are thousands more whose names are virtually unknown.’ She looked out of the window, seeking a diversionary topic. One which might prove as successful as his had, she realised. He’d turned her completely away from her enquiry about his reaction to the television crew’s arrival in the town.

  They were driving more slowly now, along the rutted sandy track. ‘Do all these shrubs have flowers in spring? It must be beautiful during the wildflower season.’

  He glanced her way again and grinned at her.

  ‘Don’t want to talk about modelling?’

  ‘There’s not much to say,’ she said bluntly, then, guessing he would continue to pursue the subject, decided she’d get it over and done with.

  ‘It’s darned hard work, and generally uncomfortable, because you always have to be ahead of the seasons. For instance, swimsuit ads are made in the depths of winter and you can guarantee any time there’s a beach shoot it will either be blowing a gale or raining.’

  Noah was watching the road, his strong, capable hands easing the big four-wheel drive effortlessly through the sand. The look of polite enquiry on his face suggested he was waiting for more information, and as she found the silence unnerving Jena continued the short version of her autobiography.

  ‘I took it up when I was at school, for pocket money, and kept myself when I was at university with part-time jobs. By the time I’d finished my degree and was ready to begin fulltime at a hospital I was earning so much as a model, and had such good offers to work overseas, it seemed stupid not to keep doing it.’