Temporary Intrigue
Page 6
“You’re living high,” she commented teasingly.
Leigh turned defensive.
“Well, we saved money on parking. We used the shopping centre car park near Sandy’s place because it’s free for three hours, and walked from there.”
Shane shoved his chair back abruptly, making Josh jump.
“Do you have to keep treating me like a kept man?” he demanded furiously, glaring across the table at Dimity. “You know damn well I’m doing what I can to get a full-time job.”
“Anyone for dessert?” offered Dimity quickly. “Coffee?”
Sandra and Josh opted for coffee. Shane and Leigh made themselves scarce.
“Sometimes,” Sandra said softly, “I’d like to give Shane a kick where it would do the most good.”
Josh’s own foot was itching. If Shane fired up at Dimity like that when they had guests, what was he like when they were on their own? That kid needed to do some maturing.
Still, he reminded himself, it was none of his business.
He piled up some dishes, carried them to the sink and began rinsing.
“I shouldn’t have teased him,” he heard Dimity say to Sandra. “He’s so touchy about not having any money. I think Leigh pounces on anything he does earn, like going out to lunch today. He’ll be all right once he gets a proper job.”
“Famous last words,” muttered Sandra.
“There’s one silver lining,” Dimity went on. “From what I’ve seen of them in the past few days, I suspect he’s having second thoughts about Leigh. They’re hardly devoted.”
She got up, passed some more dishes to Josh and collected mugs.
“How did they meet?” asked Josh, beginning to stack the rinsed dishes in the dishwasher.
“At a car dealership in Sydney. They were both doing part-time work there.” Dimity took the percolator over to the table.
“That reminds me,” said Sandra, “have you booked Her Leighship to take you to pick your car up next Friday?”
“She said she can’t. Everyone else I could ask is working. I’ll get a bus.”
“I wish I could help, Dim, but I’m flat out on Fridays.”
“I know. That’s why I didn’t ask you.”
Josh looked around.
“I can take you. I’ll be back here on Friday.”
Dimity brightened, but then shook her head.
“Thanks, but you’ve done more than enough. I can get a bus.”
“Don’t make me get out that cattle prod.”
There it was, the beginning of the smile he kept hoping for.
“Well – you’ve talked me into it. If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”
“Not at all. Maybe you’ll have time to show me more of Newcastle.”
Dimity ducked her head and poured the coffee. Sandra, somewhat to Josh’s confusion, gave him a thumbs up.
After the coffee, he could think of no excuse for lingering.
“I’ll say goodbye to the others and get some contact details from you before I go,” he said.
Followed by Dimity, who collected his jacket from a hanger in the laundry room on the way, he put his head into the living room where Shane and Leigh were sprawled on the lounge in front of the television.
“Enjoyed meeting you. Thanks for the meal,” he said.
Shane got to his feet and shook hands. Turning to go, Josh paused again in front of the two watercolours.
“You really should go on with your gallery idea,” he said to Dimity.
Leigh laughed loudly.
“You need a business brain for that sort of thing.” She looked at Shane maliciously. “What did you tell me your father used to say about her? Dim by name, dim by nature, wasn’t it?”
“Family joke.” Shane grinned broadly at Dimity and then at Josh as if expecting them to join in the mockery.
Looking at Dimity, Josh saw she was smiling but not the quick, spontaneous smile he liked so much. It was a mechanical smile that didn’t reach her eyes, a smile in which he caught a flash of raw hurt.
Some joke, he thought. At least he meant to think it. From the way three heads swivelled towards him he was stunned to realise he had said the words aloud and had been glowering at Shane as he said them.
Shane’s grin faded.
“Not really any of your business, is it?” he demanded pugnaciously.
Josh felt his fists clench. For the second time that evening he found himself attracted to the idea of smashing someone’s nose to a pulp. Shane looked equally ready to start something.
“Not really funny, either, is it? Hurtful humour never is.”
Compared with Shane’s bluster, Josh’s tone was cool, but tense with underlying anger.
A variety of expressions, including outrage, doubt and embarrassment, crossed Shane’s face.
Then Dimity, all five feet four of her, stepped between them. Those pools of green, now brimming with chips of ice, focused first on Josh.
“You’ll need directions to the freeway. I’ll show you the way.”
Josh found his jacket thrust into his hands as her head snapped around to Shane, the blonde hair bouncing. “The rain’s stopped. Bert needs a walk.”
It didn’t occur to either of them to argue. Shane muttered something and disappeared. Josh followed Dimity back to the kitchen, said a quick goodbye to Sandra and, almost before he could draw breath, found himself in his car with Dimity standing beside it in her socks on the wet footpath.
“Go back the way we came, but don’t turn up the hill. Follow the road to the next set of lights, then you’ll see the signs for the freeway.”
“Can I get your number so we can make arrangements for Friday?” He began reaching for his pen.
“Don’t worry about Friday. I’ll be fine.”
Her eyes were the eyes of a stranger. More dismayed than he would have believed possible, Josh stared at her.
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure.”
Her expression brooked no argument.
Josh shrugged.
“Okay. Thanks for dinner. I really appreciated it.”
“You’re welcome.”
Clearly she wanted him to go. He started the car.
“Take care,” he said, but she didn’t respond. He didn’t even know if she had heard him.
****
“I hope you’ve noticed how I’ve very nobly refrained from criticising your ridiculously touchy attitude,” Sandra said as Dimity saw her out the back door.
Dimity managed a wan grin.
“Doomed from the start. Wrong time, wrong place. End of story.”
“If you say so.” Sandra buttoned her jacket. “But that’s not what he said.”
“What?” Dimity looked up from tugging off her wet socks just as a tall figure in a dark jacket appeared around the corner of the house. Her heart gave an Olympic-qualifying leap until she heard Bert snuffling. Shane let him off the lead, brushed past them without speaking and went through to the kitchen.
“He’s picking up Leigh’s manners,” observed Sandra.
“Blinded by love, I suppose.”
“Maybe that’s your problem,” said Sandra. “All right, I’m out of here,” she added, laughing.
Too restless to settle to anything after Sandra had gone, Dimity threw her socks into the laundry tub and wandered through to the studio to find something to do before taking Shane to work. Her brow wrinkled as she passed the living room and heard Leigh’s snappy voice.
The last thing Shane needed was a rocky relationship to complicate the life he was trying to get back on track.
“Don’t worry, Dad,” she whispered, looking at a photograph on the computer desk. Strong and healthy in the picture, her father smiled back at her with the easy charm Shane had inherited.
She thought of his shrunken form in the hospital bed, remembered the last words he ever spoke to her, delivered in a gasping croak, so unlike his once melodious voice.
“Look after Shane. Promise me you’ll al
ways look after Shane.”
She could smell the hospital disinfectant, hear her own words struggling to emerge through her tears.
“Of course I will, Dad. Haven’t I always?”
And she would continue to do so for as long as necessary.
Shane the pain! she thought with a faint smile, remembering her father’s way of referring to his adored but often difficult son. It was another family joke, but perhaps one that Shane hadn’t seen fit to pass on to Leigh.
Oh yes, Shane could certainly be a pain, as she herself knew all too well, but she had every confidence that he would grow out of the youthful selfishness that annoyed Sandra and had, for some strange reason, also incensed Josh. She was prepared to put up with it, to give him time and space to grow up and to support him through the process, however long it took.
The photograph had been pushed out of place by whoever used the computer last. Dimity bent and straightened it.
Since their father’s death, Shane had been her responsibility. The habit of looking after him was ingrained in her. Sure, he had his faults and she recognised them but, as Sandra had pointed out, she was often unreasonably touchy about anyone else highlighting those faults.
Well, so be it. Shane would settle down eventually. When it was no longer necessary to look after him, there might be time for other things.
Like the feelings stirring deep within her at the memory of a pair of warm brown eyes and strong but gentle hands . . .
“Calm down, Dim,” she told herself sternly. “He won’t be coming your way again. You made sure of that, getting up on your high horse just because he took exception to Shane and Leigh’s tacky humour.”
After bulldozing him into the house, she had virtually bundled him out of it. High up in the hospitality industry himself, he would have an abysmal impression of her skills in that area to add to his list of her failings.
Although he wouldn’t be wasting his time making lists about her. He had probably forgotten her already.
Assuming she caused no major disasters in the marketing division of the Newcastle Global Homes Hotel, he would never think of her again.
And that, of course, was all to the good.
Like Shane, the last thing she needed was a rocky relationship complicating her life.
****
So that was that, then.
Following the signs towards the freeway, Josh told himself he should have listened to those alarm bells that had started ringing in his head before he looked back at her in the hotel corridor.
She was not his type at all. Unpredictable. Sloppy worth ethic too, apparently. Pity the employer who landed her.
He liked a tidy life. Ergo, he needed her like a hole in the head. Look at her effect on him already. Making him forget he was a guest in her house, almost starting a stand-up fight with her brother, for Pete’s sake.
It wasn’t as if he disliked Shane. He’d found him quite likeable, although he still had some growing up to do. Dimity seemed to let him get away with murder.
Well, if she wanted to be her brother’s keeper, so be it. You couldn’t tell people how to live their lives. Especially someone who was touchy as hell on the subject.
He’d even been prepared to compromise his work schedule by offering to help her out on Friday, another of those irrational impulses she seemed to trigger in him.
It was lucky she’d changed her mind. Mismatches led to nothing but trouble. He’d been there, done that. Wasn’t about to do it again. Particularly with someone so damn crotchety that she was friendly with him one minute then hightailing it away from him the next.
Not the most sensitive description under the circumstances. He started to grin then his mouth tightened as he remembered the coolness of their parting.
For the past few years he’d had no objection to dating or the occasional fling when he met someone compatible who wasn’t looking for long-term commitment. He had no intention of leading anyone on. Tell it straight from the start was the best way and if they didn’t like it, forget it. He’d always thought he’d appreciate similar honesty if he were on the receiving end.
But it didn’t mean he had to like the way she had made her message so exceptionally loud and clear.
Applying the brake sharply as a car cut in front of him, Josh heard the forgotten takeaway skitter off the back seat and burst open.
Great. More mess. The story of his life for the past few days.
For an instant his headlights illuminated a lone hitchhiker on the edge of the road. He felt a sharp stab of anger at the memory of Dimity huddling in the filthy bus shelter, afraid someone was watching her.
Surely it had been her imagination. She had said as much herself.
He put on a CD, resolving to stop wasting time thinking about things that no longer had anything to do with him.
And to ignore that faint suggestion of her fragrance, somehow surviving and lingering above the pungent aroma of takeaway curried chicken.
He could use the music to block out his thoughts and, by lowering the window, he could admit enough cold air to blast her perfume out of the car.
But he could not dismiss the irrational sense of unease stirring within him, an unease that seemed to increase as each second took him further away from her.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Smile!”
Baring her teeth obediently, Dimity tried to look bright, alert and delighted to be at her desk in the marketing department of the Newcastle Global Homes Hotel. The end result, she suspected, would be fairly ordinary, but it was the best she could manage at nine o’clock on a Wednesday morning.
Melissa clicked the digital camera.
“Now, write a few lines about yourself and I’ll post it on the company’s intranet tomorrow.”
“Is it worth it?” queried Dimity. “I’m only here for four weeks.”
“We always do it.” Melissa checked the photo.
“And you never know,” pointed out Dimity’s fellow PA, Amanda, “it might get you some work in one of our other departments.”
Which, from Dimity’s experience to date, wasn’t such a bad prospect.
“There’s enough work to keep you going, but take your time,” Melissa had advised while guiding her through orientation, introductions and an unfamiliar computer system on Monday. “Gail’s running workshops in Melbourne and won’t be back until Thursday. Things will pick up then.”
Dimity had hardly been able to restrain a whoop at this postponement of the dreaded fronting up to Gail as a member of her staff. An added bonus was Melissa’s mention that Malcolm was also at the workshops.
The chance to ease in was more than welcome. Despite Melissa’s friendly, laid-back style, Dimity had recognised immediately that the organisation was run on highly professional lines, always a worry for a serial bungler like herself. With a bit of luck, though, she would survive her stint.
Make that a lot of luck, once Gail returned.
In the small, cubby-hole like office adjoining the domains of Gail and Melissa that she shared with Amanda, Dimity concocted a truthful if vague account of her secretarial experience and emailed it to Melissa. Then, from the pile of papers already accumulated on her desk, she extracted some non-urgent work left over from yesterday. Yawning, she settled down to spin the task out until the ritual 10.30am coffee break.
The only downside to a leisurely work day was that it gave her mind more time to wander. More often than not, without any conscious intention on her part, it wandered to Josh Williams.
She was still haunted by the scene that had ruined a pleasant evening and had disturbed her sleep every night since then. He had been her guest, but she had sent him off without a smile, without a final ‘thank you’ for his help, without even wishing him a safe journey.
While by contrast, he hadn’t forgotten the courtesies.
“Take care,” he had said, but his manner had been withdrawn and the brown eyes, previously so warm and direct, had suddenly become cool and impersonal.
She was somewhat peeved at the way Sandra had continued to take Josh’s part.
“You’ve always been so used to being a big sister to Shane that you’re not used to having someone step in and stand up for you,” she had said when they went out for a quick meal on Sunday night to celebrate Dimity’s last night of freedom before starting work. “That’s all he was trying to do.”
“So I’m prickly on some subjects. Too bad. I don’t need him telling me how to live my life.”
Sandra had shrugged.
“I wouldn’t worry. You made your feelings pretty clear and he looks like a fast learner. Sexy accent, too,” she’d added wickedly.
Very.
Dimity finished a letter and looked at the clock again. It wasn’t worth starting more work until after the coffee break. With a few minutes to go before that happened she checked her emails then called up a search engine, typed in “overweight beagle” and began looking for advice on Bert’s diet. She hardly noticed Amanda leaving for morning tea.
A throat cleared. Behind her were Melissa and Gail. Both were staring at the picture on her monitor, showing a floppy-eared beagle curled up in a basket.
Dimity flicked back to the emails.
“This is our marketing manager, Gail Addison,” Melissa said quickly. “We didn’t expect her back until tomorrow but the workshops finished early. This is our new temp, Gail – Dimity Forbes.”
Getting up to shake hands, Dimity entertained a wild hope that Gail wouldn’t recognise her. It was, of course, too much to wish for. Gail, all corporate in a black pantsuit and white shirt, also wore the outraged expression Dimity remembered from their past two encounters.
“We don’t encourage wasting time on the internet,” she said by way of greeting, her hand barely touching Dimity’s before retreating as if afraid of contracting the plague. Cold blue eyes stared at Dimity’s, which were losing their blackness and acquiring a yellowish tinge, then raked across the disorderly heap of papers on the desk. “Come into my office straight after lunch and I’ll give you some work to go on with.”