by Huston, Judy
“I’ll get right on to it,” she assured him, trying to hide her despair and sound like a PA par excellence.
Josh looked dubious.
“I don’t like your chances at this late stage. How many are likely to be there?”
Dimity did a quick mental check of the information she had been able to pick up.
“Probably about twenty.”
She could see Josh thinking and coming to a decision.
“I’m staying in a suite here,” he said. “Overlooking the harbour, plenty of room. Why don’t we have it there? It’s more personal than a function room and gives them the chance to see the type of accommodation we provide. Can you organise some food and drinks?”
Dimity was seriously tempted to hurl herself at him and hug him.
“You’ve saved my life,” she told him fervently.
He chuckled.
“Why don’t we work out the finer details over lunch? I’d like to check out those restaurants by the harbour while I’m here. I’m tied up today as I said, but if you’re free tomorrow we could make it then. I owe you a meal anyway.”
He spoke casually, but once again there was a slightly guarded look about him, as if her reply mattered.
While they were talking business, Dimity had started to feel more settled. Now her breathing was playing tricks with her again.
Was he asking her for a date? Was he just being friendly? Did he really feel he owed her?
Whatever. She could wonder about it later.
How long was it, after all, since a stunning man had asked her to lunch?
“Thanks, I’d like that.” Her casual manner, matching his, earned her an instant place among the finalists for the understatement of the year award.
She could almost see him relax again.
“Here’s my room number so you can send out details about the reception to everyone.” He wrote swiftly on a piece of paper and handed it to her, his fingers brushing hers. Dimity jumped. The electricity was still alive and extremely well.
Thinking he had finished she stood up, clutching the dictaphone, but he still seemed in no hurry to launch himself into the working day.
“Did you get your car back?”
Ridiculously pleased that he’d remembered, she nodded.
“Leigh said she could take me after all. And Shane went with us so he could drive home with me, because I was still feeling a bit wobbly,” she added, unreasonably pleased again to be able to score up a brownie point or two for her brother.
Before Josh could comment, his desk phone rang. He had a short conversation and hung up.
“Gail’s meeting me downstairs,” he said.
“Thanks for your email by the way and for offering to help with the car,” Dimity said quickly, feeling an annoying blush creep up her face. “I was going to reply on Thursday night but then the accident happened.”
He raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“What were you going to say?”
Dimity felt the blush intensify. There was no way he could fail to see it.
“I hadn’t actually decided,” she said at last, taking truth as the best option even if he found it insulting.
But he didn’t seem insulted. He continued to look at her with a slight smile in his eyes that she found decidedly disconcerting before she managed to detach her gaze and make her way back to her desk.
The sting of knowing he was going to meet Gail was eased considerably by his murmured “Don’t forget tomorrow” on his way out.
Hooking earphones around her head, she set to work on Melissa’s dictation, still rather dazed. She had arrived at work feeling like something the cat had dragged in, with no hope at all that she would ever see Josh again. Within half an hour she had found herself looking forward to virtually living in his pocket for the next three weeks, with the added bonus of a lunch date lined up for tomorrow.
“Of course it’s not really a date,” she said, when she called in at Sandra’s salon for a chat at lunchtime.
“What else would it be?” demanded Sandra.
“Business. A chance to talk about, you know, office things.”
“Ho!” The derisive emphasis of Sandra’s retort made up for its lack of eloquence.
By noon the next day it was difficult to see how Josh would manage to find time for even a sandwich at his desk, let alone the leisurely harbourside lunch Dimity had been envisioning. When he wasn’t at pre-convention meetings, he was dealing with the business flowing through from his Sydney office, which in turn resulted in more than enough work for Dimity. In between typing, filing, emailing and faxing, she answered his phone and left a series of messages on yellow post-it notes on his otherwise immaculate desk.
Her own desk soon gave up the battle. While she worked, the mess piled up around her, causing Josh to do an involuntary double-take when he returned to make a few phone calls.
“You’ll need a degree in archaeology to find anything there,” he commented, grinning.
“I’ve heard a messy desk is a sign of a sophisticated mind,” she shot back, and heard him chuckle as he kept going.
She was surprised at how comfortable she already felt with him. The strain of their parting after his spat with Shane seemed a thing of the past. Her heart continued to jump in a way she quite enjoyed when she saw him, but she was now managing to talk to him and be with him without feeling the need to call for oxygen every few minutes.
He seemed equally at ease with her. Even her scatty work habits didn’t appear to faze him. While Gail’s tendency to hang over her like a vulture, tapping her foot, unnerved her and caused her to make even more than her usual number of mistakes, Josh didn’t seem to notice her slow typing rate or to mind waiting while she unearthed vital documents from the mountain of mess on her desk.
During the morning she even remembered to visit Malcolm in his office to ask about the catering for the reception. He was in a surly mood, which at least meant he didn’t try to waste time flirting with her.
“I’ll arrange the drinks,” he said. “But we can’t fit the catering in. You should have organised it three weeks ago.”
“I wasn’t working here then,” Dimity reminded him. “Can you recommend anyone?”
He scribbled down a few names. Returning to her desk she managed to book a caterer after only two phone calls. Pleased with her efforts she sent Sandra a quick email signed smugly “Miss Competence.”
She was typing a press release when Josh appeared out of nowhere, tapping his watch conspicuously.
“Time for lunch,” he announced.
A couple of heads lifted as they walked out together. The boss and the temp was probably not your everyday combination, Dimity guessed. Josh, however, seemed oblivious to the glances, chatting easily on the way down in the lift and during the few minutes walk to the foreshore.
They found an outdoor table at one of the several restaurants that had been established along a renovated wharf overlooking the busy harbour, and settled into comfortable chairs in the sunshine.
“Haven’t been working you too hard, have I?” queried Josh as Dimity heaved a happy sigh, gazing out over the blue and busy expanse of harbour, dotted with a variety of vessels from tugs to tankers.
She glanced at him and smiled.
“No, but it’s certainly been busy. I feel almost like a real secretary.”
“Well, let me know if things get too hectic. I imagine it takes a while to recover from being nearly run over.” Their eyes met as he handed her a menu. “You’re not having to run your brother around this week, are you?”
Something about the way he said ‘your brother’ sent Dimity’s defence mechanism into high gear.
“I’m helping out when he needs me. Leigh’s had the flu,” she said evenly.
Suspecting Josh was biting back a comment, she looked across the menu at him.
“Leigh was really good to me when I got home on Thursday night after the accident. She phoned Sandy and got her to come over. Then Leigh and Sha
ne both helped me a lot over the weekend.”
“So they damn well should have!”
****
He’d done it again.
A series of expressions chased themselves across her face. He saw shock, followed by resentment and, damn it, hurt. That slight tremble in the lower lip he had noticed before now tugged at his emotions and caused him to berate himself silently.
He’d been feeling so relaxed with her that he’d spoken his mind without thinking, without remembering there were liberties he had no right to take.
Not yet, at least.
“I’m sorry.” He spoke quickly. “That was totally out of line. I just meant – ”
He stopped. He’d only be making it worse if he said it riled him that she seemed to think Shane and Leigh deserved medals for actually getting off their butts and doing something for her.
“Forget it.” She nodded towards an approaching waiter. “We’d better decide.”
“Right.”
From a quivering wreck she had morphed seamlessly into a woman of steel. He eyed her warily while they made their selections. After the waiter filled their water glasses and left, Dimity propped her elbows on the table and turned her head sideways, apparently engrossed in the movement of boats on the harbour. Josh fingered his glass, watching her.
“Look,” he said at last with a wry grin, “can we take it from the top again?”
“Might be an idea.” Her smile was more polite than friendly, but at least it was a smile.
He hesitated. Small talk seemed to have deserted him. Why not cut straight to the chase and deal with the issue hovering like an icicle between them.
“I guess I haven’t had much to do with Shane’s type of problem,” he said, feeling his way carefully.
“It’s not an easy thing for him to live with.” She sounded slightly more relaxed, he was relieved to note.
“How did he lose the foot?”
The waiter materialised again with cutlery.
“A car accident when Mum was taking him to baseball training,” Dimity said when he had gone. “Mum was killed and Shane’s foot was so badly injured it had to be amputated. He was only eight.”
Josh winced. Behind her matter-of-fact tone he sensed something of the family’s grief and terrible disruption.
“I’m sorry. I can’t begin to imagine – how old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
“Your father never remarried?”
“No. I think he had the occasional girlfriend but he didn’t bring any home. He worked in sales and travelled a lot. I guess he’d been used to Mum coping at home, and assumed I could do the same.”
Josh watched the waiter put a basket of bread rolls on the table.
“Didn’t you have relatives who could help?”
“No. Mum and Dad were both the only children in their families, and all our grandparents died before we were born.”
Thinking of family gatherings in Canada with grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins virtually hanging out the windows, Josh again found his imagination failing.
“So who looked after you both when your father was away?”
She shrugged, glancing at the harbour again.
“We managed. I’d always been pretty good in the house and Shane liked cooking.” To his surprise she chuckled suddenly. “On paper it looks pathetic, but we really had a lot of fun on our own.”
“Your father left you on your own? Two kids of that age?” And one of them probably needing constant medical attention.
There he went again. Comparing her situation with his own secure childhood it was hard to suppress his shock, but he made a belated effort to sound detached rather than critical.
“Interesting. I’m not sure that would have been legal in Canada.”
“I think it was probably a bit dodgy here, too. So sue us.” She grinned at him, but he heard the edge behind the words. He offered the bread and they watched a group of small boys at the end of the wharf playing a noisy game that involved leaping into the harbour water, swimming to the side, climbing up a ladder built into one of the piers and leaping off again.
“Dad was a salesman, with a big region to cover, so sometimes he was away for a couple of nights,” Dimity said at last, “but he usually made it home at weekends. Looking back, I suppose it’s lucky we didn’t get into trouble of some sort but Shane was too young to go anywhere on his own so I was able to keep an eye on him.”
A larger than usual splash from the romping boys drew her attention. She smiled, watching them, her arms resting on the table.
She had small, delicate hands, the nails tinted a light pink. The sunlight showed up a small scar on her right forearm that he had not previously noticed.
Turning her head suddenly, she caught him watching.
“What?” Her tone was half apprehensive, half challenging, as if she thought he was still mulling over her criminally neglected childhood. But her eyes seemed held to his as if by some invisible tie between them.
He felt a faint smile curving his lips.
“I was wondering when I’m ever going to see you without battle scars.”
She lowered her eyes quickly, brushed her bruised face with a hand and flushed.
“I decided to wear it with pride. The alternative was to have Sandy do a make-up job on me.”
“And we’ve seen the results of that,” Josh agreed straight-faced.
That unexpected gurgle suddenly escaped her. Josh grinned, glad of the easing of the tension.
“Was that an accident too?” he queried, nodding casually at the scar on her arm.
She stiffened again. Uh oh. He’d relaxed too soon. He opened his mouth to change the subject, but she spoke first.
“One of those kid things. Shane was fooling around with a carving knife when he was ten or eleven. I tried to take it from him but he didn’t want to give it up. He didn’t mean to hurt me.”
Feeling his eyes narrow, Josh looked at the harbour as if squinting in the sun. To his surprise, Dimity continued.
“I know it’s ugly but I decided long ago I wasn’t going to spend my life trying to hide it.”
Seeming to move of its own accord, his hand reached out and covered hers. It was, as he had already noted, small and delicate, so small it disappeared under his. It was also soft, warm and apparently a conduit for a series of breathtaking impulses that shot up his arm without warning and fanned out instantly through the rest of his body.
“It’s not ugly at all,” he said when he could speak.
She stared down at his hand, under which hers hadn’t moved. Surely she had to be feeling something too. Those throbbing signals couldn’t be travelling one-way – could they?
With faultless mistiming, the waiter arrived with their meals.
Josh increased the pressure slightly then let go, trailing his fingers deliberately across the back of her hand and fingers as he did so. He wanted to absorb every iota of those totally disturbing but very enjoyable impulses and, to tell the truth, he wanted to see if she was feeling them too.
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. Examining her meal, taking a sip of water, picking up her knife and fork, glancing at the harbour, she was busy looking everywhere except where he wanted her to look.
Annoyed with himself, he refilled their water glasses. His instinct had told him to keep this casual, but here he was, as inarticulate as a keyed-up teenager on a first date, just because he had held her hand.
While she was obviously finding the prawns on her plate far more interesting.
****
He’d touched her before, but not like that.
Dimity hadn’t known the impact of flesh on flesh could be so shocking. Literally. If he hadn’t released her when he did, she would not have been able to resist the compulsion to turn her hand and return the pressure, wrap her fingers around his, stroke the lean but muscular wrist exposed by the shirt sleeves rolled, as usual, halfway up his forearms . . .
She grabbed her glass and gulped a q
uick mouthful of water.
It was stupid to react that way to a friendly gesture. But she couldn’t look at him until she was sure she had her emotions under control.
She chewed without tasting, watching him spike a piece of pasta with his fork. His other arm rested on the table. Dimity eyed the long fingers and reached suddenly for her glass again.
“Where did you grow up?” she asked.
He seemed happy to talk about his childhood in Toronto. Glad to have found a safe topic, she listened to an entertaining rundown on his family life.
“Mainly skiing in winter, fishing and boating in summer,” he concluded, pushing the remainder of his meal aside. “A couple of my sisters and their families still go back to the same places. I go along when I can.”
“It sounds wonderful.” She could picture him with children, teaching them to fish and sail, romping with them in the water.
After a slight pause they began to speak simultaneously and stopped.
“After you,” he said.
“I was going to ask if your sisters and brother are all married.”
A faint shadow crossed his face.
“My brother has a steady girlfriend and two of my sisters are married, but the middle one, Kate, is going through a tough time. She’s been with a guy for a year, but his ex-wife is still very much on the scene, calling him whenever she has a problem. Kate has decided she can’t handle that.”
Dimity nodded sympathetically.
“I don’t blame her. There’s only so much baggage a person can take on, especially when an ex is involved. A couple of my friends have had the same thing happen.”
There was another pause. Despite Kate’s predicament, Dimity couldn’t help envying her. It must be good to have a brother who cared so much about her problems.
“What were you going to say?” she asked at last.
“Mm? Oh – did you get away on holidays at all when you were growing up?”
Thinking of her own shoestring teenage years compared with the type of childhood he had described, Dimity chuckled.
“Nothing elaborate, but there are plenty of beaches around Newcastle and they don’t cost anything. We used them a lot in summer.”
