by Huston, Judy
“Yes, it’s a great area.”
Coffee arrived. Dimity noticed Josh stirring his slowly although he hadn’t put any sugar in it. Probably wishing himself back in the office. Almost certainly regretting that he’d wasted an hour of his day in her company.
“How was the pasta?” she asked when she couldn’t stand the silence any longer.
“Great.” He toyed with his spoon, then met her eyes. “But the prawns looked even better. Remind me to try them next time.”
Next time?
Something turned a crazy cartwheel in her stomach.
Even though trillions of volts were zapping through her with an effect that was practically painful, she managed to hold the eye lock.
“I’ll do that,” she said.
He dropped his eyes first, glancing at his watch.
“I suppose we should think about making tracks soon.”
The lack of enthusiasm in his voice did nothing to dampen her spirits.
As far as she could remember, there hadn’t been one mention of business, either.
CHAPTER SIX
“How does home-cooked roast beef sound for Sunday?”
“Are you free for lunch on Sunday? I’m cooking roast beef.”
“Mr Josh Williams is cordially invited–”
Dimity deleted yet another email draft of her proposed invitation. Josh was out and Amanda had left early for a dental appointment, but there was every chance Gail could slink up behind her, hoping to find her guilty of some Friday afternoon goofing off.
She would ask him personally. It wasn’t such a big deal. And Sandra had agreed it wasn’t too soon.
“It wasn’t too soon for him to ask you to lunch,” she had pointed out. She had also made no attempt to refer back to Dimity’s comments about not wanting a man in her life.
Grateful for such restraint, even Dimity herself didn’t really understand her changing attitude. All she knew was that this was something that seemed to be enhancing her life rather than inhibiting it. Being with Josh was a completely different feeling from anything she had ever experienced. She wanted to keep that feeling.
Picking up the next item requiring her attention she started typing with the same sense of anticipation that had accompanied her to work each day since Monday. The incredible fact that he was working in the same building had added a definite zing to her life, even when he wasn’t there. He had been tied up with convention arrangements for the past three days so she hadn’t seen much of him, but he had said he would be back before five.
It was almost that when he appeared. Glancing up, Dimity felt her heart do its customary flip-flop at the sight of him. Despite the long day he looked as immaculate as he had that morning, in a dark suit and pale lemon shirt that co-ordinated stunningly with the light olive tone of his skin. There was a slight tiredness around his eyes but they brightened as they met hers.
“Nearly through for the day?”
Dimity nodded, feeling her heart race with apprehension. But, nothing ventured–
“Are you working over the weekend?” she enquired casually.
“I’ll come in for a while tomorrow. But–”
She interrupted before she lost her nerve. “I was wondering if you’d like to join us for lunch on Sunday. Roast beef. Home-cooked. Might be a change from hotel food for you.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t understand why he suddenly looked embarrassed. “That’s really nice of you, but I’m going to Gail’s barbecue. Won’t you be there?”
“Gail’s barbecue?” Dimity felt her brow wrinkle.
Plainly ill at ease, Josh rubbed the back of his neck.
“At her place. I thought it was a work thing.”
More like a cosy little tryst for two, thought Dimity venomously.
“Oh.” She heard her voice echoing his. “Well, maybe another time.”
She put her head down and began a mindless straightening of things on her desk. Anything rather than let him see her mortification. Her movements dislodged a couple of papers that floated to the floor. Josh picked them up, glanced at them, then handed her a carefully executed sketch of kangaroos drinking at a water hole. Flushing, Dimity took it.
“Is this for me?” he asked, showing her the second item, a memo on which she had scrawled URGENT in large letters.
Yoicks.
“Yes, sorry, I was going to put it on your desk. Harold Woodman wants you to call him. I’m not sure who he is. He seemed to think you’d know.”
“I should.” Josh’s tone was dry. “He’s the Global CEO – visiting Australia for a few weeks.” He glanced at the memo again. “It might have been a good idea to get a message to me about this. Any idea what time he called?”
“Um– ” Dimity’s phone rang and she grabbed it like a lifeline. “Dimity Forbes . . . Don! How are you?”
She listened, very aware of Josh still standing by her desk.
“Tomorrow’s fine. I’d love to. And did you get my email about next weekend? Great. I’m looking forward to it. See you tomorrow, Don. ‘Bye.”
She ended the call then glanced ostentatiously at her watch.
“Gosh, working overtime,” she commented. “I’m setting a bad example.”
She began packing up with a vengeance. Josh shoved his hands in his pockets and watched.
“Are you busy tomorrow?” he asked.
She bundled things into a drawer, slammed it shut and picked up her bag. “Well, that call was from a friend asking me to play tennis in the afternoon, and I have to prepare for a children’s art workshop I’m running next weekend. So yes, I’ll be pretty busy.”
She snapped her bag closed and moved around the desk. He stepped back.
“I didn’t know you played tennis.”
She smiled brightly.
“Oh, I don’t sit home all the time. I’ve been out of routine with Shane and Leigh around, but Don’s been trying to get me back into the tennis group for a while.”
Should she add that Don was the art gallery director, that Don’s wife, Marian, was one of Dimity’s good friends, and that the couple had three young children?
Definitely not. Information overload.
“Must fly. Enjoy your weekend.” She tossed him another bright smile and took off before he could reply.
There was nobody home except Bert. After soaking in a hot bath she was sitting at the kitchen table in her dressing gown, sipping a glass of chardonnay, when Shane and Leigh returned, arguing about something.
“I think I’m getting the flu again. I’m going to bed,” announced Leigh, disappearing down the hallway.
“What’s for dinner?” demanded Shane.
“Goodness knows. Cheese on toast?” suggested Dimity.
Shane rolled his eyes and checked inside the refrigerator.
“I’ll make a salad and do some cheese omelettes,” he decided.
“Whatever.” Dimity took another moody sip of her wine.
“Sour females everywhere,” muttered Shane, getting out the frypan.
Dimity raised her eyebrows.
“Something wrong between you and Leigh?”
“She’s been going on about getting married.” He cracked an egg into a bowl, his mouth twisting with a petulance that reminded Dimity of Leigh. “As if.”
Dimity’s eyebrows went up another notch.
“You’re not interested?” She tried to quell the note of hope.
“I don’t think so.” He opened a drawer, looking for the egg whisk. “Anyway, I can’t even support a dog, let alone a wife.”
Dimity sighed. Shane was in one of his ‘I’m a loser’ moods and she didn’t have the energy to jolly him out of it. Besides, she felt like a bit of a loser herself, right now.
It was a tasty but cheerless meal. The one good thing about it was Leigh’s absence. She remained in bed, dining off a tray that Shane carried in to her.
Life, thought Dimity after dinner, as Shane wandered off to watch television with his limp particularly pronounced, had
certainly lost its zing.
It seemed even more zingless when she arrived at work on Monday to find Josh’s office empty. Every nerve in her body leapt in unison when she found an email from him, but it was only an impersonal message saying (a) he was at a convention meeting and (b) he couldn’t find two of the letters he’d left to be typed on Friday.
Opening her top drawer she extricated the mess of papers she had jammed into it on Friday.
“Morning.”
She jumped like a nervous rabbit as Josh passed.
“Oh! Hi. I thought you were at a meeting.”
“It’s finished. Can you come in?” He continued into his office. Dimity followed and sat with notebook and pen poised, trying to look impersonal and efficient.
Josh reeled off a couple of things that needed doing, rummaging through a file as he spoke. He seemed to be avoiding eye contact, which gave Dimity a good chance to observe him. Although freshly shaved and as neatly dressed as usual he had a slightly haggard look, a hint of strain around the eyes. His voice sounded rather strained too.
The weekend break didn’t seem to have refreshed him. Even his desk, Dimity noted with approval, was less spick and span than last week. Scattered files and notes suggested he had spent a fair amount of time there in the past two days.
“I’ll do those two letters from Friday first thing,” she said when he seemed to have finished.
And may the patron saint of PAs help her find the originals so she didn’t have to ask him to draft them again.
“Letters? Oh, right. How was the tennis?” he asked as she got up.
“The tennis,” she repeated, trying to remember. Her own voice seemed to have a catch in it. Maybe it was something to do with the ventilation. “Yes, it was good to get back to it, although it was a while since I’d played, so I was a bit sore afterwards.”
“Better than being sore from a car accident.”
The brown eyes finally met hers, warm and direct as she remembered them. Hopefully they weren’t noticing the pulse in her neck that had suddenly decided to dance the fandango.
The slight curving of his lips drew a glimmer of a smile from her in return.
“Did you enjoy the barbecue?”
“It was okay but the people there were mainly the same ones I’m seeing every day on convention business so it wasn’t exactly a day off work. I left early.”
Dimity gave a silent whoop of joy.
“I would have preferred your roast,” he added softly.
She paused in the doorway.
“It’s still in the freezer. Shane and Leigh went out, so I got on with some painting instead. You can have a rain check if you like,” she dared to suggest.
“I like.”
His gaze held hers for a memorable moment, offering a whole new slant on workplace relations. He seemed to have forgotten the work on his desk.
“And let me know if you’d like a game of tennis,” she added. “Don and his wife are looking for more players. They run the group. He was my boss when I worked at the art gallery.”
Surely more than enough information, even though she’d forgotten to mention the children.
His expression had lightened noticeably.
“Sounds good.”
The zing was well and truly back in the air, vibrating between them.
She dragged herself away with difficulty, hoping the tell-tale blush heating her face was not as evident to him as it was to her. Bending her head over her desk she tidied and stacked busily. By the time her complexion had returned to something like normal she had found the missing letter drafts and her work station was as neat as a pin, to the evident disappointment of Gail, prowling past.
“Don’t leave drawers open!” she snapped, looking at the filing cabinet drawer into which Dimity was about to place some items. “Don’t you know your safety rules?”
Josh caught this as he walked out of his office. He nodded politely to Gail, winked almost imperceptibly at Dimity, and kept going.
“Thanks, I’ll make sure I remember,” said Dimity with a saintly expression on her face. Suddenly everything was wonderfully, crazily, all right again.
And just as suddenly, it wasn’t. She returned from lunch to find a note on her desk: “Have to go to Sydney – special meeting. Should be back tomorrow.”
The last four words were small comfort, even less so on Tuesday when she received an email saying he wouldn’t be back until Thursday. Apparently he felt the convention preparations could get along without him after all.
“He didn’t even say anything personal,” she lamented during a phone call to Sandra.
“Keeping a professional distance,” Sandra guessed.
“Let’s hear it for work ethics,” muttered Dimity sourly.
By Thursday morning she was finding it hard to stay awake at her desk, thanks to a combination of Gail’s absence at work and sleep deprivation at home. Shane was suspicious about his car’s steering, so Leigh had left it at a garage to be checked and then retired to bed, apparently exhausted by the effort. This meant that as well as having to stay up late to collect Shane from work on Wednesday night, Dimity had to get up early on Thursday to catch the bus, after agreeing to leave her car so Leigh could take Shane to an early job interview.
“As long as you nail up that fence panel today,” she had bargained with Shane. “I’m worried Bert will get out. And get Leigh to pick me up this afternoon.”
By noon, with little to do at work, she’d had enough of boredom.
“I’m taking an early lunch,” she told Amanda, switching her phone over to voicemail.
Glad to escape the building, she set off along the foreshore. Others had the same idea. Half the city’s work force, in fact, seemed to be strolling along the harbour in the autumn sunshine. Wending her way through the outdoor restaurant tables, Dimity spotted Don and Marian.
“Come and have coffee,” Marian invited. “Oh,” she went on as Dimity sat down, “there’s Jenny. I need to ask her about tennis next week.” She darted over to a group at another table.
“We’re expecting a good roll-up for your workshop this weekend,” Don told Dimity.
“Great– whoops!”
Dimity flinched as a passing child waved an ice cream so vigorously that a section of it flew off and landed near her mouth.
Don laughed.
“Good shot.”
He picked up a paper serviette. Dimity laughed too while he began the clean-up operation.
“Looks like boysenberry,” he commented.
From the corner of her eye Dimity saw a tall figure approaching. Something familiar about it drew her attention. Despite Don’s ministrations she turned her head in time to see Josh, coat slung over his shoulder, talking on his mobile as he walked past the table. He acknowledged her with a surprised lift of his eyebrows, almost paused, then glanced at Don and kept going.
Terrific. Now he would think she was cosying up to some man while playing truant from the office. Double whammy.
After Don and Marian had gone she sat looking out at the harbour. From her position she could see the convict-built breakwall leading out to an old lighthouse that was soon to be converted to yet another new restaurant.
Maybe Josh would turn back, looking for her. Maybe he would suggest they brush away the cobwebs with a walk out to the breakwall’s end, to watch the surf crashing on rocks at the point where harbour met ocean.
Maybe pigs would fly.
She waited until her lunch hour was almost up then trailed back to the office. The light on her phone indicated that two messages had come in. There was also a message on her mobile, which she had left on her desk in her hurry to escape. It was from Shane. Leigh was not feeling well, so couldn’t pick her up. He’d been called in to work so could Dimity be home by six to take him to Shenanigans? He’d leave a stir fry for dinner, he added as a sweetener.
As she replayed the messages on her desk phone she could hear Josh making a call from his office.
The first message was from Harold Woodman, once again wanting Josh to contact him urgently. She was scribbling the details down when the second message began.
“Hi.” With a thrill of shock she recognised Josh’s voice. “Are you free for lunch? I’m taking a walk after the drive and thought you might like to show me this breakwall everyone’s been telling me about. I’ll see you in a few–”
The message stopped abruptly. She’d take a bet the cut-off point occurred when Don was wiping her chin.
Somebody up there sure didn’t like her today.
When she heard Josh finish his phone call she put her head around the door.
“How was Sydney?” She tried a professional smile, which he returned with a touch of reservation.
“Fine. Have you been to lunch already? I thought you went at one.”
She moved into the office.
“I needed some fresh air to wake me up. Late night.”
Bad choice of words. Now he’d think she’d been raging at Shenanigans or somewhere similar.
“I just found your message,” she added quickly. “Sorry I missed it. I would have liked to go.”
Her harbourside dream come true, and she probably sounded as unconcerned as if she’d missed out on a stick of chewing gum.
“No problem. We can add it to the other rain check. Start a collection.”
His eyes smiled, but there was still reserve in the air between them.
“I’m going out for a quick bite.” He stood, giving her a level glance. “I would have stopped when I saw you earlier, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Her throat constricted. She stood her ground, leaning against the doorway for support.
“You wouldn’t have been interrupting. That was Don, the art gallery director. I would have liked to introduce you to him and his wife.” She forced herself to smile. “You probably saw Don cleaning me up. A little boy splashed ice cream on me.”
“If the cars don’t get you, the kids will.” His grin was wry but she sensed him loosening up. “You must be jinxed.”
“I’ve been wondering about that myself,” said Dimity with feeling. “Maybe Gail’s up on the roof sticking pins into a little wax Dimity doll.”
