Temporary Intrigue (10 page)

“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 always 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.

“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.

Not that it mattered. Apart from having more than enough on her plate, she wouldn’t want to get involved with someone who seemed instinctively hostile towards her brother. He and Shane had reminded her of two dogs with their hackles raised, ready to launch themselves at each other’s throats.

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.”