Temporary Intrigue (19 page)

“You’re right about one thing,” she said. “It damn well
is
none of your business!”

He swallowed.

“Could we have a word?” he asked her.

She folded her arms and eyeballed him.

“Why?”

Josh looked from face to face. Somehow he couldn’t see himself sitting down for a cosy meal with this lot.

“Right. Well, I guess I’ll be going.”

Nobody tried to stop him as he headed back through the house and out the front door.

He’d been right about another thing. It had turned into a filthy night.

Shane’s early morning job interview was at a restaurant in a rundown hotel in Newcastle’s west end, an area of the city Dimity seldom visited.

“This looks a bit seedy,” she commented, pulling up. Most of the shops seemed abandoned and covered with graffiti. The only sign of life was outside the hotel, where a yawning waiter was setting up tables on a footpath that looked far from clean. With the sky still overcast, it was hard to imagine anyone wanting to sit there, let alone eat in such a setting.

Shane, unusually subdued during the drive, also seemed unimpressed. “Keep the doors locked,” he advised, getting out.

Dimity checked the locks then closed her eyes, grateful for some thinking time. After the fury that had enveloped her when she overheard Josh’s words last night, she wondered why she now felt so calm.

Maybe her emotions had reached such a boiling point they had exploded and disintegrated overnight. Or perhaps this was the eye of the storm and she was resting before coming out fighting again.

It was confusing. She was mad at Josh, but somehow the anger was on the surface while everything else she felt for him remained the same underneath, immensely comforting and exciting at the same time.

And rather scary.

“He shouldn’t have said it!” she’d told Sandra after Shane and Leigh had left them to their after-dinner coffee.

“It was instinct.” She recalled Sandra’s grin. “Primitive instinct. Ape man beating chest stuff. The male version of the way you leap to defend Shane.”

Dimity had perked up at the image of a bare-chested Josh hurtling from the trees on a vine to sweep her up and away. Then she shook her head.

“Different ball game. I defend Shane because . . . ”

She stopped.

“Well, duh.” Sandra had looked at her pityingly. “Connect the dots, sweetie.”

A taxi stopped behind Dimity’s car. She glanced over idly as someone came out of the hotel, then looked again. It was Malcolm, carrying an overnight bag, with his arm around a shapely brunette.

The girl got into the taxi. Malcolm passed the bag in and watched the taxi take off.

Dimity whistled silently. Apart from the venue, Malcolm seemed to be doing well for himself.

Seeing him look at her car, she hunched back. He may have seen it at Shenanigans, but hopefully wouldn’t recognise it.

Hope faded as he walked towards her. When she could no longer ignore him, she lowered her window.

“What brings you here?” he asked.

“I brought my brother to a job interview at the hotel restaurant.” Tempted to return the question, Dimity restrained herself.

“The beefcake boy? Must be desperate!” Malcolm rolled his eyes sardonically towards the hotel where he and his brunette friend had apparently spent a romantic night together.

“Listen,” he added, also apparently following Dimity’s train of thought, “I’m incognito here. If anyone asks, you didn’t see me.”

Dimity was trying to think of a reply when Shane appeared. Before she could unlock the passenger door, Malcolm moved around and introduced himself.

“I’ve seen two versions of your CV,” Dimity heard him say jovially. “Both very interesting. You don’t really want to work in this dump, do you? We might have something for you at Global Homes. Why don’t you sell yourself to me over a coffee?”

“We can’t wait. I have to take him home and then get to work,” Dimity called.

“I’ll drop him home,” Malcolm called back. “I have an appointment with a client in your area.”

Apparently happy with the arrangement, Shane waved and walked off with him.

Dimity shrugged. It seemed a haphazard way to recruit staff. But maybe that was Malcolm’s way. If she was going to get to work on time, she couldn’t sit around wondering.

She felt a surge of anticipation at the thought of seeing Josh, then frowned at a totally unrelated thought.

How did Malcolm know where she lived? She didn’t think she had ever mentioned it to him. Perhaps he’d remembered the address on Shane’s CV and guessed she also lived there.

On the way to work, her thoughts returned to last night’s conversation with Sandra.

“I defend Shane because I love him,” she had started to say, but the prospect of voicing the L-word in connection with Josh, even indirectly, had set alarm bells ringing in her mind.

Once again she had the sensation she was about to fall off a cliff into the unknown.

With nobody below to catch her.

This was different from the stomach flip-flops previously engendered by thoughts of Josh. This was heady, heavy, confusing and exhilarating, a warm tide of feeling flowing in to fill a void she hadn’t known existed.

She sailed up the Global staircase on a wave of euphoria. Last night wouldn’t matter when they saw each other again. Maybe he would suggest lunch. If he didn’t, she would.

But he wasn’t there.

Dimity’s spirits descended with a thump when she opened an impersonal email sent at 8am saying he was tied up at the convention all day. There was no mention of last night.

How very
professional
she thought, skimming through the rest of her emails.

She couldn’t even hope to hear from him tonight because he would be at the reception . . . which reminded her to do the professional thing herself, and confirm the caterer for the evening.

She unearthed the number, dialled and listened disbelievingly as an impersonal, recorded voice told her the number could not be connected and advised her to check it.

Several frantic phone calls to other caterers confirmed the bad news. She had chosen a fly-by-night business that was no longer functioning. Her requests for help to the other caterers were met by reactions ranging from polite refusal to outright scorn at the suggestion they might be available at such late notice.

“Isn’t it great,” she said in an email to Sandra, “for once in my office work life I’ve done something
competently
, and now it’s come back to bite me in the you-know-what.”

She didn’t expect to hear immediately from Sandra, who was no doubt busy tinting someone’s hair an outrageous colour. But she must have had a free moment because a reply came almost at once.

“Maybe Shane knows someone who can help.”

Dimity doubted it. Shane didn’t have many catering contacts in Newcastle.

But . . . any port in a storm.

She rang his mobile, interrupting his coffee with Malcolm while she whispered her problem.

“Do you know anyone?” she asked, hearing her voice tremble with frustration.

There was a slight pause.

“How many people?”

“About twenty.”

“I’ll put something together for you.”

Dimity’s mouth opened in disbelief.

“Really?”

“Really. I’m not totally useless.” Shane’s voice held a touch of bitterness. “I’ll have it ready for you.”

He didn’t let her down, looking justifiably pleased with himself when she arrived home. After buying a selection of breads, smoked salmon, tuna, turkey, cheeses and salads he had made several plates of delicious-looking open sandwiches. He had also prepared plates of dips, cheese and crackers, arranged pieces of fruit on skewers and had bought a selection of mini quiches and crab fritters.

“You’re a genius!” She hugged him. “How much did it cost?”

“My treat,” said Shane magnanimously. “Leigh and I got a bus into town to pick up my car, so I did the shopping on the way home. Even got some boxes to use for delivering it. So how do we do that? Ring the bell and run, like we used to?”

At this reminder of a couple of childhood escapades they had shared, Dimity burst out laughing.

“What if you stay in the car and I act as delivery boy?” Shane went on. “If I wear a cap and keep my head down, your boss might be too busy socialising with the VIPs to recognise me.”

Dimity looked at his faded jeans, old shirt and sneakers, then at the elegant array of food that he had carefully covered with plastic wrap.

“The heck you’re going to be the delivery boy,” she told him energetically. “The Forbes family doesn’t skulk around corners and hide under baseball caps. You’re the caterer and you’re going to dress up and show them you’re proud of it. And I’ll be right there being proud with you.”

Despite Shane’s protests, she insisted. She had a quick shower before wriggling into the “basic black” she had worn at Sandra’s party: a sleeveless V-necked dress that displayed just enough cleavage to be interesting, with a skirt that fell softly to a point slightly below the knees. She twisted this way and that in front of the mirror, checking suspiciously in case she had put on weight since wearing it, but couldn’t detect any bulges.

Not that it mattered, of course. Josh wouldn’t be looking at her.

A glance at her watch sent her into fast forward with hair gel, eye makeup and a touch of lipstick. After pulling on sheer tights and her only pair of black high heels, she picked up her coat and returned to the kitchen, fastening an earring as she went.

Passing the living room she saw Leigh, slumped on the lounge in her red pyjamas with a glass of matching wine, watching television. Apparently she had no interest in the bustle from the kitchen where Shane, immaculate in black trousers, crisp white shirt and polished shoes, was packing plates of food into the boxes.

“You don’t think we look too dressed up?” he asked.

“Absolutely not.” Dimity was firm. “We’re treating the occasion with the respect it deserves.”

“Will it be a problem if your friend Malcolm’s there?” enquired Shane. “I took him up on his work offer. He wants a part-time assistant and he noticed on my CV that I did that type of work for a while in Sydney. It’s good pay and could become permanent. Even it doesn’t, he said they often need a casual chef so I could pick up shifts there too.”

Dimity secured the second earring, looking dubious.

“It won’t matter if he’s there. He’ll probably just think how enterprising you are. But I wouldn’t call him a friend. And I’m not sure you’ll like working for him, but I suppose that’s your business.”

“Well, there’s a change,” said Shane.

Was it? Dimity glanced at her watch again, opened a cupboard, grabbed a coat and yanked out a large umbrella. “It’s late! Let’s go!”

Parking space in town was at a premium but, with thunder rumbling and occasional flashes of lightning in the evening sky, Dimity managed to find a spot in the alleyway near the hotel.