Forbidden Nights With The Boss. Anna J. Stewart
me I probably had the counselling skills of an aardvark earlier today?’
Her frown disappeared and her cheeks turned a delicate pink.
‘How rude of me! Did I really?’
She was so obviously flustered—again—he had to let her off the hook.
‘I didn’t mind,’ he told her. ‘In fact, I was too astonished to take offence. I mean, it’s not ever day one’s compared to such an unlikely animal.’
Jo knew she had to move.
For a start, she should shake the man’s hand off her arm, but she was mesmerised, not so much by the quirky smile and sparkling blue eyes and the tanned skin and the massive chest but by the fact that she was having such a—What kind of conversation was it?
Light-hearted chit-chat?
It seemed so long since she’d done light-hearted chit-chat, if that’s what it was, with a man she didn’t know, but whatever it was, she’d been enjoying it …
‘Are we going to cross the road or will we stay on this side, discussing aardvarks and fleas?’
Far too late, Jo moved her arm so the man’s hand fell off it, then she checked both ways—she didn’t want him saving her again—and hurried across, beeping open the car as she approached it, so she could escape inside it as quickly as possible.
Except he’d be getting in as well—no escape.
Until they heard the loud crash, and the sounds of splintering glass.
Cam reacted first, pushing her behind him, looking around, apparently finding the scene of the accident before she’d fully comprehended what had happened.
‘It’s the moped driver,’ he said, as he hurried back across the street to where people were already gathering on the footpath.
Jo followed, seeing the splintered glass of the shopfront and the fallen moped, its wheels still turning, the young driver lying motionless beside it.
‘Let’s all step back,’ Cam said, his voice so full of authority the onlookers obeyed automatically, and when he added, ‘And anyone without shoes on, walk away carefully. The glass could have spread in all directions.’
That got rid of a few more onlookers and made Jo aware she had to tread carefully. Sandals were fine in summer, but as protection against broken glass not sensible at all.
Cam was kneeling by the young man, who wasn’t moving or responding to Cam’s questions.
‘Unconscious?’ she asked, as she squatted on the other side of him, their hands touching as they both felt for injuries.
‘Yes, but he’s wearing a helmet and the bike barely hit the window before he came off.’
Jo lifted the youth’s wrist automatically and though she was looking for a pulse she had to push aside a metal bracelet. Remembering the rider’s swerve earlier, she checked it.
‘He’s a diabetic,’ she said to Cam. ‘Maybe he was feeling light-headed when he nearly ran into me. He might have been pulling over to take in some carbs when he passed out.’
‘His pulse is racing, and he’s pale and very sweaty—I’d say you’ve got it in one, Dr Harris,’ Cam agreed. ‘I don’t suppose you have a syringe of glucogen on you?’
‘I’d have tablets in my bag in the car, but he should have something on him.’ She began to search the patient’s pockets, pulling out a sleeve of glucose tablets.
Perhaps because she’d been poking at him, their patient stirred.
‘That’s a bit of luck! I’ve seen before how blood glucose can rise back to pre-unconsciousness levels,’ Cam said, as he helped the young man into a sitting position and asked him if he was able to take the tablets, but Jo had already sent one of the audience to the closest café for some orange juice.
Their patient nodded, muttering to himself about stupidity and not stopping earlier.
The juice arrived and Cam supported him, holding the bottle for the shaky young patient.
‘This will be easier to get into you than the tablets,’ he said, ‘but even though you’re conscious you should take a trip up to the hospital and get checked out.’ He nodded towards the ambulance that had just pulled up. ‘Here’s your lift.’
‘But the moped?’
‘I’ll take care of that,’ Jo told him. ‘I can put it in the back of my vehicle and take it back to the hire people and explain.’
Cam stood back to let the ambulance attendants ready their patient for transport, and looked at Jo, eyebrows raised.
‘You’ll put it in the car?’
He was smiling as he said it, and all kinds of physical symptoms started up again—ripples, flickers, flutters, her skin feeling as if a million tiny sparks were going off inside it.
‘Someone would help!’ she retorted, trying really hard not to sound defensive but losing the battle.
His smile broadened and now her reactions were all internal—a squeezing in her chest, accelerated heartbeat while her lungs suddenly needed all of her attention to make them work.
How could this be happening to her?
And why?
Wasn’t she perfectly happy with her life?
Well, she was worried about the refuge, but apart from that …
JO WATCHED the patient being loaded into the ambulance, then turned and spoke to the young policeman who’d arrived, introducing him to Cam, who explained what he’d seen of the incident. While some of the onlookers who’d been closer to the scene gave their versions of what had happened and the shopkeeper began cleaning up the glass, Cam had set the moped upright, and was looking at it, obviously checking for damage.
‘I’ll handle that, mate,’ a voice said, and Jo turned to see that the man who hired out the little motor scooters had arrived with his ute, having heard of the accident on whatever grapevine was in operation this Sunday.
‘So, hospital?’ Cam asked, once again taking Jo’s arm, and although she knew full well it was only to guide her across the street—a street she’d crossed without guidance for a couple of decades—the stirrings in her body magnified and all she wanted to do was get away from him for a short time, give her body a good talking to and move on without all this physical disturbance before it drove her mad.
‘I guess so,’ she muttered, with so much reluctance Cam halted on the kerb to look at her.
‘You’ve changed your mind about visiting the hospital?’
Was her expression such a giveaway that he added a second question?
‘Or changed your mind about employing me?’
Cam watched the woman as he spoke. He was teasing her—well, he was almost certain he was teasing her. It was just that for a moment he thought he’d read regret in her expression.
But he hadn’t started work so surely she couldn’t be regretting hiring him already.
As if he could read the face of a woman he barely knew! Yes, he could guess at his sisters’ emotions, but he’d never really been able to tell what his ex-fiancée was thinking just from looking at her face.
‘Why would you think that!’ the woman he’d questioned demanded, stepping off the kerb so he was forced to move if he wanted to keep hold of her arm. ‘I was thinking of the kid—the diabetic. It’s one of the worries when the schoolies are here, that any