Forbidden Nights With The Boss. Anna J. Stewart
does bother me, personally, that some of the older women who use the house—women in their forties and fifties—might look at Lauren and me and wonder what on earth we could know about their lives or their problems, or even about life in general. I’m twenty-nine so it’s not as if I’m fresh out of uni, but I look younger and sometimes I get the impression that the older women might think that though I’ve got all the theory—’
‘Theory isn’t reality?’
He couldn’t help it. He reached out and touched her hand where it rested on the table.
‘Look, I don’t know you at all, but having spent just a couple of hours in your company I’m sure you’re empathetic enough to be able to see those women’s situations through their eyes. The army’s the same—a fifty-year-old colonel having to come and talk to some young whippersnapper straight out of med school about his erection problems.’
He paused, then asked, ‘I take it you have staff at the refuge?’
The tantalising green eyes studied him for a moment, puzzling over the question.
‘We have a number of trained residential support staff, who work with the women all the time.’
‘Then surely at least one of them could be an older woman, maybe more than one. These are the people spending most time there.’
Jo nodded.
‘You’re right, of course. And a couple of them are older women, it’s just that … ‘
‘Just that you want to be all things to all people? No matter how much you do, you always want to do more, give more?’
His new boss stared at him across the table. He could almost see the denial forming on her lips then getting lost on the way out.
‘Are you analysing me?’ she demanded instead. ‘Showing off your psychology skills? Anyway, I don’t think that’s the case at all.’
He grinned at her.
‘You just want the best for everyone,’ he offered helpfully, finding pleasure in this gentle teasing—finding an unexpected warmth from it inside his body.
‘And what’s wrong with that?’ she asked, but the words lacked heat and Cam smiled because he knew he’d hit home. She did want the best for everyone, she would give more and more, but would that be at the expense of her own life? Her own pleasure?
And if so, why?
Intriguing …
Not that he’d ever find out—or needed to. He wasn’t looking to stay in Crystal Cove, unexpected warmth or no.
Although …
‘Hospital next,’ Jo announced, mainly to break the silence that had followed their conversation, though the man mountain had been demolishing the rest of his breakfast so he probably hadn’t found the silence as awkward as she had. She replayed the conversation in her head, realising how much of herself she’d revealed to a virtual stranger.
She’d forced herself to sound bright and cheery as she’d made the ‘hospital next’ suggestion, but the conversation about the refuge had unsettled her so badly that what she really needed was to get away from Fraser Cameron and do some serious thinking.
Did she really think she could be all things to all people?
Surely she knew that wasn’t possible.
So why … ?
She concentrated on sounding positive.
‘Tom Fletcher, the doctor in charge, lives in a house beside the hospital so if he’s not on the wards, I can show you through then take you across to his place to introduce you.’
‘Tom Fletcher? Tall, thin guy, dark hair, has women falling over themselves to go out with him?’
Jo frowned at the man who was pushing his plate away with a sigh of satisfaction. No need to keep worrying about sounding positive when she had a challenge like this to respond to.
‘Women falling over themselves to go out with him? What is it with you men that you consider something like that as part of a physical description?’
Her crankiness—and she’d shown plenty—had absolutely no effect on the man who was grinning at her as he replied.
‘I knew a bloke of that name at uni—went through medicine with him—and to answer your question, when you’re a young, insecure, very single male student you remember the guys who seem able to attract women with effortless ease. I bet you ask another ten fellows out of our year and you’d get the same description.’
Jo shook her head.
‘The male mind always was and still remains a total mystery to me,’ she said, ‘but, yes, Tom is tall and thin—well, he’d probably prefer lean—and has dark hair.’
‘Great!’
Cam’s enthusiasm was so wholehearted Jo found herself asking if they’d been good friends. Although if they had, surely Cam would have known his mate was living at the Cove.
‘Not close friends, but he was someone I knew well enough. It will be good to catch up with him.’
Would it? Even as he’d spoken, Cam had wondered about ‘catching up’ with anyone he’d known from his past. Could he play the person he’d been before his war experiences? Could he pretend well enough for people not to see the cracks beneath the surface?
PTSD they called it—post-traumatic stress disorder. He had seen enough of it in patients to be reasonably sure he didn’t have it, not the full-blown version of it anyway. All he had was the baggage from his time in the war zone, baggage he was reasonably certain he could rid himself of in time.
Perhaps.
His family had seen the difference in him and understood enough to treat him not like an invalid but with gentleness, letting him know without words that they were all there for him if ever he wanted to talk about the baggage in his head.
Not that he could—not yet—maybe not ever …
Fortunately, before he could let too many of the doors in his head slide open, his boss was talking to him.
‘Come on, then,’ she said, standing up and heading across the footpath towards the road. ‘It’s time to do some catching up.’
‘We haven’t paid,’ he reminded her, and she threw him a look over her shoulder. He considered running the look through his mental data base of women’s looks then decided it didn’t really matter what her look had said. Best he just followed along, took orders like a good soldier, and hoped he’d prove indispensable so he could stay on in Crystal Cove for longer than a couple of months.
The thought startled him so much he found the word why forming in his head.
He tried to answer it.
The surf was good, but there was good surf to be had along thousands of miles of coastline.
Surely not because of the feisty boss—a woman he’d barely met and certainly didn’t know, and quite possibly wouldn’t like if he did know, although those eyes, the creamy skin …
He reached her as she was about to step out to cross the esplanade, just in time to grab her arm and haul her back as a teenager on a moped swerved towards her.
‘Idiot!’ Jo stormed, glaring full tilt at the departing rider’s back. ‘They rent those things out to people with no more brains than a—’
‘An aardvark?’ Cam offered helpfully, trying not to smile at the woman who was so cross she hadn’t realised he was still holding her arm.
He wasn’t going to think about why he was still holding her arm—he’d just enjoy the sensation.
‘I was going to say flea,’ she muttered as she turned towards him,