Outback With The Boss

His businesslike tone cut through her wayward thoughts. ‘I really do need you to make this trip with me. You understand exactly what I want. You’ve already done all the groundwork. No one else will be nearly as useful. Give me some credit. I swear I’m not a boss who preys on his female staff. I want us to work together as a great business team.’

Forget about the kiss, she chided. He means it. It’s not going to happen again. Concentrate on the job. ‘How many days would we be away?’ she asked softly.

Mitch beamed at her. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’ He glanced again at the notes he’d made on the end of her report. ‘Five days should just about do the trick.’

She nodded weakly.

His answering nod of acceptance, as if he knew all along that she would capitulate, annoyed Grace, but she forced her mind to stay focused on practical business details. ‘Do we need to make any bookings?’

‘I’ll book for tomorrow night at Undara,’ he replied. ‘After that I’d like to be as flexible as possible. We’ll take my mobile phone and book ahead as we go.’ Mitch’s eyebrows rose and he jerked his head in the direction of her kitchen. ‘That curry of yours should be just about ready by now, shouldn’t it?’

‘Don’t push your luck, Mr Wentworth,’ Grace warned, pointing to her door. ‘If I have to spend the next five days with my boss, I need a little solitude tonight.’ More than anything else, she needed to think about how on earth she’d ever allowed that kiss to happen.

Her very worst fears about Mitch had already proved well-founded. He was the kind of man who could charm a nun away from her prayers. And now she was going to be travelling alone with him! Grace believed he’d keep his promise about not kissing her again, but she needed to develop strategies to ensure her body didn’t come up with any silly ideas of its own.

Mitch didn’t try to hide his disappointment that he wouldn’t taste her curry, but to her relief he had just enough manners not to push the matter. ‘I’ll have the vehicle ready for nine o’clock in the morning,’ he said as he went through her doorway. ‘I’ll pick you up from here.’

Punctuality was not her boss’s strongest feature, Grace decided next morning when he eventually pulled up outside her flat a good thirty minutes late. He was driving a large, solid-looking off-road vehicle with a tray back.

She had expected something more flashy and sporty—perhaps a shiny black and gold, city-style, four-wheel drive. This was a regular bush vehicle.

When Mitch swung the driver’s door open and jumped down, flashing her a boyish grin, she was surprised by the way her own spirits lifted. She was hardly feeling her best after a long night tossing restlessly in her bed, worrying about spending five days rattling around the North Queensland outback side by side with her employer.

But this morning, dressed in jeans and an army-green bush shirt, he was looking so genuinely excited, like a boy allowed off on his very first Huckleberry Finn adventure, that her fears subsided somewhat. His enthusiasm, as he patted the truck’s sturdy bonnet, was almost infectious. Not that she was prepared to let him see a chink in her armour. She nodded an unsmiling greeting.

Mitch wasn’t to be put off. ‘I’ve made sure I got a vehicle fitted out with absolutely everything we could possibly need. Spare water tanks, special tow ropes and winches in case we get bogged. Tarps and cooking gear if we decide to rough it. That’s why I’m a bit late—making sure we had all those extras.’

‘Did you get G.P.S.?’

‘A global positioning system?’ Mitch frowned, looking slightly put out. ‘What do you know about that sort of thing?’

‘Oh…’ she shrugged ‘…I’ve read about it. It seems like a brilliant system for making sure you don’t get lost. The army use it a lot.’

‘I doubt we’ll need gear that sophisticated to help us navigate. We’ve got maps and a mobile phone and a good sturdy vehicle—and neither of us is a fool. We’re not going to get lost.’

‘I guess not,’ she agreed, but she pulled a face that allowed just a hint of doubt to linger in the air as she lifted her carefully packed kit bag and heaved it onto one shoulder.

‘Here, let me take that,’ he offered.

Finding it rather a strain to remain ungracious in the face of his helpfulness, Grace allowed him to take her pack. As she did so, he dipped his face close to hers and his dark eyes danced as they studied her. ‘Aha! I think I detect a faint smile,’ he teased.

‘A slip of the lip,’ muttered Grace.

Mitch sighed as he hefted her bag into the back of the truck. ‘So that’s the way it’s going to be, is it, Ms Robbins?’ His glance slid to her jeans. ‘Five days of venom in denim.’

His words found their mark and Grace’s cheeks burned. Perhaps she was behaving unprofessionally—more like an immature kid.

‘Sorry,’ she said, shooting him a fair attempt at a smile. ‘I’m a bit tired.’

‘Then you should just sit back and relax and let me take care of the driving. Did you want to bring any of your favourite CDs to help while away the miles?’

She stared back at him, surprised. ‘That’s a great idea! I won’t be long.’ About to dash into her flat, she paused. ‘Do you have any preferences?’

Mitch leant his long frame against the truck’s door and sent her a slow, conspiratorial smile. ‘I think there’s a very good chance we have similar tastes, Grace. I’m prepared to go along with whatever you choose.’

As she collected a pile of CDs, she sensed her mouth softening into the beginnings of a genuine smile.

Grace wasn’t sure who was more surprised, she or Mitch, when they covered the six-hour journey up the narrow road to Undara without any sparring or tense silences. They only saw a few vehicles during the journey. They listened to her music, chatted about New Tomorrow, about people they knew in the film industry, or sat in comfortable silence as the countryside flashed past them in streaks of brown and grey-green against a bright blue sky. There were even moments when she actually laughed out loud at stories he told about colourful Hollywood personalities.

But whenever she started to relax Grace quickly reminded herself to be wary of her boss. He could pour on the charm when it suited him, but she knew from bitter experience that she must never lower her resistance.

From time to time Mitch stopped the truck to look at a point of interest. A flock of emus caught his attention, and he slowed to take a closer look.

‘I’ll bring them in near us,’ he told her.

Grace eyed him dubiously. ‘So what exactly are you going to do? Warble their mating call?’

He darted a withering glance in her direction. ‘Just watch this, city girl.’ Winding down his window, he held out his wide-brimmed hat and waved it at the emus. The birds stopped abruptly, staring at the movement. As Mitch continued waving, one of the scraggy, long-legged birds slowly stepped forward, a beady eye fixed on the hat. Then the others followed cautiously, until several dark-feathered adults and three stripy chicks were all gathered at the edge of the highway, staring fiercely at Mitch and his hat.

‘That’s a cool trick,’ breathed Grace. ‘Where’d you learn it?’

‘Oh, I knocked about in the bush quite a bit when I was younger. I’m not a complete city slicker. Look!’ He pointed as one of the adults herded up the chicks. ‘You don’t often see the mother emu with her babies.’

Grace cleared her throat. ‘Actually, city boy, it’s the male emu that incubates the eggs and looks after the chicks.’

‘Poor bloke,’ Mitch muttered under his breath as he accelerated back onto the highway. He shot Grace a baleful glance. ‘And where did you learn that?’

‘Oh, I read a lot…’ she answered airily.

They travelled on, companionably silent, as the bush flashed past them—the rough black trunks of ironbarks, the silvery smooth limbs of woollybutts and the deeper red of bloodwoods.

Later in the day, more animals emerged. A butcher-bird startled Grace when it took off suddenly from the side of the road with a long, thin snake in its beak. In the shadowy verges, kangaroos and wallabies slowly edged out for an afternoon graze. It was late in the day by the time they rattled down the final stretch of dirt road to reach Undara.

‘You’ve organised our accommodation, haven’t you?’ she asked warily.

‘Sure have,’ Mitch assured her. ‘We’re also booked in for a meal tonight and our underground tour in the morning. I’ll just head into the office there and pick up our keys.’

Grace watched as he bounded up the three steps and crossed the timber veranda to the reception area. Somehow, despite his city lifestyle, Grace had to admit that Mitch had avoided the urban cowboy image. He really looked as at home in faded blue jeans and scuffed riding boots in the bush as he did in his expensive Italian suits and hand-stitched, shining shoes in the city.

She had the uncomfortable feeling that Mitch was the kind of guy who would look good in any setting—in any clothes. Or without clothes, came the errant thought. She dismissed it quickly.

As he headed back to the truck, he was frowning. He flipped open the door and swung his long frame into the driver’s seat. ‘Minor hitch,’ he mumbled.

Grace’s heart jumped a beat or two. ‘How’s that?’ she whispered.

‘I don’t know how it happened, but there’s been a misunderstanding about our accommodation.’

‘A misunderstanding? Didn’t you know the accommodation here is converted railway carriages?’