Wild About the Man

Nick frowned. ‘The elephant and her calf.’ She looked blank. ‘The one that was a couple of metres from you?’

‘I didn’t see it,’ Clem said tonelessly.

Nick cursed, slammed on the brakes, put the car in neutral, reached across her lap and yanked open the door to the cubbyhole. Scratching around, his hand closed around the small torch and he flicked the switch. Grabbing Clem’s chin, he shone the light into her eyes.

She slapped his hand away but Nick persevered. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Are you on drugs?’ Nick demanded. Her pupils looked normal but what did he know?

Clem yanked the torch from his hand and threw it onto the floor at her feet. ‘No, I’m not on drugs! Why would you think that?’

‘Because there was a four-ton elephant right next to you and you didn’t notice!’ Nick shouted.

She turned to look behind her. ‘Oh. Where?’

Nick muttered a curse and rested his forehead on his wrists, his hands gripping the wheel to keep them from encircling her neck. When the urge to throw her into the nearest bush passed, he put the Landy in gear and drove through the decorative gates that marked the gateway to the Lodge.

Give me strength, he begged. She was worse than he’d imagined.

Although it was not completely dark yet, lights blazed from the two-storey Edwardian villa that had once been his great-great-grandfather’s hunting ‘cottage’. Built in grey stone, the house sported an imposing portico over marble steps and Nick pulled up behind the four game viewing vehicles that were offloading guests. Two of his butlers were on hand to distribute glasses of sherry to the guests and he caught the babble of excited voices. Unlike his passenger, they were excited about what they’d seen in the bush.

Jumping out of his car, Nick headed for his head ranger and spoke to him in fluent Shangaan. ‘All well?’

Jabu’s white teeth gleamed in his dark face. ‘Mfo.’ He used the shortened but still traditional greeting for brother and friend—mfowethu—and they were. They’d grown up together and Jabu was his right-hand man, more partner than employee.

‘Who’s the woman?’ Jabu asked him after they’d had a quick discussion about the morning’s schedule. He glanced at Clem, who was looking up at the Lodge with what he thought might be approval in her eyes.

‘Copeland’s daughter. She’s staying with me at the house.’

Jabu’s brown eyes danced. ‘Been telling you that you need a woman, mfo. Try to last more than a minute.’

‘Funny.’ Nick scowled. ‘I’d rather mate with a honey badger. She needs a severe attitude adjustment.’

‘Can’t help noticing that she’s a redhead,’ Jabu said with a sly grin.

‘Yeah, but so are fire ants.’ Nick slapped Jabu’s shoulder and walked back towards his vehicle, tossing his next sentence over his shoulder. ‘I’ll see you boys in The Pit later, you can buy me a beer.’

The Pit was the staff bar which adjoined the staff games rooms, where the rangers and staff working at the Lodge and the animal sanctuary could, in addition to the gym, TV room and a computer gaming room, chill out after a long day.

Nick took a moment to look at the Lodge and sighed with pleasure. The deep green grass complemented the double storey grey-blue stone house and carefully landscaped indigenous gardens added to the luxurious feel. No matter the time of day, the house always looked welcoming, the staff were, without fail, convivial and helpful and his guests stepped into unparalleled luxury.

He frequently wished he could have the guests’ money without having the guests but the unfortunate reality was that he needed his top dollar clients to fund the running of the reserve.

Nick heard a loud whooping sound and smiled when he heard his chief butler, Simon, reassuring a nervous guest that the hyena laughing was definitely behind the electric fence. The Lodge, the staff village and the animal sanctuary all had a perimeter electric fence to ensure that his guests, staff and wounded animals didn’t become a snack for a prowling leopard or stalking lion. His own house was situated outside the security fence, closer to the edge of the cliff and away from the Lodge.

It was his refuge, his safe haven, his favourite place in the world. Or it had been until Princess Red’s arrival.

Clem stood up in her seat and Nick raised an eyebrow at her when he reached the Landy. ‘And now?’

‘If you’d be so kind as to help me down and show me to my room, we can say goodnight and maybe try to be civil to each other when next we meet.’

Oh, that cool voice just killed him. It immediately made him want to rattle her cage. ‘You think you’re staying here?’

‘Aren’t I?’

Nick hopped back in the vehicle. ‘Not unless you booked a room approximately a year to eighteen months ago. Did you?’

‘Stop being facetious and tell me where I’m sleeping!’ Clem retorted, those incredible eyes flashing. She reminded him of a snapping turtle he’d once seen in Florida—mean, ornery and … snappy.

‘You’re sleeping with me, Red. In my house but not in my bed, just in case you have any ideas to the contrary.’

‘I’d rather sleep with my ex. And if you could measure how much I detest him right now, then you’d realise how monstrous an insult that is.’

Two nights later Clem sat, Indian style, on her bed under the mosquito net in Nick’s guest room, her open book unread in her lap. She hadn’t ventured further than his kitchen in two days and the last real conversation she’d had, with anyone, was the clipped one she’d exchanged with Nick the night he’d shown her to this room. In fact, it wasn’t a conversation, it was more Nick throwing a couple of orders at her head.

There was food and drink in the fridge; she had to help herself. If she left anything out in the outdoor shower, the monkeys or baboons would probably swipe it, especially if it sparkled. If she saw a snake, stand still. Sleep under the mozzie net; this was malaria country. She shouldn’t walk around outside because the electric fence didn’t extend to his house and if she heard any noises outside, she shouldn’t investigate. It could be a lion, leopard, hyena, all of which would like to take a chunk of her skinny hide.

Clem rested her head on her bent knees, grateful for the swirl of cool air from the air conditioner. She felt utterly drained, as if someone had taken her and wiped the floor with her head. She’d held herself together until she’d heard Nick leaving in that wretched vehicle the night before last and then she’d dissolved. She’d sobbed for hours and hours and when she’d heard him returning she’d buried her head under her pillow and cried some more.

Utterly drained, she knew that the worst of the emotional storm had passed and, as it passed, a modicum of sanity returned.

It would be so much less embarrassing if she could say that she was crying over the loss of a grand passion, a soulmate, her raison d’être. But she couldn’t because she’d meant what she said on the plane about Cai—she didn’t care if he married what’s-her-face or an alien. Every last emotion she’d felt for him was dead, six feet under, and she just wanted to get past him and onto the rest of her life.

So that couldn’t explain why she’d spent the last two days raising the world’s water levels.

Clem buried the heels of her hands into her eye sockets and whimpered. The truth she could no longer avoid was that she was crying over lost time, stupid decisions, wasted years, humiliation, embarrassment and, hardest of all to admit, brazen, in your face and utterly fearless … fear.

Terror.

For the second time in her life the foundations of her world had been washed away. When her mother died she’d been rocked to her core. Nothing in the world made sense until Cai came along with his ‘live for today’ philosophy. He’d encouraged her to pursue instant gratification and the pursuit of pleasure had ruled their lives.

At the time it had made sense to her.

Fast forward a decade and what had she to show for those decisions? A spectacularly public failed mock-marriage, a closet full of clothes and an identity that was wrapped up in being Roz Hedley-Copeland’s daughter and Cai Campbell’s lover.

If only she’d had the brains, the confidence to kick him to touch after she’d found out about his first affair but he’d talked her out of it. Guilted her out of it as well.

No, don’t study … you’re too pretty to put your nose into a book.

A job? Why would anyone want to hire a washed up ex-model who has never worked a day in her life?

Working for charity? You?

Face it, darling, you’re not much good for anything more difficult than looking gorgeous.

Puke.

So what could she do, who was she going to be? She needed to find a new normal, a new reality, a new everything and she was scared, soul-deep terrified.