Wild About the Man

Clem rolled over in bed and placed her forearm over her eyes. She couldn’t hide out in a stranger’s house in South Africa for ever but the thought of leaving had the breath catching in her throat, her heart pounding. She couldn’t leave until the press furore died down, and until she had some sort of plan … She couldn’t face her father, the press, the world without one.

Or that grey-eyed, six foot something of bol-shie attitude on the other side of her door.

The thing was, she’d never had to do this on her own before and she didn’t know where to start.

Jabu had met Nick after the evening game drive and accepted Nick’s offer of a beer back at his house. Nick dumped his radio on the long wooden dining table while Jabu yanked two beers out of his fridge and cracked the tops. The door to his guest’s bedroom was still firmly shut and Nick frowned at the half-eaten tub of yoghurt and the barely touched apple on a plate next to the sink.

He was going to have to do something about the redhead soon but he had no idea what.

Jabu handed him a beer and walked from the kitchen to the lounge, sliding open the doors that led onto the deck. His house was a rectangle, with the well designed kitchen, study and a home gym at the back of the house. The kitchen, dining room and lounge were all open-plan, with a long wooden table covered in books, files and rolled up maps separating the leather couches of the lounge from the kitchen counters. A flat-screen TV with an X-box attached dominated the wall and floor-to-ceiling wood and glass sliding doors led out onto the wooden deck.

It was comfortable and he liked it—a far cry from the two room shack he and Terra had shared in the early days.

Nick followed Jabu out to the deck and imitated his friend’s stance, forearms on the railing, beer bottle dangling from two fingers as they scanned the vegetation below. A herd of zebra were grazing to the right, impala were in the thick bush a little way away.

‘We need to move those rhinos we bought from up north,’ Jabu commented.

‘The translocation costs a freaking bomb. The Foundation doesn’t have the cash right now to fund it. The charity ball is in a month’s time, though … I’m hoping for some big donations to come in then. Can we wait that long?’

‘We can but I don’t know about the rhinos.’ Jabu sipped his beer and sent Nick a sly look. ‘How’s your guest?’

Nick shrugged. ‘Dunno. Haven’t seen her. She stays in her room.’

Jabu’s eyebrows lifted. ‘For two days?’

‘Hey, it suits me. She has an attitude that can strip paint off walls.’ Nick blew out his breath. ‘I don’t know what to do about her. She was a royal pain when she stepped off the plane but I can cope with that. But she’s shut herself in her room and doesn’t come out when I’m here. She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. I hear her pacing.’ Nick took a pull of his beer. ‘I keep thinking that I should make her work, which is just crazy.’

‘Why?’

‘I doubt she’s worked a day in her life. But I keep remembering what your mother said to me when Terra … you know. That work is the best medicine.’

‘My mama is a wise woman. Crazy mad but wise. I think you’re right. Get her out of that room and interacting with people.’ Jabu pushed off the railing. ‘I must go … I need to spend some time with the kids before bed.’ He took Nick’s empty bottle and shook his head when Nick started to accompany him out. ‘Stay here. Decide what you want to do about Clem. Later.’

‘Night, Jabs.’

Nick returned back to his previous stance and looked down the steep cliff at a chattering dove on a rock halfway down the cliff. The zebras had moved off and a jackal scurried across the bank of the waterhole. The sun dropped behind the thorn trees and the subdued gold between the branches was the same shade as Clem’s hair.

He was tired of living with a ghoul. Like it or not, Clem was going to work.

It felt as if Clem had just drifted off to sleep when Nick yanked back the heavy curtains and bright morning sunlight streamed over her bed and into her eyes. She yelped and covered her eyes as he banged a cup of coffee on the night stand next to her.

‘Coffee,’ Nick told her. ‘Get up, Princess.’

Clem groaned and when her eyes focused on the bedside clock she growled, ‘It’s five o’clock in the morning.’

‘Yeah, and you’re going to be late. Get moving, Red.’ Nick grabbed her mosquito net, spun it and expertly tied it into a knot. He yanked back her sheet and stared down at her long body, barely covered by a tight cotton camisole and low-slung cotton sleeping shorts. The shirt had ridden up to reveal four inches of her flat stomach, complete with a diamond stud in her belly button. Nick immediately wanted to dip his tongue there, feel the contrast between the cool stone and her warm skin.

Clem half sat and glared up at him, pushing her riotous hair back with her hand. ‘What is wrong with you?’

Nick backed away from the bed and placed his fists on khaki-covered hips. ‘Your free ride at Two-B—what we call The Baobab and Buffalo Lodge—is over. You can wallow while you work.’

‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ Clem sat up properly and immediately reached for the cup of coffee. She took a sip and closed her eyes in appreciation.

‘You’re going to get out of bed and do some work,’ Nick told her, thinking that he had to get out of her room before he put her to work in a very different, and far more pleasurable, way. He kept seeing places on her body, apart from the obvious, he wanted to explore. A spot on her foot underneath the fine ankle chain, the pulse point at the bottom of her throat, the place where her jaw met her neck that looked so soft, so silky.

Nick hovered by the door. ‘You’ve got fifteen minutes. We leave then, however you’re dressed.’

Clem stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. ‘No! You’re not the boss of me!’

‘How old are you? Five?’ Nick stalked back to the bed, hiding the fact that he was pleased to see some fire in her eyes, heat in her cheeks. ‘And, actually, I am. This is my house, my property, my business. In case you haven’t noticed, you are sleeping in my bed, drinking my coffee.’ He placed his hands on either side of her on the bed and deliberately caged her in. She smelt of lilies, her amazing eyes had his heart stuttering and it took every bit of willpower he had not to lower his mouth to hers.

‘So, you have two choices. You get your very pretty butt out of bed, into some old clothes—or, in your case, clothes that you don’t mind getting dirty—and get into my vehicle in—’ he looked at his watch ‘—thirteen minutes or you work in your pyjamas. If you don’t want to work, then ask Daddy to send his jet for you but, until it arrives, you will work. Are we clear?’

Clem held the cup near her mouth and he could see that her fingers were trembling. She held his gaze for a minute and he saw the realization dawn that he was as serious as a snake bite.

‘But what am I going to do? I don’t work! I’ve never worked!’ she wailed.

‘Then it’s high time you started,’ Nick suggested and told himself to stand up. He had to repeat the instruction because he was fascinated by the collection of tiny freckles on her nose. ‘Twelve minutes, Red.’

When he reached the door he heard her sigh and the rustle of bedclothes. ‘You are the most high-handed, arrogant, annoying man I’ve ever met.’

Nick grinned. ‘Well, your opinion of me is sure to deteriorate as the day marches on.’

In fact, he could practically guarantee it.

She made it to the vehicle with thirty seconds to spare and clambered over the passenger door, not bothering to try opening the door. Ha, he hadn’t thought she could get ready in time … points for me, Clem thought as she sat down, trying to avoid the broken spring.

‘What are you wearing?’ he demanded.

Clem looked down at her vintage studded denim shorts, frayed at the hem. Admittedly, she usually wore these to go clubbing in, but they also worked with the lace vest she’d pulled on.

‘A taffeta ball gown, obviously.’

‘Those shorts would be declared illegal in some countries. If you were wearing anything shorter, it would be a thong.’

‘Rubbish.’

Clem sat back and mused that she would rather eat worms than admit to Nick that she was glad to be out of the house, that his guest room was becoming claustrophobic and that she could see herself going slowly out of her mind with boredom if she stayed in there one more day.

Even his stupid Lodge and stupider vehicle and this back of beyond place were a welcome relief from the white walls and her own company. She was pretty good at sulking, even better at wallowing, but a girl could only keep it up for a finite length of time.

Yeah, she’d rather eat worms and slugs than admit that.

Clem turned in her seat. ‘So, what do you want me to do? I’m good at talking to people, so I could work with your guests.’

‘I wouldn’t let you anywhere near my guests,’ Nick said, picking up a coffee cup from between his knees and raising it to his lips. Clem sighed; she hadn’t had a chance to have any more of her coffee than a couple of quick hot gulps.

‘So, because I’m basically a reasonable guy, you get a choice of duties.’