Wild About the Man

Yeah, reasonable like the Black Friday or January sales shoppers.

‘The Baobab and Buffalo Lodge and Animal Rehabilitation Centre employs trainee game rangers and they start at the bottom of the food chain. In addition to their studies—fauna and flora—they are the general skivvies.’ Nick smiled. ‘You’re the latest intern.’

‘So, do people do this willingly or do you blackmail them into being slaves for you too?’ Clem demanded.

‘Blackmail is a harsh word but, in your case, remarkably accurate.’ Nick rested his elbow on the steering wheel. The morning sun caught his two day stubble and picked up the sun-lightened tips of his hair. He looked tough and hard in his Two-B uniform of a navy-blue golf shirt and khaki shorts, a tiny tree embroidered onto the pocket of his shirt above the company name.

This morning his eyes were the shade of moonlight.

‘Normally, I’d never give interns a choice of duties but what the hell. You can clean out the staff bar, called The Pit for a reason. On good nights you need a tetanus jab to go in.’

Clem pretended to think. ‘No.’

‘Ironing? Sheets, duvets, pillowcases.’

‘Still no.’

‘Cleaning toilets?’

‘As if.’

She couldn’t do this, Clem thought. Maybe she should just bite the bullet and go back to London. How bad could it be …? She’d be stalked and hassled by the press everywhere she went but they’d back off. Eventually.

On the plus side, there would be no cleaning, ironing and skanky bars to clean.

Clem stared at her hands and opened her mouth to tell Nick to call her father and ask him for the jet. He beat her to the punch.

‘Yeah, I thought so. You’re just good at looking decorative.’

Clem stared at him as his dismissive words sliced deeper and deeper until they hit her soul.

Temper, hot and wild, shot up from the core of her being and flashed in her eyes. ‘What did you say to me?’ she hissed.

‘I—’

‘How dare you? You don’t get to say that to me. Nobody says that to me any more.’

‘Red …’

‘I took it from him for far too many years but I will not take it from you!’ Clem shouted. Her hands gripped the edge of the ragged seat as she started to shake. Her voice was wobbly but her words were coated with determination. ‘I can take anything that you throw at me.’

Clem, feeling as if she was having an out of body experience, looked at her furious other self and shook her head. No, she couldn’t. She was a pampered society girl …

‘You sure about that, Princess?’

No, not at all sure. Clem wanted to recant but the crazy woman inside had her biting her tongue instead. ‘Do your worst.’

She looked at Nick’s handsome, amused face and his certainty that she would fail stiffened her spine. How dare he dismiss her, assume that he knew her? She was not just a pretty face. She did have more depth than the average puddle.

Maybe. Hopefully.

‘I won’t quit,’ she muttered, mostly to herself.

The man had ears like a bat. ‘Oh, you so will,’ Nick assured her.

She gritted her teeth. ‘Watch me. Do your damnedest, Sherwood.’

‘Seriously?’ Nick laughed. ‘Are you challenging me?’

‘Yeah. I’m tired of stupid men telling me what I am and am not, what I can and cannot do.’ Clem caught the speculative look in his eye and wondered if she hadn’t pushed him a touch too far.

Two voices were clamouring for air time in her head.

Just call your father and go home, the coward in her begged.

But the louder voice was more encouraging. You can do anything you want to. You’re only good at looking decorative, my sweet butt.

That voice sounded strong and powerful and sounded as if it knew what it was talking about.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_d4ee65be-d424-5588-8359-4f6b070b9ac7)

Luella Dawson’s blog:

So, we had a taster of the second series of The Crazy Cs from the interview I did with Cai and his new lady-love. They were in his home in LA, into which Kiki has been installed. One word, Cai—tacky! Then again, the man is taking tacky to a new art form lately.

So, was anyone more bored than me? I’ve had more fun watching mould form. Kiki is vapid and moronic and, as for that rat-on-a-rope she calls a dog? Pathetic! Come back, Clem! All is forgiven!

NICK drove into the staff village, past a building that had ‘The Pit’ stencilled across it and past the fenced off swimming pool. Veering left, away from the amenities and the houses, he made for an isolated corner, just inside the electric fence and hidden from view by a split-pole fence. He pulled the Land Rover up, hopped out and stood at the entrance.

The smell of decomposing garbage had Clem wrinkling her nose. ‘What are we doing here?’

‘This is our recycling centre.’ He led her into the enclosure, where black refuse bags were piled up on the hard packed dirt. He pulled a pair of heavy gloves off the fence and handed them to her.

Four large skips were lined up against the fence. ‘Glass, paper, tin and plastic.’ He nudged a black bag. ‘What’s in here goes in there.’ He pointed to the skips. ‘Glass in glass, paper in paper … organic matter goes on the compost heap over there. The staff are supposed to recycle but it doesn’t always happen.’

Clem, her heart sinking to her toes, shook her head. ‘Oh, no, this is too cruel. I’m wearing designer espadrilles.’

‘Hey, you said to throw my worst at you. This is it.’

Of course it was. Clem bit her lip. ‘So, I presume you’re leaving me alone here?’

‘Yep.’ Nick pulled a spare radio from his back pocket and handed it to her. ‘You’re within the electric fence so you’re good, animal wise. The radio is already set on the open channel, number two, press this button to talk. Anything you say on this channel will be broadcast to every staff member who has a radio. If you want to talk to me in private, call me and ask me to switch to channel thirteen.’

Clem took the radio and kicked the sand with her shoe, trying not to breathe. She tucked the radio into the band between her shorts and stomach and looked around, trying not to cry. ‘So, you’ll pick me up in about eight hours?’

Nick laughed, shook his head and tapped her nose. ‘No, Red, not even I am that cruel. Stick it out for the morning and we’ll call it a draw.’ He sent her a speculative look. ‘But that actually means you have to do some work, not just sitting on your butt. If you don’t work, you will do a double shift tomorrow.’

So he wasn’t a fool … She’d been planning on finding the least smelly area and waiting him out. A morning, Clem thought. She could do this for a morning. She put her hands on her hips and watched Nick walk away, then drive off. She desperately wanted to run after him but stubborn pride kept her feet glued to the spot. Then she sat down in the sand and looked around.